Training His Human (Zandian Masters 3)

She arched into him, the pointed tips of her breasts brushing against his beautiful, sculpted chest.

He didn’t cover her nose—she could still breathe, and though he easily dominated her body, nothing about what he’d done had hurt or scared her.

A light on his cuff flashed, probably telling him how much he’d aroused her.

His eyes flashed violet, but not with arousal—with anger. “I told you not to speak,” he hissed.

Fresh tears flooded her eyes.

“Don’t.” He always said humans were too emotional, and he particularly didn’t like when she cried, although he’d grown to understand it in their time together.

She turned her face away, as if she might hide her emotions, and he released her with a muttered curse.

He remained still, braced on his arms, his body poised over hers for a long beat, then he lowered himself to her side. When one of his long arms came around her waist and tucked her back against his front, all the tension in her muscles eased.

Yes.

This.

She needed him, needed the closeness, his touch. Even if he wasn’t ready to talk or to punish her, at least he didn’t deny her this. She closed her eyes and let the remaining tears run down her nose onto the pillow.

The following planet rotation, she’d try again.

He couldn’t block her out forever.

~.~

Leora woke to the sound of Seke holo-conferencing with one of his heads of security, Lundric, a handsome young Zandian who had to be around Zander’s age. She remained lying down, remembering she might be seen on the hologram if she got in the view.

There hadn’t been such fancy technology on the agrifarm, nor in the factory where she’d been enslaved. She supposed the directors had access, but the humans never saw it. It certainly wasn’t wasted on them.

The human resistance movement used the most ancient form of communication—word of mouth among those trusted. She’d been a link in a long chain of communications. She wondered if they’d filled the gap since she left. She wanted to be on that death pod with Rok and Lily, helping ready the humans who’d escaped death, thanks to Rok and Zander.

But they were readying them for a war no one in the human resistance had foreseen—the war to regain Zandia.

The dull ache that had been with her ever since Lily’s rescue flared to life. Her daughter hadn’t recognized her, hadn’t remembered her. Of course she hadn’t—she’d been only three solar cycles when one of the factory guards grabbed her to sell into sexual slavery. Still, Leora had wanted to reestablish a relationship—immediately. But she understood. Lily had fallen in love with Rok, the Zandian pilot who rescued her. Their relationship was new and fragile, exciting. And it had been their idea to utilize the humans to make up Zandian troops, her daughter as committed to human freedom as her father had been. It hadn’t been the time to go quietly back to Zander’s pod with her mother and sister and get to know two strangers who looked just like her.

Leora understood. But it still hurt. She wanted to know her daughter, to learn what she’d missed. To be as integral a part of her life as she was of Lamira’s.

Seke disconnected the communication, and Leora sat up, pulling a blanket up to her armpits to cover her nudity. She winced at the contact of her sore bottom with the mattress. The surface still burned and, below it, a dull ache made her infinitely aware of every stroke Seke had administered.

Her new master swiveled in his hover chair and gave her one of his inscrutable gazes. “Drop the blanket,” he said after a pregnant pause. His blue eyes darkened to smoky purple.

She looked down at her hands, fisting the fabric; the small mounds of her breasts shifted beneath it. It felt incredibly wrong to be naked, after all those years dressing in the most loose-fitting, ugly sacks she could find, to disguise her shape and form. When she’d first met Johan, he’d made her feel beautiful, and she’d loved her feminine body then, but in the years since his death, she’d become disassociated from her body. Being female meant danger at every turn.

She closed her eyes and reluctantly lowered the fabric, little by little, until it rested at her waist, her fingers still gripping it as if her life depended on hanging on.

“Thank you for your obedience. Remember, when you are in my chamber, you will be bared to me.”

She couldn’t muster anger toward him at that statement, just the beginning pulse of interest between her legs. Damn him.

“You may use the washroom, then come to me.”

Her tummy fluttered. What did he have in mind for her this planet rotation? She climbed off the sleepdisk and headed to the washroom. Once there, she eyed the washtube. He hadn’t said what she could and couldn’t do in the washroom. A nice hot shower might feel good and would delay whatever torture he had in mind.

She used the facilities then slipped into the washtube, which closed and automatically filled with water. Lamira had shown her how to use it when she’d arrived, after regaling her with the comedic story of her first panicked use of one, in which she thought she would drown.

Water swirled around her, but far from soothing, the heat of the water stung her sore bottom, making her gasp and dance around. She gritted her teeth as it rose up over her head then drained a moment later, leaving her bottom more tender and prickly than before. Even the warm air blowing across her skin irritated her marked ass as it dried her. A sheen of oil blew over her skin while hot air concentrated on her hair until it, too, had dried. The door slid open, and she stumbled out, feeling more fragile than when she’d gone in. And now she had to face Seke.