Panic flapped in her chest.
He was getting rid of her. Setting her aside again.
She skittered to Zander’s side and touched his arm. “Zander? What’s going on?”
He turned to her and spoke stiffly. “You are no longer my slave. After the birth of my young, you are free to go.”
His words struck her, worse than any shock-stick. They nearly knocked her to the floor. She felt the blood drain from her face but managed to raise her hand and slap Zander as hard as she could.
Surprise sprang to his features. Confusion.
If she’d hoped to goad him into his usual domination—force him to grab her wrists or pick her up, or somehow claim her as he often did, the slap failed on every level.
It didn’t even make her feel better.
How dare he treat her like nothing more than the breeder he’d purchased?
He’d vecking mated her. She wore his crystals on her body. She shared his sleepdisk, carried his young.
She’d thought he loved her.
She sure as hell loved him.
Tears blinded her vision, but she whirled before giving Zander the satisfaction of seeing how he’d wounded her. Dodging one of the workers, she ran out of the chamber and down the hall.
~.~
Leora stretched her body, sliding her legs out over the silky bedding. She’d slept longer than normal, exhausted from Seke’s rough and wonderful treatment the night before. She tested her body, slightly disappointed to find she didn’t feel the soreness anymore, though her skin heated just remembering all the ways he’d had her.
Ooh, yes—a sore spot on the back of her pelvis from the vecking against the wall. She smiled, remembering the intense satisfaction of finally consummating their mutual lust. She wanted him to take her again—had hoped he would that morning, but she’d woken alone.
She wanted to learn to please him in every way imaginable. To drive him to distraction. To suck his thick purple cock hard enough to make him bellow.
The door slid open, and Seke entered. His gaze fell on her, lying on the bed, still naked, save for the collar and cuffs. His eyes darkened as the door closed behind him.
Her nipples pearled up when his heated gaze raked across her body.
He walked to the side of the sleepdisk, but instead of climbing on, he held out his hand. She placed her smaller hand in his and allowed him to help her off and bring her to stand before him.
“Leora.” He spoke with reverence, as if this might be a ceremony, of sorts. Reaching behind her, he lifted her hair and unclasped the collar about her throat.
Her belly fluttered with anticipation. Like a fool, she thought he might replace it with something more meaningful, some symbol of his affection, which was evident in the warmth of his gaze, the gentleness of his touch.
He picked up one of her hands, rotated the wrist up and removed the cuff then repeated the action with the other. He lowered her wrist with the same reverential movement then picked up her white robes from the shelf nearby and swung them around her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her throat.
Were they going somewhere? A mating ceremony, perhaps?
Cradling her face in his large hands, he tipped her head forward and kissed the top of it. “Leora, the prince has declared you free. You no longer serve me, except as Master at Arms to your host.”
She waited. There had to be more.
He inclined his head in a small bow. “You may return to your own chamber.”
That was it? That was all? Wait...what?
“You are dismissed.”
Dismissed? What the veck?