Training His Human (Zandian Masters 3)

“May I fly the ship?” Lily asked Rok. The unguarded eagerness in her expression would have charmed him, except it, too, reminded him of Leora. Lily—though mostly a stranger—looked just like her mother. And he’d seen that same openness in Leora after he’d broken past her reserve. He’d been fortunate enough—honored, even, to catch a glimpse of what she kept hidden inside.

Before he left her.

Rok smiled indulgently. “Of course. How else will you learn?”

Lundric shuddered beside him, and Seke had a feeling it had to do with an innate Zandian instinct to protect their females—which meant keeping them out of the cockpits of battleships. But Rok clearly had a different viewpoint on the matter.

“And land, too?”

“No.” Rok spoke with the quick decisiveness of a true leader. Lamira had once had a vision of Rok leading their troops, and it seemed her vision would prove true. “It will be too difficult. You can land when we return to this planet.”

“When can we leave?”

“I’m waiting on you.”

She flashed a grin and dashed into the office, returning with two oxygen helmets. “Let’s go.”

Rok inclined his head to Seke. “Lundric knows the status of things here on the death pod. Insert yourself wherev

er you see fit.”

For one charged moment, Seke considered correcting Rok. Seke outranked him, and it wasn’t Rok’s place to give him instructions. But Lamira had seen Rok leading this troop. For whatever reason, this wasn’t Seke’s show. Perhaps Seke would be needed elsewhere when they attacked the Finn.

Seke nodded and turned to Lundric. “Take me to the training ground.”

Stars knew he needed a long, hard, physical fight. Every hour for the rest of his life. How else would he dull the ache of living without Leora?

~.~

After being shut up for so many planet rotations in Seke’s chamber, Leora should have been out in the pod, visiting Barr in his kitchen or tending to her plants.

But she couldn’t face any of it.

She couldn’t bear to see Seke, or anything that reminded her of him—which meant she’d have to go through the rest of her life with her eyes sealed shut. So she’d holed up in her chamber, curled in a ball, sleeping on and off all planet rotation. Her dreams showed her oldest memories of Johan. Their first kiss. The moment he left her, pregnant with Lamira, to lead the slave uprising.

Some small part of her had resented him for it. It wasn’t fair, she knew. He’d been fighting for the freedom of their daughters, of their species. He was noble and brave. But he’d put her life in danger. When the uprising failed—as unorganized and spontaneous acts of defiance often do—she’d been picked up and transferred to the agrifarm. If they’d known she was Johan’s mate—carried his child—she’d have been executed.

And now Seke had abandoned her as well. Granted, she was neither pregnant, nor in danger, but he saw a lofty ideal as more worth pursuing. And why shouldn’t he? She was just a human slave. A female he’d been attracted to, but to whom he owed nothing.

She moaned and changed positions on the bed. If only she didn’t feel as if her very soul had been ripped from her with a serrated knife.

A light tap came on the door.

She didn’t move, even though she knew it would be Lamira.

“Mother? Are you in there? Let me in.”

She sighed and dragged herself from the bed, feeling as if she weighed as much as three airships put together. She activated the door, and Lamira pushed past her, taking her hands.

“What happened? I heard Seke left for the death pod.”

Had he? Veck. That didn’t make it any better..

“That’s all.” It felt as if a giant brick had been placed on her chest.

“Zander has declared we’re no longer slaves. He told you that?”

She blinked at her daughter, noticing the color back in her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes. “You’ve mended the rift with Zander?”