He patted her ankle. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Your job is simply to carry the pregnancy.”
Her vision dimmed, and cold rolled slowly over her. As she’d feared. One more baby she would never nurse. Never love.
She needed to make sure the pregnancy never took.
Chapter Four
Daneth reviewed the protocol for artificial insemination again. He’d already followed every study and report out there on in vitro fertilization and implantation in humans and every other species remotely similar. Unfortunately, there was nothing on Zandians. His species had never used such methods for conception. They had a breeding season, which he’d nearly missed, but he didn’t think it mattered so much in this case. He wasn’t using any live Zandians for the protocol.
He had only a few viable Zandian eggs. They had come from Zander’s mother, the queen, herself. He still thanked the stars he’d suggested harvesting them from her. She’d had a rough pregnancy with Zander and swore she didn’t want a second child. He’d recommended she cryofreeze some while she was still young, in case she either changed her mind or wanted to find a surrogate for a future pregnancy. She had agreed.
When the palace was bombed by the Finn, he’d had the presence of mind to collect some of his medical supplies, and he’d taken the vial of eggs, along with several prize crystals so they might survive away from their planet. He’d instructed others who got out to take as many crystals as they could.
Zandian crystal—the reason the Finn took over their planet—was used in many technologies and therefore worth a fortune. Zandians prized it for far more than its open market value, however. They used it for light amplification to nourish their bodies. Without it, his species would be severely weakened, perhaps even die.
He snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up the slender instrument he would use to implant the tiny embryo he had cultured in the lab four planet rotations prior. He’d collected the semen of all the Zandians in the palatial pod under fifty solar cycles and run the donors in his gene-matching program for the queen. The program had chosen one of the guards, though he did not plan to tell the guard or any other being who the actual father was. He would only reveal that information to Prince Zander under orders. No need to complicate matters. Technically, the young would belong to him, as guardian of the Zandians species.
He glanced over at his human, who hadn’t been nearly so agreeable as she had the previous planet rotation. She’d been peevish and quiet since she woke that morning. He suspected her delicate human emotions had her on edge over the procedure.
He should have found a way to calm her, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own desire to get everything perfect. He didn’t have time for a slave’s anxieties.
Except, now, as he looked at her pale face and pinched mouth, he wished he’d done more. Though the procedure would be painless, he wondered if he should sedate her.
She squirmed against her restraints and appeared uncomfortable, though he scented her arousal. He wondered which part of the scenario aroused her—her nudity or being restrained and at his mercy. Perhaps both.
He pulled her labia apart, indulging in the sight of her spread for him. “Open for your master.” He probed her entrance with the instrument. She tightened her anus and vaginal opening against his intrusion, but, of course, could do nothing to resist. Even so, he scolded her. “I said open.”
Her belly quivered as she drew in a breath. “I don’t want to do this.”
He stopped, surprised at what he suspected was total honesty. He’d expected her usual, “Yes,
Master,” which had been ingrained in her by her previous masters.
He paused in the further insertion of the probe. “Why not?”
She bit down on her plump lower lip and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sorry, Master. I’m just nervous.”
A lie.
He knew without looking at her readouts on his cuff. “What don’t you like, Bayla?”
She leaned her head back against the table and stared up at the ceiling, her gaze fixed and unblinking. “It’s fine, Master. I’m ready.”
Later, he would wish he’d stopped and forced her to confess her concerns, but his mind was too full of his experiment. He flicked on the hologram that showed his progress inside her womb and found the ideal location to deposit the egg.
He left it there and withdrew the probe, watching the tiny embryo, magnified by his viewer, settle along the lining of her uterus.
He released her ankle cuffs and clipped them together, then to a chain that hung from the ceiling, to tilt her pelvis and hold everything in. “Comfortable?”
She shook her head. “No.” Sullenness pervaded the monosyllable.
He arched a brow. “Try that again.”
“No, Master.” She sounded snide. “How long must I stay this way?”
He didn’t want to spank her—not after things had shifted between them—but her petulance raised his hackles. The warmth he’d been feeling for her slipped away and he found himself returning to his old way of being. Impatient. Businesslike. Reserved. “Until I release you.” He moved away, removing his gloves and disposing of them then cleaning up the supplies he’d used for the protocol.
Bayla was smart enough to stay quiet, though her discontent filled the room like a bad smell.