His Human Vessel (Zandian Masters 5)

Dearest Mother Earth, if she caused the prince’s young to miscarry, she would probably be put to death.

“P-perhaps I’ll go and see how she likes it,” she improvised. “Master Daneth?”

He turned his body in her direction but didn’t tear his eyes away from the hologram he was studying.

“With your permission, I’m going to visit Lady Lamira.”

Now he looked. “Oh. Well...yes, I suppose that’s all right. Don’t be long.”

She curtsied. “I won’t be.” She beat Master Barr to the door. “Which way to her chamber?” She forced her voice to sound casual.

“Down the corridor, take a right. That corridor dead ends into it.”

“Thank you.” She walked as quickly as she dared without arousing suspicion. The moment she Barr disappeared from her view, she raced the rest of the way down the corridor and knocked on the door.

It slid open. She looked wildly around the room and—thank the stars—saw the full glass of tea sitting on the table. Lady Lamira sat at the table across from a woman who looked like her, only older.

“Bayla,” Lamira said. “Come in. This is my mother, Leora.”

The older woman stood and offered her hand in the ancient Earth greeting.

Bayla shook it, but she was barely able to keep her eyes off the parsley tea. “Have you tried that yet? It’s terrible.” She picked it up.

Lamira’s brows drew together, and her focus went to Bayla’s hand holding the glass.

She couldn’t think of a good excuse for holding it, but her mouth opened anyway. “I, uh, love it, though. You don’t mind if I drink this do you? Good.” Without waiting for an answer, she brought the drink to her lips, keeping it there until she’d downed the entire contents. “Oops. I’m sorry—I drank it all. I hope you don’t mind.”

Lamira’s eyes narrowed and then went unfocused. When her focus returned, Bayla would swear she looked disappointed, as if she’d seen into Bayla’s soul and found her lacking.

A shiver ran down her spine.

“Would you care to sit with us?” Leora asked.

She really wanted to run back to Daneth’s room and hide, but she mustered her courage. “Thank you. I’d love that.”

Lamira produced a spare hoverseat and drew it to the table so the three of them sat together. A plate of fruit sat in t

he middle, and Lamira picked up a berry and popped it into her mouth. “Chef Barr brought me a snack. I’m always hungry.”

“Yes, I remember those days. My last pregnancy, I always wanted more meat. Sometimes I thought I’d eat my own hand off if I could.” She stamped down the wash of pain that rose up at the memory of her last pregnancy. Where was that baby girl she’d birthed? She’d be nearly two solar cycles now. Were her slave masters kind to her? How was she being raised? And for what purpose?

The separation of slave families was the cruelest of all Ocretion policies. But here she sat with a mother and daughter who seemed to know each other. She turned to Leora. “Did you”—she cleared her throat, knowing her question was way too personal, but unable to stop herself— “did you get to raise Lamira?”

Only sympathy radiated from Leora—no sign of offense. “I did. But my first daughter was taken from me for sexual slavery. Lamira and I were lucky, I suppose. I was a factory worker when I got pregnant with Lamira. A human revolt originated there at the time.” The woman’s eyes clouded with pain, but then she blinked, and it was gone. “After the revolution was stamped out, they got rid of all of us to change the mix. I was sent to an agrifarm. It was hard work, but we were mostly left alone.”

“And how did you end up here?”

“Prince Zander purchased her as a gift to me,” Lamira said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a wry smile. “He helped us find my older sister, Lily, as well. She, too, is mated to a Zandian.”

“Humans and Zandians are a good mix, then?”

Lamira rubbed her swollen belly. “It seems so. There are differences to work through, certainly. The innate dominance of their species is tempered by a code of honor. They are as capable of loving and bonded relationships as humans are. We haven’t seen any of the cruelty of the Ocretions in them, despite their insistence on superiority.”

A desperate and utterly foreign longing rose up in Bayla. At first, she didn’t know what it was for. Family? Her lost babies? It resembled that loss. But then she realized—she wanted to be mated like these women. To have the loving and bonded relationship Lamira described. Having a partner or mate had never entered her mind as a possibility before. Unless some Ocretion master chose to purchase and keep her as his permanent sex slave, she would never be bound to a male. Nor had she ever wished for such a fate. She’d only ever trusted the other female slaves.

But to have an honorable male, such as Lamira described—a loving mate, one who purchased her mother as a gift to her—it was a dream she’d never indulged until now. And despite her better judgment, that dream took root in the center of her chest, spreading until it consumed her. Thoughts of what it would be like to have Daneth impregnate her, bring her a gift, hold her.

He already had. Held her, that is. He’d carried her to his sleepdisk and covered her with blankets. He’d held her in his lap, in his strong arms.