His Human Rebel (Zandian Masters 4)

A woman so beautiful would have admirers. And he didn’t trust any male here—human or Zandian. He hated thinking of her being vulnerable to attack. The mere idea of it had him clenching his fists, a red haze seeping in and stealing rational thought.

So he leaned up against the wall near her nest on the floor to watch over her. He ought to make the rounds—walk the perimeter of the large hall to make his presence felt, but nothing could tear him away from his vigil.

He’d already decided she belonged to him. His little human.

He’d been raised to believe humans were inferior, weak. They were an enslaved species, after all. Yet Zander, the prince of his species, had taken the human slave, Lamira, as his mate. Rok, his superior here, had mated her sister, Lily. He’d heard his mentor, Master Seke, the Zandian Master of Arms, had been given their mother as his slave concubine.

So why shouldn’t he have one, too? There were no Zandian females of mating age left—his species was nearly extinct. And rumor had it Daneth, the prince’s physician, had determined Lamira to be the best gene match for Zander to breed. If humans were the closest, most beneficial species for them to mate, he would gladly take one. This one.

They were headed to war. His whole life had been spent preparing for it. It only made sense for him to also breed before they left. Daneth had already taken and frozen Lundric’s seed as a precaution, but wouldn’t leaving an actual child be better? He had to do his part to preserve what little was left of Zandian genetic code.

What a lie. He didn’t give a veck about preserving his genetic code. He just wanted Cambry. The fierce little rebel with cunning intelligence behind those big brown eyes. The female who snatched a dagger up and looked ready to use it. The beautiful, tough little human. He’d like to tame the wild animal right out of her. Teach her no harm would ever come to her by his hand, but there would be plenty of pleasure.

Teach her not to bolt when he wrapped his fist in that dark auburn mane and pulled her head back while he drove deep from behind. When he pinned her slender wrists above her head and licked and sucked those magnificent little breasts he’d seen shifting beneath her tunic. What color would her nipples be? Pink? Peach?

It wasn’t just physical, though his need for her had been immediate and undeniable. No, he also wanted to find out what had hardened the little human and figure out how to win her softness back.

Cambry. His human. He would ask the prince if he could have her.

He kept his post beside her for the rest of the night, satisfied when she finally did slip into a restless sleep, drifting off for an hour at a time before jerking awake and looking around. She glanced over at him each time and he lifted his chest as if to show her it made him proud to be the one who watched over her. From now on, he’d be the only vecking being who had the privilege. A duty he took more seriously than death. Because if anyone threatened that little human—his female—he’d crush them.

The center of the pod didn’t have windows, so it was hard to tell when dawn came. Living without light would be difficult for the Zandians, who relied on light for energy more than food. They’d have to make frequent trips to Zander’s palatial pod for the crystal-amplified light baths. It didn’t do much to improve the prisoners’—make that former prisoners’—morale, either. The group—mostly humans with a few odd other species mixed in—still wore the downtrodden faces of any refugees. Rok’s female, Lily, had been working hard to instill hope, and some seemed to believe her promise of a better life on Zandia, but most braced their shoulders as if ready for another attack on their dignity.

As the beings began to rouse, he turned on the sunlight simulator. A new group of guards came in for next shift, reporting to him for duty and carrying boxes of nutrition packs. He eyed the packs with distaste. They were disgusting compared to the meals he’d enjoyed on the palatial pod, but he was tired, his energy weakened from lack of food and light. He needed rest, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his female sleep another night in this crowded hall.

As the beings filed forward to receive their nutrition packs, he gave orders to his guards. “They need to be given living quarters today.”

Rok, his superior, had already mentioned the necessity, so he didn’t feel like he was stepping out of line by ordering it done today. “Allow them to self-select who they will house with. Give them housing in the prison cells, offices, closets, anywhere you can find. For those who remain in the prison cells, show them the locks have been disabled. Remove the doors if they’re too nervous. They need to settle in because this pod will be our home for many planet rotations—maybe even a solar cycle, depending on how quickly we can get them trained.”

“Yes, Captain Lundric,” his guards murmured.

Cambry stood up, holding herself with the same ever-present wariness he’d seen on her from the beginning. She’d listened to every word, but mistrust still reflected on her face.

“Start with filling the cells. Sten, you and I will scout other possible housing options.” He lifted his chin at Cambry as if she were one of his men. “You come with us to help scout.”

She clenched her jaw, her hand tightening on the dagger she’d attached to her belt.

Her mistrust shouldn’t wound him so much. Her gaze darted from him to his guard, Sten, then over to the human male still pretending to sleep beside her—the one she’d been afraid of the night before. He knew, in her mind, she’d be smarter to stay in the hall. There was safety in numbers.

Hand still on the dagger, chin lifted, she stepped toward him, accepting his order.

It took all his willpower not to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to his quarters, declaring her won. Stars, how he wanted to claim that lithe little body.

Soon. Veck, yes, soon.

He fished a nutrition pack out of the box and tossed it to her. “Come.” He resisted the urge to push Cambry in front of him, even though his every instinct screamed to stay at her back where he could protect her. Until she trusted him, it would make her itchy to have him behind her. He led the way down the hall, purpose helping him push through fatigue. There was no way he could sleep until he got his female settled somewhere safe.

“Don’t Zandians eat? Or do you hide the decent food somewhere else?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, surprised a slave on a death pod dared used such a surly tone with him. Not that it didn’t make him hard as veck. He loved the fight in her. It drew him in as much as her hot-as-magma looks.

She had the sense to flinch under his look, her projected confidence flickering. She swallowed. “Sorry, am I supposed to call you Captain or something?”

He smirked. “Little female, you can call me anything you like.?

? Master. Protector. Yours. “It won’t change a thing.”

Her confidence slipped a little further, and he could almost see her mind working as she puzzled over his statement.