His Human Rebel (Zandian Masters 4)

Lundric waited until her steps slowed before he whistled. When she looked back, he wore a broad grin. Obviously, the warrior thought it funny.

She pursed her lips and marched back, her worn boots clomping on the floor, Lundric’s appreciative gaze sending heat creeping over her cheeks. When she reached them, Lundric gave a low chuckle.

“You find me entertaining, Captain?”

“Yes,” he drawled. “I find everything about you entertaining, little female.” The parts he left unspoken seared her skin, made her breasts grow tight and heavy, her pussy damp. He inhaled sharply. She sensed tension from him, as if he only barely held back from grabbing her and throwing her down to have his way with her.

Like a skittish animal, she darted away, out of his reach, cursing herself for showing fear. Only the fear this time wasn’t of physical harm. It was something deeper. Darker. Something that had her body feeling tingly and alive for the first time in ages.

She stomped back to the large hull where they’d slept. Only half the beings remained, huddled in groupings. Her bedding had disappeared, as the entire room had been straightened up, the blankets stacked in a neat pile by the door. One guard led a group of eight past her as she came in. She thought someone might stop her, ask where she’d been, but it seemed a human walking around unattended wasn’t cause for alarm.

Interesting.

She picked up two blankets—one to lie on and one to cover herself, and swiftly rolled them into a bundle. She should wait here, in this room, to see what was happening with the rest of the prisoners. She shouldn’t be spending time alone with the captain, who had clearly taken an interest in her beyond guard-prisoner.

One of the guards pointed at her. “Who are you camping with?”

She looked around, gut fisting up with dread. None of the groups looked friendly. And she already had her own room.

Which probably came with a whole mess of strings attached.

Somehow, she couldn’t muster a great deal of fear of those strings, though, even having seen Lundric’s right hook and the dark hunger in his eyes. He’d shown respect for her—hadn’t touched her, had given her a weapon, had looked after her safety.

Maybe he didn’t have any dark intent.

Or maybe morbid curiosity had her wondering just how it would feel to have those huge arms cage her, that powerful body drag her into submission. He looked like the kind of male who took a female long and hard. Maybe tied her up first and slapped her ass.

She fought back the reaction her body had to those thoughts and cleared her throat. “Captain Lundric has found a closet for me down there,” she said, waving toward the hallway.

She expected more interrogation, or demands for proof, but he merely nodded and moved on. Free, she slipped out the door, taking long strides back to her closet. In the hallway outside it, she met Lundric, carrying an entire cot—yes the whole structure—under one arm.

“I found you a bed,” he grunted.

She willed her giddy little heart to slow back down. They probably had lots of beds lying around the pod. It wasn’t like he was some kind of hero or something. She stepped back to allow him to enter her closet and shove the bed against the far wall, so she’d face the door as she slept. Exactly where she would’ve placed it. He’d already placed a single chair in, as well.

“There you go. I’ll work on a lock before nightfall.” He turned and walked away before she could even say thank you.

Not that she was sure she was going to.

But the point was, he didn’t wait for any thanks.

She shoved the door closed and leaned her back against it, her mind too full of Lundric.

So far, none of the terrible things she’d thought would happen since she was thrown on this pod had occurred. She hadn’t been executed by the Ocretions. She hadn’t been raped, or sold to a new slave owner. Each new turn was stranger and stranger. And this one with Lundric was the strangest yet.

Chapter Two

Lundric woke up stiff in more ways than one. After working long past his shift end ensuring the refugees were settled, he’d slept on the floor of the bunkroom, since he’d carried his cot into

Cambry’s closet. So the aching neck wasn’t a surprise.

The stiff cock could be attributed to Cambry, too. His dreams had all featured the fiery human. The pretty braids pulling her hair back into the bushy ponytail. The flip of that thick tail when she tossed her head. The length of her legs and the sway of her ass as she walked in front of him, a haughty grin curling her lips.

She had so much fight in her, his little rebel. How he’d love to wrestle her to the floor, feel her wriggling body beneath his as the struggle heated them both. Because he knew it would. He’d smelled her arousal that morning, known the irresistible pull he felt toward her wasn’t just one-sided.

He sat up and checked the time. Veck. His shift was about to start, which meant the refugees were bedding down already. He hadn’t had a chance to fashion a latch for the inside of Cambry’s door. He shoved his feet into his boots and tromped down the corridor.

Cambry’s door was shut tight. Was she already sleeping? His cock stirred at the thought of her lying on his bed, just behind the door.