Their Zandian Mate (Zandian Masters 9)

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Night of the Zandians: A Reverse Harem Romance

(Zandian Brides Book 1)

Night of the Zandians - Chapter One

Riya

The Zandians require brides.

Prince Zander—no, King Zander now that he’s taken back his planet—stands in front of all of us, human and Zandians alike, and makes his intentions for repopulation clear.

I gaze around at the throng gathered in front of what used to be the palace. Everything seems so vast and empty under a bright sky, devoid of any cloud cover. The Zandian sun reflects off the white marble stone that makes up the rubble, nearly blinding me.

How can such a small group possibly ever rebuild this planet, dedicated as they—we— are?

The devastation in Zandia’s capital is so absolute that it makes me sick to my stomach. The crumbled ruins of once-majestic buildings, now heaps of marble rubble and twisted metal, look as gruesome as any bloody wound I tended during the battle.

I shouldn’t care—it’s not my planet. My planet was raped and ruined a thousand years ago by the Ocretions, but Zandia’s been dangled in front of us humans like Shangri-la. A place we’ll be able to be free.

Supposedly.

But what Zander’s saying now puts ice cold fear into me.

A shiver runs down my spine and I can’t stop my gaze from flicking to the giant Zandian warrior across the plaza.

Tarren.

The one whose firm thigh I straddled when I sewed up the gash splitting the side of his face. He’s standing with two other Zandians and—sweet mother Earth—they’re all looking at me!

A lock of my thick black hair blows into my face on a hot, dry wind that smells of nothing except ash, and I brush it back with impatience, then wipe more dust from my strong thighs, bare beneath my—short tunic. I haven’t had a chance to wash or change since the battle—I’ve been tending the wounded non-stop. The warrior beside Tarren lets his gaze slide to my bare legs and heat crawls up my neck. I should’ve found a pair of leggings before this meeting.

“If you wish to receive a land and homestead grant, I suggest you form a group, find a female, and ready yourselves to petition,” King Zander declares.

My stomach knots. Find a female.

I’m not an idiot. I know what that means for me. For the other human females of breeding age. We’ve just become breeders. We’re probably no better off than any breeding slave in the galaxy.

My mouth goes dry and I have to will myself not to look across the plaza at the warrior again. Will he and his friends come for me? Claim me? How will it work? Do I have to be willing, or can they just come carry me off?

King Zander has said we’re no longer slaves, yet there’s nowhere else we can go in the galaxy where our freedom will be recognized. In other words, we have no choice but to accept whatever the Zandians offer.

And it sounds to me like my only option is to become a Zandian bride.

I scrunch up my hands at my sides, not because I’m making fists to defend myself, but to stop my fingers from shaking.

I don’t want to be claimed by one alien warrior, much less two or three. Or—stars forbid—more!

I barely hear the rest of the announcement, but when the gathering breaks up, I seek out Lily. She’s a human mated to a Zandian and sister to the Queen. She might know more about what I can expect.

Already the air in the plaza crackles with sexual tension, as if the king’s proclamation has every warrior ready to fight to claim a female.