Their Zandian Mate (Zandian Masters 9)

I take a step back but I’m already at the wall. “You’re here for me.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.

The males don’t advance, which I appreciate.

Jax tilts his head. “Does that frighten you, Riya?” There’s something both soft and threatening in his voice. Not scary threatening, though. More like thrilling. A dark promise that these males can be threatening, even if they’re not showing me the whip yet.

I curse the tears that spear my eyes. “I-I don’t want to be claimed.”

Tarren gives a soft expletive in Zandian, his look turning deadly. “You’ve been forced.” It’s not a question.

I can scarcely breathe, but the question relieves me. I bob my head in the affirmative.

“By some being here?” Tarren barely keeps the question below a roar.

I’m trembling, but I’m not afraid. Not of him, anyway. Just of my own past. And of the future Zander just outlined. I shake my head. Not here. It was Ocretion slave masters on the agrifarm. More times than I can count. They tortured me so many times with the shock sticks that I’m forever infertile now.

And I don’t know what will happen if King Zander finds out I’m useless as a breeder.

When these males find out.

Tarren’s hands open and close in fists like he wants to make my past tormentors pay.

“You’re safe with us, Riya,” Jax says. He’s as good-looking as Tarren is big. His eyes hold a calculating intelligence and his voice carries such assurance it’s hard for me not to believe him. “Better to be claimed by us, males you can trust, than by another group.”

My brows shoot to my forehead and a shocked laugh tumbles from my lips. “What makes you think I trust you?”

His lips curl with a smile that probably makes most females fall to their knees and worship him. If they had any females around here, that is. “You trust Tarren. And Tarren trusts us. So by extension, we all trust each other.”

This time I actually do laugh and all three of them move forward like it was an invitation. “That’s the most ridiculous—” I splutter, but stop when they arrive inches from me. So close I feel the heat from their powerful chests warming me.

Tarren puts a finger under my chin and lifts it until I meet his brown-purple eyes. “No being will hurt you again,” he promises.

And just like that, I believe him. Because who would argue with a seven foot tall horned giant of a male? I’ve seen the male in action. He’s a fearsome warrior.

Ronan picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over the pulse at my wrist. “You definitely want to be claimed by us, Riya,” he says.

I want to laugh again, but I can’t. The thrum between my legs is becoming too insistent. The tightening of my nipples too distracting.

As one, the three males inhale, nostrils flaring.

“She’s ripe for us,” Ronan observes.

I squeeze my inner thighs. “N-no I’m not.”

Tarren wraps a meaty hand around my nape, stroking it. “It’s all right to be aroused, Riya,” he murmurs. “We’re your mates.”

I give a shove to the closest chest, which belongs to Jax, but the males don’t fall back. They don’t fall back, nor do they advance. Three pairs of eyes watch me intently.

“Y-you’re not my mates.”

Not yet.

Already my body seems to know it’s an inevitability. Moisture gathers between my legs.

“Do you prefer another warrior?” Jax asks smoothly, like he already knows the answer will be no.

I shake my head.

He brings the pad of his thumb to the crease between my brows and rubs it away. “Then you’re ours.” He leans forward and kisses the place he’s just rubbed. “Don’t fight it. We’ll take good care of you, Riya, I promise.”