He nuzzled her neck, kissed behind her ear. “This is how I want you, beautiful. Trembling and wrung out and a little bit raw.”
Now tears speared her eyes, although she couldn’t imagine the reason.
She didn’t cry often—usually only under extreme punishment, which she did her best to avoid. Why would hearing these soft, murmured words from her new master bother her?
He inhaled sharply and rolled her to her back, concern pinching his brows. “Are you hurt?”
She shoved at his chest and attempted to roll away, but he pulled her even closer, until her body met every hard line of his. Her pussy squeezed, still ripe for anything the warrior demanded. He coaxed her face up and brushed his lips across hers.
She stopped breathing.
This tenderness from him—it was so much worse than his rough demands.
Dangerous.
Because it felt so. Damn. Good.
And slaves don’t get it good. They don’t fall in love with their masters and they don’t trick themselves into believing anyone actually cares. Or, if you can get a master to care, you certainly don’t offer emotion in return.
Another panicked sob rose in her chest.
She pushed even harder against Paal. Tried to get a reaction out of him. Maybe if she struggled enough, he’d punish her again. Finally take her the way they both knew he wanted to.
Yes.
He flipped her onto her back and pinned her wrists beside her head. “Easy, beautiful. I just want to kiss you. I’ll only make it hurt if you want me to.” He was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood, but she didn’t bite.
She simply turned her head away. Her stomach rumbled and he frowned.
“I forgot—I brought you food.” He eased off of her and walked to the table beside the door, where a covered tray lay. He carried it back to her. “Are you hungry again? Humans have to eat all day long, right?”
She couldn’t hide her smile at his misconception, relieved that the topic had changed. “Not all day. But at least twice. Three times if we can get it.”
He scowled. “You’ll have all the food you desire here. Any time.” He sounded almost gallant and despite her desire to scoff it away, his assertion produced a curl of warmth in her chest.
He removed the lid from the tray, revealing a plate heaped with all kinds of colorful, but foreign food. “We grow human food. From the original Earth. Our chef knows how to feed humans.” Picking up a beautiful red berry, he held it to her lips.
She took a bite and juice ran down her chin.
He watched it dribble, then startled her by surging forward and licking it off.
“Oh!” She hid a smile and dropped her eyes. “When do you eat, Master?”
Irritation flickered over his face. “Once a week. And I don’t think you should call me Master.”
“Why not? You like it, don’t you?” She almost produced her mock innocent, sex-kitten voice and expression, but at the last minute veered into normality. Although admitting she’d made this concession for him niggled her.
He busied himself scooping a flat bread in some kind of green dip. “Zandians don’t keep slaves. I am your guardian or sponsor. Not a master.”
She leaned forward to take the bite he hadn’t offered yet, knowing he liked to watch her eat.
Sure enough, his horns twitched and his gaze stayed glued to her lips.
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is while you must conform to Zandian society and obey Zandian rule, you are not a prisoner.” He used the same stiff tone he’d used when he’d apologized for fucking her.
She gave a harsh laugh. “As if there were any place in this galaxy where a human can be free.”