His Human Possession (Zandian Masters 8)

Love.

Love? No—where did that thought come from? Ridiculous.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Am I your prisoner?” She arched a brow, telling him she’d perfectly understood her situation on the pod. She may not be completely free, but she wasn’t a slave anymore. Not under Zander’s rule, anyway.

“No.” He sighed and released his hold on her arm. “You’re not. I’m sorry, I won’t shut you in again. Not unless you prove disobedient.”

Her upper lip twitched at the last part, but he let it go.

She spread her hands. “Listen. No hard feelings, but it seems like maybe this was a bad idea. Mina meant well when she gave us a push together, but it’s clear I’m not up to your standards. It’s fine. You shouldn’t be obligated to be my master or guardian or whatever.”

His heart beat faster in his chest, breath raked in and out with far too much effort.

He should be thrilled by her understanding of their situation. They weren’t well-suited. It wasn’t going to work.

Why, then, was he dying to pick her up and throw her back in his chamber? Bind her on his sleepdisk and never let her leave again?

Instead, he stood paralyzed, caught by indecision, and Leti—clever female that she was—pressed her advantage and flounced away, down the corridor.

Veck.

He let her go, watching the sway of her hips as she moved, the lines of her long legs. Even bare-footed, in a plain Zandian flight suit, she screamed sex.

Not until she disappeared into the lift did he realize he couldn’t very well let her wander around the pod unescorted. He should at least keep an eye on her.

Except he knew where that would lead. Any time his gaze was on her, he wanted his hands on her, too. His mouth, his tongue. Why hadn’t he vecked her a second time when they returned to the pod? He was an idiot.

He forced himself into his chamber, but nothing about it seemed familiar anymore. Her scent and the aroma of food coated everything. The sleepdisk reminded him of how she’d looked lying naked, legs spread on it. The washroom reminded him of the way her hair looked down, fresh from the washtube.

Damn.

Maybe he’d just go make sure she hadn’t gotten herself into any trouble. Not that the pod provided much opportunity for that.

He took the lift to the main level of the pod and exited. The sound of female laughter reached his ears and once more, every cell activated.

Leti.

Had he even heard her laugh before? He wasn’t sure, but he knew without question the musical sound had come from her pouty lips. He rushed forward, into the Great Hall and choked.

His female stood, balanced on another warrior’s shoulders, gazing up at one of the Zandian crystal amplifiers used to bring light to the room. Two other warriors—Ronan’s damn cousins —stood on either side, their hands gripping her upper calves, stabilizing her.

All three guards’ horns were thick and extended, pointing toward his female.

“Leticia,” he barked.

She whirled and lost her balance.

He surged forward, jockeying with the other three males to catch her. His female showed no fear, though. Like an acrobat, she’d tucked and dropped neatly into the arms of Ronan, the tall scarred warrior who’d had her on his shoulders.

Leti met the gaze of her master. His eyes were wide with shock and—could it be—fear? Had he been afraid for her?

That idea shouldn’t send such a surge of satisfaction through her.

But he didn’t want her. He’d already made it plain. Maybe she needed to make it plain to him that he really did.

She leaned forward and dragged her tongue up the side of the neck of the male holding her. “Thank you for catching