His Human Possession (Zandian Masters 8)

Her stomach twisted. Bayla’s line of thinking made sense logically. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been her exact thought.

But these circumstances were far from normal.

Her heart was in play, and “securing a future” with Paal if he didn’t want her felt dead wrong.

“Well, I think you should tell him, but it’s up to you. I won’t say any word until you tell me to.” Bayla gave her a quick hug and opened her door. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she mumbled and stepped around the corner to the lift, only to run right into the solid form of her master.

And he’d never looked so fearsome.

Her stomach lurched.

Cold anger darkened his face. “Tell me what?” His words came out cold and crisp.

She attempted to suck in a shaky breath, but it didn’t come. “I’m pregnant.” She forced the words out over numb lips.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his expression darkened even more. “I see. A clever strategy to secure your future.”

The corridor tilted. It was a wonder her feet stayed planted on the floor with the way her head swam. Clever? Strategy?

She tried to shake her head, but had no idea if she was successful. “No, that’s not what this is,” she managed.

But of course he would think so. Bayla had just said as much aloud.

His mother had accused her of strategizing at dinner.

And after growing up with a mother like that, of course he’d believe the worst.

In fact, it explained why he grew so outraged every time she tried to seduce him. He always believed he was being played.

He took one menacing step toward her. “No?” Ice splintered through his words. “Then what is it?”

And she supposed she had been playing him. Using her body as a weapon was the only trick she had in her bag. Since she’d been put into sex slavery, it had been her only means of survival. She’d used it at every turn.

But that was before Paal had made her believe something else was possible.

Well, she wasn’t going to prove him right. She lifted her chin and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Fuck you—or veck you, as you’d put it. I’m not looking to secure a future with you. This baby probably isn’t even yours!”

She stepped through the open lift door and smacked the button to close it. In the three interminable seconds that followed, she watched Paal’s pallor turn from peach lavender to pale purple and the lines of his face go wooden.

Then, just as the door shut, it flooded with violent color. “What the veck do you mean—”

The door slid shut as she choked on a sob. She leaned her forehead against the door, forcing in a slow breath.

This was for the best.

This was definitely for the best.

She couldn’t be with a male who didn’t trust her. Who believed the worst of her in every moment.

Even if she deserved that belief.

She wouldn’t harangue him into a relationship he didn’t want.

She knew from the start what happened to slaves flawed enough to believe in love.

Heartbreak.