His Human Possession (Zandian Masters 8)

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.

There are no more Zandian females—at least none who are unmated—so the females Zander referred to are human. Former slaves, like me.

Oh hell. I tug my tunic down as if I can make it grow to cover my bare thighs.

Several Zandian warriors eye me from across the cracked plaza. I really should have changed my clothes before I came out. I suddenly realize how provocative my boots must look below bare legs.

On the training pod we females were protected by warriors like Lundric, who has a human mate. I was able to dress for pure comfort and ignore any interest my bare skin garnered. After what I’ve endured at the hands of the Ocretians, I preferred to keep myself apart.

I find Lily, but she’s talking with her mate. I sense warriors closing in on me from all sides.

Fuck.

Like a coward, I run.

I head straight for the makeshift med bay where I’ve been working all night. It’s a stupid place to go, but I haven’t been assigned a room yet, and I don’t know where else to hide.

As soon as I’m there, though, the memory of treating Tarren’s wounds comes rushing back.

The way my core heated standing so close to him. The way he gripped my buttocks when I stabbed his cheek with the needle.

I lean against the metal wall of the crashed ship which became my headquarters to steady my breath.

I’m not interested in the male. I’m not interested in any male.

Of course, it may not matter what I’m interested in.

King Zander wants the planet repopulated.

As soon as possible.

Tarren

“Looks like you’ve already picked out our mate.” My cousin Jax follows my gaze to the dark-haired beauty streaking across the plaza. It’s all I can do not to chase her down, toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to our quarters right now.

Without saying it aloud, Jax and I both know we’ll apply as a team with our other cousin, Ronan. We’re family and we stick together.

Jax has a bemused look on his face. He glances around the desolate wasteland of rubble, so different from the planet we left as children, just before the invasion. “She’s a good choice. With the boots she’s sexy as hell, but she looks sturdy enough for—”