His Human Prisoner (Zandian Masters 2)

“Then the price is one hundred thousand.” He had the bargaining face down pat, boredom sprawled over his features.

More downturned mouths and angry gestures. “Forty thousand and the female.”

The smuggler considered. His purple gaze swiveled to her.

Unaccountably, her nipples stiffened, as if excited by his disinterested up-and-down sweep. She folded her arms across her chest, but not before the smuggler noticed, a momentary twitch at the corners of his lips making her humiliation complete.

“Forty-five. Bring me the female.” He made an imperious gesture in her direction, no longer looking her way.

Her captor shoved her forward, and she fell to her knees. As she crawled up to stand, her mind raced. Was she walking to her death? She figured there was at least a 50 percent chance of it.

Why, then, did hope keep fluttering in her chest?

She stumbled through the rebels and walked right up to the pilot. Though she ought to know better, she held her head high and met his gaze squarely with her best look of defiance.

She expected a face slap at best.

Instead, she found herself upended over his shoulder. His huge hand clapped down on her bare ass. The sting enlivened her, bringing awareness back to her abandoned body, sending prickles all across her flesh. Dearest Mother Earth, did she really hope he wanted her for sex?

The pilot collected his money and carried her, still slung ignominiously over his broad, muscled shoulder, up the ramp.

“What in the veck just happened out there?” a short, hairy humanoid—Stornigian if she knew her species right—demanded. “If you really just accepted a female in exchange for…” The male trailed off when the pilot dropped her to her feet. “Her? No vecking way. What are you going to do with her?”

The pilot’s grin held menace. “Anything I want.”

A shiver ran down her spine, but her pussy clenched. Why did this male always succeed in arousing her?

His huge hand dropped onto her nape, and he steered her forward, into the ship. A door slid open revealing a tiny washroom with a toilet and shower. “Clean yourself,” he growled. “I don’t want to smell those vecking males on you.”

Excuse the veck out of her. Like she could help it. She’d just been used as a veck-doll for forty-eight hours straight.

“Jaso”—he turned to face the Stornigian trailing them—“stand guard at this door while I take off. The soo

ner we clear Jeselian airspace the better.”

She was grateful when he shut the door on her, leaving her alone in the cramped quarters.

Washing off the residue of the sex and the men was a luxury she hadn’t expected, and she didn’t plan to waste it. She flicked on a spray of water and stood beneath it, letting it soak her hair and sluice over her skin. The water felt hotter than she was used to, but she loved it, her muscles unknotting and releasing.

She closed her eyes, imagining the water cleansing not just her body, but her vecking soul. Like the rainbowed light of her imaginary safe place, it cleared away the muck, the foul experiences and beings she had contact with, leaving only her pure essence.

She paid special attention to the serpent-bite on her ankle. It had reddened over the past two planet rotations and now throbbed under the heat. Veck. She hoped her body could work out the poison on its own because she doubted this ship carried antidotes or antibiotics and seeking care elsewhere would be akin to turning herself in.

The door banged open and she braced herself, expecting to see the small hairy Stornigian. Instead, the enormous pilot squeezed into the room.

Her nipples beaded at the sight of him, her mysterious attraction to this being heightened by the intimate proximity.

His irises appeared more violet than before, and his horns stood as stiff as his cock, which bulged beneath his flight pants.

He stripped his clothes off without a word.

She hid her mild surprise. Fine. She knew how these scenes worked. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

His lips twisted into a sour expression. “Apparently not.”

Her pulse quickened. His words implied he was there against his will—as if he couldn’t stay away—and that idea thrilled some part of her. Especially because her body continued to respond to his nearness, heat flooding her core at the sight of his magnificent, muscled, and scarred body.

He grabbed her around the waist, turning her at the same time so she faced away from him, her ass pressed back against his muscular legs, his thick cock jabbing her lower back. “I believe you owe me this,” he rumbled just before he shoved her up against the shower wall.