I will bring them in. Leave again and I’ll warm your ass.
A strange tingling had flushed through my body at the threat.
I hear a step at the door, and I know immediately it’s him.
I turn, my lungs jamming up in my throat.
He’s not alone. With him stands two other warriors. There might be a resemblance, but I’m not sure. Zandians all look the same to me.
He clears his throat. “Riya.”
I try to swallow and fail. “Tarren.”
One of the warriors beside him steps forward, lifting his fist at a ninety-degree angle in the traditional Zandian greeting. “I am Jax, and this is my cousin Ronan.” He indicates the younger warrior on Tarren’s other side. “We are all three cousins,” he amends. “But you’ve already met Tarren.”
I take a step back but I’m already at the wall. “You’re here for me.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.
The males don’t advance, which I appreciate.
Jax tilts his head. “Does that frighten you, Riya?” There’s something both soft and threatening in his voice. Not scary, though. More like thrilling. A dark promise that these males can be threatening, even if they’re not showing me the whip yet.
I curse the tears that spear my eyes. “I-I don’t want to be claimed.”
Tarren gives a soft expletive in Zandian, his look turning deadly. “You’ve been forced.” It’s not a question.
I can scarcely breathe but the question relieves me. I bob my head in the affirmative.
“By some being here?” Tarren barely keeps the question below a roar.
I’m trembling, but I’m not afraid. Not of him, anyway. Just of my past. And of the future Zander just outlined. I shake my head.
Not here. It was Ocretion slave masters on the agrifarm. More times than I can count. They tortured me so many times with the shock sticks that I’m forever infertile now.
And I don’t know what will happen if King Zander finds out I’m useless as a breeder. Or when these males find out.
Tarren’s hands open and close in fists like he wants to make my past tormentors pay.
“You’re safe with us, Riya,” Jax says. He’s as good-looking as Tarren is big. His eyes hold a calculating intelligence and his voice carries such assurance it’s hard for me not to believe him. “Better to be claimed by us, males you can trust, than by another group.”
My brows shoot to my forehead and a shocked laugh tumbles from my lips. “What makes you think I trust you?”
His lips curl with a smile that probably makes most females fall to their knees and worship him. If they had any females around here, that is. “You trust Tarren. And Tarren trusts us. So by extension, we all trust each other.”
This time I actually do laugh and all three of them move forward like it was an invitation. “That’s the most ridiculous—” I sputter but stop when they are just inches from me. So close I can feel the heat from their powerful chests warming me.
Tarren puts a finger under my chin and lifts until I meet his brown-purple eyes. “No being will hurt you again,” he promises.
And just like that, I believe him. Because who would argue with a seven foot tall horned giant of a male? I’ve seen the male in action. He’s a fearsome warrior.
Ronan picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over the pulse at my wrist. “You definitely want to be claimed by us, Riya,” he says.
I want to laugh again, but I can’t. The thrum between my legs is becoming too insistent. The tightening of my nipples too distracting.
As one, the three males inhale, nostrils flaring.
“She’s ripe for us,” Ronan observes.
I squeeze my inner thighs. “N-no I’m not.”