Night of the Zandians (Zandian Brides 1)

“Cry over it?” His eyebrows are nearly in his horns, and he growls at me. “Cry? Oh, Riya, I’ll give you something to cry about.” He furls his brow and steps closer. “Take off your clothes and bend over my lap, sweet earthling.”

I squeal and put my hand to my mouth, hiding a giggle. “Are you going to massage my sore muscles? You are such a thoughtful mate. Thank you, Jax.”

He smirks. “Massage? I suppose, in a way of speaking, what I plan might be called that. I could use my hand,” and he holds up his massive purple palm, and flexes his fingers, “to apply pressure to your ass muscles. Take that as a massage if you want.”

But even though his eyes flash with arousal, I see lines around them, too. Is my mate worried about something?

Jax

Your massage sounds very appealing,” Riya smiles up at me. She traces her finger along the side of my face. “But first tell me what else is on your mind. I know I’m not the only one who

is upset about something this planet rotation.”

“What do you mean?” I’m surprised at her insight. Truth be told, I’m entirely frustrated with a situation at work—something new to me. The fact that Riya can read me this well is a shock, and then, a pleasure. I can trust her.

I tug her into my body, and she leans back into my muscles, letting out a breath of air, as if she feels safe.

I shift and look to the North, to the Afir Hills.

“You’re quiet.” She touches my quad, stroking softly. “Is anything on your mind?” She stiffens, and I swear it seems like she holds her breath for a second.

“Nothing I want to worry you about.” At this, she relaxes again.

She slaps my skin with her fingertips, barely more than a caress. “Nothing to worry me about? Everything about you is my concern, from here to here.” She wiggles her ass against my groin and reaches up to stroke the side of my head.

I chuckle, but it trails into a sigh. I admit, “I’m working on a roadway right now, breaking ground for it and determining where it will run.”

“The one you discussed the other night,” she remembers. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m working short term with a team of three other Zandians… not my cousins. The other two, Arran and Ketral, argue all the time. I could say we live on Zandia, and they’d argue.” My voice rises despite my intent to stay calm. “I’m trying to compromise, but they lack logic.”

She nods immediately. “You, Zandians, are used to rank and order, taking direction without question. Now, you have the ability to question. Your team mates who are giving you a hard time, maybe they’re expanding to fit their new lives. They are learning to live without direct orders from a commander. Working as a team of equals is different from working in a ranked system. Based on their experience, your calm, logical discussions might not work. Perhaps they may react better to someone just stepping up and saying, These are my ideas, and this is why they will work, and this is how it’s going to be, unless you can immediately, right now, prove me wrong.

“That’s a fascinating observation, Riya.” It all locks into place. “We are used to order. In fact, because I was so used to it, I was unable to see outside of it. It’s like I was inside a glass box.” I hold my hands up, as if defining a space in the air, width and height. “You just set me free.”

Her smile is so brilliant, her eyes so glossy with love and happiness, that I kiss her, hard and fast, my exuberance spilling out. “You should have been a captain. Or an advisor to one.” My footsteps are light, and I tap her ass with a smirk. The thing is, I’m not making a joke. This woman, this human, is incredible. Every planet rotation she surprises me with new depths of insight, fresh ways to make my life better.

7

Riya

Riya, I hear that you impressed everyone this planet rotation.” Tarren takes a large spoonful of the rice pilaf I’ve created with tomato, mushroom, and basil, and shovels it into his mouth. It’s the weekly pleasure meal, the only actual food my Zandians consume, and I take great pride in presenting them with the most delicious concoctions I can manage.

Jax nods. “If it wasn’t for your special herb mixture that stopped the toxic vipn saliva from spreading in the wound, Slanic would have lost his leg.”

“Veck.” Ronan slams his fist onto the table, then shoots me a glance and touches my arm. “Sorry, Riya. I’m proud of you. Just angry that the vipn attacks are getting more frequent.” He shakes his head, then takes a large mouthful of food. It’s sort of funny and sweet that once my mates taste my food, there is literally no topic that can turn their stomachs.

I find it hard to swallow, though, and force down my bite, which seems like cardboard in my mouth. “He may not gain full mobility,” I caution them, the same words the midwife and I had expressed to King Zander.

I put down my fork and clench my fists together in my lap. “He lost so much blood. And the edges of the wound… they are so destroyed. The teeth of the vipn are like razors. They shred.” I shudder. “Like the flesh is made of the thinnest paper. His wound will need to be tended regularly to ensure that the edges match up as he heals.”

Jax puts his hand over my clenched ones. “But we are lucky to have you. By we, I mean all of Zandia.” He gestures with his fork. “You were the only medic who knew what to do.” His face shines, and I can see the pride.

“It’s my duty,” I say, still feeling the adrenaline. Being summoned with an emergency palatial pod at the dome. Standing over Slanic, seeing him writhe in pain, tears of unexpressed anguish in his eyes, the wound as awful as anything I’d seen in battle, the pain worse because of the poisonous saliva of vipn.

I had packed my emergency kit of herbs and poultices, including new ones I’d created, things that I believed could detoxify skin. Thank sweet Mother Earth it worked. Even now, I’m shaky with relief, coming down from the high of the situation. King Zander has tasked me with creating more of my balm and asked me to teach all of the other agriculture reps how to create it, so it could be stocked in everyone’s dome and in the medbays. I’m proud that my plan to be useful is taking shape.

King Zander and Dr. Daneth had looked at me with such surprise, and then respect, mixed into one, that I almost flew away with pride. Dr. Daneth even asked how it was possible that I could do such things without knowing how to decipher. The truth, which I told him, is that I don’t know. As slaves we weren’t allowed to read or gain knowledge, but in our tents, the elders taught us everything they remembered, and knowledge was passed down orally. I clung to everything I learned, figuring to was my duty to remember it for the next generation, whether it was seed instructions or healing. And now that I don’t need to hide this interest, my brain is constantly creating things, even while I relax.