Night of the Zandians (Zandian Brides 1)
Page 66
“One hundred fifty stein,” he says. He removes his finger from my pussy. I’m itchy and hot. Needy for his touch to return.
“Three hundred,” the vendor counters.
“One seventy-five. Final offer.” He releases my hair and takes a step back.
“Two fifty.”
His friend scoffs. He shrugs and walks away.
The fucking vendor lets them go. Three steps away. Four. Five. “Two hundred,” he calls to their backs.
They stop but don’t turn. They seem to be in conversation with each other.
“One ninety.”
It takes the broad one two long strides to return. His friend pulls out a burlap bag full of coins while he digs his fingers under the strap around my chest. He rips it off, as if thick animal hide is easy to snap.
I wince as the blood rushes down my arms like a million insect stings. He rips off the strap around my thighs and I crumple, unable to hold myself up. In a flash, I’m swooped up over a broad shoulder.
The Zandian claps a large hand down on my ass. “Come on, little slave. We know just the place for humans who like to escape their masters.”
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HIS HUMAN SLAVE - EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Zandian Breeding season.
That was the last consideration in his mind before liberating his planet from the Finn.
Breeding season.
Zander sat at the round platform, looking at the faces of the elders he respected most, the ones who had risked their lives to save him when the Finn invaded Zandia and wiped out the rest of their species solar cycles before.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious,” Daneth, the only Zandian physician left in the galaxy said, tapping his wrist band. “You are the best male representative of the Zandian species, the only one left of the royal bloodline, and, more importantly, the only one young enough to produce healthy offspring. If you go to battle without first procreating, our species will die with us.” He gestured around the room at the other members of his parents’ generation.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in exasperation. “And exactly which female do you think I will produce these offspring with? Last I heard, there is no Zandian female under the age of sixty left alive.”
“You will have to cross-breed. I purchased a program and entered your genetic makeup. It uses all the known gene files in the galaxy predicts the best possible mate for breeding.
He raised his eyebrows. “So have you already run this program?”
Daneth nodded.
He looked around the table, his gaze resting on Seke, his arms master and war strategist. “Did you know about this?”
Seke nodded once.
“And you approve? This is foolish—my time should be spent training with the new battleships we bought and recruiting an army, not—” he spluttered to a stop.
“The continuation of the species is paramount. What is the point of winning back Zandia if there’s no Zandians left to populate it?”