Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

“What about non-humans? Say, a being from the galaxy who may not be your enemy, not specifically, but is known as a violent, cruel species? Would you ever try to rehabilitate them?”

“Why are you asking?” He touches my shoulder. “You will be safe, Danica. We have excellent defenses. Any cruel species are absolutely not welcome, I can promise you that. We will never welcome them to Zandia. We’d drop them in their tracks as soon as we know they’re here. No exceptions. Understand?”

“I do.” I shiver. I understand I have to get myself to Jesel, because sticking with these males is not a viable option.

Benn comes up. “What are you talking about?” He scowls at Gorde, but when he touches my hand, the tenderness on his face makes me smile. These two warriors, these fierce creatures, both want me.

“I was telling her how she will be safe on Zandia.” Gorde touches my other hand, and for a second, I feel like the three of us are a circuit, all connected, in a way that feeds a hunger in my soul. I close my eyes, and grab both of their strong hands, their powerful fingers pressing into my smaller ones. I like how they automatically adjust their touch already to my body, more exposed and fragile than theirs.

But I can’t get used to this. Their planet is not for me, and I need to remember that my goal is not to end up as their breeder on an outflung rock at the edge of the galaxy. I need to make it to that planet where the humans go.

Gorde

Danica takes a breath and looks up at me. “I’m cold. Are there more clothes I can wear?” She touches the sleep shirt. “Something warmer and more protective?”

“Of course.” I move to the side of the craft and use my wrist comm to open a locked cabinet. “Here are spare garments we have on hand. See if anything fits you.” I don’t know if the trousers and boots will work but they look warm.

Her face breaks out into a huge smile and she gasps, her whole expression lightening. “This is perfect.”

While she starts sorting through the things, I tap Benn’s shoulder. More of a punch than a touch. “It’s time to focus.” He’s staring at her with a curious expression on his face, like he’s trying to figure something out, and we need to get into warrior mode for our planet foray. “Raxx couldn’t get into their prison system remotely—it’s locked down hard. We’re going to need to play mind games with them.”

He laughs, immediately focused. “My favorite. Veck. You be the asshole, I’ll be the calm one.”

“Oh, I’m the asshole?” I narrow my eyes.

“Call it like I see it.” He grins. “Who else punches their partner anyway just to talk?”

“You vecking excrement,” I curse, scowling.

“Just like that.” He nods. “Excellent job, my student.” He smirks. “Follow my lead and we’ll be fine.”

A chime sounds from the control panel, signaling our arrival into Hectan-3 airspace, and both of us turn our heads. I hold my breath, because if our craft isn’t accepted by their air control system and cleared to land, we’re vecked before we even start the op.

But a second later the second chime comes, the one that signals the go-ahead, and I relax.

As the craft begins the usual series of auto-adjustments for descent, I look at Danica. She’s holding boots and clothes in her arms, and she looks intent as she watches the panel from across the room.

Too intent.

I nod at Benn, and then at her.

He glances over. “Yeah,” he says softly. “What are we going to do about it?”

“I hate to say it but…” I retrieve a pair of cuffs from the side compartment. “She’s not going to like this, but I think it’s necessary.” I hand them to him.

He puts up both hands and raises his brows. “We already decided you’re the asshole, for good reason. So you do it. Get into character, brother.” He laughs. “You can make it up to her later with your tongue, I’m sure.”

“Vecking beast,” I mutter at him. But it’s a chance to touch her, and I’ll take it.

I stride over to Danica. “Give me your hand, slave,” I order.

She doesn’t resist, not exactly, but she doesn’t give her arm easily, so I reach back and slap her ass, hard. My cock surges to life, but there’s no time for that now.

“Ouch,” she complains, reaching back to rub, but I grab that hand too. It’s the work of a few seconds to cuff her delicate wrist in the glowing magnetbands, the ones controlled by my voice. I anchor the left one to the lock in the craft wall.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it. I touch her face, but she moves her chin away, and I see her chest heave. “Are you crying?” My voice rises as I try to look at her eyes. It’s something humans do, I know, when they feel strong emotions. The thing is that I also feel a whole host of emotions, watching her. The need to protect her. Keep her safe.

No, she’s not crying. She’s angry.