Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

I straighten my shoulders and stride forward, keeping my head high, my gait strong. When I reach the craft, I nod to the Falladian standing guard at the base of the entry station. “I’m looking for passage.”

He stares at me with all three eyes, scratching his head with one tentacled arm. His other arms cross over his chest. “We’re full.” His gaze slides past me, then back.

I extract a bag of coins from my voluminous jacket. Gold I took from Benn’s bag. “I can pay in gold. No taxes, no fees. Just pure stein.”

He blinks, his blue eyelids closing like those of the lizards that ran around on my old planet. “Full is full.”

“Double.” I shake some coins into my gloved hand.

When he doesn’t react, I raise my eyelids. “With a bonus for you.”

He doesn’t move for a long time, and bile rises in my throat. Every sound behind me is like a shot to my gut. Are they coming after me yet?

Then he blinks again, that slow open and shut. “Triple. And only as far as Tellurex. I don’t want to know your final destination. You can get another transport there.”

“Done.” I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder. A re-fueler pod zooms past, making sloshing and clanking sounds, like some gears are worn, and disappears around a craft further down the tarmac. I see various beings around, and my unease grows—I need to get out of sight, fast.

“Weapons will be checked and stored for the duration of the flight. To ensure the safety of all passengers.” His long, thin mouth curves up into a grin, revealing long, razor sharp, whisper thin talons, in tapered rows of three, on both upper and lower jaws.

“Of course.” I tense my thighs, clench my fist. Resist the urge to shudder.

“We depart in one hour. You can board now—”

He breaks off, stepping backwards, his eyes widening. I whirl around, heart in my throat, and panic when I look right into the flat-featured, ugly face of a squat Ocretion.

“What do we have here?” the Ocretion asks, eyes glittering as he examines me, his gaze far too sharp for my liking.

The Falladian shrugs. “Transport passenger. Who’s asking?”

“Prison Specialist X23-G.” The Zandian flashes a badge. “Looking for runaway slaves.” He raises a sleek flashing device. “Surely you don’t mind if I do a quick scan, just to ensure your passengers are all legal?”

The Falladian stiffens, and his eyes redden. “This is a neutral way station, guard. I don’t care who you are, my passengers are off limits.” His body starts to swell and expand before my eyes, his muscles puffing out into hard ridges. An acrid sweaty odor fills the air. He glances at my pouch of gold. I know he only cares about my money, but I’m grateful for his resistance to the Ocretion.

The Oc doesn’t move at this display. “It won’t take but a second.” He grins, an oily nasty smile that leaves his eyes flat and cold. “As we Ocretions now own the local prison, we have additional rights to look for escapees on the planet.”

I suck in air and cough, the acrid fumes burning my lungs. There’s probably not enough oxygen here for me, and I feel dizzy and cold, hot, sick. But something in my gut twists, something hidden and mysterious, telling me I need to react —

I sense it before it happens; the Ocretion reaches out, serpent fast, his clawed nails flashing in the lights from the trans craft, and I’ve already leapt aside. Anticipating. I guess my reflexes are still working.

“Mother Earth!” I whirl and run, coins flying from my fingers like sunbeams, falling to the parched ground. Adrenaline gives me speed, and I fly, racing around obstacles with ease, my mind moving fast to plan my route.

But he’s faster. It’s only seconds before I feel his hands on my jacket, and the breath is wrenched from me as he stops me in my path, whirling me around roughly to face him. We’re back at the transport craft, and I could weep—my salvation so close, yet so infinitely far.

“You’re a human,” he spits at me, his foul breath making me gag.

“I’m not. Take your hands off me,” I snap, struggling in vain.

“If you’re not, then what’s that on your neck?” He leers at me. “The first digits signify human.”

Mother Earth. My headgear has come loose, exposing my barcode. I grab the scarf and rewrap it. “None of your concern.” I need to get onto that trans ship—once I’m on, he can’t board. Nobody can, unless invited by the craft owner.

“You’re done.” He laughs. “Your life is mine. Don’t fight it, or I’ll make this far, far worse.” His ugly sneer brings bile to my throat.

I take a deep breath and turn to run again, but he grabs my arm, pressing in hard with his repulsive hand, and I scream now, with all my might, although there's nobody here who cares. Not even the Tellurian—he wants easy money; he won’t get involved in a spat with an Ocretion. No sane being would.

My head spins with terror, and then, to my utter surprise and relief, there’s Gorde. Strong, panting, anger and concern in his eyes. “Let go.” With one vicious punch, he drops the Ocretion, and I’m pretty sure I hear cracking bone as the monster falls to the ground, his hand loosening on my arm like a hideous flower blooming open. I know he’s dead before I see the dark maroon spread of his blood.

“Danica. We need to get the veck out of here, now!” He grabs me, but I’m not capable of moving.