Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

“Gorde!” I cry out.

He smiles down into my face. “I love you.”

“Me too.” I melt at the sight of his strong, fierce jaw, his gleaming eyes. Full of passion, for me. “I love you too.”

Still looking at me, he nudges my thighs a little wider. “Open for me, baby. Let me in.”

“Always.” I wiggle and tilt my hips, and he presses down, and our bodies find the perfect angle so he can slide in. “Oh, Mother Earth. So good.”

I shut my eyes and hum as he pushes in deep. He has this way of twisting as he comes out, and he hits all of my spots. He can usually make me come so fast.

“Wait for it, baby,” he urges, and I open my eyes to see his expression. That small smile on his sexy lips. Those chiseled Zandian jawbones.

He stops moving and just waits inside of me, and I swear I can feel his pulse in his cock, and my heart matches it. I reach up to touch his face, amazed at how close we are. How much I care for him, for Benn. For all of us.

My ass stings in a delicious way and my whole body is in tune with his. As he moves again, I grab his arms, his shoulders, pull his body to me while he fucks me. And when we come at the same time, I cry out his name, with a rush of pleasure and joy so immense that I know that life could never be better, not on any planet, not with any other beings.

My story is a strange one, my path unusual. But it’s led me here, to Zandia. To a love greater than any I’ve known. And I know, without a doubt, that the future is going to be amazing and bright.

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Mastered by the Zandians

Zandian Brides, Book 3

Mirelle

“Hurry, hurry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with urgency. “Faster.” I nudge the taller female with my hand. “Come on.”

Her wide eyes, glazed with anxiety and stress, are uncomprehending.

“Do you speak Ocretian?” I swipe sweat from my brow and cough. It’s the most common language in the galaxy, and these are human slaves--surely they understand my words. “If you want to leave, we do it now.”

The smaller one lurches into motion. “Mama, come on!” she wails, and tugs at her mother’s hand. “Please.” Then she coughs; the air here is inhospitable for human lungs. But the woman stands frozen and starts to tremble.

Fuck.

I’ve rescued over fifty humans, and this isn’t anything new, but it’s awful timing. Because out of the corner of my eye, I spy a being across the galactic ship lot look over with more than a passing glance. I’ve been noticed.

I don’t need any being watching me, figuring out who I am and what I do. It’s dangerous enough to even be here on this planet. I shouldn’t have come, but I can’t resist humans in need.

I assess him the way I was taught, scanning quickly: Muscles. Horns. Purple skin. Daggers at the waist. He’s a Zandian, a small but powerful species of warriors who recently took back their planet. Double fuck--he’s the one who outbid

me at the auction.

“My ship is just 800 paces away.” I take the woman’s hand. “What’s your name? I’m Mirelle.” The Zandian is eyeing us. Even across the tarmac, which sends up heat ripples, I see his amethyst eyes flashing in the brutal sunlight.

She blinks at me and I curse. “Mother Earth. You come with me, it’s safe passage to Jesel, where humans are free. You wait around here? They’ll take you back to that auction, punish you for leaving, and sell you off to a sadistic monster.” I’m not sure that’s true: The Zandian, who won her purchase, surely plans to take her to his planet. Zandia. But there she’ll still be a slave. I’m offering her something far better.

The woman finally moves, jerking her neck. “I don’t know what to do. Help me.”

I scoop up the smaller girl, even though it’s probably the mother who needs assistance, but this spurs her into action--she follows me as I jog to the ship. But just as I set down the child and unlock the portal, allowing the entrance steps to descent, I see motion.

It’s the Zandian. Mother Earth, although I know I need to get out of here, watching him move is like magic. He’s fast and graceful, like a wild animal on the plains. Intent.

My two rescues suddenly feel the urgency because they scamper onto my well-worn craft, but it’s too late for me to follow, because he’s here. In front of me. Backing me up against my own ship. The one I constructed with my own hands back on Jesel from old parts scavenged from galactic trash.

He looks right at me with those purple eyes. His horns are alert. “You have property that is rightfully mine.”