Claimed by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 6)

“Veck,” I roar when she bites my arm. Hard. I nearly drop her. “Stop that.”

“Let me go!” She bites again.

“Stop it now.” Even without my sight, it’s easy to pin her arms to her waist. She’s so small and fragile, like all the human females. No match for a Zandian warrior. Even a blind one.

I speak into her ear. “We. Are. Not. Going. To. Sell. Or. Hurt. Her.” She keeps fighting, so I add, “Or. You.”

She kicks my shin. It doesn’t hurt, despite her hard boot. I hardly think a little human could damage a powerful Zandian. But she’s got a lot of energy, I’ll give her that.

“Good thing she isn’t trained like Mirelle,” Captain Drayk observes.

“She’s a handful anyway.” I regrip her, glad he’s right. There are few humans as well-trained as Mirelle who can down even seasoned warriors. This one is doing little more than making my horns and cock stiff.

Her body is warm and soft, but firm in all the right places. I fight the urge to bite her neck and bury my lips in her soft hair. I have to admit that I enjoy holding her prisoner against my body. I clear my throat. “As you can see.”

The captain has a strange expression on his face. Maybe the sensors aren’t picking it up correctly—it almost looks like he wants to laugh. But instead he stands and nods.

“Tarek,” he orders, “contain the human. Take her back to the med bay and discipline her. Dangerous or not, she needs to learn respect and restraint.”

“Yes, Captain.” Gladly. My horns go stiff and thick on my head, showing everyone just how much that idea appeals to me.

I know how human females are punished on Zandia. Dr. Daneth’s research and practical application has proven again and again that punishment of a sexual nature—on their bare buttocks, breasts or pussy—provides the most positive results. The female bonds to her master through the combination of humility, pain and pleasure, and her behavior is easily modified as her affection is also earned.

I never expected to be master or mate to a human. Never thought I’d punish a human of my own, but if Captain Drayk had ordered any other being to do it, I would’ve gone ballistic. Perhaps he observed my attachment to the human and granted me this.

I toss her over my shoulder and clap one hand down on her ass, hard enough to make her gasp. I carry her, still kicking, down the corridor. I can’t help but notice that she’s clean now, and smells like the light citrus soap and her own delicious scent. Some of her hair gets into my mouth from all her contortions and I spit it out.

“Stop,” I murmur in her ear, once we’re in the Med Pod 2. The tech comes in to check, and I nod at him. “We’re fine. Stay with Enya in Pod 1.”

I sit on a hover bench and shift her into my arms on my lap. “Listen, little human. We are not selling or trading you or Enya. I can’t tell you why we needed to get the young, but you’ll find out soon enough. Zandia is a safe place for the both of you.”

Veck this situation. I wish I could tell her that Enya’s real mother waits back on planet, heart in her throat, dying of anxiety and need. But I can’t. It’s not my place to do so, and my honor prevents me from breaking the promise.

“You’re safe, but you must respect us and our rules. If you wish to be granted asylum on Zandia, you will behave. On a starship, you don’t attack an officer. That’s grounds for imprisonment. Certainly for punishment.”

“But of course it is.” She turns her chin and scowls at me. “And then you’ll eject me into space and watch me explode.”

“Actually, you’d go flat, not explode,” I correct her automatically. “As your lungs compressed. In about forty-five seconds. What I will actually do is this.”

In just a breath’s time, I attach a pair of magna-cuffs to her slender wrists, and I link them together in front of her. “See? Simple. Just to keep you from, you know, accidentally destroying something critical while you have a tantrum in front of one of the finest Zandian captains in the galaxy.”

“Let. Me. Go.” She struggles mightily but is no match for the cuffs.

“No.” I keep my voice even. “You’re in my custody now, little human. I’ll release you when I deem you safe for the Zandians on the ship.”

She struggles for a few more moments, then collapses against me, panting and trembling. A lot of fight for such a small, fragile creature. I admire it.

I stroke her hair. She turns her face to mine, studying me with what my sensors say are widened eyes. Her pulse rate remains high, and yet her muscles are loose and she leans into me, not away. Interesting.

I like having her bound and on my lap. I like it a whole vecking lot. And curse me if I’m wrong, but I think she’s beginning to enjoy it, too. She’s oddly relaxed for a being who’s just been manhandled and cuffed on a stranger’s ship.

“Right, because there’s an excellent chance I can hit you with my hard head and knock you unconscious, and then pick the lock on these with a metal clip that I find lying around on the floor, and then take over the starship and fly it to safety.”

At first, I’m confused—then I realize it’s that odd human way of communicating—sarcasm. She’s joking with me! That must be a good sign. I’ve learned that humans do this only with beings who give them a certain level of comfort. They never do it with people they hate or distrust. But it won’t get her a free pass to do whatever she wants.

My time in the med bay back on Zandia gave me, shall I say, somewhat of an expertise in the art of joking with humans.

I consider this. “My head is harder than yours, and the cuffs can’t be opened with random junk. And your previous comment about exploding in space lets me know that you probably don’t have even the most basic knowledge about stellar exploration and ship operation, so… no. No chance.”