Kept by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 5)

When we’ve both finished, I slow to a stop and hover over her, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in her breath.

An aftershock ripples through her and her pussy clenches around my cock again and then she stares sightlessly through me.

I still, recognizing the sign of a vision coming to her. In the stillness, my malehood pulses and twitches inside her, but neither of us move.

Finally, she blinks, and her chest fills with air. “A human slave escaped this planet rotation.”

I tilt my head, wondering why this would be important.

“She stowed away on a Zandian ship to petition you for asylum.”

Still, I wait.

“Her escape will bring things to a head with the Ocretions. They will discover the relative freedom you’ve granted humans here and will fear that every human in the galaxy will attempt to escape to Zandia.”

My jaw hardens and I pull out, dropping to my side next to my lovely mate. “We will return the slave, then. We are not in a position to risk war with Ocretia. They’re far too powerful.” We only won our planet back from the Finn a few short solar cycles ago and our population is near extinction.

Lamira pales, her eyes wide in her face. “My lord, you cannot. This human’s destiny is tied to Zandia’s, just as mine was. It has been seen in visions other than mine.” She swallows. “Besides, if it’s not this one, it will be the next. You know this conflict is inevitable.”

I frown, not over this situation—we have dealt with worse. More because my plan to settle my mate into sleep has been thwarted. I need to redirect this conversation if I want to succeed. I stroke away the creases on her forehead. “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ll call a council meeting to discuss it. You rest, love. Thank you for your prophecy.”

She blinks at me for a moment, then relaxes, nestling into my chest. I stroke her arms and back until she drifts into slumber, then get up to call my council.

It seems we have a diplomatic nightmare about to open up.

Chapter 5

Taisha

“Your name.” He barks the question like an order, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

I gulp the fluid in my mouth and jerk, my whole body involved, and cough. I struggle to my feet with the bottle and my cuffs, and stumble, my head groggy.

In a flash he’s beside me. “Do not stand.” Now he seems irritated that I tried to show respect. “You need to rest.” He puts his hands on my shoulders.

I gasp at his nearness. My heart pounds and I drop the tube. I open my mouth and make a small squeak, because the mere touch of his fingers to my body—skin on skin through the weave of the shawl, sets me aflame. Instantly my blood is hot and I feel it pounding in my neck, my wrists, and Mother Earth, somewhere deep inside my core, a secret place.

Stunned, I can only stare at him.

“Did I hurt you? Veck. Sit, sit.” His hands tighten, then loosen, and his face seems to darken and get more purple. “I’m, I am, I think you…” He clears his throat.

I sit, chew the inside of my cheek. Our gazes lock. It’s impossible, this sensation in my body. This fluttering my chest and belly. I’ve never—

He reaches down and takes the tube without looking, hands it up to me, and the fact that he’s lower than I am, almost at my feet, makes the flurries in my body intensify. Heat fires between my legs.

I want to speak, but I’m afraid I’ll squeak again, which is unbecoming.

He’s still looking at me, and for some reason that I don’t understand, his horns thicken and seem to grow.

Without knowing why I do it, I dart my tongue out and lick my lip and give him a small smile.

His jaw clenches and he stands up. “I asked your name. If you’re so eager for asylum, I suggest you cooperate with these most basic questions at a very minimum.” His voice is stern. Dominant.

Thrilling.

“Yes, my Lord.” I don’t know if that is the right term, but all I want to do is show obedience at this point. “Thank you fo

r allowing me to petition. My name is Taisha, and I am a human slave, and have spent the entire life I remember on Romon-3 under ownership of the Ocretion Master Foonal. I would like—”