Kept by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 5)

“Veck.” He tosses the belt aside and it clatters on the floor. He sinks into the seat beside me. “This is not want I intended.”

Drayk

The human sniffs and I stiffen.

Stars, no.

I’ve hurt her. As gently as I can, I grip her chin and nudge her face toward me. Moisture coats her cheeks. I’ve heard of the human tears, but haven’t seen them before.

I’m totally unprepared for the

rush of horror it produces in me.

“Taisha?”

She pulls from my grip, and turns her face away.

My chest tightens.

Veck. I was an idiot to think I knew how to discipline or interrogate a human female. I’d just heard so many talk of the pleasure of bringing their humans in line, I never dreamed it would be anything but… satisfying.

But it’s not.

It was vecking awful, actually.

Except for the part when I sat her on my lap.

I need help. Some being who can counsel me. Make sure I haven’t done irreparable damage. I activate my comms unit and request connection to Dr. Daneth, the king’s royal physician. The being who came up with the human breeding program.

Dr. Daneth’s holo pops up, but I’m suddenly possessed with an insane urge to keep him from seeing Taisha. Especially because I’ve bared her. I fumble with my comms and switch to audio, inserting the receiver in my ear so only I can hear him.

“Dr. Daneth, yes. A human female stowed away on our ship while we were on Romon-3—an escaped slave. I applied”—I clear my throat—“discipline with my hand to encourage her to be more forthcoming.”

“Yes?” Dr. Daneth prompts when I don’t go on.

I swallow. “I also used my belt once. She’s crying now.”

“I see,” Dr. Daneth says in his cool, clinical tone. He’s one of our elders, but he has his own human mate—a young, fertile breeder who’s given him two Zandian half-breed young already. “Does she cry from pain or from need?”

My cock surges at the word need, even though I’m not certain what Dr. Daneth means.

The lovely human has curled up on the farthest end of the bench, in the corner, where she regards me. Her knees are drawn up, hiding her pussy, but the reddened curves of her ass still show.

I clear my throat. “Uh… how would I know, sir?”

“Is there moisture at her entrance? You might see it glisten between her legs. Or scent it.”

I stride over to the female with purpose, but stop short. I’ve trained as a warrior since I was a youth. I’m fearless in battle. Certain with a sword, or hand-to-hand combat. At ease at the helm of a ship. But the human’s full pouty lips still quiver, and I’m suddenly unsure of myself.

I place my hands on her knees and gently pry them open.

By the one true Zandian star. She’s wet for me.

“Ah, it appears to be need, sir.”

And my answering need is also present—not the one to pound between her legs until I shout my climax, although that’s there. But also the desire to relieve her ache. To bring her to orgasm and watch that ripe young body of hers quiver and shake when I do. To bring her pleasure. That need overpowers me.

I draw in a deep breath.