Kept by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 5)

He’s panting like he exerted himself, even though I know that’s impossible. I’ve seen his physique. He releases his hold on my panties, much to my disappointment.

“That’s enough.” His voice is curt.

He helps me to turn around. His horns are thick and stiff, his face a darker shade of purple. And his eyes! They glow completely amethyst—no trace of brown now at all. “I hope that taught you a lesson.” His voice sounds scratchy and deep.

He wants me.

Desperately.

I can tell.

I glance down at the bulge at the front of his breeches.

“I must leave for some business.” Without looking at me, he gathers some items hurriedly. “Eat a meal before I return, and rest. If you have not…” he trails off. “Do not try to leave, because it will be locked.”

Dumbly, I nod. The pulse between my legs has me buzzing all over.

Then the door shuts behind him, and he’s gone.

My ass tingles in a way that would be pleasurable if he’d finished what he started. I walk to the door he left through and lean my head against it, fingers between my legs.

Damn you, Captain Drayk.

I shove my hand down the front of my panties and gasp at the wetness between my legs. How swollen the flesh is.

Remembering the way he touched me last time, I work my fingers, undulating my palm so I hit my clit with the heel of my hand and my entrance with my fingers. All I have to do is think of him.

My huge, imposing, gruff, gentle giant. What would it be like to be fully claimed by him? To have him thrust his manhood right here, where I’m touching?

That’s all it takes. I reach a climax, my internal muscles squeezing and pulsing as I pant against the threshold.

Not nearly as satisfying as when he helped me, but a relief, nonetheless.

“Well, I suppose it’s better this way,” I muse aloud. Leylah’s face floats in front of me, and I remember what she said: Never surrender myself, or I’ll always be a slave.

Surely this is what she meant. I must keep myself strong and independent and not allow this being to worm his way into my heart. To care what he thinks or feels for me. After all, how can I carry out her wishes if I’m acting like a besotted pleasure slave, concerned with physical delights?

I clench my f

ingers, remembering how the coin felt against my skin. “I need to get it back,” I whisper. “I have a mission.”

My bones seem to vibrate with the desire to meet with Lamira, but at this moment—locked up in Drayk’s chamber—it seems an impossible task.

I should count my blessings. I’m in a luxurious domicile with orders to do nothing but eat and rest.

I can lie around and pretend I’m the master for once. I go to the storage units to investigate this so-called nutrition station. If there are foods that I’m required to eat, by all means, I plan to get started at once. Thank Mother Earth for small pleasures.

Chapter 12

Drayk

“How goes the research?” I glance around the lab, which is filled with state-of-the-art equipment that looks complicated and fragile. I keep myself well away from all of it so I don’t brush against anything and create destruction.

Dr. Daneth comes forward, after wiping his hands on a sani-cloth. “Slow.” His voice is measured and even, but I sense frustration. “The human only gave us a brief overview of how the toxin is created.”

His mate Bayla adds, “And we do not have all of the required ingredients to recreate it. Nor do we have any Ocretion skin or tissue matter on which to test our samples.”

“Ah.” I rub my hand over my temples. “Do I need to question her for you? Do you need to question her?” But I scowl at this thought. “She is still fragile—”