Stolen by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 7)

I also made sure she received her full dosage of medicine. Those Kraa bastards had abused the poor human—that much was obvious. If I had time, I’d make them suffer for their treatment of her, but I don’t.

I need to find the superhuman and convince her she’s coming with me.

Which shouldn’t be too hard considering I have the medicine she requires.

There. I spy a dark form moving along the wall in a decidedly unhuman way.

Fascinating.

She’s making her way right toward her Kraa masters—returning for the medicine, no doubt.

I find my way to her and grasp one of her ankles, giving it a sharp tug, so she falls into my arms. She smells sweet, like sugarfruit and the Zandian starshine. She struggles against my hold, striking me in the face with the heel of her hand.

“I have the medicine,” I tell her.

She goes still.

I flip her across my shoulder, so she’s easier to carry. “You’re leaving with me.”

Chapter 3

Kailani

His words stun me into silence. I barely register the touch of his powerful hand on the bare skin of my legs, the way my body presses into his more powerful one. He moves deliberately through the darkness. Around us, shouts of confusion and command ring out.

“Who are you?” My whisper is hoarse. I twist my torso to look around. “Put me down.”

He adjusts his grip on my body and slaps my naked ass once with his free hand—hard. “No, my marvelous little warrior. You’re mine now.”

I’ve been damaged and abused beyond imagination by my Kraa owners, but the spank from this purple warrior is different. It sends tingles into my belly and causes my nipples to harden. So does his deep velvety voice. I somehow latch onto the marvelous little warrior part rather than his assertion of ownership—the part I should be worried about.

I block those thoughts and focus. “I’ll pay you to set me free. We can come to an arrangement.” Working on instinct, I slide my hand down his back and cup his buttock. I’ve never been used as a pleasure slave, but the movement is almost natural. My fingers linger. Stars, his body is nice to the touch.

His laugh is quick. “That we will. And I set the terms, little warrior.” He regrips me again and gives me another firm spank that goes straight to my feminine parts. “Don’t test me.”

I blink once, and the remnants of my headache disappear. My mind races. Once we reach the exit of the auction, I will attack him using my quick punch power, steal my medicine and whatever goods he has. Or even better—I’ll take his craft. I’ve never been trained to fly one, but I’ve had brain tweaks that make me learn ten times faster than most humans. He’s so strong, but I need to defeat him—it’s my only chance at freedom.

“Veck.” His voice is low and urgent. His body stiffens up. “They’re blocking the exit.”

“Bigger problem.” My eyes, quickly acclimated to the dark, have found a more urgent threat. “Behind us, fifty paces, closing fast. Two Ocretions with laser guns.” I do the math. “They’ll be on us in ten seconds. They have night vision headsets.”

My body fills with adrenaline. “Put me down—I’ve trained for this.”

His laugh is harsh. “You? A human slave, taught to fight?”

“Yes. But we don’t have time to discuss it.” I snap his words back at him. Early on, the Kraa put me through holo attack simulations to test out my reflexes. “We fight together, or we both die.”

For a painfully long moment, he hesitates. Then I’m on my feet, head spinning as blood rushes down to my limbs.

“Go,” he snaps. “Now.”

I don’t need encouragement. I crouch and leap, turning the side of my foot, so the heel bone smashes the nose of the closer Ocretion. I immediately repeat the move; this time, his facial flesh is already pulpy, and my foot comes away slick with blood. His scream of pain and fear soothes my ragged nerves, and he drops in the dark, a useless sack of flesh. The second one is easier to fell; his surprise makes him stand still and stare while I crack his trachea.

“Mine are down. I’m ready,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with adrenaline.

At my back, the purple warrior grunts. The clang of steel on metal tells me he’s unsheathed his wicked dagger from his waist and is fighting with a guard; the horrified squeals are a welcome notification that his attackers have been vanquished.

He breathes hard as I dart to his side. “Come.”