Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

He holds up the child like a shield and laughs. “You’re mine now.”

I could kill him, but the child would die too; she covers his head and chest.

“Don’t hurt her!” The mother is beside herself. She runs to the Ocretion and grabs for her daughter, and utter chaos erupts.

The other Ocretions are back with short range weapons; it’s clear that they’ve chosen stunners— like ours—to avoid damaging our craft. Even in the midst of the fray, I can see that they want our craft. Badly.

“Shoot to kill.” Archer raises his voice to be heard over the clamor, but it’s something I’m already doing. I drop the nearest Ocretion, the stench of his thick blood like perfume now, smelling of victory. Dodging stunner blasts, the yellow and blue scarring the air and leaving trails of ozone behind, I come up behind a second and slice his throat with my dagger. The razor-thin edge cuts his scabrous, gray skin like flower petals.

I whirl around; see that Lanz is taking care of himself, and Archer has felled two more. Their bodies lie like sacks of trash, their chests still pumping, but slowly, slowly.

And by the stars, Mirelle—I was going to rescue her—holds her own. She screams now and again, doing that twirl kick that felled Lanz back on Shirtang, and the speed of her attack stuns the Ocretion. I hear the crack of his cheek bone, and then his ooph grunt as her other boot breaks ribs. A lot of them, based on the way he collapses, oozing air and color. Dying. Without wasting a movement, she bends down and grabs his weapon, flipped the switch from stun to kill a nanosecond before blasting a hole between his eyes.

And she doesn’t hesitate. No looking. No crying. No sucked in breath to indicate shock or horror, or even surprise, at what she’s done. No, like a true warrior, she’s back in her fighting stance, holding the phaser out, eyes scanning the area.

Normally, in battle, my focus is clear—I have a rhythm with Lanz and we work without thought. With the female, I’m distracted—worried for her safety despite the fact that she holds her own.

“Behind you,” she shouts to me, and I turn just in time to fend off two of them, using my own kicks, my dagger, to disarm and then slay them.

Breathing hard, I turn to see we’ve killed all the ones in the area, except one Ocretion.

He’s holding the child in his arms still; she’s bloody now, although I don’t know if it’s from her wound or that of another.

“Give up your ship or I kill the slave.” He smirks at us.

I wipe my brow and flare my horns.

“You will never get our ship.” Archer advances.

Despite the fact that there are four of us and one of him, the Ocretion doesn’t flinch. Instead, he laughs. “First I’ll toss her to the crew back on board, let a few of them have their way. They haven’t had a pleasure slave in a while.”

The mother’s scream is so high and shrill, she must be ruining her vocal chords. She runs at him again, like a force of nature.

He grabs her hair and slams her into the wall, an easy conquest. “This one, too. She can watch first, then she’ll please a few. Maybe we’ll cut off a few fingers and toes for fun, show them cooperation is key. Humans. No good for anything but flesh sacks.”

His words are vulgar, but he can’t possibly think we’d budge. We’re warriors; no matter how vile, we don’t respond to threats and as far as he knows, the humans are nothing more than slaves to us. Why would we care?

Our little warrior steps forward, her shoulders quivering. “We have to give them what they want. Please. Don’t let them hurt her. Please.”

“No!” Frustration makes me harsh. “You don’t understand what’s happening.”

“We can’t let them die now!” She turns to me in supplication, and her shaking hands drop her phaser. “Please!”

“Stop…” I begin, horrified at her transformation from fighter to victim.

Then I see her expression. Just out of view of the peripheral vision of the Ocretion, she gives me a sly smile and drops the lid of one eye. It’s a signal of some sort, although I don’t understand it.

“I can’t!” she wails, and drops to her knees, wraps her arms around herself. “Please, please, humans are frail and weak. You must protect us!”

I look at Lanz and tilt my head ever so slightly to the left. That’s our sign for attack on command. Archer steps back just a bit; that means he agrees.

And then it’s like a dance, almost like we choreographed it ahead of time, even though it unfolds second by second.

Lanz rushes to Mirelle’s side, leaving the path open for the Ocretion to advance. “Get up,” Lanz barks, grabbing her arm. “There’s no time for this. We need you focused.” He pulls her to her feet. “You’re our most valuable possession. We need you on task. Now.”

Archer turns his head to look, giving the Ocretion time to consider this. “Lanz is right. You have all the skills we need. Use them.”

I keep my eyes on the Ocretion, hoping he’ll take the bait. The main flight panel is completely open now. He’ll go for that, or the human—I know it.