Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

* * *

The deep voice of the Zandian lulls me away from my pain.

Lanz.

I see him now and then when I open my eyes, but it’s short bursts and flashes of light. His lips move, but I’m not sure what he’s saying. Is he telling me battle stories?

I want to fade away, but his voice compels me to listen. Gruff and husky, there’s a tone of something that intrigues me, and despite the fatigue in my bones, when I hear him talk, I want to keep living. Even if I have been captured.

Then the other one talks—Domm, and my body wakes up. Because when he talks, my veins dance, pushing the blood. I can almost see it in my mind. Probably it’s because I’m close to dying, but I’ve never been so aware of my own heart pumping before, how my veins are hollow fleshy tubes, thin and

pliant. But although they’re thin, they’re strong and there’s a new energy in me now. I don’t know where it came from, but I grab it with all of my ability and ride it around, as my blood flows, encouraging my body to stay and fight.

Chapter 4

Mirelle

* * *

“No!” I wake up screaming, heart pounding, body soaked with cold, acrid sweat. My shoulder burns like it’s on fire and my whole body fights me, but the adrenaline rush is so strong that I pull free of the restraints that fasten my arms down. “Stay away!”

I pant and shake, eyes blurry, head swimming. Shapes form and reform in front of me, but everything’s underwater and I can’t make sense of it.

“Get back!” I lash out with my fighter’s moves, but it so exhausts me that I fall backwards onto my drenched pillow, my hair smelling like a dead animal, strands stuck to my face like entrails. When I reach out to push it back, strange clear tubes dangle from my arms and hands, like body parts all inside out.

“Easy, Mirelle. No being is going to hurt you.” A calm female voice intrudes into my panic.

“Who are you? Get away from me.” My voice is so raspy it doesn’t sound like me. My heart pounds so fast I fear I’m going to pass out.

“You’re in a medical pod on the planet Zandia. Your shoulder is badly damaged and you’re weak.”

This much is true, the part about my shoulder. The throbbing pain there drains my whole body of energy. But I don’t know why and how—

Memory floods back and with it, I vomit, leaning forward to expel everything in my stomach in a violent outburst.

“You're going to be all right.” The tone is so soothing I almost want to trust the speaker, but I know better. Because now that my memory is back, I realize where I must be. “If you stop fighting, I won’t retie your arms.”

I’m on Zandia. A captive. The worst place for a freedom fighter.

Well, not the worst. The worst would be that slave bay on the Ocretion ship. Or the auction from which I rescued my two humans. Or—the point is, there are worse places, but this one still isn’t good. Because if I couldn’t get away from them when it was just a handful, how can I possibly escape from a whole planet?

The speaker cleans me with hands that are small and cool and efficient. And—human.

I gasp and look at her. Blink, and my vision obliges for a few moments.

“You’re human?” I shiver as she removes my thin garment and helps me replace it.

“You’ve sweated through this one. And messed it up with vomit. Let’s give you a dry one.” She looks at me. “Yes. I’m Bayla.”

“You are a slave here?” I cough. “And they let you work in a med pod?”

She puts a fluid tube to my mouth. “Not a slave anymore. I work with the doctor. I’m his mate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Please don’t tax yourself. There will be time later for questions. Right now, focus on healing.”

“No, I need to know this right now.” I struggle to sit up, new sweat forming on my brow even though she’s wiped and wrapped my head in a soft cloth.