Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

Jesel. I take a breath.

“We’ll come back to you, never fear, little vipn.” Domm’s voice is jovial now, and if it seems little forced, I still feel relief that he can laugh.

“You better. I’d hate to have to find two new mates to veck every night.”

Both males growl and I squeal as Domm grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder. “It’s comments like that,” he says, striding to the sleep chamber, “that have me thinking I need to pull out the leather strap.” He tosses me down.

“What comments will get me your tongue?” I roll over and get into a provocative pose. “What if I said something about your large Zandian cock and what

I plan to do with my mouth? Would that work?”

“It would be a good start.” He grins at me.

“If you’d just free me”—I hold up my hands—“I could come with you. Fight alongside you. Help you.” I don’t know why I say this now, only that it’s welling up in me, this need, as much as the urge for sex with my mates.

His face falls and hardens. “Mirelle.”

“Master. Masters.” I look at both of them. “Will it never change?”

“No,” he snaps, then shakes his head. “I mean yes. But not until you finally decide to integrate here.” I think he’s on edge because of whatever mission he’s on, but it goads me into my own anger, and I allow it to consume me.

“If I’d been given freedom, I might consider it.” It’s right from my heart. “How stupid are you? To think you can take a sentient, living, feeling being and expect to enslave them and make them forget entirely about their past? You’re never going to thrive as a society. Never going to bring Zandia back to her former glory if you’re this stupid.”

I bang the cuffs together. “I just want these off. I want to be free.” Tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I hate having to be two Mirelles—the one who loves these Zandians, and the one who needs to go back to Jesel. I hate being torn in two. I hate my conflict. And yes, I hate that they’re not helping fix it, but only making it stronger. “I hate you!”

The two males stand there, as if made of stone, their color more peach than purple, as if the blood drained from their faces.

I’m immediately sorry—I don’t hate them—they’re all I have here, but I don’t know how to make this right. Make it work.

Lanz turns away. “We need to go.”

Without looking at me, Domm says stiffly, “When we return, we’ll speak to the king and dissolve this union. On Zandia, no human is bound to masters she does not want.”

His words hit me like a fist. I lose my breath, unable to speak, unable to tell him it’s not them I don’t want, but it’s too late.

The door closes with a finality, and I collapse into sobs.

Chapter 17

Mirelle

* * *

The capital is silent, darkness blanketing the domes. My cuffs flash green as I enter the flight deck where my craft is stored, the one that's off to the side. I snuck in without being noticed, of course. First of all, nobody expects an intruder. Second, I’m still good at this. Expert. And Domm and Lanz never turned off the temporary code that allowed me access to my craft area.

My senses are on high, adrenaline surging.

The temporary code for my craft still works, and I’ve paid close attention over the lunar cycles I’ve lived here. I know exactly how to get out of this hangar and onto the takeover zone. And I know that there’s only one Zandian on tower duty at night.

Sitting in the flight seat, I push back the regret, the heaviness of leaving. Zandia was never my home. And while I care for my mates, I have to get back to Jesel. It’s an itch that’s gotten so strong that I would scratch my skin to the bone to quench it, and this is the only way. Anyway, with Domm and Lanz willing to dissolve our bond, there’s no other option anyway.

Touching the controls is like a drug to my veins and I sigh, feeling alive, my worries slipping away as I focus and guide the craft up. There’s a message from the tower, a warning, and then I’m gone, into space.

I don’t think they’ll come after me, at least not right away. Domm and Lanz wouldn’t tell me, but Kianna said they’re on an all-hands-on-deck kind of mission to obtain an Ocretion ship right now. They need to reverse engineer it and figure out the Ocretion’s new cloaking system, or else Zandian ships will be jeopardized when in Ocretion airspace. Zandia used to have excellent diplomatic relations with the Ocretions, but since they won their planet back, the Ocretions are more threatened by them. And the pirate subculture is always alive and well in the galaxy.

The king won’t waste efforts chasing me. I think. I hope. Not now, not when his warships are taken up with this other critical mission.

As time passes and no warnings flash on my screen, I lose some of my tension. My craft can’t see their cloaked craft, so they could be on top of me this second. But more time passes, without intervention. I’m free.