Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

I’m overwhelmed. I smile at him. “It’s been so strange.”

He waits.

“I was rescuing two females when I was attacked, captured. Taken to Zandia.”

He sucks in a breath. Concern in his eyes.

I pick my words carefully. “I was given to two Zandians as a mate.” I hurry to add, “It was not bad.”

From the expression on his face, I can see that he’s unsure.

“They were not unkind. In fact, they were…quite…accommodating.” I flush hard. Accommodating indeed.

But then tears prick my eyes, remembering how we parted—the last thing I said to them.

It was so untrue—I don’t hate them. I love them. But love isn’t enough, sometimes, when we have promises to keep. And when the others no longer love you.

“Life there is different than we thought,” I add rapidly. “They have an advanced society, and they rescue humans. Mostly human women.”

He frowns. “I have been learning about the Zandians. What I’ve found is very enlightening.”

“Father, the things humans create there, you would love it. Medicine. Weapons. Craft. The tools they have at their disposal! It’s like anything in the universe you can think of, you can create.” My fingers itch, remembering my tool shop there. “I was able to do things I’ve only dreamed of.

“But I’m back now.” I take a breath. “I can continue our work, Father. The rescues. Our plans for the future.” Strangely, I feel no great enthusiasm for the task. Instead, I feel an existential dread, and something I never once felt: Fear.

“Our plans.” His voice is pensive. “Yes.”

“What have you been doing?” I look around. Nothing’s changed here, it seems. Except it’s quieter. “Where are the others?” I’m used to seeing at least three or four other humans around. It’s eerily silent. “Usually everyone gathers in your hut to talk and make plans at this time.” Unease pricks me. “Right?”

He shakes his head.

Cold trickles along my spine. “Father? Tell me.”

He sighs. “We were attacked again by the North crew.”

“Mandy? Tess? Are they all right?” I lean forward. “Father!”

He avoids my eyes. “Mirelle, we did the best we could. I’m so sorry.”

“Father, are they—what happened?” I grab his arm. “Tell me.”

“Mirelle, they were taken.” He takes my hand.

“No!” I stand up, scanning the room. “We need to rescue them.”

“We cannot. They destroyed our fortifications. Took our weapons. It will take time to rebuild, if we even can. I have no remaining craft that are operational.”

“I can fix—” But no, I can’t. My tools are on Zandia. My stomach churns. “I did it before. I can do it again.”

But I’m weary. Just thinking about the massive effort it will take to plan an attack on the North crew leaves me ill and despondent. The dangerous missions I’ll have to make in whatever ill-designed, ramshackle craft we have, each journey a toss-up with fate as to whether I survive or do not.

“Why do humans have to fight? Don’t they understand that we only weaken ourselves this way?” I sit back down, sink my head onto my folded arms.

I asked to come back here. Demanded it. Forced it. Now that I’m back, it feels like a big mistake.

I miss Zandia, my mates, with every fiber of my being. How ironic: When I was there, all I wanted was to come back here. Now that I’m here, I want to be back there.

“Garrett has never been a reasonable man.” My father’s voice is firm. “And he never will be. Desperation and weakness twists beings into sick facsimiles of what they once were. He will never change.”