His Human Slave (Zandian Masters 1)

Chapter 1

Zandian Breeding season.

That was the last consideration in his mind before liberating his planet from the Finn.

Breeding season.

Zander sat at the round platform, studying the faces of the elders he respected most, the ones who had risked their lives to save him when the Finn invaded Zandia and wiped out the rest of their species solar cycles before.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” Daneth, the only Zandian physician left in the galaxy said, tapping his wrist band. “You are the best male representative of the Zandian species, the only one left of the royal bloodline, and, more importantly, the only one young enough to produce healthy offspring. If you go to battle without first procreating, our species will die with us.” He gestured around the room at the other members of his parents’ generation.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in exasperation. “And exactly which female do you think I will produce these offspring with? Last I heard, there is no Zandian female under the age of sixty left alive.”

“You will have to cross-breed. I purchased a program and entered your genetic makeup. It uses all the known gene files in the galaxy to predict the best possible mate for breeding.

He raised his eyebrows. “So have you already run this program?”

Daneth nodded.

He glanced around the table, his gaze resting on Seke, his arms master and war strategist. “Did you know about this?”

Seke nodded once.

“And you approve? This is foolish. My time should be spent training with the new battleships we bought and recruiting an army, not...” He spluttered to a stop.

“The continuation of the species is paramount. What is the point of winning back Zandia if there are no Zandians left to populate it?”

He sighed, blowing out a breath. “All right, I’ll bite. Who is she? What species?”

Daneth projected an image from his wrist band. The image of a slight, tawny-haired young female appeared. “Human. Lamira Taniaka. She’s an Ocretion slave working in agrifarming.”

A human breeder. A slave.

Veck.

Zander didn’t have time for this excrement. “There’s been a miscalculation.” He waved his hand at the hologram.

“No, no mistake. I ran the program several times. This female bested every other candidate by at least a thousand metapoints. This female will produce the most suitable offspring for you.”

“Impossible. Not a human. No.” Humans were the lowest of the social strata on Ocretia, the planet where his palatial pod had been granted airspace.

“I realize it seems an unlikely match, my lord, but there must be some reason her genes mix best with yours. The program is flawless.”

“I thought you might suggest someone worthy of formal mating—an arranged marriage with royalty of another species. Not a breeder. Not a pet.” Humans were not mates, they were slaves to the Ocretions. An inferior species. He hadn’t had much to do with them, but from what he understood, they were weak, fragile. Their lifespan was short; they did not recover easily from injuries. They spread disease and died quickly. They lacked honor and fortitude. They lied.

Zandians—his species—never lied.

“I was not seeking a lifemate for you—I found the best female for producing your offspring. If you wish to find a mate, after you have bred, I will search the databases for the female most compatible to your personality and lifestyle preferences. But this is the one you must breed. And now, during the traditional Zandian breeding season.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. The breeding season didn’t matter. For one thing, they weren’t on Zandia—weren’t affected by her moons or her atmosphere. For another, he wouldn’t be breeding with a Zandian female coming into cycle.

But Daneth was like a sharkhound on a hunt—he wouldn’t stop until the stated goal had been reached. He’d been his father’s physician and had served on Zander’s council as a trusted advisor since the day they’d evacuated Zandia during the Finn’s takeover. Zander had been only fourteen sun-cycles then. He’d spent the last fifteen sun-cycles working every day on his plan to retake his planet. He’d settled in Ocretia, where he’d amassed a small fortune through business and trade, making connections and preparing resources, training for war.

“I will take care of everything. I will purchase her and bring her here until you impregnate her. Once it’s done, you can send her away. I’m certain you’ll be satisfied with the results. The program is never wrong.”

“She’s human. And a slave. You know I don’t believe in keeping slaves.”

“So set her free when she’s served you.” Lium, his tactical engineer spoke.

“A slave will have to be imprisoned. Guarded. Disciplined.”

“She’s beautiful. Would it be such a hardship to have this woman chained in your bedroom?” This from Erick, his trade and business advisor.

Beautiful? He looked again at the holograph. Dirt covered her hands and cheeks, her unkempt hair pulled back and secured at her nape. But, upon closer inspection, it seemed Erick was right. She was pretty—for a human. Her tangled hair was an unusual copper color and wide-set green eyes blinked at the imager that had captured her likeness. A smattering of light freckles dusted her golden skin. She wore drab, shapeless work garments, but when Daneth hit a command to remove the clothing and predict the shape of her naked body, it appeared to be in perfect proportion—round, firm breasts, wide hips, long, muscular legs. His horns and cock stiffened in unison.

Veck.

He hadn’t had that reaction to a female of another species before. He’d only grown hard watching old holograms of naked or scantily clad Zandian females from the archives.

For the love of Zandia.

He didn’t want a human. He wanted the impossible—one of his own species, or, if not, then a female of a species that was on the same level as his own, not inferior.

“Why do you suppose her genes are best? What else do you know about her?”

“Well, there’s this.” Daneth flashed up a holograph of a human man, dressed in combat gear, a light ray gun in his hand, blood dripping from his forehead. “He was her father, a rebel warrior who fought in the last human uprising before her birth. He may even have led it.”

“Hmm.” He made a noncommittal sound. His species were warriors. Why would he need the human genome for that? “What about her mother?”

“Not much to be found. She’s still alive—they’re together now, working on Earth-based plant and food growth production. Keeping their heads down, is my guess. The data about her father isn’t in the Ocretion database file. My program gene-matched to give me that information. I’m surprised the Ocretions don’t do more gene study.”

“I’ll probably split her in two the first time I use her. Humans aren’t built for Zandian cocks.”

“The program can’t be wrong.”

He sighed. “Is she even for sale?”

“No, but you are highly esteemed royalty and the unofficial ambassador from Zandia. I’m sure she can be purchased for the right price.” Daneth referred to his position on the United Galaxies. Since the Finns were not recognized by the UG due to their genocidal practices, Zander served as the Zandian ambassador. Not that it did much good. No one on the UG was willing to put their resources behind him to overthrow the Finns.

He made a grumbling sound in his throat. “Fine. But don’t spend too much. Our resources are needed for recruiting soldiers.”

“Your offspring are top priority. Even over the war plans,” Seke said. The male didn’t speak often, and when he did, it always had a definitive ring to it, as if his was the last and only word.

“As you wish. I’ll breed her. But if she doesn’t survive the first coupling, her death is on all of you.”

Daneth chuckled. “Humans aren’t that weak.”