Night of the Zandians (Zandian Brides 1)

They look at me from across the crimson dirt expanse and one of them leans into the other one and says something. When they start walking toward me, my heart inexplicably hammers.

I moisten my cracked lips with my tongue. I can’t decide if my response means I’m afraid or excited.

Afraid. Definitely afraid. Warriors like these are probably bounty hunters. They’re after the price on my head.

And that may be true, but as they come closer, tingles run across my skin. Must be the damn breeding hormones. I’m never excited by males.

But maybe I just hadn’t met the right species before. Because when they stop in front of me, my nipples tighten, breath shortens. Apparently purple aliens with horns are exactly my type.

One of them inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring.

The other one reaches out and slides his thick fingers under the animal hide strap that binds my neck to the post. My eyes fly wide and I try to suck in a breath against the increased constriction. But then he yanks it away from me, tearing it from the post and throwing it to the ground. I drag in a lungful of air and cough.

The Aurelian trader lifts the same gun he used on me and points it at the male’s chest. “Get back! You can’t set her free.”

Neither Zandian moves. They don’t flinch at the sight of the gun, nor do they lift their hands in surrender. “Your slave was choking,” my liberator says mildly. He has a deep voice that does strange things to my knees. “You should take care with how tight you strap them. No one will buy a dead female.”

The trader scoffs and pinches my cheeks, drawing my bleeding lips together. “This one wouldn’t die so easily.” He shows them the bite mark I left on his arm. “She’s a liineor.”

I have no idea what a liineor is, but I assume it’s some wild beast from this planet.

The Zandians don’t move, but the upper lip on the leaner one starts to curl. He says something under his breath in their language, and his friend nods. Neither of them have taken their gazes from me.

At first glance, I thought their eyes were brown, but now I see they’re purple, like their skin. Or have they grown more violet? The leaner one takes a long, slow perusal of my body. “How much?” He sounds only half interested, but that could be part of the bargaining game.

I can’t decide if I want their interest. I shouldn’t. These males are dangerous. Very dangerous. They’re trained to kill, and they appear highly intelligent.

So I should be hoping they mosey away and find some other vendor to hassle.

But instead I find myself praying they buy me. For no reason other than that I can’t stand the thought of them walking away.

The larger one lifts my tangled hair from my shoulders and peers at my neck. His fingers brush my bare shoulder. He’s so close I smell the scent of his skin—masculine and clean. He drops the locks back in place and says something to his friend in Zandian.

Fuck.

They are smart. He just saw my real hair color but he’s playing it cool.

“Where did you get her?” he asks. He has a square, hairless jaw and a cleft chin that probably makes every female in the galaxy drool when he goes by.

The trader lifts his chin. “It doesn’t matter where.”

“So you don’t have her file? She’s not legally yours?” the leaner one asks.

Oh fuck. They’re asking way too many questions. The next thing you know, they’ll be checking my barcode. I twist my neck to the side and lean forward, catching the “V” of skin showing above the Zandian’s tunic with my tongue. I flick once. Twice.

He catches me by the hair and pulls my head back, gazing down at me with amusement.

“I think she likes you,” his friend observes with a chuckle.

He’s holding my hair in a fist too tight, but I don’t think he means to hurt me. He’s just too strong, or unaware how much weaker my species is. He leans down and brushes his lips across mine. At the same time, his free hand cups my mons.

I jerk, more from surprise, than anything. And because every other time a male has grabbed me there has been unpleasant.

But it isn’t this time. He rubs the pad of his finger lightly through my folds and I’m stunned at how wet I am.

His horns stiffen and lean in my direction while he watches my face, his nose almost touching mine, amethyst eyes burning.

I pant, heat curling like smoke through my belly.