Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)
He’s up too, and as we lock eyes, I feel a tension I’ve never experienced. When he was over me, his face already victorious, I can’t describe—
He lunges, his fist raised.
I block him, child’s play, then use another aerial leap—a new one.
But damn, it’s like he anticipated it, because he blocks my kick and then he’s got me again, and he’s pressing me up against the hot metal hull of my craft. Arm against my neck, other hand grabbing my arm. Hips pressed into my body. Thigh to thigh.
His breath is hot on my neck and smells—oddly—sweet. Not fetid, as I might have expected for a warrior. I ignore the tingles over my skin from his proximity.
We both pant.
“Who are you?” he demands. “Answer me.”
I stare at him, defiant. He’s not going to get a word from me. My headgear has come loose in the struggle and my red hair spills over my shoulders. His gaze sweeps over it and down to my bound breasts.
“Veck, you’re a female.” His voice is full of disbelief. “And human.”
And he figured that out, too. I supposed it wasn’t too hard.
The corners of his lips curve, but the smirk doesn’t seem malicious, more impressed. “A little female warrior.” He narrows his eyes. “Where were you going with his slaves?”
I grunt and shake my head. I’ve never had such trouble getting away from an opponent. Zandians are clearly as skilled as the rumors say.
He tightens his grip on my throat, showing me he’s in charge now. I notice he doesn’t actually block my air passage. And I have to guess that he knows it. He could snap my neck with a quick twist of his wrist. I am fully at his mercy. And despite the pressure on my windpipe, and his unyielding body holding me back, tingles flit across my skin again. Across my arms. My belly. My nipples. Sweet Mother Earth, this is no time for my body to awaken sexually. I’ve gone this long without any interest in males.
I suck in air, forcing myself to center. I need to get away from this male, for more reasons than one. I shift my hips but he immediately matches my move with his body, pressing himself to me even more closely. The bulge of his male parts connects with my belly, large and firm. A shiver runs through me. His hand moves on mine, but he doesn’t release me. This Zandian has no intention of letting me go.
“I’m taking back the other females.” The air from his lips, from his words, as he speaks, blows on mine. “And you’re coming with me, too.”
His body is lean and hard, muscles everywhere. His lips hover only inches from mine, and for a split second I think he wants to kiss me. I’ve never done this, but I’ve seen others—
I need to take every advantage. I dart my tongue out and lick my lips, and make a small, breathy murmur. The kind of thing I know females do when they want to entice a male. At the same time, I press my hips forward and whisper something to him that he can’t understand, because it’s in English. A dead human language. Words I’ve only recently learned.
“My name is Mirelle, and I’m a freedom fighter.”
I sense his surprise and interest, and once again, I use the opportunity. Elbow drop, then slam it up. Arm press and push. Knee jab. Battle scream right into his ear, high and piercing, the first loud sound I’ve made.
I’m free, once again, and he’s rolling on the ground, quick to spring back into action.
It gives me only a few precious moments, but it’s all I need to leap into my craft and shut the hatch. I rush to the controls and blast off the godforsaken ugly planet with my precious cargo. Down below, the Zandian looks up at the craft. He doesn’t shake his fist or point, and yet somehow I see the determined promise in his stance, the steadiness of the way he watches my departure.
The promise of retribution. He’ll be coming for me.
I move my fingers over the ancient controls on my dash. My craft is slow but steady, and if I just get enough of a head-start, I might be able to hide.
But worry pricks at my neck: The Zandians, it’s known, have upgraded ships. The fastest in the galaxy. Cloaked. With every advantage. If he follows me—no when—because I’m sure he will…I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’ll have to fight.
No way am I letting anyone take me hostage. Because this is my life’s work—saving humans, bringing them to freedom. And no being is going to stop me, unless they kill me first.
Lanz
* * *
“Vecking hilarious.” Domm slaps my back. “You in the dirt blinking up at the female who bested you.”
Archer shakes his head, not nearly so amused. “You lost my females.” He petitioned King Zander last lunar cycle to purchase a female to mate and the king granted him leave. He just traded his entire life savings for the human and her child only to have my little tormenter fly off with them.
The female’s scent remains in my nose, the feel of her body squirming beneath mine forever imprinted in my mind. I shrug at Archer’s rebuke. “You two could’ve stepped in to help.”