Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

Domm laughs so hard he coughs, then manages, “We didn’t know you’d have trouble with one tiny female.”

“Veck you,” I growl and raise my fist.

Archer sidesteps and Domm backs up, eyebrows lifting, horns quirked, still laughing. He puts up his hands. “Where in the universe did she learn to fight like that?”

I replay her skilled maneuvers, allowing fascination to creep in. “No vecking idea.” I hold up my hand, where a small scrape trickles purple blood, already sealing over to heal. “Look at that.” I can barely believe it myself. “She was fierce.”

The three of us gaze at the display on our craft, watching the blinking dot of her shuttle inching across the inky black of the galaxy.

“Where is she trying to go?” I hear the disbelief in my own voice, because what she’s doing is insanity. There is no safe harbor for humans in this galaxy. How is she even alive at this point? Part of me is awe-stricken, wanting to figure out all her secrets. Connect with her like a respected warrior colleague. Another part of me wants to wrestle her to the ground, straddle that slender waist, the way I had her on Shirtang. And then…

My cock throbs to life and I clear my throat and focus. This is absolutely not the time. “A human rescuing other humans. And she’s headed on a course for Lat 34 X-4. That means—”

“She’s headed to the Midrian Belt area.” Domm’s voice is serious now. “Maybe to the human community on Jesel?”

“Impossible. It’s far too distant and dangerous. She won’t make it a quarter of the way,” I say.

“Even so, that’s her course.”

“Veck.” I cross my arms and lean forward, as if bringing my face closer to the screen will give me more information about the human female and her plans. “We have to follow.”

“A bit of a detour for us,” Domm says doubtfully.

“You don’t say.” Archer narrows his eyes. He pushes a button on his wrist communication and links into home command on Zandia. “Commander Enten? This is Zandia 8-X. In pursuit of an enemy combatant to retrie

ve two humans. En route to Jesel.”

“Three,” I correct him, pursing my lips. There’s no way I’m leaving the feisty fighter on her own. She may not be for sale, but she certainly can’t roam around the galaxy unprotected. Humans are not a free species. She’ll be dead or enslaved in a lunar cycle.

“Three.” Archer doesn’t flinch. “Requesting permission to engage.”

Normally we make our own decisions; as advanced warriors and trusted scouts, we manage our own tours. And Archer is an experienced captain, just edging out me and Domm in both combat and flight experience.

But going to Jesel means travel through enemy territory and chances are we’ll encounter Ocretion pirates or other miscreants, so we want to check with our commander that the risk is worth the reward.

Archer gets the full go-ahead, and the three of us buckle into our seats, preparing for hyperdrive or combat maneuvers.

“She’s plodding along in that clunker.” Domm points at the screen and laughs, a sound less of humor than disbelief. “How that even flies is beyond me.”

“No serious weapons.” Our radar and tracking shows the details of her ship. “And no ability to jump to hyper or light. Total lack of shielding. We can take her at our leisure.”

My cock twitches in my flight pants at the idea of taking her at my leisure. Long and hard. Preferably with her wrists and ankles tied to my hoverdisk to pay her back for that brilliant move back on Shirtang. I force the thought from my mind.

For a second I pity our little quarry. She’s determined and smart, but stars, her craft is no match for ours. We could have incinerated her with long-range weapons the first second she took off. It will be child’s play to apprehend and board her craft. An unfair fight.

But my body is eager for it. I want to grapple with her again. Look into those angry green eyes. Hear that sweet, husky voice. Watch her pant under me—

“She’s changing course.” Archer points at the screen. We’re already in the no-man’s land of the galaxy, where ships rarely obey intergalactic accords and piracy is on the rise.

“To?” Domm leans forward, interest in his face.

Archer adjusts the controls. “Toward Techna. Local planet that sells craft parts and repairs them.”

“What’s that?” Something on the screen makes me frown and a strange feeling swirls in my gut. “What’s going on with her craft?” I lean forward, hands on my thighs. “Look at the vibration. It’s like her gyro doesn’t work.”

To be sure, her craft jerks and stutters, flops around. Rights itself.

“She’s fighting that rudder hard.” Domm’s voice is impressed.