“I request asylum.”
“Why did you attack me? Were you sent as a spy?”
That voice.
It’s not the cutting, nasty tones of an Ocretion. It’s… deep and sexy. He moves closer to my face, so close his breath feathers across my skin. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
I force my lids open and blink, my eyes acclimating to the brightness of the corridor, and I scan my surroundings. The being in front of me is a warrior dressed in white garb, with a sword at his belt. His skin is an even light purple, and h
uge muscles stand out on his lean, tall form. Atop his head are two horns that appear more like appendages than the hard bone of a beast. His jaw is defined, square. His lips smooth and full.
Stars.
He’s breathtaking. Totally different from the Ocretion masters who owned me back on Romon-3. But I thrust those thoughts away—they’re the least of my concerns. The important thing is that he’s Zandian.
I chose correctly when I stowed away. If I play this well, I could save my life.
“I am a human,” I repeat. Then everything starts to fade. Before I lose consciousness, I make sure to repeat the words Leylah taught me, when she made me rehearse every syllable in his language. “I request asylum. I will do whatever you want. Please help me.”
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Read all the Zandian Brides Series
Night of the Zandians
Bought by the Zandians
Mastered by the Zandians
Zandian Lights
Kept by the Zandian
Claimed by the Zandian
Stolen by the Zandian
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