Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Ark raises his hand and strides off.
Tarak scoffs. “They’d not be so foolish to attack, the Ocretions.”
I shake my head. “They are vain and power-hungry, and rumors are spreading about humans on our planet. Rumors of humans being free of enslavement. If that information spread to their slaves, it could cause mass attempts at escape or rebellion.”
“Still, this is a Class 3 warship. We’re already out of their air-space, and cloaked. They’ll never find us.”
“That may be so. But they could take out their aggression on another Zandian ship.” I sigh. “But she’s already here. And if they believe her dead, there is no reason to return her.”
“Would you really return her anyway?” Tarak’s voice is wry.
“Veck, no.” I chuckle. “I’ll never give anything to an Ocretion. Especially not something as valuable as a human female they’ve lost due to their own stupidity.”
I rethink it. “Due to her cleverness, rather. They’re not that idiotic. She must be a mastermind.”
“A mastermind who will be the talk of Zandia, when we return with her. If she’s as gorgeous as you and Ark claim, and if she escaped like she says? A powerhouse. Perfect partner. That is, if she’s deemed safe to stay on Zandia.” He raises a brow. “After sticking that needle in you, I assume the king will have some doubts. Shall I question her?”
I frown. Stand up. “No. I will talk to her myself and find out more of her story. We need to understand her history before we bring her to Zandia.”
“It almost seems like you want her for yourself.” Tarak grins. “Although I know that’s not possible. You’ve refused to mate thus far.”
“This conversation is not appropriate,” I snap, surprising both of us with my vehemence. “She is a dangerous stowaway. End of story.”
Tarak puts up both hands. “My apologies, Captain. I was just saying.”
“Well, don’t just say anything more on that matter.” I give him a dark look, even though he can’t see it. He’s so adept for a blind being, I rarely treat him as one. “Ensure we are on course and watch for Ocretions. Their masking technology is improving all the time.”
He nods, and I stride down the corridor, eager to get answers from the human.
Chapter 4
Lamira
I pop a delicious sweet cake from the palace kitchen into my mouth, praising our elderly Zandian chef, Barr. “Mmm, I just need eight more of these,” I tease, polishing it off. I’m still nursing my second young, which means my appetite is always high these planet rotations. Plus, I didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night, so I’m making up for the energy depletion with food.
Chef Barr bows. “Sit down. I will serve you any quantity you desire, my lady,” he promises. Zandians only eat once every ten planet rotations and they do not rely on food for sustenance, but from the first planet rotation I arrived, Barr has gone out of his way to prepare and serve me Earth-based food.
I take another one. “I can’t stay; I have to visit one of the settlements this planet rotation.” I pick up another cake and take a bite as I head out the door and hit a wall of solid muscle.
“My lord,” I gasp in pleasure.
Six solar cycles since Zander bought me to breed and he still incites a riot of excitement in me every time I’m near him.
His arm bands around me and he pulls my much smaller frame against his, but his expression is serious. “You’re not going out.”
“I must, my lord. They are expecting me.”
He shakes his head. “No. You need a nap. The young kept you up all night.” It’s true. Our daughter, Kaylar, is sick and was up crying most of the night. Zander and his servants all attempted to help, but she only wanted me.
“I’ll nap when I get back.” I feel a strong responsibility to act as a liaison to the human females who have been claimed by Zandians and now inhabit their—our—planet. I know what it’s like to be born and raised as a slave on Ocretia. To never feel safe, to carry so much suffering.
“I said no.” Zander bends and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me in the direction of our chamber. He gives my ass a slap hard enough to be considered a warning.
“Zander, stop,” I giggle. “This is entirely undignified.”
“You should have thought of that before you defied me,” he rumbles, but when the sound of voices comes down the corridor, he lowers me into a baby-carry instead. He may treat me like a slave in private, but in front of his warriors, I’m always honored.
He holds his palm up to the sensor beside our chamber door and it swishes open. He enters and lowers me to my feet. “Strip.”
If I didn’t know him, I’d think his gaze hard. He’s often expressionless, or stern. But he’s not angry with me. This is a game, but one we haven’t played in far too long. It was a rule he made for me long ago—if I am in his chamber, I have to be naked.