by Renee Rose
“You are safe here,” Zander roared, the muscles bulging in his neck and shoulders as he took a step forward. When she flinched backward, he stopped himself and didn’t touch her. Perhaps he was afraid he might kill her. He jabbed his chest. “I will protect you. My enemies won’t touch you here.”
“It’s not your enemies. You wouldn’t even believe me, if I told you the truth. I just—I can’t tell you.”
He stepped closer and grasped the hair at the back of her head, tipping her head back. His face drew very close to hers, his beautiful eyes light-purple. “You must tell me,” he whispered hoarsely, his lips centimeters from hers, his gaze so intent, she thought she’d dissolve into a puddle.
She blinked back at him, her knees weak and wobbly, her breath stalled in her chest. “I can’t,” she finally managed to say.
She expected anger, but instead Zander closed his eyes. He released her hair and cradled her face, bringing his forehead to touch hers. When his lids blinked open, she was certain she saw excess moisture there.
“Lamira—” he began, his throat catching. “You saved my life and for that, I will make sure you live out your life in peace.”
Her heart missed a beat as it roared to a gallop, thudding painfully against her sternum. Was he getting rid of her? “Zander—” she cried in protest.
“Shh.” He tightened his grip on her face, covering her ears with his large palms. “I...I cannot go on this way.” His voice choked. “I can’t keep you near me when you cannot be trusted.” He thumbed away a tear she didn’t realize she’d cried. “I know you care about me. I saw your distress this morning when you thought I would die. I care about you, too. More than I would like to admit.” His forehead wrinkled. “Is this what you humans call love?”
Love. Was it? Stars, yes. She loved this being with all her heart, despite her position as his slave and breeder.
She nodded, fresh tears streaming down her face.
He mopped them with his thumbs. Tilting his head down, he crushed his lips to hers, licking and sucking, demanding her kiss roughly.
She gave it to him, hoping—praying it didn’t mean what she thought it did.
Good-bye.
But it did. When he broke away, he raised his voice and called to Herman, the guard who had replaced Gunt outside his door. “Take Lamira and her things to a guest chamber.”
“Of course, my lord.” Herman flicked a curious glance at her.
She pointed weakly at the shelf where her clothing lay stacked in neat piles. “Those are my only things.”
Herman scooped them up and led the way out the door.
“Zander…” Her voice broke. “Please don’t do this.”
“Go, Lamira. It’s not safe for me to be around you.”
She choked back a sob and turned to follow Herman, her head bowed in surrender.
This could not be how things ended. She would find a way to prove her trustworthiness to Zander again.
~.~
Zander pulled off his boot and hurled it against the wall. The clunk was not nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped, but he repeated the action with the second boot anyway.
Why?
What did all this mean? His beautiful Lamira...his slave. A spy? How was she tangled up in the political machinations of the Galaxy? What connections did she have that gave her such underground knowledge—information none of his spies had discovered?
He sank down on the sleeping platform and rubbed his face.
He should send her away—far away.
But how would he live without her?
9
Zander leaned his head in his hands at his work platform. He couldn’t think. Or, rather, couldn’t focus on the work at hand. All he thought about was the youthful human female locked in his guest quarters.
He hadn’t risked seeing her—he knew where it would lead. Straight to pushing her down and spreading those long, beautiful legs. Straight to pumping his aching cock inside her tight, wet channel until she screamed and begged for release. Straight to breeding. His body craved her nearly every moment of every planet rotation. But more than the loss of the sex, he missed the sound of her voice, her scent, her lovely face. He missed holding her, the sound of her soft sighs as she slept.
They hadn’t had enough time together. He had barely begun to understand her. Had only seen her smile and laugh a few precious times. Had barely learned who she was—what she liked and didn’t like, what her past held. Why hadn’t he tried to discover these things? He’d been impatient and unkind. He’d thought her beneath him, not worthy of his time. Yet she’d still cared for him. Cared enough to anger him, to goad his worst punishment because she feared for his death.
Perhaps if they’d had more time together before the assassination attempt, he’d understand her better. He’d learn to discern her lies from truth, or to understand why she lied or who she protected. Was it her mother?
He’d demanded an update on the search for her mother daily. Daneth said the Ocretions were pretending they couldn’t locate her, most likely to get more money out of him. “Then pay it,” he’d shouted the last time he asked for an update. He hoped for a clue about Lamira from her mother. But even if she did not provide him with the information he sought, he wanted Lamira to have someone she loved with her. She deserved that. He’d taken her away from her mother and now imprisoned her in his guest room with very little interaction with any other beings. She must be terribly lonely. He’d refused to watch her hologram, but he felt certain she wept there in that room, all alone.
It wasn’t a permanent solution. He knew he needed to make a decision about her. The decision should be to send her away. He could find a decent place for her—maybe even some underground location where humans lived free. Once he reunited her with her mother, he would send them both away.
But why did that decision make his heart ache as if it would cease to beat?
~.~
Lamira thought she would die. She’d been cooped up alone in the beautiful room for eight planet rotations, with no word or sight of Zander. Barr himself had come up a few times to serve her food—at least he missed her. He watched her eat with sad, concerned eyes. He didn’t know what happened, or if he did, he didn’t speak of it, but he kept an upbeat outlook, saying things like, “When the prince lets you out…”
The two servants who had helped her with the garden stopped in, bringing her small plants and showing her holograms of the rest of them.
And since she already felt dead, she considered, at least twenty times every planet rotation, telling Zander she was ready to confess the truth. She’d rather be reported to the Ocretions and executed than have him believe her unworthy of his trust. But her mother...they shared genes. If it was revealed Lamira had aberrant genes, her mother would be executed as well. She had an obligation to keep the secret her mother had worked so hard to help her hide. It wasn’t just about her life.
But Zander’s promise to protect her kept ringing in her ears, too. How tied to the Ocretions was he? He lived here, but his pod consisted almost entirely of Zandians. She had literally not seen an Ocretion since she arrived. Maybe he could protect her if he knew her secret. He owned her, after all. He’d bought and paid for her, fair and square. But could they take her away from him if they knew? In her experience, they could do anything they wanted. And Zander needed asylum here until he won back his own planet. No, it was best to keep her silence, even if it did mean banishment from Zander.
But she couldn’t go on forever, locked in this room. She needed to beg him to let her out, to serve him still as his gardener, at least. He wouldn’t have to see her. He could give her a schedule and she would be sure to never cross paths with him… although the thought made her eyes burn with tears.
She couldn’t go on this way. She needed to make peace with Zander. Somehow.
10
Leora blinked as she returned to consciousness. A doctor with purple-hued skin and horns leaned over her, taking her blood. Her body and
hair had been cleaned of the agrifarm dirt and she wore a white tunic or gown of some kind.
She licked her dry lips. “Where’s...my daughter?”
She’d seen this same doctor take Lamira away from the agrifarm. It had terrified her. She’d been lucky getting placed in the agrifarm when she was pregnant with Lamira. When Johan, Lamira’s father, had died in the rebellion, she’d managed to remain undetected, her position as a factory worker never questioned. The factory had closed shortly after and she’d been transferred to the agrifarm, where she kept her head down to keep them both safe. The farming required limited interaction with the guard and foremen. They didn’t have to serve anyone, or scrape and grovel, or—worst of all—serve Ocretions sexually. She’d managed to hide Lamira’s beauty and her claircognizance for twenty-two solar cycles there, which had been a miracle in itself.
But then, one day, Lamira had been summoned to the director’s office and this doctor took her away.
The doctor didn’t answer her. In fact, he pretended she wasn’t speaking. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the table, so she couldn’t move.
“Where’s Lamira? What have you done with her?”
Her daughter was nearby. A mother knew. She’d always had a tinge of the intuition Lamira had to hide. Hunches, nudgings. She was certain, now, Lamira was here.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
This, finally got the doctor’s attention. He met her gaze. “You have been purchased by Prince Zander. I am sure he will tell what your duties are to be.”
A tap sounded on the door, and it slid open. In the doorway stood a massive warrior of the same species. He wore a sword on his belt— a simple weapon for an advanced species. He walked in, his gait more graceful than she expected from a male of his bulk. His eyes swept over her and their gazes locked.
She caught her breath. His irises were blue, rimmed with purple—incredibly beautiful. As she stared into their depths, they darkened to a blue-violet. His horns somehow struck her as masculine and sexy, although she’d never had an affinity for any species besides her own.
The warrior cleared his throat. “Are you finished with her exam?”
“Yes.”
“The prince wishes to question her.”
“Tell him her health is in order—nothing good nutrition won’t fix.” The doctor picked up a bag and fit a tube into it. He shoved the other end into her mouth.
She jerked her head away and something sweet smelling dribbled onto her neck.
“Release her,” the warrior snapped. “How can she drink when she’s bound to a table on her back?”
The doctor’s lips twitched, as if amused by the warrior’s irritation, but the rings holding her ankle and her wrist cuffs snapped open.
The warrior walked to her side and held out a hand.
She ignored his hand and scrambled up to sit.
The warrior remained still, watching her. When she met his gaze, he inclined his head slightly in the ghost of a bow. “I am Seke.” He waited and, for a moment, she wondered if he thought she ought to know him, but then she realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.
“Leora.”
He took the bag from the doctor and held it out to her. “It’s not poisoned. You should drink before you meet the prince. You look thirsty.”
She rubbed her cracked lips together. They were absolutely parched. She accepted the bag and drank, closing her eyes at the shock of the delicious taste. She meant to take only a sip or two, in case it was tainted, but her body overrode her mind, and she sucked on the tube, drinking deeply until half the bag had disappeared.
The warrior glowered at the doctor. “You kept her malnourished.”
Once more, the doctor’s lips twitched. “She cannot eat or drink when unconscious.”
“Do you require food?” The warrior turned back to her, his eyebrows knit.
“No...not yet. Thank you.”
Something about the warrior had disarmed her. He reminded her of Johan—pure masculinity and quiet strength. And her gut told her he could be trusted.
“Come.” He beckoned her off the table and grasped her shoulders.
A shock of heat raced through her body at his touch.
He rotated her slowly to face away from him then caught her wrists and pulled them behind her back. His touch was gentle, despite the obvious strength behind it.
The cuffs clicked together and he turned her back around. She stared up at him, studying his handsome features. A piece of her hair had caught on her chapped lips, and she tried to rub it off with her shoulder.
He reached out and brushed it away. She swore his skin had turned darker purple, his horns rougher. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but then shut it again. Placing a hand at her lower back, he guided her forward. “Come, Leora. Our prince awaits.”
He sure as hell wasn’t her prince. But she kept her mouth shut. She needed to find Lamira—needed to know she was still alive and well.
The warrior—Seke—led her through beautiful corridors and into a giant domed room. A giant crystal was embedded in a skylight, and the light that came through was natural.
On a throne, of sorts, a young male sat. Also built of hard muscle, he had the beauty of youth. She lifted her chin and dared to look him in the face. She expected to see haughtiness there, but instead found only a haunted quality to his expression.
“Leora, chosen mate and partner of the human warrior Johan Jonas,” Seke said as an introduction.
She flinched to hear him speak Johan’s name. How did they know? Would they tell the Ocretions? If so, it meant her certain death.
“Daneth said to tell you she’s in good health.” She thought she heard disapproval in the warrior’s voice—as if he disapproved of her inspection. It warmed her.
The prince cocked his head, searching the warrior with a speculative gaze.
Leora lifted her eyes to glare at him and, to her surprise, he flinched.
“I see where your daughter gets her beauty.”
“Where is she? What are you doing with her?”
She expected him to ignore her questions the way the doctor had, but the prince spoke. “She is here. You will see her soon.”
The prince sat back and knit his fingers. “Leora...your daughter saved my life last week.”
Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this. She stared up in surprise.
“But she refuses to tell me how she knew of the planned assassination attempt.”
Goose bumps stood up on her skin as she comprehended the situation.
“There’s nothing special about my daughter,” she clipped, her chin lifted. “It was probably a lucky guess.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. “A lucky guess,” he spat bitterly. “Yes, I’ve heard that from her before.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, Leora, what connection do you and Lamira have with the Finn?”
The blood drained from her face, and her hands went clammy. She realized, suddenly what species they must be—Zandians. Ousted from Zandia by the Finn. A homeless species, forced to take refuge on Ocretia. “We have no connection, Your...ah Highness.” She shot a quick glance at Seke.
“He is addressed as my lord or Prince Zander.”
“My lord.” She dropped a curtsy. “Neither Lamira nor I have any connection with other beings. We kept to ourselves on the agrifarm.”
“Except for your connection to the underground human resistance movement.”
She caught her breath, her heart pounding. Her throat worked as she swallowed. The prince had inside knowledge about things the Ocretion government had not yet discovered. About Johan, and the resistance. Perhaps he was not aligned with them. She took a chance, and offered the truth. “They are not connected with your enemies, my lord.”
His eyebrows shot up at her admission. “What sort of information is passed?”
She swayed on her feet, feeling slightly dizzy. “The things you ask could get people kill
ed.”
“I don’t work for the Ocretions.”
Shivers of fear ran through her body. Her gut told her he spoke the truth—that he could be trusted, but she couldn’t risk it. Not until she’d seen Lamira and knew what he wanted with them. “I wish to see my daughter.”
“How did your daughter know about the assassination plan?”
She stared back at him, struggling to piece the situation together. So, the Finn had attempted to kill the prince and Lamira had saved him? She wondered if he meant anything to her.
“So you, too, refuse to answer?”
“She saved your life, my lord.” She spread her palms. “You said so, yourself. Surely you cannot suspect her of treason or doubt her loyalty?”
He shook his head and stood up. “I cannot trust her.”
Was that anguish on his face?
A shock of knowledge rippled through her.
He loved her. This alien cared for her daughter.
Frustration crinkled his forehead. “Take her to Lamira.”
Surprised to be dismissed so easily, she dropped an uneasy curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Tell your daughter she has one planet rotation to confess or I will separate and sell you both to the worst—” He stopped and pressed his lips together, and she understood. He was bluffing. And it was a lie he couldn’t even finish.
Yes, he loved her.
He turned and stalked out of the room, tension radiating from the set of his shoulders and neck.
The warrior stepped forward and once more placed his hand on her lower back. A shiver ran through her. For the first time in solar cycles, her sex dampened as she thought about those hands touching her in other places.
He applied gentle pressure to turn her toward the door, guiding her forward.
“He loves my daughter.” She took the risk to speak her thoughts.
The warrior halted and turned toward her. After a long moment, he said, “I believe it is true.” He nudged her forward, guiding her to the hall. “But he cannot keep her if she can’t be trusted.”
