by Renee Rose
He nodded, tweaking one of her nipples. “Yes. I’d pierce these. And your navel. Your ears, too, if you like.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You say the crystals make your intuition stronger. Perhaps wearing them will make it even more so. You’ll be my own personal oracle.”
“Do I have a choice?”
He stilled and his expression grew sober. “Do you not wish to be my female?”
She blinked rapidly, moisture gathering at her lashes, her chest so full it hurt. “Is that what wearing your crystals would mean?”
He nodded. “Zandian males adorn their females to show their attachment.”
“I do—” Her voice cracked. “I do want to be your female, Zander.”
His lips stretched into a satisfied smile. He stroked a hand up her throat to cup her chin. “I will take good care of you, little human. I promise.”
Her heart thudded. She almost didn’t ask it—she didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she had to know. “Am I still your slave?”
He smirked. “Yes. Always, Lamira. You serve. I rule. You like it that way.”
She wanted to deny it, but he had her numbers—literally—in the constant readout of his armband. “Will I ever be allowed off this pod?”
Once more, his lips curved into a wicked grin. “Only if you’re a good little slave.”
As always, when he reinforced his ownership over her, her pussy clenched. He tilted his head and claimed her mouth, and she lifted her lips to meet his.
Yes, she belonged to him—body and heart and soul. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
Epilogue
Lamira sat up, the luxurious sheets falling away from her naked form. She slept so much more now that she was pregnant, and Zander didn’t mind if she spent half the morning dozing in his sleepdisk.
He sat working on his invasion plans, a hologram of his planet up and slowly rotating.
“My lord—” She could scarcely make her lips and tongue move, she’d been awakened from such a deep slumber by her knowing.
He swiveled and smiled, his eyes dropping to her swollen breasts, now pierced and adorned with his crystals.
“The being you seek is here in the pod.”
He lifted a quizzical brow. “I don’t understand.”
Zander hadn’t shared his takeover plans, but she’d gleaned enough through clairvoyance and observation.
“Do you seek someone with an army? Someone you can pay to wage a war?”
He nodded, his gaze growing sharp.
“That being is here, now. In the crystal bath.” It was the one planet rotation of the week when the Zandian public were invited to use the crystal baths or visit with the prince. Zander had pushed his visitation time back to afternoon that day because the traffic had been light and he liked to spend more time with her now that she carried his child.
Zander’s lip curled doubtfully. “A Zandian? With an army?”
She nodded and scooted out of bed, a sense of urgency driving her forward. “He’s been here before but you have not met. I...I don’t think he likes the idea of royalty. But he requires the crystal recharge all the same.” She yanked on her clothing.
Zander stood and walked briskly to the door. “Will you know him when you see him?”
She swept past him into the corridor. “I’m not sure. Maybe you will.” She shoved back the moment of doubt she always had about her claircognizance. There was no mistake. The feeling had been so strong.
Zander strode beside her, one hand at her lower back, the other on the handle of his sword. They reached the crystal baths just as the door slid open and a huge warrior walked out. He did not appear much older than Zander—perhaps five or ten solar cycles, but he bore scars and the lines of a being who had led a tough life.
His eyes flew open when he saw her, then took on a menacing glare. “You,” he snarled.
Her heart jumped in her throat. He thought he knew her? How?
Zander shoved her behind him and slid his sword partway out of the scabbard.
The warrior ignored him, even though he was his prince and ruler. “What are you doing here, Lily? I can’t imagine you think I’d ever be happy to see you again.”
“You’re speaking to Lamira,” Zander growled.
She craned her neck around to see past her muscled master. “How do you know my sister?”
His Human Prisoner
Prologue
Lily flattened herself in the tiny washroom near the old airship’s controls. A scrape ran the length of her leg, and her slave’s dress had been soiled during her escape from her master’s pod. She’d barely made it onto the ship her fellow runaways had selected on the fly to hijack. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead.
Please don’t let any being use the washroom before takeoff.
This plan had been eighty planet rotations in the making. It had been a miracle she’d managed to get out at the appointed time to meet the others. They’d chosen a day and a time. Picking the craft to board had been left to the chance of the day, but this one actually seemed to be ideal—a rusty old ship with just six crewmembers to overpower. She’d hidden close to the cockpit to aid in taking the pilot and first mate.
She peered through the slats in the door and watched him—a huge male of a species she’d never before seen—flick on the engines. A small, wizened female entered and settled into the copilot’s chair.
Oh veck. Was she Venusian? If so, she would intuit Lily and the other slaves’ presence on the ship. Venusians possessed extrasensory abilities.
The pilot initiated hover movement, easing out of the dock. If she weren’t holding her breath, praying she made it off Ocretia without getting caught, she would admire his muscled shoulders, the bulging biceps and corded muscles of his forearms. He sat taller than an average human by at least a foot and his skin had a purple tinge to it. Two horns on the top of his head gave him a rugged, fierce appearance.
He steered the ship through the incoming traffic, weaving in and out at a speed that made her stomach lurch.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to Mother Earth. If all went well, she’d be free in a matter of hours—a slave no more. Unless he heard about the other missing slaves, her elderly owner wouldn’t notice her absence until late that night, and even then, he’d never suspect she’d made it to the dock and onto an airship. Ocretions grossly underestimated human intelligence, and Lily had always played the simple, docile sex slave for him. Not that the old male had been able to use her for that purpose much. No, she’d been lucky with him. She’d only had to look beautiful in her scanty uniform and endure his petting while she served him.
The pilot punched up the speed, zooming into the outer layer of traffic, farther away from the territory of her odious captors. Traffic grew lighter and lighter until, at last, they made it into free space. The pilot set the controls and stood up.
“You should take care of the stowaway in the washroom,” the old Venusian said.
“Are you vecking kidding me?” He cursed. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He marched over and threw open the door.
She pointed her laser gun at his throat, but the huge male batted it to the floor as if she’d held a twig. Because it was too far away to reach, and his speed and strength greatly exceeded hers, she held her hands up and put on her best helpless female eyes.
“Please don’t hurt me.” She feigned weakness, knowing her beauty and slight stature worked in her favor. Seven years as a sexual slave had taught her a great deal about minimizing injury from males.
His brows shot up as he took in her appearance, and she knew what he saw. A slip of a human female, scantily dressed and possessing the qualities considered beautiful by most beings. Though she was used to inspiring hunger in males, the flash of it in his eyes came with particular satisfaction.
He was younger than she’d guessed initially—not much older than she, if she measured by human standards, but his eyes and the scars on his handsome fac
e told a story of a life hard lived.
So they had something in common.
She let the miniscule sex servant’s dress she’d stolen to escape slip down her shoulder, revealing skin and the suggestion of one breast.
The pilot’s eyes traced down, stopping at the place her nipple lay hidden beneath the cloth.
It puckered under his gaze. Her body’s reaction surprised her. She never grew aroused from a male’s attention, not even in the throes of sexual activity. It seemed purple skinned and horned was her type. Go figure.
“Oh no, pet.” He shook his head, apparently steeling himself against her helpless female act. “You picked the wrong airship to hide on.” After picking up her weapon, he grasped her wrist and pulled her out under the lights, giving her another head-to-toe sweeping glance. To the Venusian, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me before we took off?”
The old female blinked her protuberant emerald eyes. She smelled of brownbeer, and her short, black hair stuck up at all angles, as if she hadn’t brushed it in days. “She means something to you.”
His eyes narrowed, and his gaze returned to her. “Veck. You know I don’t believe in that excrement.”
The Venusian shrugged. “Denial will not change your destiny.”
He rolled his eyes and gripped Lily’s elbow, steering her into the bowels of the ship.
She took note of where in his belt he tucked her laser gun, biding her time.
The pilot kicked a sleeping chamber door open and stepped inside with her. “What’s your name?”
“Lily.” She made her voice sound breathy, sweet.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Anywhere. Wherever you’re going.” Again, she tried to appear fragile, in need of protection.
He scowled.
Holding his gaze with her own, she eased down to her knees.
His eyes changed from a purple-ish brown to a light violet, and the sexy horns stiffened and leaned in her direction.
“I don’t have any steins to pay you, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” she purred and worked the bulging form of his cock out of his tight black flight pants.
He swallowed, his large hand dropping to tangle in her hair. She watched him struggle for control. “How did you get on my ship?”
Was he really caressing her ear? An odd sensation moved in her—a small stirring of curiosity or excitement.
“I slipped in through the cargo hatch. Please”—she tongued the sensitive place beneath the mushroom head of his cock—“let me stay. I won’t cause you any trouble.”
“Well, I guess a female of your talents”—he broke off and groaned as she swirled her tongue around the head of his enormous malehood—“might be of some use on this ship...ugh.” He grasped the back of her head and shoved her over his length, causing her to gag and her eyes to water.
She’d given hundreds of deep-throat blowjobs or rough vecks over the years as a sex slave. She’d learned to simply detach and let her mind float away, to become nothing more than flesh, a body devoid of personality. But the pilot pulled back when she choked, and he brushed his thumb over the moisture leaking from the corner of her eye.
“Forgive me.” He rubbed her tears between his finger and thumb as if he found the substance fascinating. “I didn’t mean to choke you. Your mouth is smaller than I’m used to.”
She blinked up at him in surprise, and he brushed her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. “Try again. I won’t choke you, beautiful.”
She took just the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking hard.
His groan of pleasure kicked up her confidence—excitement, even, and she took him deeper, relaxing the back of her throat to swallow him down.
Though his thighs trembled and ball sac had grown rock hard, he didn’t thrust again, but let her control the movement, his rough breathing sending thrills of excitement straight to her core. She’d never felt so powerful giving a male oral pleasure before. She’d never enjoyed seeing a male come undone. But this one...his guttural shout made her pussy clench, the way his huge hand cradled the back of her head to hold her in place—so gentle yet capable of snapping her neck with ease if he wanted to. She swallowed his seed as she’d been trained to do and licked him clean.
He gripped her nape and lifted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. “Blowjobs like that will certainly be accepted as trade.” His gaze grew heavy-lidded. “But I do think you deserve punishment for stowing away on my ship.” He rotated her to face away from him then picked up her two hands and pressed them against the ship’s wall. His exotic masculine spice filled her nostrils. The heat of his torso radiated against her back, and his breath feathered across her bare shoulder.
A surge of lust ran through her body, once more surprising her. What was it about this male that excited her when no male had ever aroused her interest before? Her pulse sped as she waited to see what shape his punishment took.
He tugged up her short slave’s gown. She wore the bare minimal underclothing, as required by her station—a tiny string threaded around her waist and through her buttocks to hold up a slip of spidersilk between her legs.
The pilot made an approving noise in his throat just before his huge palm clapped down on her ass.
She yelped but didn’t move from her position.
He rubbed away the sting. “Naughty slave girl, hiding on my ship.” He slapped the other side. Unlike punishments she’d received at the hands of her masters, or at the training institute before, his purpose was obviously to arouse her through the pain. She’d heard of such a thing but never understood it.
Now, though, a sliver of interest flickered, her sex actually growing moist from his rough treatment. It didn’t make sense. She’d been beaten on countless occasions, for a master’s pleasure or as punishment, and it had never had this effect on her.
He continued the slow cycle of slapping and rubbing each side, and she grew more and more agitated. How would that big purple cock feel inside her? Would he be rough or gentle? What positions did he like?
No. She needed to keep her head. Look for the opportunity to grab the laser gun.
He reached around the front of her hips and slipped his fingers under the gusset over her panties.
His middle finger traced up her slit to find her clitoris. She hid her surprise. He cared about her pleasure? Delaying his own?
He brushed a feather-light circle around it, so much less than she craved. A strange itchiness took over her body, sending tingles of heat across her skin and producing a darker, pulsing need in her core. He disappointed her by removing his fingers from her panties.
A sharp slap over her sex made her cry out.
“Have you been naughty, slave?”
A shout sounded from just beyond the door. She whirled and lunged for the laser gun in his holster, the element of surprise giving her the split second she needed to beat him to it.
With the barrel pressed against his chest, she lifted her chin toward the door. Nineteen escaped human slaves would’ve fanned out over the entire ship by now, taking the meager six-member crew hostage. She’d done her part and captured the toughest one.
“To the cockpit,” she ordered. “We’re commandeering your ship.”
The rage on the purple-skinned being’s face should have frightened her—and it did. But it also inspired a sliver of regret. She almost wished they’d had a chance to finish that act she normally detested so much.
Almost.
1
Rok glared at Lamira, the human female who looked just like the one who’d stolen his ship and left him stranded on the abandoned planet Pifany eight months ago. It had taken him and his crew three weeks and a lot of sweet-talking to find a lift back to civilization. Then it had taken another six weeks of the most dangerous smuggling work—piloting a borrowed ship loaded with weapons into a war-torn planet of Jesel—to earn enough to buy a new airship.
In fact, he still hadn’t recovered financially from the
setback.
So to find a human who claimed to be Lily’s sister peering from behind the so-called Zandian prince annoyed the veck out of him.
“Where is your vecking sister?”
Prince Zander drew himself up. “You will speak with respect to my mate.”
Mate, huh? That gave him pause. The slip of a human was dressed in finery, but she wore a collar around her neck like a slave. Granted, the collar was embedded with enough Zandian crystal to buy him five new airships.
The crystal was the only reason he’d come to the Zandian prince’s pod. His body required energetic recharge through crystal-amplified sunlight, and Zandian crystal was impossible to come by anywhere else.
For one half-moment, he considered picking up that little human—with the collar, of course—and making a break for it to his ship. He had no problem punishing one female for her sister’s misdeeds, and this one was certainly as pretty as Lily, although his body didn’t have the magnetic attraction he’d experienced the moment he laid eyes on her. That’s how the little witch had tricked him.
Too bad Zander had security guards everywhere and, unlike him, they were around the crystals all the time, getting constant recharge. So while he had a lifetime of street fighting behind him, their strength probably outmatched his.
He met the darkened stare of the male who called himself prince. Prince of Nothing. Zandia had been occupied by the Finn for over twenty solar cycles.
The male glaring back did not look as weak or pampered as he’d imagined the royal nothing would be. In fact, he looked every inch the warrior—eyes alert with an assessing, intelligent gaze, hand on the hilt of a sword, not a laser gun.
He had to give grudging points for that. Maybe Zander wasn’t just a pretty boy living out his life on his country’s remaining wealth.
Rok cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” He didn’t quite keep the mocking tone from his words.
The prince’s eyes narrowed and then, before he had a chance to react, Rok found himself shoved up against the wall, the sheathed blade of the sword pressing down on his windpipe. “My mate asked you a question. How do you know Lily?”
