by Renee Rose
I walk around the empty space, spraying sterilization mist on surfaces.
I’m hiding.
If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit that’s what I’m doing. I’m afraid to go anywhere near a male Zandian right now because as far as I can tell, King Zander just declared it open season on human females.
I stop and stare at the cot where the giant warrior, Tarren, sat. I don’t usually think about males, but this one has dominated my thoughts from our first interaction.
He’s all height and muscles, and stars, the way they ripple as he moves. He ran out into the laser fire and dragged the injured in for me to treat all planet rotation. Scolded me when I went out myself.
I will bring them in. Leave again and I’ll warm your ass.
A strange tingling had flushed through my body at the threat.
I hear a step at the door, and I know immediately it’s him.
I turn, my lungs jamming up in my throat.
He’s not alone. With him stands two other warriors. There might be a resemblance, but I’m not sure. Zandians all look the same to me.
He clears his throat. “Riya.”
I try to swallow and fail. “Tarren.”
One of the warriors beside him steps forward, lifting his fist at a ninety-degree angle in the traditional Zandian greeting. “I am Jax, and this is my cousin Ronan.” He indicates the younger warrior on Tarren’s other side. “We are all three cousins,” he amends. “But you’ve already met Tarren.”
I take a step back but I’m already at the wall. “You’re here for me.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.
The males don’t advance, which I appreciate.
Jax tilts his head. “Does that frighten you, Riya?” There’s something both soft and threatening in his voice. Not scary, though. More like thrilling. A dark promise that these males can be threatening, even if they’re not showing me the whip yet.
I curse the tears that spear my eyes. “I-I don’t want to be claimed.”
Tarren gives a soft expletive in Zandian, his look turning deadly. “You’ve been forced.” It’s not a question.
I can scarcely breathe but the question relieves me. I bob my head in the affirmative.
“By some being here?” Tarren barely keeps the question below a roar.
I’m trembling, but I’m not afraid. Not of him, anyway. Just of my past. And of the future Zander just outlined. I shake my head.
Not here. It was Ocretion slave masters on the agrifarm. More times than I can count. They tortured me so many times with the shock sticks that I’m forever infertile now.
And I don’t know what will happen if King Zander finds out I’m useless as a breeder. Or when these males find out.
Tarren’s hands open and close in fists like he wants to make my past tormentors pay.
“You’re safe with us, Riya,” Jax says. He’s as good-looking as Tarren is big. His eyes hold a calculating intelligence and his voice carries such assurance it’s hard for me not to believe him. “Better to be claimed by us, males you can trust, than by another group.”
My brows shoot to my forehead and a shocked laugh tumbles from my lips. “What makes you think I trust you?”
His lips curl with a smile that probably makes most females fall to their knees and worship him. If they had any females around here, that is. “You trust Tarren. And Tarren trusts us. So by extension, we all trust each other.”
This time I actually do laugh and all three of them move forward like it was an invitation. “That’s the most ridiculous—” I sputter but stop when they are just inches from me. So close I can feel the heat from their powerful chests warming me.
Tarren puts a finger under my chin and lifts until I meet his brown-purple eyes. “No being will hurt you again,” he promises.
And just like that, I believe him. Because who would argue with a seven foot tall horned giant of a male? I’ve seen the male in action. He’s a fearsome warrior.
Ronan picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over the pulse at my wrist. “You definitely want to be claimed by us, Riya,” he says.
I want to laugh again, but I can’t. The thrum between my legs is becoming too insistent. The tightening of my nipples too distracting.
As one, the three males inhale, nostrils flaring.
“She’s ripe for us,” Ronan observes.
I squeeze my inner thighs. “N-no I’m not.”
Tarren wraps a meaty hand around my nape, stroking it. “It’s all right to be aroused, Riya,” he murmurs. “We’re your mates.”
I give a shove to the closest chest, which belongs to Jax, but the males don’t fall back. They don’t fall back, nor do they advance. Three pairs of eyes watch me intently.
“Y-you’re not my mates.”
Not yet.
Already my body seems to know it’s an inevitability. Moisture gathers between my legs.
“Do you prefer another warrior?” Jax asks smoothly, like he already knows the answer will be no.
I shake my head.
He brings the pad of his thumb to the crease between my brows and rubs it away. “Then you’re ours.” He leans forward and kisses the place he’s just rubbed. “Don’t fight it. We’ll take good care of you, Riya, I promise.”
My mind tumbles forward and I remember the way my two human friends Lily and Cambry are treated by their Zandian mates. Like princesses.
There’s a great deal of dominance, no doubt about that. The Zandians are a fierce, protective species. But my friends are quite happy with their mates.
Of course, they each only have one mate. And apparently, I’m getting three.
And I never signed up for any relationship.
And there’s the problem of my infertility. But I’m loathe to confess it. Because I’m not sure what happens to human females who aren’t claimed for breeding. What use will King Zander have for us?
“Riya?” Lily calls through the doorway and all four of us spring apart. “Oh.” My human friend takes in the scene, seeming to understand immediately what’s going on. She clears her throat. “Ah, Dr. Daneth said he could use our help in the new clinic now.”
“Coming.” I bolt for the door, relieved when the warriors let me pass. Never in my life have I been more relieved at an interruption.
No, that’s a lie.
One small part of me is disappointed. What would’ve happened if I’d let those three warriors continue their over-the-top persuasion?
A shiver runs through my body as I jog across the marble toward the new dome. It doesn’t matter, because I can’t mate them.
As soon as they see my paperwork, they’ll know I’m not able to breed, and therefore, not eligible for the Zandian repopulation project.
And damn, why is that idea so devastating?
2
Jax
Did you hear me?” Ronan’s voice is eager, as always.
“No,” I snap. Sweat drips down my brow. I might be more irritable than usual from the incredible case of blue balls Riya left us all with. That, and the fact that we didn’t lock her into place as our mate. But instead, I give the excuse, “I’m busy fighting this vecking beam into place.”
The three of us are assisting the engineering crew—human males and Zandians—with the DomePod builds. I can’t deny the satisfaction I get every time I maneuver the beam into place and hear the soft snick as the metal mates perfectly with the linking piece.
Mates. Mating. Even thinking the word has my heart tripping with anticipation for our female… if we get her. No, when we get her.
I saw the way she responded to us in that medbay. Her attraction to Tarren is undeniable, and Ronan seemed to put her at ease. I don’t know what the veck I bring to the mating, except my sheer determination to make it all work.
I wipe my forearm across my forehead. Even my horns are full of sweat. It’s incredible to be able to work outside under the Zandian sun, or what our species calls the one true Zandian star. After spending most of our lives co
oped up on a pod docked above Ocretian airspace, being outdoors on Zandian soil makes me feel truly alive.
“What is it?” I respond to Ronan.
“I merely asked if you are eager to bed our mate.” Ronan grins at me and flicks his brows.
I roll my eyes. Of course I’ve been thinking about getting those creamy thighs open every moment since we parted from our future mate.
Tarren makes a low growling sound.
I have to say, I’ve never seen him so territorial before. Sharing Riya may be sticky. But I’m not vecking giving up until we figure it out.
“I know I can’t vecking wait.” Ronan grips his cock and squeezes it in his pants. In his other hand, he’s holding a shimmery silver bolt that will be used to attach part of the dome roof here at the southernmost section. “She’s the most beautiful human on the planet. I have a good feeling about mating her.”
“You have a good feeling about everything,” Tarren grumbles. “Including your own eliminations.”
I laugh, and Ronan puts down his bolt, somewhat carelessly—I hear it zing onto a rock—and leaps onto Tarren, roaring with delight.
They tussle for a minute until Tarren pins him, both of them panting, and then we all start laughing. Tarren lets Ronan up and gives him a hand to pull him back to his feet.
“I’m uncertain.” It’s an unusual admission from Tarren. He rarely shares his emotions, even with us. He rubs his forehead, brows down low. “It will be something new for all of us. And we don’t even know if she’ll mate us. Or if Zander will even allow us to pick our own mates. I heard from Jaso that they’ll be assigning females based on DNA testing. Matching them to the best Zandian gene donors for repopulation. So it is not certain we will be granted her as our female. Perhaps some other team requests her as well.” Tarren’s jaw clenches and I hoist a beam with far more effort than necessary, sending it careening toward Ronan’s head.
Ronan ducks and curses.
I rub my jaw, mind racing over the possibilities. All of that sounds like a bunch of excrement being thrown around by males who really have no clue. I could go and ask my superior, Master Seke for more information. Or should we wait for King Zander’s next announcement on how this will go?
No.
No vecking way.
I’m not going to wait for permission to mate or until they give away all the best females. And it’s not about the best females—it’s about Riya. I’m not going to let her slip through our fingers. She’s perfect for us. There’s chemistry. Attraction. We all felt it back there.
“We’ll have to mate her before that happens, then.” I declare.
“I want to mate her first.” Ronan says, as if it will make it so.
I give him a look. “We will have to discuss it.”
“Maybe we should let her choose,” Tarren suggests, although the grumble in his voice makes it sound like he hates the idea.
“Choose what? Whether to mate us or which one claims her first?”
“Which one claims her,” Tarren says.
Oh for veck’s sake. Are we seriously arguing over who gets to dip his cock in her first? We need to get her pierced and firmly bound to us first. “We will go in order of age,” I say with the same calm, decisive tone I employ every time the two of them butt heads. “As Tarren is the eldest, he will be first. Then me, then you, Ronan.” I’m honestly not sure how this will work, but it seems like we need a plan.
Ronan rolls his eyes. “No, cousin. We will take her together.” He says it simply, as if it were an accepted fact.
I nod. The idea is just as appealing to me or more so than taking her alone.
“But we will make her first time with us so incredible that she will beg for us, over and over.” Ronan is all confidence. “Like the little pet we vecked at Prium’s Sex Emporium. Remember how she liked having three Zandians at one time?”
My lips tug at the memory. Veck, that was incredible. Having three cocks at once made the little pet so insane with need that she more than satisfied all of us, over and over.
“We don’t know if humans react the same way,” I caution Ronan, although I have to turn away, so my arousal isn’t evident.
Ronan picks up the bolt, his smile restored. “She will, once she experiences all of us.”
It’s not a bad plan. Satisfy the little human, pierce her, maybe even put a young in her womb by the week’s end. By the time Zander makes his announcement, she’ll be so thoroughly ours there can be no denying us our claim.
“It is too bad that the human males will not get to enjoy their own females.” Ronan looks across the dome at a pair of humans laboring in the dry heat. They appear to be struggling.
I have personally never given them much thought. I shrug. “We need to concern ourselves with the survival of Zandia. Human DNA will live on here as well, so they may enjoy knowing that.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow. “I hardly think it makes them rejoice.”
I look again at the human men. They are much weaker than we are, unable to work as hard or as long, although they are certainly clever and have assisted well on the training pod.
“They will not be treated unfairly.” To me, just allowing them to stay is a generous concession on Zander’s part considering if the Ocretions ever find out we’re harboring fugitives from one of their death pods, it could mean war. “And who knows. Perhaps they will find another species with which to mate, in the future.” It’s not my concern, in any case.
“Perhaps they will choose to relocate? Zander agreed to find them safe harbor on Jesel, where other human rebels are hiding out. That may be a place where they find mates some cycle in the future. Certainly, they will never get that here.” Ronan begins to affix the bolt. “But enough of them. Let’s take bets on how quickly we can get our female pregnant.”
The thought of putting a young in that taut body of Riya’s has me hard again. But taking on a mate will be more than sex. I’d better start researching how to manage a human female. Hasn’t every Zandian who has one mentioned at some point how emotional they are? How they evoke long dormant emotions in our species? Already I see it in Tarren. She’s under his skin.
Hell, she might already be under mine.
I’d better find out how to bond, discipline, and condition our female if we’re going to make this bid for our future successful.
My cock surges against my uniform pants as I picture disciplining her. Stars knows I could find a million reasons to strip off her clothes, tie her up, and smack that gorgeous ass red. But will she like it? Rumor has it that they actually can get aroused by their discipline. Is it wrong that I hope Riya does?
But I’m getting way ahead of myself. The first task is to secure her as our mate.
Riya
Lily and I walk to the docked training pod after assisting in the new med dome, passing Zandian warriors and humans laboring all around the ruined capital. Some teams clean up rubble, while others erect more of the domes. Already the city appears nearly inhabitable, which is stunning, considering we were in battle just a planet rotation before.
I try to pretend I’m not looking for my three warriors.
Lily glances over my shoulder and lifts her chin. “Over there.”
“What?”
“Your suitors—admirers. Whatever.”
I can’t stop myself from following her gaze and… damn. My breath catches. There they are. All three have removed their tunics, working bare chested, every row of hard muscle clearly defined under peachy-purple skin.
She bumps my shoulder and smiles. “It looked like they were giving you the hard sell in there earlier.”
My face grows warm. “Hard sell. Yeah. You could say that. They just want a female for King Zander’s rehabitation project.”
“Well, yes. But I would say they want you, in particular, to be their female.”
I make a non-committal sound.
“So?”
“So what?”
“What do you think of them?” Lily prods
.
My throat quivers. “Um… I’m not sure.”
“They’re cousins, I think. Rok says they’re some of the best warriors Master Seke has trained. They’re good-looking, don’t you think?”
“I’m not interested,” I lie. I refuse to look in their direction again, but my cheeks warm at my body’s response to being cornered by them. Or—stars—the feel of Tarren’s large hand on my ass. The way I ground my female parts shamelessly over his big thigh the previous planet rotation.
“I know you think they’re handsome,” Lily challenges me. “It’s okay to look. You’re in the pilot’s seat, as far as I can tell.”
We’ve walked past the place where the males are working, and it takes all my concentration not to slow my steps or turn back. “Oh really? How do you figure?”
“There aren’t any available Zandian females. You’re one of what? Maybe twenty-five females on the planet and they’ve determined we’re compatible with their species. You’re in high demand.”
“Right, and they’re in charge. Humans don’t make demands in this galaxy or any other. Or have you forgotten?”
Lily shrugs. “I’m saying I think you have options. If you don’t like those three, just show a little interest to another warrior and they’ll be fighting over you.”
“But either way, the story ends with me becoming a Zandian breeder. Getting claimed by not one, but multiple warriors for the purpose of continuing their species. Right?”
Lily puts a hand on my arm. “Zandians are honorable beings. They may be dominant and high-handed, but they’re reasonable. This generation has been without females for years now and they’re not used to humans. But believe me when I say that once the adjustment period is over, we’re very compatible.”
“And what if I don’t want to mate at all? With any of them?”
Lily nibbles her lip, regret swimming in her green eyes. “I don’t know. Humans aren’t slaves here, but we are their guests. I think it will be fall in line or leave.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
Considering I was sentenced to death by my former slave masters and the barcode on the back of my neck would give that information to any being in the galaxy who scanned me, leaving isn’t an option. Even if it was, I’d rather die now than go back to the agrifarm with the brutal slave masters. Which means spreading my legs for not one, but three huge horned aliens.
