His Human Prisoner: An Alien Warrior Romance (Zandian Masters Book 2)

by Renee Rose

  The bitterness in her tone ripped his chest open. He’d half convinced himself that as a sex slave, she’d known no better—apart from her brief freedom when she’d stolen his ship. He hadn’t wanted to pity her for her station in life. Because if he did, it would make everything he’d done to her wrong, as well.

  Veck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes shifted from the bowl to his face, surprise flickering there.

  He swallowed and picked out a piece of meat. “Chew it slowly,” he warned. “How often do humans normally feed?”

  She chewed frantically and swallowed. He rolled his eyes.

  “Three times a day, if we can. Sex slaves are generally well-kept. They want us looking healthy, of course. But we’d been foraging on Jesel for half a solar cycle, so we didn’t eat as often as we liked.”

  “You and who? The rebels?”

  She shook her head and made an impatient jerk of her chin toward the bowl. He smiled. She was adorable. He loved when she showed him this real side of her, what lay beneath the slavish meekness. Lily, the warrior. The one who’d stolen his ship. He fed her another bite.

  “The escaped slaves. The ones who took your ship.”

  “Hold on,” he barked. “Is my old ship back there on Jesel?” He would turn around and recover the thing, if it was.

  “It didn’t survive landing.”

  He growled his displeasure.

  She shrugged. “They’d only learned to fly by scanning databases. No one had any practical experience, so we figured we were lucky to walk away from the landing.”

  He swore several times and walked a tight circle around his small chamber.

  She climbed down from the bed and followed him, attempting to take the bowl from him with adorable supplicant eyes.

  Once more, he jerked it back, but offered her a bite. Her little tongue darted out to catch a spilled piece of grain on her lip, and he watched it, fascinated.

  He really shouldn’t be so turned on by this silly human.

  “So what happened to the rest of them? The escaped slaves?” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know, but he did. He wanted to hear all of her stories, too—how they’d planned the escape, what her life had been like. But that was just bizarre.

  Her pretty face clouded, and her muscles hardened. “They were killed,” she said stiffly.

  “By whom? The rebels?”

  “No. By a bomb. I was away from camp.” Her gaze turned distant, like she was reliving the moment.

  He didn’t want her to.

  “Again, I’m sorry.”

  The long dark lashes lifted, and she studied his face as if checking for sincerity. “I don’t understand you,” she muttered.

  He fed her another bite of food and handed over a bladder of juice with a tube attached. She bit the end off and drank the entire thing down.

  He lifted his chin. “Get on the sleeping platform. I think you’ve had enough food for now.”

  She opened her mouth as if to protest, but he shook his head. “I promise I won’t let you go hungry.”

  ~.~

  Lily whimpered as the rebel slapped her face and pushed her backward, forcing her to the ground. Her wrists were tied together and he held the end of the rope, which he jerked above her head, until she lay flat. “Spread your legs, slave. You don’t get to walk around our camp.”

  His force came down on her too hard, and he stank of the worst body odor she’d ever smelled. Her former masters had at least been clean and kept her in comfortable surroundings. They’d been upper class, so they possessed the wealth to own their own pods and have steady access to food.

  He came down on her, ready to shove his cock in her mouth.

  “No,” she moaned and turned her head to the side.

  “Hush, Lily. It’s a dream.”

  Confusion twisted through her consciousness as she tried to match the voice to the filthy human holding her down.

  Her body jerked, and she blinked up at a horned alien warrior. Rok.

  Her wrists were still bound together with the other end of the rope attached to Rok’s wrist, the way he had secured her before they fell asleep.

  Holy one true sun, he was beautiful. His hairless jaw was square and strong, hair sandy brown around the stiffening horns. His eyes glowed with violet-rimmed irises. He leaned against the wall behind his bed with his magnificent chest bare.

  His eyes traveled from her face down to her bare breasts and grew more violet, hunger evident in his gaze. She was accustomed to being ogled in every way, had learned to use a male’s interest to guide or distract him into some form of sex act that might be the least invasive at the moment.

  Never before had a lustful gaze made her body heat in response.

  Her nipples beaded, breasts grew taut.

  “You’re finally awake. I’ve been waiting to torture you for hours.”

  She wasn’t sure how to take that statement. It produced a shiver, and the memory of the past night’s whipping returned to her in full force. Yet a tinge of excitement coated everything as well.

  He unwound the leather strip that bound his wrist first, then the one around the two of hers. His examination of the red marks and the way he rubbed his thumb over them as if trying to erase them made something flutter in her belly.

  Did she hope he cared? She considered showing him the serpent bite on her ankle. It had continued to fester, the throbbing a dull background pain to everything. But she didn’t want him to take her somewhere for medical care, because it would mean her immediate arrest. No, better to wait it out. Hopefully, she would recover on her own.

  Looking to Rok to save her was stupid. She was his captive, and he was bent on enacting punishment in a way he clearly enjoyed. When he was through with her, he planned to collect the warrant on her, which meant her certain death.

  So, basically, she needed to find a way to escape or she’d be dead when they reached Ocretia.

  Rok tugged her torso over his thighs so she lay facedown, ass up. His large hand traced over her buttocks. “Is this normal for a human?” His voice choked with shock.

  She twisted around to look. Her ass still wore the splotches from his whipping—patches of red standing out brightly on her normally pale skin.

  Did he regret it?

  If so, she wasn’t going to tell him that it no longer hurt and probably wouldn’t unless he picked up his strap and used it again. She opted for a sulk, instead. “You whipped me—hard.” That was not a lie.

  “How long does it take you to heal?” He still sounded choked.

  “I don’t know, seven to ten planet rotation, probably.”

  Rok abruptly lifted her from the spanking position and plopped her beside him. Some of the color had drained from his face. “Well,” he said stiffly, “Humans are more fragile than I knew. Not good for punishing at all.”

  She hid her amusement. “Most find us extremely good for punishing. The pain of a lesson lasts for a long time.”

  His lip curled. “I suppose if you’re training a slave, that’s useful.” He sounded disdainful.

  Perhaps she’d taken it too far. He enjoyed delivering punishment and now believed she was unfit for it. She didn’t want him to lock her away until he collected the warrant. She’d have a far better chance of escape if she remained in his chamber as his slave. And she didn’t care to examine that other, small part that might enjoy being near him. Even craved his attention and his touch.

  She rose up on her knees and reached for one of his horns. She’d seen how they stiffened and leaned just like his cock during arousal. They must be a sensual part of his anatomy.

  He shuddered when she fisted it, allowing her to tilt his head down.

  She pressed her breasts in his face and swirled her tongue around the horn.

  Rok’s breath turned ragged. He palmed one breast, squeezing harder when she took the entire horn into her mouth. Though as short as her thumb, it was the same girth as a human cock, and it stiffened and gre
w as she sucked it. His lips closed on her other nipple, tongue flicking it.

  Rok looped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as the fingers of his other hand slid between her thighs.

  Surprise flitted through her when she realized how wet he’d found her pussy—it practically dripped, her folds swollen and slick. He screwed one then two digits inside her, making her gasp with pleasure.

  “Suck harder,” he grunted and plunged his fingers in and out of her, filling and stretching her.

  She obeyed, hollowing her cheeks and sucking as hard she knew how, bobbing her head up and down over his horn.

  Rok found the bundle of nerves on her inner wall and her inner thighs trembled. She moaned over the horn. He shifted the arm around her waist to bring a finger to her anus.

  She stiffened.

  “Keep sucking.” His voice sounded low and gravelly.

  She whimpered, but obeyed, both wanting and not wanting him to continue working her with his fingers. It seemed she had no choice—he fingervecked her pussy as he worked one digit into her back hole and vecked her there, too. Her insides fluttered. Heat flooded her pelvis.

  He shouted a curse, and she realized he was coming. He withdrew his fingers from her and shoved his sleeping pants down to fist his cock.

  “No, don’t stop,” he gasped when she adjusted her mouth. In two pumps, he arrived, ribbons of rainbow-hued seed spurting like a fountain from the slit of his cock.

  She continued sucking his horn until he finished and his eyes went heavy-lidded.

  He grasped her waist, tossing her to her back and climbing over the top. “Good slave,” he purred. “Very good girl. How did you know about the horns?”

  She attempted a shrug, which was impeded by his weight pressing her down onto the sleeping platform. “I guessed.”

  “Clever female. You’ve been trained very well, haven’t you?” His cock, though he’d just orgasmed, prodded her entrance.

  She rocked her hips up to meet it, desperate for her own release after the incredible fingering.

  “If I weren’t still angry with you for stealing my ship, I would let you have my cock right now. I can see how much you need it.”

  She frowned at his arrogance and turned her head sharply to the side.

  He chuckled. “Don’t think you can hide it, little female. You’re going to be on edge until I allow you to orgasm. Since I can’t punish that pretty little ass of yours, I’ll have to torture you this way.” To her shock, he bent down and took her nipple between his lips, sucking and nipping at it until both her breasts ached and her pussy wound tight with need. “There will be no touching on your part. If you touch yourself, I will whip you again, sore ass or no. The only way you’re going to get satisfaction is when I decide you deserve it, understand?”

  She blinked at him. This was not a game she’d ever played. On the surface, it sounded deceptively easy. All she had to do was not touch herself or orgasm? Fine. She never did either of those things.

  Yet he had inspired a restlessness in her, an itchy desire that, for the first time, she needed to scratch with something bordering desperation.

  He pushed the tip of his cock inside her, and she relaxed. He’d just been teasing. It was some form of joke. But then he withdrew it again, watching her face closely.

  Damn him! She certainly showed her frustration when he pulled out.

  He repeated the torture once, twice. On the third time, she turned her head to the side, determined to float away, as she’d learned to do during sex, but he caught her jaw.

  “Look at me,” he growled. “You want my cock?”

  She thrust her jaw forward, not wanting to answer.

  He shoved in all the way this time, his cock stretching her wide, stroking her inner wall. “Answer me, Lily.” He pulled all the way out.

  She gave a sob of frustration. “Yes! Okay? I want your cock. Are you happy, you arrogant—”

  He covered her mouth with his large hand.

  It was a sign of her growing comfort with this being that she dared call him names. Even so, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d slapped her at the least.

  He cut off her breath with that hand over her mouth, plunged in again, rocked his hips to scythe in and out three, four times, then released her, pulling out and climbing off the sleeping platform, his back to her.

  She gasped, her pussy clenching around emptiness, her lungs filling and releasing without satisfaction. She’d been so. Close.

  Rok’s sleeping pants hung low in back, showing the top of his muscular ass. His broad shoulders stretched a mile, built of solid muscle, and scars, large and small, covered his skin. Something about those scars made him all the more appealing to her. They proved him to be the rugged warrior he looked like. Or maybe it was because he’d known as much hardship as she had.

  “I suppose you’re hungry again?”

  “Yes, master.”

  He turned around with a frown. He didn’t like that title for some reason, but she didn’t understand why not. There were so many things she didn’t understand about him. Like how he could enjoy hurting females and act so caring at once? There was something so darkly treacherous, so seductive about him.

  She feared, more than any threat facing her welfare, she would grow attached to him. To his attention, his consideration. The way he’d fed her, watching to make sure she didn’t overeat, his reluctance to continue punishing her when she still showed marks, the way his eyes turned dark purple when he wanted her.

  He rummaged in a cabinet. “There aren’t any flight suits that will fit you, but you can wear my undershirt.” He tossed her a thin synthetic shirt in white.

  She pulled it over her head.

  Rok’s eyes traveled to her breasts, and his lids drooped.

  She glanced down. Though the shirt was huge on her, falling to mid-thigh, the thin material made it hug her breasts, her steepled nipples poking through.

  Rok pinched one nipple through the shirt and the silky fabric slid over it, sending a shiver straight to her core.

  She glared up at him and crossed her hands over her chest, not wanting to show how hot and bothered he had her.

  He picked up her hand. “I don’t need to tie you up, do I, Lily?”

  She loved when he called her by her name. Some masters had, but most called her “slave.” Even those who had used Lily always made it sound disapproving, like her name was a bad word. In Rok’s deep rumble, though, it somehow sounded sensual or even like an endearment.

  But that was crazy. She was definitely reading too much into this male. He was a species she hadn’t encountered before and she wasn’t used to his ways, that was all. Soon she’d learn how to get by and come up with a plan to free herself.

  “Do I?” He arched a stern brow.

  “No, Master Rok.”

  HIs lip curled at her use of the title master again, but he didn’t say anything. Her hand fit in his palm like a child’s in the larger one of a parent. There was both comfort and safety in the gesture.

  A memory of her tiny hand encased in a man’s flitted in her mind. Her father, perhaps? Before she went to the institute to be trained as a slave? It must be, because she had no memories of anyone ever holding hands at the institute. All they knew there were complete subservience and swift and painful correction when they protested.

  She couldn’t remember a mother, specifically, but she knew she’d had one. She didn’t remember a face or an incident, but she seemed to recall a feeling of love and safety. The energy of a mother. Some larger force that cared for her in a sweet and tender way.

  Did Rok embody some essence of that? Was that what disturbed her so much about him?

  She shook off the thoughts. They would not help her survive this. She needed to concentrate on a plan. She had to get free.

  ~.~

  Torturing Lily by withholding her orgasm also tortured him. At least he’d taken the edge off when she’d sucked his horn. Holy Zandian star, he’d never had a femal
e do such a thing—hadn’t even known what it would do to him. Yes, he liked to rub his own horns, and he particularly liked to run them over the flesh of a willing female, but when she’d sucked it into her hot little mouth, he’d been in pure ecstasy. Yes, he planned to make her perform that task at least twice a day until they reached Ocretia.

  He looked down at the beautiful little waif padding barefoot beside him.

  “You’re more agreeable than I’d expected,” he observed.

  She tilted her face up to his, her sensual lips curving into a wry grin. With her free hand, she touched the barcode at the back of her neck. “I’m a slave, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but you’re not particularly subservient, either.” He stopped and pushed her up again the wall, trapping her there to show his far greater strength.

  She tilted her lovely face up to his, her green eyes flashing with spirit. He loved that he didn’t find fear or resentment there. Excitement, yes. And curiosity. She liked being his prisoner, he was sure of it.

  “I like the rebellion in you,” he rumbled. He was so vecking hard for her again, her scent filling his nostrils, her soft coppery hair brushing his face. “I’m surprised it was never beaten out of you.” The idea of some previous master punishing Lily both enraged and turned him on. He hated to think of any master abusing Lily, yet the idea of taking her to task himself kicked his lust into overdrive.

  “I usually hide it better.”

  He vecking loved that answer. He heard flirtation in her voice, as if she fully understood his game and wanted to play. “Do you think I should act more slave-like to my new master?”

  She knew he didn’t like her calling him that—he could tell by the wicked glint in her eye. Well, he preferred that feistiness to the docile show. He eased away from her and tugged her down the corridor.

  He didn’t want her to call him master. That was what Taraw had called him—Depri’s sister, the female he had once loved. Besides, he didn’t believe in keeping slaves. Zandians never had kept another species in slavery—he remembered his father being proud of that, even though it meant his father had to put in hard labor. “Other species would use slaves for physical labor, Rok,” he would say. “But, on Zandia, we aren’t afraid to use our bodies to build things.” His father had been proud of his station, low that it had been. “I built the palace the royal family lives in,” he would say proudly. “I keep things running there. I’m part of a system that works without degrading other beings.”