by Renee Rose
If only they could learn to communicate. If only he could trust her.
***
Her dreams were full of Zander. Zander angry, gripping the horrible strap. Only this time she wasn’t scared. You’re mine, he said. Mine alone. I will not share you.
Yes, master. She dropped to her knees and reached for his cock.
Then Zander was buried inside her, murmuring in her ear. Zander fighting with Master Seke, his beautiful muscles rippling, his movement graceful like poetry.
She woke on an empty platform. She sat up. Zander’s clothes and gold arm cuff lay on the sleepdisk and the sound of water rushed from the washroom.
She reached for the cuff. On the agrifarm, the foremen had used handheld communication devices. Zander’s was state of the art, sleek and beautiful. As a human, she’d never been permitted to use any kind of device, but she’d looked over plenty of shoulders to see how they worked. In fact, she’d longed for one. She had a list a light-year long of the things she’d like to research. But they were mostly farming related. What would she search now, if she could?
Something about her new situation. Something to help her understand Zander better.
“Search Zandian Genocide.”
Nothing happened. Right. Because they were programmed only for voice recognition. She remembered, once, seeing someone borrow a device.
“Guest user.”
A light flickered on.
“Search Zandian Genocide.”
A hologram hovered, showing images of airships bombing the capital of Zandia, Zandians running and screaming from burning buildings. A dispassionate voice over gave the facts of the date, which had been nearly twelve revolutions around the sun ago.
She realized she had something more important to research. With a trace of excitement, she said, “Search Leora Taniaka.”
A hologram of her mother appeared, with the name of the agrifarm where they worked beneath it.
Well, at least nothing had changed.
“Search Lily Taniaka.”
Her mother had asked every underground rebel for word of her sister for as long as she could remember.
A hologram of a young woman much like her popped up. The words underneath read, “Escaped slave. Whereabouts unknown.” Her heart leapt. So her sister had escaped. Good for her. Perhaps she was part of the revolution, like their father.
The water in the washtube turned off.
“Close.”
The hologram went on with the projection.
“Off. End.” Her voice rose in pitch. How did she turn this thing off? Zander would kill her for using it!
“Stop. Over. Shut down. Close.”
She clamped her hand over the light projecting the hologram.
The door to the washroom opened.
She tossed the cuff back where she found it, praying it had turned off.
Zander stepped out, fully naked. He seemed even larger without clothes—not only his cock—every part of him. His muscles bulged and rippled, from his wide shoulders and glorious pecs, to his washboard abs and sculpted thighs and calves. His skin glowed with the beautiful lavender tinge. And yes...his cock. It was huge even in repose, although it twitched to life as his violet eyes came to rest on her.
Her pussy clenched.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She scrambled off the sleepdisk and stood to face him, the way he expected. As always, she was naked, except for the soft leather cuffs around her wrists, ankles and neck.
“Come here.” He pulled fresh clothing from a shelf and put it on as she crossed the room to where he stood. When he finished dressing, he grasped her nape and pulled her up close to his face. To her shock, he planted a kiss on her forehead and released her. He walked to the sleepdisk and picked up his cuff.
As he fingered it, his head whipped around, eyes narrowed.
Veck. It must be warm, still. Or was a light on?
“Show last.”
The hologram of her sister sprang up. He stretched it, looking from Lily’s face back to hers. “Who is this? A sister?”
She wrung her fingers and nodded. “Yes,” she managed to say. “I’ve never met her. She was taken from my parents for the sex trade when she was three.”
Zander winced. “I’m sorry.” His voice held a note of shock that made her believe him.
“Back.”
The image of her mother hovered. He spun it around. “Is this your mother?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Back.”
The first hologram she’d watched sprang up, right where it had left off, the disembodied voice explaining all the critical data points of what was probably the worst day in Zander’s life.
She cringed.
“Back.”
The hologram switched to a list of transactions—one of Zander’s business accounting records.
“Close.”
Her legs trembled when he swiveled his dark-eyed gaze on her. For a long, nerve-wracking moment, he said nothing, simply gazed at her speculatively. “What were you doing?”
It wasn’t only her legs trembling. Her whole body shook. She didn’t like Zander’s dissatisfaction. She opened her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Right. I’m sorry wasn’t exactly an answer to his question, was it? For once, she tried for the truth. “I just wanted to understand you better.”
He cocked an eyebrow. Once more, he made her suffer with a moment of silence. At last, he said, “Do not touch my things without permission.”
She held her breath and waited to hear what the punishment would be. Her poor bottom couldn’t take another thrashing, but the cage was almost worse.
He scrolled back to the Zandian invasion and zoomed in. His brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen this footage.” His voice sounded hollow. She sensed the trauma beneath the words.
An image of him as a teenager, being hustled out to an airship flashed in her mind.
“How did you get away?”
He swallowed and rotated the rolling pictures, narrowing in on what must be the palace—his former home. “Master Seke evacuated the palace. He brought most of the servants...and me.”
“The servants who are still here?”
“Yes.”
She reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sure you wanted to stay and fight.”
He turned his amethyst eyes on her, wide with wonder. “Exactly. My parents stayed to fight—both of them. I wanted to stay and fight, too, but they made me go with Seke—” He stopped speaking, his voice choked. “Everyone left on Zandia died that day.”
“How many ships got away?”
He shook his head. “Only mine. The rest of the Zandians still alive today were away from the planet for the invasion. Lium and Erick. They were both offplanet.”
“You’re planning to take it back.” She shouldn’t have spoken. That was her claircognizance feeding her information she shouldn’t know.
But Zander answered. “I will win it back.” His jaw tightened with determination. “Release cuffs.” The locks on her binds snapped open and the cuffs dropped to the floor. He jerked his head toward the washroom. “Go and wash. I have things to do.”
She dipped into a curtsy, her heart aching for him. It was a huge responsibility he carried on his shoulders— the liberation of his people, the rightful return of his planet. No wonder he didn’t have time for her.
She scooted off to the washroom and stepped into the washtube. The glorious washtube, which she’d come to love. She’d wash three times a day if she thought Zander would allow it. She stood under the warm spray and closed her eyes, allowing it to clean her. The water felt too warm on her still-sore bottom, but she didn’t mind. Standing in that tube felt luxurious, indulgent, decadent. She held her breath as the water filled to the top then drained away and the warm air dried her.
She stepped out and combed her hair.
When she emerged from th
e washroom, Zander snapped her cuffs back in place. “Get in your cage. Today is the pod’s recharge day.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Once every ten planet rotations, Zandians must bathe in the light and eat a meal to maintain strength. On visitor’s day, we open the light bath for outside Zandians. Today is the day those living here recharge. I’m going to the light bath now.”
“Can’t I come?” It wasn’t only desperation at not being left in the cage—well, perhaps it was. But she also wanted to see the light baths and how they worked. She remembered the vision she’d had of the rainbow light and the joy spreading through her.
His dark gaze was unfathomable. Once more he stared at her a long time without speaking. Although she’d never been one to beg, she adopted a hopeful, expectant look.
He sighed and lifted his arm with the gold band. “Call Daneth.” When Daneth’s head popped up, he asked, “Is it safe for Lamira to enter the light bath?”
Daneth blinked a few times.
She stepped behind Zander to hide her nudity and peeked around his shoulder.
“I honestly cannot say for certain, my lord. I would think yes, so long as she wore protective eyewear. I do not know how well human eyes would withstand the light.”
“Thank you.” He hit something on the band and Daneth disappeared. “Put some clothes on.”
She beamed at him, hurrying to dress. “Thank you, my lord,” she said breathlessly.
“Let’s go.” He pressed his palm to the door.
“My lord.” She ran to catch up with him and was startled when he took her hand in his as they walked swiftly down the corridor. She noticed Gunt had been replaced with a different guard. “You do not have to put me in the cage every time you leave your chamber. If you trust me enough to walk about the pod on my own, why not to stay in a room I cannot exit, which is guarded at all times?”
“Cage time is good for you.” His deep voice sounded gruff, but rather than frighten her, it reverberated right in her core.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Research says once cage-trained, humans love them. It becomes a safe space. I like it because it reminds you of your place. Makes you happy to see me when I return.”
Her pussy moistened and something slithered in her belly. Why? Surely she didn’t like being trained like a pet by Zander?
He stepped up to a room she hadn’t been in before and pressed his hand to the seal. It slid open. “Close your eyes.”
She gasped when they stepped inside. A gigantic crystal had been installed in the ceiling, sending rainbow shafts of light all around the dome-shaped room.
“I said, close your eyes,” Zander snapped.
She covered them with her palm and allowed him to lead her to the center of the room, where she’d seen narrow flat beds arranged in a circular pattern to match the shape of the room.
“Take off your clothes.”
She pulled off her clothing and peeked to see him shucking his clothes as well. He guided her into a bed and she heard him settle in one next to her.
“Here,” he said, dropping a piece of clothing over her face. His shirt, she thought. It smelled of his clean, masculine scent—a scent she’d come to love.
She breathed in deeply.
“Keep your face covered, just in case. I’d feel terrible if it got burned.”
He’d feel terrible. So he must care about her. Or at least he took responsibility for her. Were they the same thing? Not necessarily.
She lay under the great crystal and paid attention to the sensations dancing across her skin. There was a tickling—no, a vibration. A humming of energy that made the hairs on her arms stand up. As the room grew quiet, a whisper became apparent.
King Zander will restore us to our planet. He needs you. Pay attention to all knowing.
She sat bolt upright and opened her eyes.
Zander’s lids flew open and he glared at her. He pointed to the door, “Out.”
She snatched up the shirt and lay back down, covering her face again. “No, no. I’ll be good. I’m sorry.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs. No one was in the room but the two of them. Even as her rational brain struggled to answer the riddle, she already knew—the crystal had spoken to her. The vecking crystal.
Something about the experience made her weep. There was a lightness, a benevolence projecting from the crystal. Love, in its purest form. She felt grateful to be in its presence, grateful to be spoken to, to be needed by Zander.
Except...no. She couldn’t tell Zander. Clearly he hadn’t heard anything. Zandians, like humans, weren’t supposed to just “know” things. Or “hear” things. Or “see” things. And while it may not be a trait punishable by death for a Zandian, it sure as hell was for a human.
So how would she help Zander with her knowing— the knowing that had never done her a bit of good in her life—when she couldn’t reveal how she knew things?
Chapter Eight
“Gunt has stolen over thirty crystals from the pod in the last three solar cycles.” Seke rubbed his forehead, his mouth turned down in disgust. “He sells them to Ocretions for a tidy sum. I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in a holding cell.”
Zander sighed. One of the downfalls of being part of a nearly extinct species was that he couldn’t ever cut any being loose. He’d love to banish Gunt, but he didn’t want to lose or waste any Zandian life.
“Leave him there. What else did you find? How did my human know?”
Zeke shook his head. “There’s no other recording of the two of them, but I told you that before. There’s no recording of her seeing him take them—they were all taken and sold before she got here.”
Tension ran up Zander’s shoulders to his neck. Something tight in his stomach made him feel sick. “But how could she know?” His voice rasped a little. “She was an agri-slave before she came here.”
Zandian moons was she not a slave? Was she some kind of plant—perhaps part of the Finns’ plot to kill him? But that would mean Daneth was part of it. Or someone had tampered with his program…
Seke’s eyes narrowed, and he knew the older man had the same thoughts. He was the one who had taught Zander the art of war and strategy, after all. “I don’t know.”
Zander stood up. “I’ll question her.”
Turmoil swirled through his insides as he stalked back to his chamber where he’d left Lamira out of her cage. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He opened the door and let it close behind him. Lamira scrambled off the bed to stand before him, naked, as he required. Her beauty angered him now. Was she an elaborate ploy to get close to him? If so, to what end? And how dangerous could she be? He could snap her neck with the flick of a hand.
He stared at her for a moment and watched her fidget. “How did you know about Gunt and the crystals?”
Genuine fear flashed across her face—her pupils narrowed, breath shortened. He smelled it coming from her pores.
It chilled him. So she did have something to hide.
She shook her head quickly and took a step back. “I didn’t. It was a guess, that’s all. Was I right?”
“Come here.”
Something twitched in her cheek. She stepped closer to him.
He picked her up by the armpits and lifted her until they came eye to eye. “Do. Not. Lie to me.” He kept his voice even and cold.
A shiver ran through her. It brought him some small satisfaction. Her reactions were so transparent. She couldn’t be a spy. At least, not a trained agent. She was a terrible liar and while her emotions confused him, she wore them on the outside. Surely a spy—even a human one—would have more skill.
“Zander, please. I swear—I don’t know anything.”
“You knew about Gunt. How did you?”
“He didn’t seem trustworthy, that’s all.”
Zander shook his head. “No. You told me he was stealing crys
tals. That’s a specific accusation, and Master Seke has proven it to be true. So how did you know?”
His little slave looked beautiful with tears swimming in her eyes, lips trembling, a wide-eyed pleading look on her face, her naked body vulnerable and available to him. “I didn’t know,” she insisted, not quite meeting his eyes.
He dropped her back to her feet. “I promised you a whipping the next time you lied.”
She blanched, her little hands reaching back to cover her still-marked ass. He should punish her again, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Still, anger coursed through his body, much like it had the night before. Once more, this little human had completely thrown off his equilibrium.
“I punished you yesterday when you didn’t deserve it, so I won’t strap you again. But I am very angry with you. Kneel at my feet and do not speak—I do not wish to hear your voice.”
He turned away from her, taking a seat at his work platform, but his mind was on nothing but the docile, delicate creature at his feet. When had she become so submissive? Had he already tamed her in a short week? How?
She sniffed, and he smelled the scent of her salty tears.
“Why are you crying? I haven’t caused you pain. Yet.”
“I’m not crying.”
He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. “You continue to lie when evidence of the truth is right here on your face?” He flicked his tongue to catch the salty drop.
She jerked her head away. “Stupid master. I’m not”—she huffed out a sigh—“the words weren’t intended to deceive.”
He let the stupid master part slide, only because her face crinkled with distress. “Oh, right, they are what you wish were true. If you do not wish to cry, do not. Is it so hard for you?”
She jerked away. “Yes.”
He picked her up and arranged her on his lap, gripping her face to turn it toward him. “Why do you cry?”
The tears continued to swim in her eyes. “I don’t like displeasing you.”
His eyebrows slammed down. “If you do not like displeasing me, then don’t,” he thundered, the deep tones of his voice reverberating against the walls.
She flinched, shrinking back from him.
He remembered that he’d truly frightened her the last time. But shouldn’t a slave be afraid of her master when she disobeys?
