Claimed by the Zandian

by Renee Rose

  "I got Benn's holo communication just before they went down," the other human says.

  "I'd like to see that," Master Seke says.

  She presses a button on her wrist cuff and a hologram springs up in the center of the table. I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand as I watch the horror unfold. The ship is in flames. The image of the warrior is shadowy in the darkness of lost power. Tarek moves behind him, his giant hulking presence as sure in the dark as he is in the light. Tarek helps Benn with his helmet and pulling him into some sort of escape pod as Benn gives a choked goodbye to his mate and young.

  The other human and I both choke back sobs when it’s over. She shoots me a grateful look and squeezes my hand. “I’m Danica and this is my mate Gorde and our young, Marea.”

  “Zina,” I say. “And this is Enya.”

  “Okay,” Master Seke folds his arms across his chest. “We know they made it out of the ship and onto the escape pod alive. After that, we lost the ability to track them. I have five ships heading to the edge of Ocretion airspace, ready to make a rescue if we can ascertain their location and situation. We are not assuming them dead.”

  “Permission to join the rescue team,” Gorde asks.

  Master Seke pinches the bridge of his nose. “Denied, Gorde. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to Danica and Marea to risk both your lives in this operation. That’s why I don’t send you two out together on dangerous missions.”

  A muscle ticks in Gorde’s jaw, but he nods. “Yes, Master.”

  “You may return to your domiciles but if you wish to stay here together and keep vigil in the palace, Lady Lamira has invited you to stay. We will keep you apprised of every bit of information we receive.” Master Seke inclines his head with respect and leaves the room.

  I suck in a breath. “I’m staying,” I say immediately.

  “Good.” Enya squeezes my hand. “I want to be with you.”

  I squeeze it back.

  “We’re staying, too,” Danica says, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “And we’ll keep praying to sweet Mother Earth and the one true Zandian Star they return safely.”

  I touch my abdomen, imagining I can sense the tiny embryo inside.

  Tarek has to return.

  For both of us.

  Chapter 14

  Tarek

  Our escape pod plummets through the Ocretion atmosphere, but I’m not here. I’m back in that examination room, hearing I’m going to be a father.

  Smelling the scent of Zina’s tears when I accuse her of tricking me.

  How could I be such an idiot?

  My last moment with the only female I’ve ever loved and I made her cry. And she’s carrying a young I’ll never know. And she’ll be on her own—without me there to provide, protect, care for our family. It vecking guts me.

  Benn has snapped back into warrior mode, taking the limited controls to try to slow our descent and manage some kind of landing.

  Ocretia is a dead planet, surrounded by a sunless, gray polluted sky. If we survive our crash landing, we’ll surely be picked up by Ocretion police and be taken in as political prisoners for torture and execution.

  When we get close enough, Benn releases the sail-chute but it doesn’t open.

  “Veck,” he grits. “Veckity, veck, veck. We’re going to crash!” Benn frantically works the controls to stabilize the craft to stop the spinning.

  I activate my sensors to scan the area for landing. “Uninhabited,” I report tersely. “No apparent lifeforms in the area.” I keep scanning. “Eighty-two degrees, there’s a garbage field. It might cushion the landing.”

  “Or kill us,” Benn mutters.

  He’s right. Garbage isn’t necessarily soft.

  “Let me,” I command, taking over the one-being controls. I might be able to navigate through the piles of trash, just brushing edges enough to slow our velocity. I change the angle of the pod to horizontal but we’re still coming in too fast.

  I use my sensor readings to dodge through materials, letting the outside of the craft bump and bounce off the obstacles without hitting any head-on. The craft slams and bounces so hard my organs hit bone and the harness tears my skin, but I keep going.

  Time slows. Lengthens.

  I work the controls, not breathing, my heart not beating until at last, the pod skids and thuds to a stop.

  “We made it!” Benn shouts, opening the hatch. “That was incredible flying, Tarek. I thought we were going to crash in flames.” He draws his Zandian sword and steps out, turning his head right and left to scan the area.

  “Still no lifeforms, I report. Nor any craft above or approaching.”

  “Then let’s destroy the pod and find somewhere safe while we make a plan.”

  I step out and we set a detonator on the escape pod. Immediately destroying evidence of our breach of Ocretion borders is far more important than anything we might salvage from the pod.

  We run from the pod, bracing ourselves for the explosion. When it goes off, we don’t look back.

  Zina

  The space we’re invited into is something of a prayer room. Or a meditation space. It’s a dome-shaped room, with a yawning skylight and a giant Zandian crystal suspended from the top. The result is a rainbow prism of light painting every surface.

  Danica and I are offered glasses to shield our eyes from the magnified crystal light. The queen, herself, is inside, stretched out on a lounge chair as if she’s bathing in the light.

  “It’s a crystal light bath,” Gorde explains to us as we enter. “Zandians require the crystal to fuel our bodies. The Zandian elders designed a light bath like this for the palatial pod before we won our planet back. Any Zandian in the galaxy was invited weekly to bathe and restore.”

  Lady Lamira, the queen, sits up and turns her head toward us. “They are alive.”

  Danica gasps.

  I let out a cry. “How do you know?”

  “Our queen has special sight,” Gorde says to me, although I’ve already heard the stories. “The crystals enhance it.”

  “I thought we should hold vigil here,” Lady Lamira explains. “In case I received any images or information.”

  “And you did?” I breathe.

  She shakes her head. “I just know they’re alive. I sense their energies still.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “How can we bring them back?”

  “I don’t know,” the queen says. “But I’ll tell you if I get anything.”

  A Zandian servant walks around the perimeter of the room lighting candles behind standing crystals, casting even more rainbows around the room. The energy pulses through my cells, and as it does, some of the terrible blocks in my chest melt away.

  I crawl into a lounge chair and pull my knees up to my chest, rocking in place like a child. Enya, who has switched roles with me, rubs my back. “He’s alive,” she says softly. “It will be all right.”

  Chapter 15

  Tarek

  “Incoming.” My sensors pick up yet another Ocretion guard ship scanning the area for us. Benn and I dive into a large waste barrel to wait. Our flight suits should disguise our heat signatures, but who knows what equipment they have to detect us.

  We wait until the sensors tell me it’s clear. “Let’s go,” I say after a few more beats.

  For three planet rotations we’ve been roaming this junk pile, working on repairing an old supply ship using scrap parts we find. The ship is ancient and has zero navigation capabilities because it’s not meant to be flown far out of the atmosphere, but it just might get us out of Ocretion airspace where we can at least get comms back up and request assistance.

  “Look, Tarek! I mean—” Benn gives an embarrassed cough.

  “I’m looking,” I say dryly, turning my head in his direction. “Is it a resistor?”

  “Yes! I think I can get the thing started with this.”

  “Great.” I jog to his side and together we hike back to the ancient supply ship.

  Benn installs the part. “All
right. Here goes.” He attempts to activate the engine.

  Nothing.

  “Noooo,” Benn groans. He clomps back outside to work on the engine.

  Three more tries and the thing chugs to life. I can’t interpret any of the ship’s readouts because they haven’t been programmed to pair with my sensing system, so all I can do is wait, holding my breath, as Benn goes through the checks.

  “I think it’s going to fly!” he says after testing everything.

  “What about comms?”

  “They’re operational. We should be able to make contact once we’re off-planet.”

  “Let’s try it.” My stomach churns. I scan the area around us. “All clear from my sensors.”

  “Initiating flight.” Benn lifts the craft slowly into the air. It’s old and heavy, but once it gains some momentum, the metal stops shaking and we rise in altitude.

  We are near the edge of the atmosphere when I pick up three fighter ships speeding our way.

  “Incoming ships, coming fast. There’s no way we can outrun them.”

  “And there’s no defense system on this thing,” Benn grits. “If we head straight out, we’ll be in the debris field. This thing does not have the speed or navigational capacity to dodge debris like you did coming in.”

  The fighter ships close in. “Give me the controls,” I snap, taking them before he moves. I jump us through the atmosphere. We’re hit immediately by a scrap of metal, which sends the ship into a tailspin.

  I work hard to pull us out of it, narrowly avoiding three objects that fly past. “Well, the good news about the debris field is they didn’t follow us in.” I pull up hard to jump over another hurtling object.

  “And the bad news is when we’re hit by an object large enough to knock us out of the sky, we have no escape pod this time.”

  “You work the comms. I’ll keep us in the air.”

  There are moments when there is no choice but to make something work. Death is not an option—not for either of us. We have young at home.

  I utilize every skill I’ve gained with my implants to keep us from getting crushed while Benn sends out a distress signal on the Zandian frequency.

  “We copy, Benn. What are your coordinates?” Captain Rok’s crisp voice comes through immediately, as if they were waiting for us to make contact.

  Thank veck.

  “Undetermined. We’re in the debris field in a barely functioning ship,” Benn reports.

  I give my best guess at our coordinates based on my sensor readouts.

  “We copy. You’re twenty-three leagues from free space traveling at fifty-nine degrees. We will rendezvous there and take out any potential threats before you arrive.”

  “Copy that. We’ll do our best to get through,” Benn says and I give a nod of agreement, not daring taking my focus from the debris field for even a millisecond.

  My palms sweat, my breath is short and flat as I navigate through layer after layer of dangerous objects.

  Benn keeps silent.

  It takes every bit of my concentration just to keep us from getting crushed. We take hit after hit from smaller items as I dodge the larger ones. It seems to take forever, but at last, we near the coordinates Captain Rok gave. Except the debris field’s even denser. There’s no way to get out.

  I turn and loop around, attempt to circle back.

  Veck.

  I can’t get through. It’s just too dense.

  “We have you in our coordinates,” Captain Rok says. “Coming in.”

  “No—don’t,” I bark. They wouldn’t survive it either.

  Benn gasps and a moment later I understand why—a blast goes off right in front of us. “They’re firing on the debris!” Benn exclaims.

  “Hold your position as best you can,” Rok says. “We’re trying to clear a path for you.”

  I register their ships—three of them, hovering near the outskirts, firing on the debris.

  A moment later, I see a clear path. “I’m moving,” I bark.

  They cease fire and I give the ship full power, which still is achingly slow.

  “You made it! Veck, you did it, Tarek!” Benn shouts. “Thank veck I got trapped in a debris field with the only person in the galaxy able to navigate out!”

  It takes a moment for his words to sink in. The three Zandian ships surround us and magnetize our ship to draw it out. As my white knuckles gradually ease around the controls, I realize the significance of Benn’s words.

  We escaped because of my disability. Because of my different ability.

  I’m not defective. I’m… highly skilled, capable and, actually, special.

  And Zina was right—I use my blindness as a shield to keep people out. I used it to deny myself the possibility of mating her. Of having a family.

  And now I have a second chance.

  I draw in a deep breath and let it out. Allow Benn to thump my back and share in the celebration.

  We’re alive.

  We’re going home.

  We both have families who need us.

  Zina

  I tremble as I wait on the tarmac for the ship to land. Gorde and Danica and Marea are there, too. Enya and Bayla also show up, Enya standing beside me and holding my hand. Thank our sweet Mother Earth for her presence here because part of me wants to run away. I turned around to go back home three times, but each time returned.

  When I heard Tarek had escaped and was alive, I wept with joy. But now that I actually have to face him, the gulf between us seems too wide. My anger at him has returned. He may still be alive, but nothing’s changed. He doesn’t want me or this baby.

  The ship descends and we duck against the displaced air and plug our ears against the whine of the engine. The engines shut off and the hatch opens.

  The moment Tarek’s huge form appears in the frame, my heart surges to my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but I march forward.

  He turns his sightless eyes in my direction and comes for me. My relief at him not running away from me spurs me on. Or maybe it’s my need to speak for our unborn baby. I walk right up to him and slap his lavender-skinned face.

  He stops, surprised. “Zina,” he chokes.

  I hold up my hand. “No. Don’t say I word. I have something to say to you, Tarek.”

  He swallows. “All right.”

  “You’re using your blindness as an excuse to wallow in your fears. There’s nothing wrong with you. You contribute just as much to Zandian society as any warrior, and if you ever dare believe our child is less-than because he or she has your genes, I will flatten you.”

  It’s a ridiculous threat, since I couldn’t flatten his little finger, but I mean every word of it.

  “I love our young and I won’t let you diminish him or her, whether she ends up being blind or not.”

  A strange look comes over Tarek’s face. “She?”

  “Or he.” I put my hand over my abdomen.

  His head tilts in that direction like he’s following the movement with his sensors.

  And then he shocks me by dropping to his knees and covering my belly with his large palm. “I love our young, too,” he rasps hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I reacted so badly. I’m ashamed of myself. Zina, when I was out there in Ocretion territory, not sure if we’d live or die, it vecking tore me apart knowing the last words I spoke to you made you cry.

  “Knowing I might never get to touch you again. Or laugh with you. Or hold our young. And you’re right—it doesn’t matter if the young has my genes or not. What matters is that he’s ours. Yours and mine. What matters is that I want—veck, I need us to be a family. I want to take care of you and make you laugh and give you pleasure.”

  When I drop a hand onto his head and lightly run my thumb over his horn, he slides his hand to my backside and squeezes.

  “I want to be the one who masters you,” he says in a lower voice. One that promises pleasure.

  I fall into him, throwing my arms around his neck and straddling his waist where he kneels.


  He chuckles and mouths my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, his tongue just teasing with a few flicks.

  Bayla clears her throat from where she and Enya remain a few paces away. “Enya and I will leave you two alone, then,” she calls out. “We’re glad you’re back home safe, Tarek.”

  He gives an absent wave.

  I tighten my thighs around him, grind down on the bulge of his hardened cock.

  “I smell your arousal, little human.”

  I squeeze both his horns and he growls in surprise, his cock jumping between us. “I need you, Tarek,” I murmur, my voice husky enough to convey just exactly the way I need him.

  “Veck,” he growls and surges to his feet. I continue to squeeze and tug his horns as he walk-runs all the way to my dormitory, where he sits me on the cot and falls to his knees on the floor in front of me.

  “Panties off, little human.”

  I scramble to obey, my feminine slit already weeping for him. The moment I get them off, he pushes my knees wide and buries his face between my legs. I jerk at the shock of pleasure when his velvety tongue explores my folds. He may not be able to see, but Tarek lets his sense of touch lead the way. His fingers grip tighter on my thighs when I squirm.

  I shriek when he finds my clit. “Tarek,” I pant, then remember to work his horns. The moment I touch them again, he speeds up the pace of his tongue, his movements turning frantic.

  I lose my mind, squeezing his horns, writhing under his tongue. He screws a thick digit into me and starts to pump it and I mewl, so close to release.

  “That’s it, Zina,” he says roughly. “Let me hear your cries. I want to know when it feels good.”

  “It feels good! It’s so good.” The words tumble out in a rush. He inserts a second finger and my belly shudders with the contraction of my pelvic floor.

  “Yes… please, Tarek.”

  “Please, what, little human? Please let you come?”

  “Yes!”