Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Be sure to obey Captain Drayk.” King Zander pierces me with his gaze.
“Yes, my lord. I will,” I hasten to agree, flicking a glance at the imposing captain, his muscles rippling under his crisp white uniform. “I certainly will.” My ass clenches at the thought of more punishment. It’s not an unpleasant thought.
“If you pass probation, then you will be eligible for mating selection.” King Zander says this as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “But until then, you will not entertain offers.”
Behind his back, I see two Zandian warriors eyeing me keenly, looking me up and down, the way one might appraise livestock, or vegetables at a sale stand. I look away wildly, only to see another one with the same expression.
Drayk steps closer and makes a low growling noise, and my body reacts against my will, my nipples hardening in response to his presence. Mother Earth, the attraction is still there, stronger than ever. But then I notice two other Zandian males murmur to each other and nod at me, as if they wish to take me right now.
I suck in a breath and inch closer to Drayk. The room starts to whirl. My heart thumps. I know these are Zandians, and they are only looking in a kind of admiration for humans, but I am accustomed to the necessity of hiding my face and skin from the Ocretions to avoid notice.
Here, with my flowing white gown and bare arms, my form outlined by the diaphanous silk, my curls streaming out like rays of the sun, I am not only on display, I feel like a sun in the center of a solar system.
It’s too much.
“Please?” I look up at Drayk.
He seems to understand, and scoops me up in his arms before I swoon. “Stand aside,” he snaps, and the Zandians part effortlessly. “I must take my charge to her quarters.”
Chapter 11
Drayk
“This is where I live. And you, for the duration of your probation.” I push back my guilt at insisting she required this probationary period. Tell myself it wasn’t for selfish reasons. It’s for the good of Zandia.
Yeah, right. And the good of my cock.
I shouldn’t care what she thinks of it—she should be happy she’s here at all. Still, I’m gratified when she smiles.
“It’s so comfortable.” She reaches out a tentative hand towards a cushion on my hoverdisk—the oval-shaped floating bed in my chamber—then draws it back. “Can I touch… things?”
She doesn’t realize she’s not a slave anymore. Doesn’t understand how things work on Zandia.
And I’m an asshole for not wanting to clarify. I vecking love when she calls me Master. That submissive drop of her eyes.
“You can touch anything you want.” My voice is lower than expected and my face warms, thinking about what she did on the ship. How she touched me and made me explode with passion.
“I clear my throat. “I mean, regarding the fabrics and textures in this place, of course. And there are foodstuffs that I understand humans enjoy.”
I step back and point to the storage areas. “You may investigate the nutrition station at your leisure, and part of your protocol here is that you must eat three meals a planet rotation, as that is considered the most healthy thing for humans—”
She starts laughing, a delightful sound. Like bells, or water.
I stare, enchanted. “Did I say something humorous?”
She stops immediately. “It’s just—I must eat three times a planet rotation, as if that were a chore. Do you even understand how we humans would love that…” She trails off, her smile fading. Her eyes go distant, and she looks out the window, but I’d bet any amount of stein she’s not seeing the bustling city center or the hover cars going by.
She looks at me again, her face somber. “I welcome the chance to eat three meals a planet rotation,” she says formally. “That will absolutely not be a problem.”
I step closer and touch her arm. “You will never go hungry here, little human.” She lifts those dark eyes to mine and the air charges between us. I drop my hand and step back, clearing my throat. “You will obey all the rules I set out. You will rise and retire for sleep when I schedule you to do so. You will accompany me on city visits and behave in public. As you prove your worth, you will earn more freedoms to interact with other humans.”
She stiffens and turns away. “I understand,” she offers finally. “May I have my pack?”
“You mean your poison syringes?” I raise my eyebrows. “No, you may not. That is in safekeeping with Dr. Daneth and his scientists. They will be working on ways to reverse engineer it and understand the chemical makeup. When I deem you a safe risk, you may”—he emphasizes the may—“be allowed to watch and offer help.”