Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I’m about to reply when the g-forces hit me, pushing me into the wall with such immense pressure that my lungs empty of air, and I’m positive my stomach is touching my backbone.
I can’t breathe—I’m going to pass out—when the craft suddenly goes weightless, and my body relaxes back into itself. I gasp out a long whistling burst and suck in oxygen, greedy for it.
My whole body is a wreck, full of cuts and bruises, but I’m alive. Safe. Away from the Kraa and the auction.
I glance up at my savior. His smooth purple brow is wrinkled in concentration, and the powerful muscles in his arms move as he taps and touches controls. I’m mesmerized by his face, stern and handsome; it evokes feelings I don’t understand.
I struggle to sit up. “Who are you?” I shake my head. “What do you want with me?”
He finishes one last maneuver, then pushes his chair back from the screens and observes me closely. His purple horns gleam in the light, and his eyes darken.
Then he smiles. “Who am I?” He raises a brow and crosses his arms. “I’m Khrys. I’m a Zandian warrior… and your new master, at least temporarily.”
Khrys
The little warrior doesn’t appear to like this answer. She pushes to a sitting position, wincing. “I belong to no one but myself.” Her voice is haughty and at odds with her subservient position. She grabs a silver foil blanket from her side where I tossed it and pulls it over her torso and lap.
My mouth twitches with a smile—an unfamiliar sensation. “What, for all of…” I pretend to count on my fingers. “One, two, three whole minutes?”
She glares at me. “I could have escaped by myself.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not without your medicine. Without my assistance, you’d likely be back in chains. Or dead.”
“Well, without my help, you’d be nothing but a pile of purple goo on the auction floor.”
My lips tug again. “Doubtful.” I like her spunk.
She sticks up her chin. “And right about now, they’d be washing your organs out the door with a power hose for all the vermin to enjoy.”
I stifle a full smile. “Perhaps you played a minor role in my escape.”
“Our escape. And if by minor you mean major, then yes. I agree.” She narrows her eyes and glances around the craft area.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn.
“By it, do you mean save your life again?” She puts a hand down to brace off the floor and gets slowly to her feet. “Ow.” She winces and drops the cover as she reaches for her largest cut. “Oh, ow.”
I’m up in a flash and at her side. Mainly to prevent her from doing anything rash, but I’m also concerned about her health. Super-engineered she may be, but she’s still mortal—and humans are far more fragile than Zandians. “Let me see.”
“Don’t touch me.” She shoves my hand away from her leg.
I catch her gaze, raising a stern eyebrow. “Behave yourself, little warrior. I will do what’s necessary to see to your health. You will not fight me.”
My breath hitches when I notice her nipples stiffen at my admonishment. I shouldn’t be surprised. Our species learned great compatibility with the human females due to their love of our sexual dominance. Her breath quickens.
My horns stiffen and lean in her direction. “I’m your master now. You will submit and obey.” Veck, those words make my cock rock hard. This beautiful slave is my ward for the moment. “But don’t be afraid. A good master takes care of his prize.”
And this one is a prize indeed. Beautiful. Bold. Incredibly strong and fast. Highly intelligent.
I wish I could keep her for myself—mate her and see what sort of halflings we could produce together. But halflings are the reason we need her. She’s not for breeding. She’s my offering to Zandia to get back into King Zander’s good graces. To prove myself worthy again after my recent failure.
I keep one hand firm on her left shoulder and run the right hand over her calf, stopping before I touch the wound. “I have a medical kit that can help.”
“I’m not a prize...not a possession,” she asserts, but she sounds breathless. Her pupils are dilated, and her gaze keeps sweeping over my chest, shoulders and arms. “I don’t need your—oh. A med kit. That sounds acceptable.” Her cheeks flush, and she looks away.
I retrieve it from the side of the station and apply the salve and bandages and give her a fluid tube. I show her how to attach the upper-arm patch that seeps nourishment and medication through her skin; it will time-release the right dosage, so she can heal and regain strength. “This will help until we get back to Zandia. Dr. Daneth can make sure—”
She flinches. “No doctors. Where are you taking me?” Her voice rises with fear. “No—I’m not going anywhere with you.”