Claimed by the Zandian Read online

  “I also explained to her that as an unmated human, her initial trainer will be the one to take on a temporary guardianship for her.” She blinks at me. “And that only a Zandian who really thinks her work is a good fit would be willing to do that.”

  I process this information. Every Zandian knows how often “temporary guardianship” turns into permanent mating. Why, more than half the couples and trios I know started out as innocent work mentorship situations.

  I also remember that “temporary guardianship” entails overseeing and correcting a human’s behavior. My cock goes hard at the thought, and I growl, thinking of some other Zandian spanking Zina. Touching her like I did on the ship.

  Abbi gives me a nervous smile. “So, if you could reiterate that, it might save us a trip to the…”

  “Send her to my dome,” I cut in abruptly. “I’ll test her personally to see if she’s apt for the training program.”

  “What?” Abbi blinks. “I mean, yes, sir. But, ah…”

  “She has good reflexes.” It’s not a lie. I heard she was quick and clever on that slave planet, during the auction, arranging the escape for herself and Enya. Even with her injuries. Many other humans couldn’t have managed it—but she did. “She had fortitude and good instincts. Both requisites for nav. We can at least see.”

  “Well, that’s fine then.” Abbi sounds confused, and I understand why. Navigation is for the best of the best. But it’s not her vecking decision, is it?

  “Bring her tomorrow.” I turn to Zina. “Come prepared to work hard.”

  “I always work hard.” She sticks up her chin, according to my motion registry.

  I suppress a smile. I love her fight. “Good. That’s the bare minimum to even get a chance.” I cross my arms.

  Her eyes widen on my ocular display. Does she like the way I look? I try not to smirk. Maybe I can’t have her, or any human, but veck, it’s nice to be appreciated as a male.

  When has that happened before?

  Never.

  Usually humans shrink away from me, either cowed by my size, or my blindness, or both.

  “I think you’ll find that I’m quite acceptable, bare or not.” She smiles, but I know it’s a taunt.

  My dick gets hard.

  Oh, really? This little feisty human wants to play with me? It’s on.

  I put a knuckle under her chin. “I look forward to finding out.” Her facial skin heats, as my light sensor registers a shift in the measured nanometers. Ha. She’s blushing.

  This is going to be fun.

  I shouldn’t do it. It’s wrong on many levels.

  But for the first time in many solar cycles, I feel more than obligation and duty when I think about the next planet rotation.

  I feel a thrill of excitement.

  Chapter 7

  Tarek

  “How are things at home with Taisha?” I pull up the training software on my holo display. Next to me, Captain Drayk readies some equipment.

  “Good.” He lowers his voice. “I vecked her three times just this morning.” His smile is so broad you could fly a Class-5 warship through his teeth.

  “I’m surprised you managed to drag your worn-out body in here.” I snort, but part of me is jealous.

  “Quite the opposite. It gives me energy.” He punches my shoulder. “When will you petition for a mate?”

  “You know the answer. Never.” I answer quickly, although images flash through my mind: a small human nestled in my arms, crying out in pleasure.

  He usually lets the topic go, but this planet rotation he persists. “Why not?”

  I try not to snarl at him. “Don’t mock me by asking.” I point to my head. “Isn’t it obvious, or are you blind, too?”

  He scowls. “Dr. Daneth and King Zander never told you to remove yourself from the gene pool.” He crosses his arms. “That was your own decision. And a poor one.”

  “Really? You think a blind Zandian is fit to guide the next generation?” I shake my head in disgust. “I’m sure if I petitioned for a mate, the answer would be no. Why would I bother putting myself through the pain of that kind of rejection?” I hear my father’s voice in my head, one of the things I remember. He’s weak and flawed. He will never bring honor to this family. It would be better if he were never born.

  Drayk raises his voice. “Your skills are phenomenal, Tarek.” He pauses. “Even if you never had young, it’s a benefit to take a mate. It’s good for Zandians.” His tone softens. “You’ve been alone for so long. Perhaps there is a human female who cannot bear young, and would be a fit for you? I think that if you spoke with King Zander, he’d be sympathetic—”

  “I don’t need any being’s pity,” I snarl, and then I tap my headset. “Plus, I’m sure he’d agree that Zandia deserves better. And certainly, I’d be required to share a mate, if I even wanted one. No human would be wasted on a Zandian who isn’t going to breed. King Zander would never allow me take my own mate.”

  “Sharing isn’t so bad.” He grins. “Some of us prefer it.”

  “It’s not for me.” I cut him off, my voice abrupt. “And neither is mating, so drop the topic.”

  He starts to say something, but two more techs enter the dome so he just shakes his head.

  “You’ve got a… human coming in for testing this planet rotation?” The first tech, Marlon, sounds confused. “That’s novel.”

  “The new human. Initial nav testing.” I busy myself with the screen.

  Drayk starts, glances over, but his voice is perfectly neutral. “Zina?” Is he staring at me extra hard? “She’s doing nav testing?”

  “Yes.” I nod.

  He waits. Quirks a brow. “There is already a wait list of top Zandian warriors who wish to take the test.”

  I try not to scowl. “Master Seke said Zandia must prioritize the acclimation of new humans and give them a chance to try out fields that interest them. I am simply following orders.” I cross my arms. “Besides. The others on the list will not wait more than half a planet rotation for their chance.”

  “I see.” He gives me a long look, because it’s a while before I register the movement of his pupils from my face. “I’ll certainly be interested in the results of her exam.” He shakes his head a little bit as he turns away. “I’m sure you’ll keep me apprised.” I’m not sure why he’s smiling—this is not a laughing matter.

  I incline my head. “Of course.”

  He turns to the techs. “Head to Dome 2 for sat repair.”

  “Yes, Captain.” They turn and stride away, and as they do, my sensors alert me to someone new in the area.

  “They’re here.” I turn toward the entryway.

  Zina approaches. I can tell it’s her without my sensors, because I detect her delicious scent—sort of a mix of flowers and female. Undertones of cinnamon, something just from her skin, not a perfume.

  I like it.

  Zina

  “You’re interested in navigation.” Tarek’s tone is deep. He looks good. Really good.

  Just being in his presence makes my nipples pucker. My heart beat faster.

  “Very.” I nod vigorously and smile. “It’s, I don’t think I can overemphasize this, a strong interest of mine.” I look from him to Captain Drayk and make eye contact with the captain, hoping I look earnest.

  The captain seems unconvinced of my fervor. He looks me up and down, assessing, and shakes his head a little bit.

  “Yes,” I add, although no being has asked a question.

  The truth is that I am terrified of navigation. But I am more frightened of being jobless. And the idea that nav training could merit me a place in Tarek’s company for a while? Priceless. I understand he is not interested in me. And I should definitely not be interested in him, because he’s been sort of a dick to me.

  But I’m drawn to him.

  “Navigation.” Tarek crosses his arms over his chest and the muscles bulge out. “It is absolutely a critical part of Zandia’s present. And future.”

 
I nod and sneak a look at his body and catch a breath at the way his breeches strain over his immense thighs. And his cock.

  “Yes. Things like, um, stars. Navigating. The navigation to stars, from stars, and ah, by stars. Asteroids. Space.” I nod back like I’m saying something intelligent. “Good stuff.”

  Captain Drayk suddenly has a strange expression on his face but it flickers away after a microsecond. “Best of luck, Zina. Thank you for your dedication to Zandia. Tarek will administer the exam to you.”

  I try not to think about what else I’d like Tarek to administer, but the heat in my face tells me that I’m not as cool as I pretend. “Great. That sounds excellent.”

  Abbi has been watching intently, and now she clears her throat. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to head back to the barracks. I have another dorm to prepare.” She touches my arm. “Have a good planet rotation, Zina.”

  Then it’s just me and Tarek. And Captain Drayk, but he’s moved away to a console across the dome, so it’s pretty much just the two of us.

  “Well.” I twist my toe on the ground. “I’m here.”

  “So you are. I don’t even know why I agreed to do this.” He sounds confused. But he’s standing close to me. Closer than you’d expect for a random Zandian and a rescued human. Does he still want me?

  “Because you see my capacity for greatness, I assume.” It feels good to speak lightly. After being enslaved for so long, the ability to use humor freely with a superior is a drug to me. I can’t get enough. Oh, we humans did what we could to make the barracks pleasant with laughter when possible. But the Ocretion guards didn’t like our camaraderie, and we were often punished if they suspected we were too familiar with each other.

  I cross my arms. “Sign of a strong mind, Tarek.” Can I call him by his first name? Am I supposed to use some kind of title?

  “Well, Zina,” he emphasizes my name, and this makes me think I was supposed to use some kind of honorific—but, oops! too late—“come on over here. Let’s see how you compare.”

  “I compare just fine.” My tone is saucy. I’m sure this is inappropriate, but I don’t care. At this moment, I just want to enjoy our interaction and not think of the future.

  “To the standards.” He gives me a look, and gestures to a seat in front of a console. “Take a seat and start the program. We’ll run you through a series of simple simulations just to test your reflexes for foveal and peripheral vision. Then we’ll work on response stimuli.” All I hear is “blah blah blah look at my strong back blah blah.”

  “Yes,” I agree, forcing myself not to touch his shoulders. Run my hands down those triceps and squeeze. “Absolutely.”

  He snorts. “Go ahead. Start.”

  I sit down and look at the screen. We both wait. A few seconds go by. I turn to look up at him questioningly.

  “You need to touch the place where it says “start”. He leans in over my shoulder and I almost squeak when I feel the heat from his immense body approach mine.

  My neck tingles where he’s leaning over.

  “If you’re not sure, it’s the huge bar that says START. That one, that’s red, and about five inches by five inches. Right in front of your face. Blinking.”

  He pauses. “I’m told you can cipher, so…”

  “Oh, that one. Sure. With my finger?”

  He makes another sound. “Unless you prefer to use another appendage, yes, your finger will be acceptable.”

  “I’ve never done this before,” I explain, darting a glance at him.

  Oh, so close. His face is so close to mine. I can feel his breath on my cheek, and it tickles. In a good way.

  “You don’t say.” His voice is dry. Wow, he’s got quite a good grasp of sarcasm, for a non-human.

  I take a deep breath. Tap the screen gingerly. “I did it.” I smile. “Look, it’s starting. See?”

  He sighs. “Yes.”

  “I mean, I know you can’t see, see. But you can tell, with your sensor things, right?” I sense things myself. Right now, I’m intuiting that it’s all right to tease him a little bit about his vision.

  I might not be an expert at much, but Mother Earth, living as a slave has led me to develop my intuition about beings’ motivations and feelings—it keeps me safe. And I’m not usually wrong.

  “Yes. Please direct your eyes back to the screen. The sim has started.”

  “So it has.”

  On the screen, information flashes. It’s telling me to push certain buttons when various lights flash.

  Oops, missed one. An, there’s another. Another miss. Hmm.

  I get a few, then sneak a glance at Tarek.

  His lips are pursed.

  “How am I doing?” I twist in my chair to look at him.

  He checks his comm. “Well, according to the adaptive results, the program wants to know if you’re sentient, or if a child or small animal, perhaps a pet bird, is pushing random buttons.”

  “I’m doing better than that.” I scowl and turn back to the screen. “Could a Kantu bird do this?” I raise my hand with a flourish and tap.

  Then I focus, trying to accustom myself to the strange novelty of this device. Of working with a screen. My heart pounds and my stomach pulses with each beat, and I think I might need to vomit.

  All joking aside, I’m no good at this, and I know it. Why, oh why, did I say this was a passion?

  Behind me, Tarek makes a noise, and I remember: This is why. I’m here because even though I know it’s a bad idea and it’s not going to work out, being near Tarek is exciting. Fun. And frankly, I don’t have anything else. And even more importantly, it takes my mind away from the pain and uncertainty of being separated from Enya.

  Tarek

  Good stars. In all my solar cycles I’ve never seen a being do this magnificently badly on the test. But veck, this little human looks adorable, leaning forward, lips pursed, eyes narrowed in concentration. She’s giving it her all, I have to admit.

  Based on the sensor map I’ve created of her body, I notice that her Zandian gown clings to her curves in all the right places. Her breasts swell, perky and round, and I think about how her nipples might feel in my mouth. Under my tongue.

  I growl and turn aside to discreetly adjust my cock. I need to stop thinking about her this way; it was a mistake on the ship, and it absolutely cannot happen again. For one thing, I don’t want to give her any ideas. I can’t have her long-term, so it’s not a good idea to torture myself.

  I should just tell her she’s not a fit, and send her away. Be done with it.

  Instead, for some reason, leaning in, I tell her, “You’re done.” Her hair smells like that fruit humans like, strawberries. I inhale for just a second.

  “How did I do?” She sounds anxious, like she really cares.

  “Well.” I attempt to hide the score on the screen, where it says: Negative 50%. Assessment: Failure. Reject applicant. Recommend hand-eye coordination training and med assessment of balance and tracking motions. Check with med for brain tumor or other occlusions that may prohibit baseline.

  Too late—she sees it. Her face falls. “Brain tumor?”

  “Oh, you don’t have one,” I assure her. “You passed the med clearance.”

  She makes a noise. “How could I get negative?” She blinks three times and her eyes get glossy, because the refractive index of her corneas goes from 1.5 to 3.7.

  “It’s not easy.” I consider. “It’s because you actively did the opposite of what the program wanted.” It suddenly dawns on me. Maybe she’s not here for the training. Maybe she’s here for… something else entirely.

  Something I gave her on the ship.

  “I really did my best,” she insists.

  “Well, that’s just your first effort.” I clear my throat. “If you do it a few more times, surely you’ll improve.” Not enough. Captain Drayk should fire me for even suggesting she has a chance at this kind of job. But now that I know why she’s here, I don’t want her to leave. Not before I’ve
satisfied her needs.

  “I’ll work hard,” she promises. “I always have.” Based on my sensors, her gaze appears impassioned.

  “I believe you.” I lower my voice. “There’s no doubt. I heard about you on that planet, how you behaved. Those were the actions of a dedicated being.” That part is true.

  She glances at the screen. “Ah, how do most beings do on this test?”

  “Let’s not compare you to others.” I hastily close the software as my commander comes up.

  “How’d she do?”

  I avoid a direct answer. “We’re going to check her hand-eye coordination next.” I stand. “Contrast that with the program scores. Zina, come on over to the mat area. I’ll just run you through a few physical activities.”

  That involve you flat on your back with your legs spread wide.

  “Did she score ninety-nine percent or higher?” My captain raises a brow. “Usually you drop those who don’t manage at least 99.7 percent.”

  “No.” I clear my throat. “But she has potential. So, I’m just going to try a few things.”

  “Try a few things.” He looks right at me. “I see.”

  “Humans can often excel when given the chance.” It’s not a lie.

  “True.” He nods. But he still has that expression on his face, the one that registers—in my past experience—as half disbelief, half surprise.

  “I have the top two warriors scheduled for this afternoon,” I add. “One is the human male, Tal—Captain Lundric’s pilot.” I’m just throwing out facts to distract him from Zina now. “This won’t detract from my workload.”

  “Well, then, carry on.” He nods. “I’m sure you know what’s best… for your trainee program.” He glances around. “I’m off to the flight dome. Need to work on the new barrier upgrades.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’ll see you soon.”