Chapter Two

 

 

Mina dragged her gaze away from the scene going on in the cell directly across the lounge from hers. Prium’s featured every kind of sex, from clean and clinical to rough and mean, with every fetish in between. The human female across the cell was new—not a trained slave—and she screamed and cried as two males had their way with her. Apparently, this sort of scene was a huge draw because every spectator in the lounge had shifted to watch it play out.

She should use this time to case the room, look for opportunities. But her gaze kept zipping back to the cell with the unfortunate slave. The Ocretian males had her arched over the padded bench, one shoving his malehood into her mouth as the other pounded between her legs. They took turns slapping her breasts, her face, her thighs.

The quickening between Mina’s thighs made her stomach twist. She shouldn’t be aroused by this girl’s torture. It was sick and wrong. It must be because it was Zandian breeding season. At least, she thought it might be, if she remembered the cycles right. Once a year, for a period of weeks, all the females on her planet went into heat. She’d only been a child, but she remembered her parents locking themselves in their room for hours on end during breeding season, with the result being a new infant sibling.

But she’d always had a slightly different take on sex than the human slaves. She didn’t enjoy it, per se, but she didn’t find it as distasteful as some slaves.

Obedience came easily for her, or at least feigned obedience, because she’d always known she’d escape. Maybe that was the difference between her and the humans. They had no hope of ever escaping their fate. Humans were not recognized as free beings anywhere in the United Galaxies.

She stole another look at the cell across the way. The males had flipped the sobbing girl over on the bench, and one of them whipped her with his belt while the other took a turn with his cock in her mouth.

Again, something twisted in her belly, heat kindling between her legs. She didn’t want to be whipped like that. Not by those males. But in her most unacknowledged fantasies, she served a slave master worth obeying. Not one like Durhock, but one who paid far more attention. Who controlled her every move, paid attention to her. Punished her. Rewarded her. He’d be big and muscled, like her father had been. Capable. Masculine.

But that was ridiculous. A worthy slave master wasn’t her goal. Freedom was.

The door to her cell opened, and she whirled to face it. She hadn’t expected any customers, since they were all engaged watching the threesome across the way.

Prium, himself, stepped in and then her breath caught. Behind him, ducking to get through the doorway, hulked an incredible male. One with the same color skin as hers and two horns on the top of his head.

A Zandian male.

When he saw her, his nostrils flared, and brown eyes turned violet. The stubby horns thickened and leaned in her direction, but his face remained blank, if not slightly disdainful.

Her own physical reaction to his presence was so instantaneous and complete, it overwhelmed her. Her breath whooshed out of her chest, thighs began to quiver. She caught his scent, which made her head swim and the room rock under her feet. Moisture trickled from her clenching pussy down her leg. She had to use the wall to hold herself up.

“On your knees, pet,” Prium commanded with a frown.

The lounge owner loved that she’d been trained as a sex pet, almost as much as he loved the color of her skin, her species exotic for a slave. He showed her off to all his best clients, demanded a parade of her tricks: the leash and collar, the way she crawled and licked fingers.

She didn’t move, not out of a show of will, but because her brain couldn’t process the command, and when it did, her legs didn’t obey her brain.

Prium scowled, and she regained her head, dropping to her hands and knees and crawling toward the Zandian, but not before her owner produced a leather tawse.

The Zandian gave a miniscule shake of his head, brows lowered, and she halted halfway there. Immediately, his expression went blank again, eyes sweeping the cell with a disinterested air.

“Get over here and greet your master for the hour,” Prium hissed.

Her throat closed, not at Prium’s anger or the certainty of punishment. It was because of the Zandian. Some unknown emotion surged up and choked her, now, some vulnerability or desire. Or was it grief? Did seeing him remind her of all that she’d lost? What she’d become?

Don’t cry.

She never cried. Hadn’t in years.

She hadn’t seen a Zandian since the airship carrying her, her sister, and a Zandian boy crashed escaping the invasion and she’d been captured as a slave. She forced her knees to move forward, crawled to the Zandian, who Prium had ushered to the padded bench in the middle of the cell.

He didn’t wear the traditional Zandian dress of a white tunic and leggings. Instead, he wore an expensive and perfectly tailored black flight suit with a sword belt, empty of its weapon, at his waist. All customers were disarmed when they entered Prium’s.

She arrived at his polished animal-hide boots and dropped to her heels, kneeling before him. Her nipples pointed forward, tight and achy.

Prium stood over both of them, glowering down at her. “Mina, this is your master for the hour.”

The Zandian didn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t ogle her body, either. Instead, he seemed to stare at a spot above her left ear.

“Elbows on the bench,” Prium clipped, patting the space beside the Zandian. “You know how I deal with disobedience.”

She slid into position, registering the tension in the male beside her, though he outwardly showed none.

Prium drew his arm back, but the Zandian surged forward and caught his wrist. “I’ll do it.” His voice was deep and resonant. It sent a flash of fire through her body, coating her with tingles of heat. It couldn’t be just his presence that had this effect on her, could it?

Was this what happened between members of her species during breeding season? That might be part of it, but there was some other power to him. A familiar energizing power. One that gave her strength, too. Zandian crystal. She almost gasped when she realized. He must have one on him.

She’d forgotten how good it felt. How clean her body ran with it nearby, not needing to eat food every day the way she had since she’d been away.

Well, this planet rotation improved every minute. She turned her neck to scan his fingers for rings, but saw none. Nor did he wear any necklaces or bands around his wrists. Perhaps in his pockets? She’d have to check them while she serviced him.

Prium nodded and handed the Zandian the animal hide tawse—a wide leather strap, split in two at the whipping end. “Make it good, or I’ll give her double when you’ve gone.”

There. The surge of interest again. Like she’d had while watching the human girl getting whipped in the cell across the way, only stronger. More excitement, less shame. Because this master, the male before her, was exactly the sort she had fantasized about.

Whip me, Master.

“I’ll make her sorry.”

Her pussy clenched.

The Zandian’s knuckles whitened where he held the tawse, though his expression was one of boredom. He stood and positioned himself to her left, drawing the tawse back.

Excitement raced through her. Fear, too, although she’d never cowered from punishment before. Something about having a worthy master made punishment completely different. She wanted to please him.

Badly.

But she didn’t have time to examine that insanity, because she needed to keep her wits. This male may provide her best opportunity for escape.

His arm swung, and he struck her with the tawse.

She went up on her toes, her breath screaming in, belly hollowing out with the pain. Even as her buttocks twitched in response to the blow, her pussy clenched and released. Heat poured down her limbs.

More.

She wanted more from him.

He obliged. Another smack of leather caught the undersides of her cheeks, sending her clawing for the edge of the bench. The strap jostled the tail in her ass, adding a level of squirmy sensation to the pain. Not quite pleasure, but heat and desire coiling together into potentiality.

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her throat.

Prium stood at the door, watching the punishment with a smug smile.

Suddenly, with such a delicious, worthy master standing behind her, respecting Prium became impossible. She childishly wanted to make a face or an obscene gesture with her hands. He was nothing compared to the male wielding the strap.

The tawse slapped across her buttocks again and again, and she dropped her forehead to the bench, forcing herself to breathe through the burn and pain. On and on her temporary master went, spanking her thoroughly with the forked paddle until tears smarted her eyes.

After at least a dozen strokes, the Zandian dropped the tawse and fisted her hair, pulling her head back roughly. He brought his face down to hers, brows knit, mouth turned down. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart fluttered. He’d grated the words directly in her ear in Zandian, the language she hadn’t heard in fifteen years.

 

~.~

 

Anger at having to hurt his beautiful female coursed through his veins. Yes, he was calling her his female, even though she was nothing of the kind. She belonged to him for this moment. He’d been named her master, and he intended to treat her with the care and protection a master provided his charge.

With his lips at her temple, her scent assaulted him. Not the scent of her arousal—stars, he smelled that, too, and it nearly turned him into wild beast. But she smelled like Zandia. Like home. Like honeyflowers and morning dew. The joy and wild pleasure of his youth. Of his first discovery of a female’s lush body.

He had to stop himself from nipping her ear, or dragging his mouth down her neck. Tasting her.

His female’s legs and bottom shook from her punishment, but stars, his body trembled too—like the very cells vibrated being near her. The effort of keeping his lust in check proved too great.

But he couldn’t show his attraction. Not now, not here. And, somehow, he had to get out of this cell without vecking her. She was a Zandian, not some human slave. Even more, she was the daughter of one of Zander’s most respected advisors. Master Seke would kill him if he debauched her.

Still holding her pale hair in a rough grip, he hauled her upright. Her bare, striped ass nested against his legs, sending a fresh shudder of desire through him. The heat from her well-spanked flesh radiated through his trousers, and his cock lurched against her back.

Veck if she didn’t mold her back to his front, arching those perky breasts up like an offering. He wanted to fill his hand with those breasts, pinch and rub her nipples until she squirmed.

But he had a wretched audience. Not just Prium, but a lounge full of assholes had gathered in front of their cell to watch him punish Tara. Or Mina, as she went by here.

And if he wanted to get her out of this place, he needed to blend in. Just a typical customer, here to use and abuse a slave. So he made a show of shoving Mina down to her knees. She dropped obediently into a submissive posture, palms on her thighs, eyes lifted to him, as if waiting for his command.

Fury that she’d been trained this way didn’t outweigh the surge of lusty power and pleasure the sight of her naked at his feet brought.

The door to the cell swished closed, and the asswipe, Prium, left, apparently satisfied with her punishment.

Mina studied him with long-lashed blue-violet eyes. He had to catch his breath at her beauty. Her father’s irises were the same unusual color, but on her, it was exquisite.

He hoped she’d understood him when he apologized.

When the warrior Tomis found her sister, Talia, she had forgotten their planet and language entirely. She’d blacked out everything that had happened to her before being put into slavery. Erick hoped the same wasn’t true for Mina.

He sank onto the bench. His fingers started to curl into fists to keep from touching her, but he forced them to relax. To hide his mounting need to throw her down and veck her until her teeth rattled, he channeled his desire into rage and glared down at her.

Her beautiful eyes widened, confusion flitting over her face. She licked her lips, and he tightened his to keep in a groan. Her gaze darted to his horns. They felt taut, and surely were leaning toward her. Did she know what that meant? Did she remember how the males of her species showed their interest?

It was easy to gauge hers. Despite her captivity and the forced nature of their interaction, her nipples were hard as the points of crystals, the scent of her arousal a heady perfume.

She rose to her knees and stroked her slender hands up his thighs, sultry invitation in the softness of her face. Holy Zandian star, she was about to suck his cock.

He frowned, and she froze. She was well-trained. That shouldn’t turn him on so much, but it did. He loved her responsiveness.

Well, what else was he going to do in here with her, if not let her suck his cock?

He snatched her arm and hauled her across his lap, landing a slap on her perfectly rounded buttocks.

It was a mistake. The moment she was in position, so much of her bare flesh in contact with his body, her perfect pussy in view between her slender legs, he went wild.

He’d only meant to inspect her backside, make sure he hadn’t done too much damage with the wicked tawse, but now he couldn’t help his hand from lifting and falling, smacking her round globes with gusto.

His cock shoved against her hip, aching for release and this was the only way he could think to get it, without actually taking it out and vecking her every orifice. Twice.

So he spanked her, hard and fast, loving the way her bottom bounced and bobbed over his lap, the little cries she made. She wore nothing but a collar and a fluffy blue tail attached to a plug in her ass, which danced and wagged with each smack of his palm.

One of her hands curled around his ankle to stabilize herself, and the touch made his cock surge against his flight pants.

“Please,” she squeaked in Zandian, sending a wild glance over her shoulder.

“Hush, slave,” he barked in Ocretion, the commonly spoken language in the galaxy. They were putting on a show. No need to have their audience activate translators, even if it was highly unlikely for his language to be an option.

He checked his gleeful aggression, running his hand lightly over the welts on her ass. They should heal quickly, although her body was petite, like her sister’s, from living away from the nourishment of Zandian crystal energy.

The scent of her arousal had grown stronger, as if she, too, found spanking to be an acceptable substitute for sex. He gripped the base of the tail and twisted it. She moaned, and her thighs fell open in an invitation for his touch.

His fingers arrived at the cleft between her legs before he even knew he meant to stroke her there. Her pussy dripped with moisture, the plump folds of her sex parted for his fingers. He circled her clit. With his other hand, he pulled the plug out, stretching her around it, then plunged it back in.

She cried out, her fingernails digging into his ankle.

Stars, she liked it. She was so easy to pleasure.

Never, in all his solar cycles of stopping at Prium’s during breeding season, had he experienced a female like this. So responsive, so accepting of anything he tried.

Of course, he’d never had a Zandian before.

And he couldn’t, now. It would be against her free will.

But giving her pleasure wouldn’t be a sin, would it? She deserved release after the terrible whipping he’d given her. After the way he’d continued to punish her with his hand.

He shoved two fingers into her sopping channel as he vecked her ass with the tail plug.

When she spread wider for him, her muscles tightening around his fingers, anus squeezing around the tail, he grew desperate for the taste of her. He pulled his fingers out of her and grasped her hips, lifting them into the air and rearranging her so she straddled him. Her torso rested on his legs, fingers splaying on the floor.

Tucking his hands under her thighs, he lifted her dripping cunt to his mouth and licked into her.

Veck, yes.

Home.

She bucked against his mouth as he tongued her honeyed slit, affixed his lips over her little clit, and sucked the stiff bud. He sucked her outer lips, nipped them. Made his tongue stiff and penetrated her with it.

She squirmed and whimpered, desperation pitching her cries higher.

He lowered her hips back onto his lap, her legs splayed wide around his torso, pussy opened to him, ass straight up. In this new, enticing position, he delivered another half dozen spanks. Then he shoved his thumb into her pussy and pumped the plug again.

“Naughty pet,” he rumbled. “Now you’re getting your little red ass fucked.” He used the Ocretion word for sex, instead of the Zandian term.

“Y-yes,” she warbled, squirming and humping his lap, her nails digging into his ankle.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck it with my big cock, instead.” Stars, he’d lost his filter. Or was this part of the act? He wasn’t sure anymore. The lines blurred into a mess of color and sensation.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Please fuck me with your big, Zandian cock.”

Veeeeeeeeck.

His eyes nearly flipped backward in his skull. He pulled his fingers out of her pussy and lit her ass on fire again, spanking hard and fast, forcing his breath out through his teeth.

“Please, Master!”

By the one true Zandian star, he would not survive this test. He shoved her off his lap. She landed in a heap at his feet, her reddish-blonde hair falling in soft waves over her face. He wanted to gather her back up in his arms, beg her forgiveness for treating her so cruelly, but touching her now was an impossibility.

His body shook, about to combust. Need overpowered all rational thought, all care. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

When he opened them, his beautiful female was on her knees, unbuckling his belt.

 

~.~

 

She didn’t know what in the hell was wrong with the Zandian. One minute he was using his tongue in a way no male had attempted on her, giving her the most pleasure she’d ever experienced, the next, he’d shoved her to the floor.

If it weren’t for the purple glow of his eyes and the stiffness of his horns, she might think he didn’t find her attractive enough. But he did.

So, what was the problem?

She didn’t wait for permission this time, certain if she could get his malehood into her mouth, she’d be able to satisfy him. She was trained for pleasure, after all.

His hand snapped out and caught her wrist, but not before she’d wrested his cock free of his pants. The huge purple shaft sprang out, bobbing in front of her, a drop of rainbow-hued precum on the tip.

Not wanting him to stop her, she opened her lips wide, and engulfed as much of his length as she could fit. His hand went slack, and he let out a choked shout, brows slamming down, even as his cock thrust deeper. He fisted her hair. At first, she thought he would pull her off his cock, but he just held her head immobile for a moment, indecision playing over his expression. Then he used his grip to move her forward and back over his cock.

He thrust too deep, choking her, bumping the back of her throat. Her eyes smarted as she struggled to relax her gag reflex and let him inch in even more.

“Was this what you wanted, little slave? A throat-fucking?” Some slaves would be offended by such taunts. In the past, with other males, she’d ignored such talk. She wasn’t a sexual being, so she had no shame. She’d existed in her head, not her body. But the Zandian made her feel so much. Every centimeter of her body flushed for his touch. Every nerve ending tingled. Being near him brought on the insistent ache between her legs, the throb of her nipples. His words only made her burn hotter.

She loved the way his eyes blazed like bright jewels, locked on hers as he pumped his thick member into her mouth. Need coiled in her belly; heat flooded her core.

And then she remembered her task. Find the crystal. She shoved one hand under his balls to cup them as the other bunched in his pants. She closed her fingers around the material, tugged and pushed at it as if in the throes of passion.

Yes. There. She felt the hard stone—a ring. A very large ring. And another piece, as well.

She sucked hard, fisting his cock, moving it in concert with her mouth as her other hand emptied his pocket of its treasure.

But where to hide it? She wore no clothing. No orifice was safe while he was in the cell with her. Under the rug, then. It was the only possible place. Hopefully, he wouldn’t step on it and discover her treachery.

The Zandian clenched his jaw, his thighs tensed and shook as his hard shaft pistoned in and out of her mouth. He caged her head and held it still as he plunged deeper, all the way down her throat. “Veck,” he spat. “Veck-veck-veck.”

She recognized the Zandian curse, similar to the Ocretion word fuck.

His balls tightened and then he came, spurting ribbons of hot cum down her throat. Her eyes watered, but she swallowed it down, choking a bit. He pulled out the moment he finished, dark torment coloring his eyes. With the tail of his tunic, he wiped her face, his thumb sweeping away a stray tear. She held still for his ministrations, arrested by his intense gaze.

He scooped her up by the armpits and lifted her then deposited her lengthwise on the bench, on her back.

She hadn’t had a chance to hide the jewels yet, but she did now, her hand skimming the floor until she found the edge of the rug to tuck them under.

The Zandian gripped her thighs and spread them wide, straddling the bench to face her lady flower. He cupped her ass and lifted her hips to his mouth, licking into her with a fervor that made her flexed feet shoot out to the sides, knees straight. Her nipples ached and throbbed, clit pulsed in time with them.

Yes. This.

More.

All these years as a sex slave, and she’d never orgasmed. She’d thought perhaps Zandians didn’t. What did she know? She’d been only eight when she was separated from the last Zandians she knew and taken to Aurelia.

But the desperate coil of desire in her core had her undulating her hips against the Zandian’s mouth, shoving her clit against his tongue. Needy whimpers came out of her mouth.

More. More.

He’d brought her to this point last time before she made the mistake of begging him to fuck her ass and he’d thrown her off his lap. Maybe he needed it to feel forced. Like she didn’t want it. But no, he worked hard for her pleasure now, his mouth almost frantic between her legs, as if he would devour her.

Stars, she was close. So close. Even without the experience of an orgasm, she knew.

She choked on a breath, thrust her breasts toward the ceiling. Lights flashed before her eyes as she hurtled over the edge into orgasm. Her channel spasmed, clenching and releasing in quick bursts. She wrapped her legs behind his neck and squeezed, trapping his head between her thighs as she gasped and sobbed through her release.

When her vision returned, her eyes sought the Zandian’s. If anything, he appeared even wilder, sweat beading at his forehead, his horns a darker purple.

He shook his head as if angry with her.

But what had she done?

He flipped her body again, lifting and arranging her like her weight was nothing to him. He folded her waist over the bench, ass high.

More spanking, then.

He smacked her ass four times, alternating cheeks, then pulled out the butt plug with the fluffy tail and threw it across the room. The metal hit the wall with a thud.

“You keep teasing me with this ass, Mina,” he growled and spanked her again.

Hearing her name spoken in his rough, broken voice did something twisty to her insides. It sounded intimate, like he knew her—exactly who she was. But he couldn’t. And the whole reason she’d gone by Mina instead of Tara was because she became someone new when she left Zandia.

Was that what disconcerted her? Being fucked by one of her own kind?

Because he was going to fuck her, finally. His cock stuck straight out of the top of his pants, as he walked to the wall dispenser and took a palmful of lubricant. He rubbed it over his cock with quick, impatient jerks as he walked back.

A shiver ran through her.

She’d been fucked in the ass plenty of times. By many different species, all kinds of cocks. But a spike of trepidation surged at the knowledge that this male planned to use her that way.

It wasn’t just his huge cock, although it would certainly stretch her. It was more. Again, did she assign more meaning to this coupling because of his species?

Yes.

Because he was the one. The male from every fantasy.

A male worthy of giving her flutters.

And she didn’t even know his name. Had already stolen from him.

She would make it right when she got to Prince Zander. He would know how to find this male and she’d return what she stole.

The Zandian parted her cheeks and rubbed lubricant on her anus then lined his cock up with it. He sank into her.

She normally ignored all sensation during sex, but it was an impossibility with him. She felt every inch of him stretching her wide, filling her. She moaned, confused by the intensity, the discomfort, the overwhelming pleasure.

When his loins met her ass, she grunted at the pressure of her thighs over the bench, and he immediately pulled up, lifting both their bodies, pivoting, and pushing her to her hands and knees.

He shoved her head into the fluffy rug and held her down as he knocked into her ass. It was utterly degrading, dominating and… so incredibly hot.

So this was sex.

Real sex. Not going through the motions as a slave.

Now she understood.

She wanted… more. She wanted all of it. Everything this male could give.

The Zandian grunted behind her, taking her hard, his fingers bruising on her hips, thrusts rough and deep.

Her pussy clenched on air. She wished he could give her his cock there, too.

Tears stung her eyes—not from pain, not from anything definable. They just accented the intensity of the experience. Being taken so thoroughly. With so much passion. Having her desperation match his. Her need and desire swallow her whole.

The room tilted and swooped. Her vision blurred. Shouts and screams echoed off the walls, but she hardly realized they came from her until her throat grew raw from crying out, calling over his roar.

He pounced over her, shoving her all the way to her belly, covering her body with his larger one as he came. She must have orgasmed too, or maybe hers had happened earlier, it was hard to tell with his cock stretching her ass and nothing in her pussy. All she knew was that she was floating somewhere. Nowhere. Existing beyond existence. Soaring.

She was pleasure embodied. Satisfaction.

The Zandian molded his body over hers and forced a hand under her hips. The moment he cupped her mons, she came again. She bucked, anus tightening painfully around his huge cock, pussy squeezing and fluttering against his fingers.

So this was what she’d been missing.

“I’m sorry, sweet Mina,” he murmured in Zandian in her ear. “I’m so vecking sorry. I didn’t mean to take you like that.” His lips brushed her jaw. “I’m going to get you out of here. That’s a promise.”

Warmth cascaded through her chest, along with a sense of safety she hadn’t felt since she was a child. But no. Safety was an illusion she had to fight.

She couldn’t wait around on a stranger’s promise, even if he had the same skin color as she did. No, she’d stolen his ring. She’d make her own escape.

 

~.~

 

Erick wanted to keep his body wrapped around Mina’s forever, but his time was up. The lights flashed to red, warning him he’d gone over.

Besides, if he stayed any longer, he was going to end up with his cock buried in her again, and he’d already shamefully defiled her twice.

Veck, Master Seke would chop his balls off if he found out what Erick had done.

He eased out of the soft, pliant female beneath him, wishing he had a blanket to wrap her in, a way to tend to her. But instead he had to walk out of her cell, leaving her naked and abused, with the eyes of two dozen males watching her. Maybe even—his fingers curled into fists—getting in line to have the next turn with her.

He shoved his dick back into his pants and stalked out without a backward glance, mainly because he knew if he looked back it would be impossible to leave. Nothing stopped him as he strode purposefully out of Prium’s, knocking past other beings without seeing them. How much money was he carrying on the ship? Not enough, he feared. But he’d negotiated hundreds of deals over the years. He’d convinced beings to take far less than they wanted for their goods. This would be no different.

Except it was different. He’d lost all the indifference within him, the cool, manicured calm that allowed him to broker deals. Never negotiate from desperation. It was his number one rule. Always be willing to walk away.

But there’d be no walking away from Prium’s. Not without Mina.

He already stood to lose the 750,000 steins on the galactacarriers. He wouldn’t go home without something infinitely more valuable to all of Zandia. A female.

Wait— veck that. This bargain wouldn’t be for Zandia. It was personal. He’d had a taste of Mina, and he’d never be able to breathe again without her by his side.

Of course, she may want nothing to do with him once she had her freedom. To imagine her undying gratitude after the way he’d held her down and vecked her senseless would be idiocy. Her ass, no less.

What in the stars had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been. He’d turned into a beast with no brain at all.

But he’d make it right. He’d find a way to get her out of there. He entered his ship and pulled the soft animal-skin bag filled with Zandian crystals out of the safe. These were rough crystals, used mainly for laser gun technology rather than as jewels, but he might be able to make Prium believe otherwise.

He shoved them into his pocket and… No.

Behn’s crystal ring and talisman were gone. He must’ve lost them from his pocket while claiming Mina. He’d never been careless in his life. He always kept his mind and eye on things of value, but apparently not around her.

Served him right.

Maybe he could recover them when he collected his female. After he brokered the deal of a lifetime.

Forcing his breath to slow, he brought his mind to the single-pointed focus: get Mina. Seke had taught him self-discipline.

The least he could do was use it to get the warrior’s daughter back.

Prium registered his entry with a wide smile. “Back for more?” he called out when Erick arrived within listening distance. “They enjoyed your show.” He waved a bejeweled hand toward the audience in the lounge.

Erick didn’t mean to look, but his eyes darted to Mina’s cell.

Vecking hell!

She’d curled up in a ball on the rug with her slender back to the laser screen. Had he hurt her? He’d cut off his own balls if he had.

Prium followed his gaze, and his thin lips stretched into a toothy smile. “You wore her out, didn’t you?” The male gave him a speculative up and down sweep of the eyes. “You were exceptionally rough. Unexpected…” He tapped the tips of his polished silver claws together. “I had to give her a short rest after you. She’ll need stamina for the five males in queue to use her.”

His throat closed, choking back a roar of rage. “How much?” he growled.

Prium arched a white-haired brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“To buy her for personal use. I have Zandian crystal to trade, or I can have steins delivered to any intergalactic account within seconds.”

Prium showed his interest in the dart of a forked tongue from the corner of his mouth. But he said, “I am not a broker. I do not trade in slaves. I only buy them.”

“You’re keeping her illegally. Zandians are recognized by the United Galaxies as free beings. She cannot be held against her will by any being.”

Prium brought his slender fingers to his chest with affected innocence. “Zandian? No, I think not. She’s a human with unusual skin coloring. Zandians are far bigger.” Again, the up and down perusal of Erick’s large body.

It was all he could do not to fist Prium’s elegant robe and shake the male until his teeth rattled.

He pulled out the bag of crystals. “Your choice. Give her to me now and get something in return, or have her taken by the intergalactic police and pay a hefty fine on top of losing her.”

Before Prium could answer, the lounge erupted in chaos.

A spray of laser sparks cartwheeled from Mina’s cell, pelting all the beings in the lounge with scorching light-drops.

He ran without thinking, eyes trained on Mina’s slender silhouetted figure.

Clever female.

She’d used the Zandian crystal to refract the lasers. She wasn’t waiting for him to buy her—she’d chosen her own escape.

He grabbed a fistful of the stones from his pouch and pegged one into the cell next to Mina’s, and the one next to that, creating more chaos to cover for her.

A guard surged past him, laser gun drawn. Erick grabbed the weapon, slamming the guard’s wrist into his knee to dislodge his hold. A slash of the side of his hand into the male’s throat dropped him to the floor. He used the gun to shoot out the lights, aiming and firing with careful precision, until the entire place fell into darkness.

Zandians could see in the dark, but Aurelians might not. He dashed off in the direction he’d seen Mina go—not toward the entrance, but down a corridor. Perhaps she knew another exit.

Laser sparks flashed around the bend. He sped up and arrived in time to see her rolling through an elevated window, the laser glass sparking in showers away from Behn’s ring.

“Wait, Mina!”

He’d never fit through that window. How did she even get up there? He jumped to look out, but all he saw was Mina’s fleeing back.

Damn. How would he find her?

He ran back up the corridor. Another light had been found, and it cast dim shadows around the lounge. Figures darted back and forth. Calls and shouts filled the room.

“There’s the Zandian!” a guard yelled, pointing at him.

He shot out the new light and raced for the main entrance. Laser fire screamed past him, ricocheting off the wall and the floor next to his feet. These guards were not trained in expert aim by Master Seke, thank the stars.

The two guards at the entrance aimed their weapons at him. He could probably shoot them both before either one figured out how to fire their guns, but he didn’t want an intergalactic murder charge to follow him back to Prince Zander.

Instead, he lobbed another crystal through the electronic doors, sending sparks flying in all directions. It was enough of a distraction for him to plant his foot in one guard’s stomach while he bashed the face of the other with a right hook.

He ran for his ship as an alarm screamed and the pound of running boots sounded behind him.

Where are you, Mina? Veck.

He remotely activated the hatch door of his small spacecraft and dived through, smacking the button for it to close before he jumped behind the controls. He had the craft off the ground at the same time the hatch slid shut, but some guard, imagining himself brave, had attached himself to the outside of the craft.

He twisted and tilted the small ship, gunning it with power and sending it in wild circles until the idiot guard fell. Now to find Mina.

“Activate thermal scan.” He watched the screen light up with the heat prints of every being below, but none matched the size and shape of his little Mina.

Wait—there.

Two beings were in a junky old spacecraft zooming away at top speed. He redirected his craft and followed, but they’d hit the edge of the atmosphere and their ship shimmered, preparing to warp.

“No!” he shouted, but it was too late.

The little airship disappeared, destination unknown.

“Veck!” He smacked the control panel once, twice, a third time.

He’d lost her. His Mina. He hadn’t even had a chance to make things right between them. Didn’t get to bring her to her father, restore her to the elevated position she deserved at the palatial pod. She’d be vecking royalty there. Could choose from any male in their species.

Except that had him gritting his teeth. The thought of other Zandian males competing for her attention brought a surge of aggression pumping through him.

What was it about this female that turned him into a savage beast? He didn’t remember feeling this way about any female, even as a hormonal youth. But he’d been off-planet during what would have been his first breeding season. He’d spent the year in an alien-exchange study program on Ocretia, which was the only reason he was still alive after the Finn invaded his planet.

He had to find Mina. But how? And what would he say to her father when he returned? Did he dare say he’d seen her? But then he’d have to explain where and how.

And that, on top of telling Zander he’d lost the three-quarter million he’d invested in galactacarriers, made him never want to go back.

Perhaps he should stop somewhere first to lick his wounds and figure out how to deliver his news.

Yes, stopping at the major galactic trading post outside Ocretian airspace wouldn’t hurt anything. It may even be where Mina headed.