Chapter Three

 

Bayla must have drifted off to sleep in Daneth’s arms. When she woke, she was alone in his chamber. She stretched, and her bottom protested, still sore from the spanking. She climbed off the sleepdisk and went into the bathroom, checking out her backside in the mirror. Still red. Looked like some of those marks would last a few days. She ran her hands over her cheeks, surprised at how little she resented her master for punishing her so mercilessly. Only warmth filled her chest as she thought of his jealousy and anger, of the way he’d held her afterward.

She wouldn’t trade seeing those sides of him for anything.

She searched the shelving from which Daneth had produced her tunic and found panties and leggings, which she donned. She tried the door, but, as expected, it was locked. Still, he’d left her out of the cage, which she counted as a win. She strolled around the beautiful room, examining everything. Daneth had very few personal items and everything in the room bore the same order and precision she’d witnessed in his lab. Clothing was organized and neatly stacked, boots shined and lined up.

The door swished open, and she jumped then dropped into a low curtsy as Daneth entered.

“You’re awake.” His brusque, businesslike manner had returned.

She tried not to flinch, but all the warmth and softness she’d found when she woke fled, leaving her cracked and raw in Daneth’s presence.

He reached for the ring on her collar and pulled her forward, clipping a leash to it once again. “Come. I wish to introduce you to the prince to receive his permission to begin my experiment.”

His experiment. That was all she was to this male, and she’d do well to remember it. “Yes, Master,” she muttered.

He pulled the chain and led her out of the chamber to the great hall. A young Zandian male stood near the windows, giving orders to several older Zandian males. His arm draped around the waist of a pregnant human.

She stiffened, the sight of a bred human bringing back the past several years with a sickening twist in her solar plexus. No matter how much better this environment may be, she was still only here for one reason—to produce a child she’d never know.

Heartache at the two babies she’d already lost washed over her, making her stumble.

Daneth reached for her elbow to steady her, and his solicitousness surprised her. She supposed she’d expected an impatient jerk of the chain.

The older Zandians left the prince and his human, who both turned to watch them approach.

“My lord, this is the slave I purchased for the implantation protocol,” Daneth said. “Her name is Bayla.”

She dipped into a low curtsy, her head bowed.

“Welcome, Bayla,” the prince said.

“Zander, Prince of Zandia, and his mate, Lamira,” Daneth said.

She remained in the curtsy.

“You may rise.” The prince spoke with the easy assumption of power, clearly used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, head still bowed.

“I wish to begin the experiment tomorrow, with your permission.”

Zander didn’t speak for a moment. “Remove her chain,” he ordered.

Daneth lifted his head in surprise but turned her to face him and unclipped the chain from her collar.

“Lamira, will you give Bayla a tour if she hasn’t had one?”

“Of course, my lord. Come with me,” the female said, smiling when Bayla lifted her eyes.

Lamira was beautiful, about the same age as Bayla, with green eyes and copper-colored hair. A smattering of freckles dusted her nose and cheeks. Like Bayla, she wore a collar, only hers was studded with beautiful crystals. A well-loved pet? A slave with benefits? Bayla wondered exactly what Lamira’s status was on the pod. She’d been called Zander’s mate. Did that mean his breeder? Or something more?

“Have you had a tour already?” Lamira asked as she led her out of the great room.

“I’ve been to the kitchen.”

Lamira smiled. “My favorite place.” She rubbed her full belly. “Would you like to see it again?”

“Of course. Are you in the hungry every two hours phase?”

“Try hungry all planet rotation.” Lamira eyed her with curiosity. “You’ve been pregnant before?”

Pain drilled through her chest and she found it hard to breathe. “Yes,” she managed.

Lamira’s face clouded, as if she read Bayla’s emotions. “I’m sorry. I was always grateful I hadn’t been selected for sex or breeding. It must have been hard.”

“It still is.” She didn’t know why Lamira used the past tense, but the female paled when Bayla corrected her.

They arrived outside the kitchen, but Lamira slowed to a stop before they entered, facing Bayla. “Are you unwilling to serve as Daneth’s vessel?”

Her pulse fluttered, knots forming in every muscle of her body. Something about the female made her want to be honest, but she knew better than to trust a stranger. “I will do as is expected of me,” she said stiffly and started to enter the open door to the kitchen.

“Wait.” Lamira caught her arm and pulled her back. “If you’re unwilling, I’ll talk to Zander. You shouldn’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But if she didn’t, what then? Be sent back to the fertility farm for more of the same in a far less comfortable environment? No. At least, here, she’d have nine months of luxury. Even if it did end in another broken heart. “I’ll do as I’m told.” She shook off Lamira’s hold and entered the kitchen.

Master Barr beamed when Lamira pulled out a chair at the counter and sat down. He waved at the empty one for Bayla. Before she’d settled, he swept a dish piled high with raw vegetables, cut into disks, and some kind of blue sauce for dipping in front of them. Fresh fruit and vegetables were a luxury she’d never enjoyed, even while pregnant and fed the best foods, so she leaped to partake.

“This vegetable comes from the planet Jesel, a planet with similar terrain to Earth that still retains some natural resources,” Lamira said. “I’m growing several varieties here.”

Bayla blinked, her brain slow to process this new information. “You’re a...farmer?”

Lamira nodded. “Yes. Daneth purchased me from an agrifarm.” She popped a vegetable into her mouth with as much alacrity as Bayla.

Bayla stiffened at hearing Daneth had purchased her. Had he examined Lamira as he’d examined her? Had he given her pleasure? She accidentally bit her cheek as she chewed the vegetable. “Daneth purchased you for farming?”

“No.” She rubbed her tummy. “For breeding.”

Hot and cold flushed over Bayla’s skin.

“He has a program that runs the DNA of all registered beings in Ocretia. It can select for the best possible gene-match for breeding. I came up as the best match for Prince Zander.”

For Prince Zander. Relief swept over her, and her stomach unknotted. She reached for another vegetable disk and dipped it into the exquisitely flavorful sauce—a creamy herbed concoction so delectable she would have picked up the bowl and drunk from it if Lamira hadn’t been there.

“I thought you said you said you were grateful you hadn’t been selected for breeding.” She shouldn’t have said anything, but Lamira seemed so open, she couldn’t help herself.

Lamira nodded, licking a bit of dip from the corner of her mouth. “By the Ocretions, yes. I was devastated when I was first brought here. But it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” She studied Bayla. “I hope it will be for you, too.”

Something about the way Lamira looked at Bayla made her flush. It was as if the female gazed right into her head and saw her irrational attachment to the sexy doctor who wanted to implant her with another female’s young.

“The Zandians on this pod aren’t used to humans. They’ve remained quite isolated since they lost their planet. You may find it takes a while for Daneth to understand and develop empathy for human emotions, but Zander did, and so did Master Seke, my mother’s mate.”

Her face grew warmer. Was Lamira suggesting Daneth might become her mate? “I don’t require the doctor’s empathy,” she said stiffly.

“Of course not,” Lamira murmured, and Bayla kicked herself for being rude.

Bayla stuffed another vegetable into her mouth and chewed to keep herself from showing her hand and pumping Lamira for every bit of information she would share about Daneth.

 

~.~

 

Daneth waited for the prince to speak. Zander had obviously sent Bayla away so they might discuss her, and Daneth found his shoulders rising toward his ears with each passing breath.

When the women had disappeared down the hall, Zander said, “You cannot keep her as a slave.”

The blood drained from Daneth’s face. “I beg your pardon?” Somehow, he forced the words past his numb lips. Zander couldn’t take Bayla from him now—not when he’d already authorized her purchase. Not when the protocol was planned for tomorrow.

Not when he’d discovered Bayla to be perfect in more ways than his gene-matching program had shown him. Perfect in every way imaginable.

“There was an incident on the training pod. Captain Lundric killed a human male who threatened his chosen female. Things came to a head. Master Seke believes it important that we not keep slaves on this pod or ever again. Zandians do not keep slaves. We never have. If we expect the humans on the training pod to fight with us for Zandia, we must offer them sovereignty. It is only right.”

Daneth gulped air. “What do you wish me to do with her, my lord?”

Zander folded his arms across his chest. “You must give her a choice. She may stay or go. If she stays, she will still answer to you as her superior. She will participate in your experiment and give you her complete obedience. You may still discipline her as you would if she were your slave. Once she is pregnant, she will lose her freedom, as the young will belong to us, but after the birth, she may once again choose to leave, as she will be a free being on this pod.”

“But if she chooses to leave, where will she go? Humans are not free anywhere on Ocretia.”

“It greatly improves the chances of her staying, does it not?” Zander flicked his brows, and understanding swept over Daneth. This was largely a matter of semantics—no real change. Except that Bayla might choose a different slave master over him.

Veck—would she? He couldn’t let it happen. He cursed himself for not establishing a closer bond with her.

He closed his eyes and worked to unclench his fists. “I see. I will speak with her now, my lord.” With a bow, he left the great room in search of his slave. No—not his slave. His female.

He found her in the kitchen with Lamira. She jumped to her feet when he arrived. Was she relieved to see him? Or just exceptionally obedient? Either way, he liked it far too much.

Please let her stay.

He didn’t put the leash back on but led her to his chamber with a hand at her waist. When the door had swished shut, he cleared his throat.

Bayla tensed. “What is it, Master?”

He drew his brows up, taken off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You seem tense. Did the prince not give you permission to begin the experiment?” She tangled her fingers together, her eyes lowered, but he read concern in her tone.

His forehead wrinkled. He’d underestimated Bayla’s powers of observation. Was she really so in tune with him she could sense his mood? The idea produced a riot of sensation in his chest. He couldn’t remember any being caring to attempt to read him. He’d always been the observer, not the other way around. Not even his parents had paid attention to his mood as a child. And while he counted the beings in this pod as his friends, did they really know anything about him? The idea saddened him, as much as Bayla’s noticing draped him with a sense of power and pleasure.

He cupped her chin, lifting it. “You’re quite observant, little human. No, it’s not that.” He dropped his hand and paced away from her. As he struggled to find the right words, his tension mounted. What if she chose to leave?

What would happen to his experiment?

He refused to admit the disturbing feelings beneath that concern—what would happen to him without Bayla?

“Prince Zander has forbidden Zandians to own slaves.” He let that hang in the air, reluctant to go on.

Bayla said nothing, which made it harder to guess what her answer would be. He forced himself to turn around and look at her.

The quiet intelligence in her regard rocked him. She was so much more than an incredibly fertile body. There were layers there he hadn’t yet unpeeled. He may not have a chance now.

“You may choose to remain as my test subject. If you do, you will answer to me and remain subject to my discipline.”

“And the alternative?”

Veck. She wanted the alternative. He paced the length of the room. “I can return you to the fertility farm. Or sell you elsewhere, to another slave owner if you wish.” Hell. Why did he offer that? He didn’t want her to choose to leave. And yet, the idea of sending her to a situation she hated put his teeth on edge.

“I see. So there’s really no change, except I can choose to go back to my old situation if I like.”

“You would no longer be my slave if you stayed,” he said stiffly. “You would not wear my collar or sleep in a cage in my room. You would be given your own small chamber, though you still must obey my orders and perform any duties required by me.”

She said nothing.

“So...what do you choose?” He turned to face her.

Her sapphire eyes studied him. “I would essentially still be a prisoner, though—on this pod? And I must do everything you say or be punished. But I won’t wear your collar or sleep in your room. Is that correct?”

He nodded, the tension in him mounting. His fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles cracked.

“No.” She lifted her chin and shook her head.

His heart stopped. “No?” The crack in his voice matched the fissure in his chest, growing wider and wider by the second. “You choose to leave?”

“If I stay, I wear your collar. Sleep in your room. I will not suffer the humiliation of your ownership without the reward.”

Reward? The room swayed under his feet. He closed his eyes, drawing a long, slow breath in through his nostrils to clear his head.

She was staying. With him. She wanted him to be her master. As her reward.

It hardly made sense to him, and yet he’d never experienced such a sense of victory in his life.

“Come here,” he said gruffly when he opened his eyes.

 

~.~

 

Bayla observed Daneth’s tension, and his relief. She knew it was about his experiment, not her, but she still enjoyed the fierce satisfaction that lit his expression as she approached.

He caught her face in both his large hands and his lips crashed down on hers, tearing at her mouth. He nipped her lips, sucked them, dragged his mouth across them. He thrust his tongue between them, all the while holding her prisoner for the kiss.

Not that she wanted to escape. Her surprise at the passion she’d evoked in him pierced her with satisfaction. Her cool, reserved doctor had crumbled. She may belong to him, but he belonged to her, too. A victory she’d aimed to win from the start.

“Take your clothes off,” he said roughly.

Was he going to claim her? To breed her? She found the idea far more appealing than his intended protocol. If she had his baby, perhaps it wouldn’t be taken from her. Perhaps he’d keep her as his slave, and she’d tend to their child. The idea set off rockets of desire so strong, she could scarcely contain herself.

So she didn’t. She stripped off her clothing and dropped to her knees, pressing her mouth against his crotch.

“Vecking stars, Bayla,” he growled and shoved his pants down, allowing his full erection to spring free.

She licked around the head then took him deep, keeping her eyes lifted for his command. Her pussy clenched between her thighs, nipples hardened to stiff peaks.

He met her gaze, and his nostrils flared. He grasped the back of her head and shoved deep, causing her to choke and her eyes to water. Daneth didn’t have mercy, though. He seemed to lose control, thrusting with the erratic force of a male about to climax.

She hollowed her cheeks and sucked until he came, burning the back of her throat with the salty tang of his essence. His thighs shook with the intensity of his release and the kick of power it gave her. Knowing she’d caused this loss of control in him, thrilled her.

He pulled out of her mouth and stared down at her, as if dazed at what they’d done.

“Master,” she whispered.

“You chose me.”

She thought she heard awe in his voice, but before she could dissect it, he had her up from the floor and on her back on his sleepdisk. He gripped her knees and drew her thighs apart, affixing his mouth to her core.

Five mind-blowing minutes later, she came all over his thrusting fingers, her clit suctioned tight in his mouth.

An hour later, after she’d come six more times from his talented fingers, she wept, certain she couldn’t handle any more. “Please, Master. No more. I’m so tired.”

He towered over her, smug satisfaction oozing from him. “Don’t forget, you chose to be owned by me.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I decide when you rest and when you deserve pleasure.”

She shook her head, her hair already rubbed into a tangle from the friction against the mattress. “No more pleasure,” she whispered. “Please...rest.”

He smiled indulgently. “Yes, rest now, slave. Tomorrow is your implantation.”

A heaviness fell over her at the reminder.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to her cage, placing her inside with care.

“What must I do tomorrow?”

He wrapped a large palm around her ankle and squeezed. “It’s a simple and painless procedure. You must lie still and rest afterward to make sure it attaches. That is all.”

“And then...grow a baby? Or young? What do Zandians call it?”

“Young. Yes.”

“And who will care for the young?”

He patted her ankle. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Your job is simply to carry the pregnancy.”

Her vision dimmed, and cold rolled slowly over her. As she’d feared. One more baby she would never nurse. Never love.

She needed to make sure the pregnancy never took.