Chapter Seven

 

If it hadn’t been for Bayla shining like the brightest star, he wouldn’t have been able to contain his foul mood. His failure to successfully implant the embryo weighed on him, heavier than an airship. But no matter how many times he reviewed the protocol, he couldn’t find his error. Somehow, for some reason, Bayla’s body had rejected the embryo. But why? His program had chosen her as the best possible vessel.

Hell, she practically screamed fertility. Those wide hips and ample breasts mimicked her big eyes and lush mouth. She probably had birthed her previous young in her sleep. He’d had no worries for how she’d carry through the pregnancy or how her birth would go.

Lamira, on the other hand, had always worried him. She’d been too thin to begin with, and her belly had grown too large considering she still had thirty planet rotations to go, if the young went by human gestation. If it went by Zandian, she’d have forty-five.

They were late to the table. Prince Zander and his mate were already seated at the head of the long table, joined by visitors from the training pod—Lamira’s sister, Lily, and her Zandian mate, Rok, as well as Chief of Security Lundric, and his human mate, Cambry. Leora sat with them, but her mate, Seke, the Master of Arms, was missing.

Thinking Bayla would enjoy sitting with other human females, he claimed seats near the head of the table and introduced his lovely slave to every being. She curtsied and kept her eyes lowered, saying little, but Lundric’s red-haired female immediately drew her into conversation.

For his part, he could scarcely pay attention. All he could think about was the last remaining Zandian egg.

Chef Barr and his staff brought out plate after plate heaped with food, but he had no appetite. Nor, it seemed, did Bayla, which was unusual for her. Perhaps the strange company made her nervous. He reached under the table to squeeze her hand.

“We require full surveillance of Zandia as it stands now,” Rok was saying to Prince Zander. “We cannot make plans for the invasion without an updated view of things.”

Zander frowned. “You’re suggesting I send ships into Zandian airspace?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“The moment a ship is spotted, the Finn will know we’re behind it. All these solar cycles, I’ve led them to believe I am the pitiable refugee here, happy simply to have survived. They’ve left me alone because they believe I’m no threat. If they discover we sent battleships into their airspace, we lose all element of surprise.”

“We won’t be seen,” Rok promised. Lundric nodded in agreement.

“How many ships?”

“Just one. Lundric and Cambry will fly it.”

Bayla had been listening without making her interest obvious, but the news a human female would fly a ship brought her lovely dark head up.

Cambry gave her a wink.

Zander looked to Lamira. His mate possessed extrasensory perception, the kind more common in the Venusian species. Zandian crystal had increased her ability to sense and read energy. Lamira murmured something only Zander could hear.

“Very well. Permission granted. When will you go?”

“We’ll wait for the Finn’s next scheduled trade shipment and fly in under the cover of those ships and activity. Two weeks from this planet rotation.”

Zander nodded.

Bayla still stared with seeming wonder that the human female could fly a ship. “Do you fly, too?” she asked Lily, then flushed. “Forgive me if my question is inapprop—”

“Yes, I’ve learned as well. I’m not as good as Cambry or her brother, Tal, but I love it. We have an entire human army training to take back Zandia—had you not heard?”

Bayla shook her head.

Cambry considered her. “Would you like to join?”

Daneth stiffened. “Her work is here with me.” He made his tone hard. No one was taking Bayla from him. He’d bought her. She belonged to him. Hell, she’d still chosen him when Zander set her free.

Still, a cold fist of fear gripped his trachea at the thought of her choosing to leave. If she wasn’t pregnant, he’d have no reason to insist she remain.

 

~.~

 

Bayla sat up straighter. Hearing the human females had learned to pilot ships and were serving in an army to take back Zandia cracked the reality she’d been living and set it on its side. These women were willing to serve Zandia. They weren’t just sacrificing their attachment to babies, they were willing to lay their lives on the line for the Zandian species.

It made what she’d done all the worse. She wished to Sacred Mother Earth she could take it back. Undo the wrong. Save the embryo she’d so callously discarded. All for what? To save her already broken heart? How stupid and small. How cowardly.

She hated herself for what she’d done.

“What is it?” Prince Zander’s sharp voice cut across her self-loathing.

The princess—or his mate, whatever, clung to the table with an expression on her face Bayla knew all too well.

She stood up, heading toward the princess. “Are you having a contraction?”

Lamira nodded, seeming unable to speak. The intensity of her contraction seemed stronger than the practice waves that came weeks before a baby is born.

Lamira’s mother also stood, as did Daneth, and the prince, who moved to pick her up.

“Wait until it’s over,” Bayla said sharply, forgetting she was speaking to the prince. She knew what it was like to be touched or moved when in the middle of a contraction, and it wasn’t pleasant. “My lord,” she added.

“Is this the first you’ve had?” Bayla asked with concern.

Lamira shook her head. “Every...ten minutes,” she gasped, eyes squeezing shut.”

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

The prince had frozen, his eyes only on his mate, his fear and concern evident.

Bayla scooted up by Lamira’s side, tracing her fingertips over the woman’s back in a light figure eight pattern, the way the midwives had taught her.

“It’s too early for the baby, isn’t it, Doctor Daneth?” Leora asked.

Daneth’s mouth tightened, brow drew down tight on his forehead. “It is. Four weeks early by human standard. More by Zandian. Let’s get her into my lab.”

“Give it a moment to pass,” she said. It may not be her place to give orders, but if there was one thing she knew, it was pregnancy and childbirth.

Lamira’s white-knuckled fingers slowly eased their grip on the table, and she panted. “All right,” she gasped. “It’s all right.”

Zander surged into action, scooping his mate into his arms and carrying her from the table. Daneth led the way to his lab. She, Leora, and Lily trailed behind, Leora and Lily exchanging a worried glance.

In the lab, Daneth placed the probe on Lamira’s belly and opened up the hologram. He studied it for a tense moment. “The young looks healthy. No sign of stress.” He glanced at Zander. “Any...ah...wetness or bleeding from the vagina?”

Zander glowered at the doctor.

“No.” Lamira shook her head.

Daneth returned his attention to the hologram and measured the length of the fetus, from head to toe, then the width of the skull. “Size is small for a Zandian, large for a human fetus at this stage.” He sighed and turned to face Zander. “Either way, he’s not fully grown.”

Zander’s horns stiffed, and he looked positively lethal, as if he wanted to draw the sword strapped to his waist and slay them all. “Will he survive if born early?”

Daneth hesitated. “Yes, it’s possible.”

Bayla drew a breath of courage to speak. “Give her a glass of wine.”

All heads turned to her, everyone blinking in amazement. Daneth gave a dismissive shake of his head, frowning. “Alcohol is contraindicated during pregnancy.”

“It can stop preterm labor.”

“Enough,” Daneth snapped. “I will not endanger the health of the young—”

“How many pregnancies have you attended?” Her chest and chin lifted in challenge.

Daneth drew back slightly. “Only this one,” he admitted.

She pointed at her own chest. “One hundred and forty-three. I may not be a doctor, but I do know babies.”

“Get her the wine,” Zander snapped, and Leora immediately left the lab for it. “What else?” he asked Bayla.

“You need to get her out of that position,” she said, indicating Lamira’s dead beetle configuration. “Get the baby’s head off her cervix. Can you bring her to your sleepdisk where she can get comfortable?”

Zander immediately scooped up his mate, causing Daneth to jerk his instruments away before they were knocked to the ground.

Bayla stood back to let them pass. She twisted her fingers, watching Daneth grimly pack his equipment into a bag. “Forgive me, Master.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “No. I appreciate your input. You are right. My experience is limited.” He slid a hand around her waist to guide her out of the lab. “Let’s hope your primitive methods work.”

She breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t angry with her. It was short-lived, though, because a new worry planted itself in her mind.

What if Lamira had drunk the parsley tea?

Her stomach flip flopped like a sea animal out of water. Fear seized her, making her muscles so tight she wondered how she managed to move. Her world tunneled into the smallest sphere. All she knew was that she had to stop this preterm labor. She had to stop it or she’d never be able to live with herself. Of course, living wouldn’t be an option if the prince found out she’d caused this.

They entered the prince’s chamber. “What position?” he snapped the moment she walked in.

“Knees and forearms, to tip the baby down toward your ribs.” She spoke to Lamira, who nodded and climbed into the described position.

Leora entered, followed by a servant who carried a pouch of wine with a straw. “Here’s the wine,” Leora said, taking it from the servant and bringing it to her daughter. She placed the tube in Lamira’s mouth, and Lamira sipped.

“What else?” Prince Zander was looking at her, not Daneth.

“There’s an herb.” Her heart thundered and she worked hard to draw slower breaths. “Nettle leaf? Do you have that here?”

“I’ll find out,” Lily said, and exited.

“It’s a matter of plenty of fluids and relaxation.” She climbed up beside Lamira and traced the pattern on her back again. When she found Zander glowering, she backed off. “You can do this—light figure eights on her back. Or a light stroking of her ears. It calms the system.”

Zander nodded, moving in with the determination of a man who’d trained his entire life for the task.

What else? She fought down her terror to remember what she’d learned. “Imagine there’s a dial that controls how strong the contractions are,” she instructed Lamira. “You’re going to use your mind to turn that dial down. Later, when it’s time for the baby to come, you can use it to hurry labor along, if you need. Understand?”

Lamira panted through another contraction. “I...don’t know how,” she gasped.

“Yes you do. Your mind has so much more control that you know. Simply tell your body to slow the contractions until they stop.”

Lamira grunted and panted, but her body relaxed sooner than it had the last time. She drank several swallows of the wine.

“How long must I stay like this?”

“It’s enough if you’re tired. Rest.”

The princess dropped to her side. Zander curled his much larger body around hers, cradling her from behind.

Fear still threatened to burst her chest. She wanted to ask Lamira about the tea. If she’d had some, she needed to tell Daneth so he might prepare some kind of cure. If there were any. But how did she ask without revealing her terrible secret?

Lamira lifted weary eyes to her. “Thank you,” she said. “I think it’s working.”

Bayla tried to swallow around the tight band closing her throat. “Good,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to say you must stay in bed for the rest of the pregnancy. Bed rest will reduce the chances of early labor continuing or returning.”

Lamira rubbed her belly. “I didn’t drink the tea.”

Bayla’s body jerked in shock. The blood drained from her face.

“What tea?” Zander asked.

“I knew it would harm the baby.”

Icicles formed on all Bayla’s limbs.

“What would harm the baby?” Zander thundered, sitting up.

Daneth, too, turned his full attention on her, advancing slowly.

She took a step backward, eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry. I did a horrible thing and”—she choked on her own spit— “I can’t take it back.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I wish I could.”

“What horrible thing?” Daneth’s voice was barely more than a whisper. She turned her focus to Daneth. “I’m sorry. I drank a tea so the pregnancy wouldn’t take. I didn’t want to have another infant taken from my arms. It hurt too much.”

Daneth turned a ghostly white.

Prince Zander climbed off the bed, but Daneth blocked him from coming toward her.

“She’s mine,” he bit out, though horror, fury, and disgust warred on his expression. “I’ll deal with her.”

“Did you offer the tea to Lamira?” The prince’s voice was deadly.

She shook her head quickly. “Never. Of course not. Barr brought it to her, but I ran here as quickly as I could and drank it before she did.”

Zander pursed his lips, dark musing in his violet eyes.

“Go to my chamber.” Daneth’s voice couldn’t sound more cold.

She didn’t wait to be told twice, practically running out the door and bumping into Lily on her way. She couldn’t stop the tears skidding down her cheeks as she raced back to Daneth’s chamber.

 

~.~

 

Daneth saw through room through a haze of red. Betrayal coated his insides, hot and thick. Sticky and grotesque. He wanted to empty the contents of his stomach.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said stiffly to the prince and Lamira.

“Yes, I doubt you’re much good to us now, anyway,” Zander muttered.

“I’ll be back.” He wasn’t sure how he was able to speak when his lips had frozen.

He didn’t remember how he got back to his chamber.

Bayla sat on his sleepdisk, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“Clothing off.”

She moved quickly to obey, jumping to her feet and pulling the dress over her head.

Somehow, the exquisite perfection of her body only taunted him now. His cock still responded, despite what she’d done, and it made him all the angrier. Such a beautiful, agreeable package. And yet so flawed. She’d ruined everything—everything. His life’s work, down the drain. The continuation of the Zandian species—over. But somehow the worst of all was her. What she’d done to him. The way his insides felt pulled out, tied in a knot, and shoved down his throat. The way he didn’t know whether to throw her out or lock her up or just shake her until her teeth rattled. The sticky confusion inside him that screamed for him to distance himself before it was too late—and it was already too late—and to simultaneously dig in deeper with Bayla. To punish her. To turn her as inside out as she’d turned him. He selected a heavy wooden paddle from the implement box.

“Bend over the side of the sleepdisk.”

Bayla’s eyes pleaded for mercy, but she didn’t argue or attempt to explain herself. She leaned over the edge of the sleepdisk, presenting her shapely ass for his punishment. Already, his handprints from earlier had faded.

Capturing her wrists, he pulled them up above her head. “Keep these here. If you reach back, or change position, you’ll earn an additional punishment. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

He closed his eyes, a wave of crushing disappointment rolling through him, making him sway on his feet.

He’d punish her. Nothing else could be done until he’d settled the score. He opened his eyes and drew back his arm. He brought the paddle down smartly across the center of Bayla’s ass. He’d delivered three quick and powerful strokes before she let out a high-pitched scream that shot straight through the center of his trunk and out the other side.

He stopped, horrified that he’d elicited such a sound from her. He checked his cuff and found her pulse too elevated, the signs of stress too high.

Veck.

She gasped for breath, her back heaving on the mattress.

“Too hard,” he muttered, rubbing away the bright red bloom of color.

“Yes!” she agreed.

He rubbed her flesh vigorously to reduce any possibility of bruising. Despite his fury with Bayla, he would never cause her real harm, and the idea he’d gone too far sickened him.

Her buttocks and legs trembled beneath his palm, and her back still heaved with sobs, but they were slowing.

He picked up the heavy paddle and tossed it into his waste receptacle. With his superior strength, he never needed to wield such an implement. Hadn’t he made her cry with his hand alone?

But what she’d done warranted far more than a hand spanking. He selected a thin, reedy cane. It would bite her flesh and cause significant pain without going as thuddy or deep as the paddle.

Bayla hadn’t moved from her position, but she turned her face in his direction. He brought the cane down against his leg to measure its bite, and her slender shoulders hunched.

Standing at her side, he lined the cane up to cut across both her buttocks and let it swing. Bayla rose up on both her tiptoes, a choked gasp sounding in her throat. It left a neat white line across her reddened buttocks. He flicked the cane again and left a second stripe.

Bayla let out a sob.

He snapped the cane again and again. There was a satisfaction in leaving the stripes across her clenching bottom. As her distress mounted, his eased, and a sense of calm settled over him.

He struck again. Bayla cried out. He checked his cuff. Forty percent aroused. It had been zero when he used the paddle. There was something about the measured pain that excited her. He continued caning her, striping down her buttocks to her upper thighs.

“Reach back and pull open your ass cheeks,” he commanded.

Her hands crawled back and parted her plump, punished cheeks for him.

He lowered his wrist and angled the cane on the vertical. With far less power, he struck her between her buttocks, along the line of the crack, punishing her tender, clenching bottom hole.

She shrieked, her body popping off the bed. “No, please, Master!” She threw herself at the floor by his feet, wrapping her arms around his ankles. Then, probably remembering his dictate to remain in position, she surged back up and laid over the sleepdisk, her beautiful body trembling.

Something about her subservience—the desperate throwing herself at his feet—brought a surge of satisfaction. Of dominance and power. His cock thickened, and punishing became more of a pleasure than the desperate need to rebalance the scales.

“One more round for leaving position.”

She wept into the covers.

He gave her four more stripes crisscrossing across the neat, even row he’d left before. “Pull your cheeks apart.”

Despite her obvious misery, she remained in complete submission, reaching back to pull open her buttocks. He delivered one last spank to her crack and pulled her floating cage over to them, lowering it to the level of the sleepdisk.

“In your cage, now.”

She crawled right in and stayed on her knees, her chest pressed to the mat, her hands reaching back to cover her welted bottom.

It was an adorable sight, one that eased his remaining anger. He rather enjoyed seeing her as a punished and sorry girl.

She’d made a mistake. One with terrible repercussions for him and his species. But she’d been punished and was sorry. He’d made many mistakes, too. He should have realized a human might develop an attachment to the baby she grew in her body. He’d been an idiot not to consider it.

He leaned his face against the cage. “You should have told me you didn’t want the young taken from you. I would have let you raise it, if that was your desire.”

Bayla drew in a great shuddering breath, her eyes red, cheeks wet with tears. “I didn’t know,” she wailed. “I was s-so stupid!”

“No, not stupid,” he said firmly. “Never that. You were afraid. I should have asked more questions.”

“I w-won’t do it again. I promise. Can you culture another embryo?”

The brick returned to his solar plexus. “I’m going to try right now.” Heaviness descended into his whole being.

He reached a hand through the bars of her cage and brushed the tears from her face. “Go to sleep, Bayla.”