Series: Zandian Brides Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Even so, I’m unaccountably satisfied, especially for one who had to self-satisfy, and I find myself whistling under my breath while I tidy up the domicile and work on my tablet, writing down every word she told me about her memories, so I can immediately send it to the king. And even while I work, I can’t help glancing at her from time to time, making sure she’s still comfortable, just wanting to see her face so relaxed as she dreams.
Chapter Seven
Sia
I awaken suddenly from unsettling dreams, but they fade fast when I look up and see Daven across the domicile, intently focused on a device in his hands. His broad shoulders and chiseled muscles make me flutter inside, and I want him to do everything again.
“Hi.” I feel shy.
“Sia.” He gets up immediately and comes to me. “How are you?” He peruses me with a keen gaze. “All good?” He raises a brow.
“Yes, Master. I believe so.” I stretch, watching as his eyes snap to my body. He’s the master, but clearly I have some power here too. I do it again, just because it’s fun to watch him watching me.
He pulls me into his body and drops a kiss on my head, and I want more. He hasn’t kissed me yet, not on the lips. I know beings do this, at least ones who enjoy the activities that Daven and I partook of earlier. It’s not a memory, but more of a core knowledge. Where I come from, slaves like me don’t get mated and don’t get pleasure. But we talk about it with each other; some of us have seen things on other planets or in other ownerships. We slaves amass more group knowledge than our Ocretion masters know or would like us to have.
“You should eat.” It’s not a suggestion. “Keep up your energy. Good for brain healing.”
He gestures to a low table spread with offerings for me: grapes, other ripe berries, and some things I don’t recognize.
Famished, I tear into the food. “You don’t want any?”
He shakes his head. “I could eat it for the flavor, but right now I don’t want any.”
“You’re missing out.” I hold up a grape then put it onto my tongue and let the flavor burst as I crush it with my teeth. Teasing him is a new game, and I like it.
His eyes glitter, and I see a muscle clench in his jaw. “No.” He gives me a lazy smile. “Not for the things I really enjoy. I plan to get plenty.”
I flush because his meaning is clear.
“But for now, I must go.” He gestures toward the broad windows, and he could mean anything: war, missions, meetings. “I’ll be back by the end of the planet rotation.”
He doesn’t tell me details. Despite the moments of passion, there’s still so much we don’t divulge to each other. I still don’t know if I can ever tell him the secrets I hold.
“You,” he locks his gaze on me,“are to follow my orders. If you get more of the critical memories, you are to record them for me.”
“Yes, Master.” I bob my head. “I will.” At least the ones I feel safe sharing.
He waits a beat then sits down close to me. “Sia. Do you like the way humans are treated here so far? Is this better than what you’ve ever had?”
“You know it is.” My voice is raw. “Far better.”
“Your previous owners, the Ocretions, are known for their cruelty to humans. We’re not supposed to give shelter to any, let alone as many as we have. And mating with them, as we do– producing young–they would rather wipe us out, we think, than let us continue with that. It’s in direct defiance to their orders. They would consider this the ultimate disrespect and would want to teach us a lesson, so everyone in the universe sees and knows that the Ocretions won’t tolerate such behavior.”
“I know.” This makes my stomach ill. I’ve been here such a short time, yet I already see it’s a utopia. I want to stay here and contribute to this society. To Daven. Desperately.
“So anything you know about their military strength, experimental plans, anything–even if you don’t think it’s relative or important–could help us anticipate what they’re scheming. We can only.…”
It’s odd, but as he talks, there’s a buzzing in my head, like an insect. Except it’s on the inside. My thoughts jumble around again like they did on the craft, and suddenly it’s like I see his words as ciphered onto a tablet, the sounds coalescing into shapes that I can lock into my memory and download to the implant, where my master will read it and find out what the adversaries are doing.
“Ah!” A zap of energy or pain makes me blind, and I grab my temples. “Ow.”