His Human Rebel

1 Cambry must have a flashing molest me sign over her head. She’d been trying to give off the don’t come near me vibe, but maybe it didn’t translate on this forsaken planet. Sleep on the death pod would be impossible. Even without the constant shuffle and murmur of low voices filling the hall packed with two hundred human refugees, Cambry didn’t trust the human male who’d settled his sleep pad next to hers. What she really needed, more than decent sleep, was a weapon. A laser g*n would be amazing, but she’d settle for a piece of piping or a stick. Even a sharp nail. She’d seen the human chatting up another female at dinnertime. He gave off that creepy vibe she’d learned at an early age to beware. When the female rebuffed him and joined in a close pack with several other beings, he’d changed his focus to Cambry. Cambry knew the fact she hadn’t joined or formed her own little protective grouping made her a target, but bonding with strangers wasn’t really her thing. She hadn’t survived twenty-three years living in the slave tenements below the factory where she worked without a healthy wariness for all other beings, male or female. She’d never trusted anyone but her only family member, her younger brother, Tal. The pang in her chest at his loss nearly took her breath. The squeak of a boot passed nearby, and she lifted her gaze. One of the Zandian guards strolled a few meters away. Nearly seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, and hugely-muscled, the male oozed masculine power and virility. Though he appeared young, she’d seen him giving orders to the other guards. He must be some kind of supervisor. “Hard to sleep in this animal pen, isn’t it?” he murmured, coming closer. Great, now she’d attracted attention from him, too. That flashing sign must be really bright. He crouched down, which surprised her. Making her crane her neck up to look at and answer him would be the usual bullshit authoritative thing to do to a human slave. Beings who thought they were superior didn’t usually get down on her level. “Yeah.” She made a weak attempt at a smile. Like all the Zandians who had supposedly “rescued” them from death, he had peachy-purple skin and horns on the top of his head. The intensity in his long-lashed brown eyes made her catch her breath. What did he see? He studied her like he really saw, like he really wanted to see. It made her itchy, as if all her vulnerabilities might be exposed if she let him keep looking. “Can I get you something? A blanket or sleeping pad?” She swallowed down more surprise. Was he actually being friendly? Chivalrous? Did that even exist between prisoners and guards? Slaves and masters? Aliens and humans? Because that’s what they still were. If the Zandians thought Cambry bought their so-called “rescue” of the beings on the death pod, they were sorely mistaken. Yes, they’d prevented her death that day, but anyone with a brain knew they’d only delayed it. Now, they wanted to send them all on a death mission to take back their planet Zandia. Naturally, they wanted humans on the front lines—their deaths didn’t matter. “No thanks.” “You don’t dare shut your eyes, do you?” Perceptive male. Third time he had surprised her. She vowed not to let it happen again. Whatever his game, she needed to figure it out—quick. Before she fell for it. Because the handsome Zandian oozed charisma. That must be how he’d worked his way into a position of power at such a young age. When her non-answer served as acknowledgement, his gaze turned to a smolder, making flutters cascade in her belly. “I’ll keep watch so you don’t have to. I promise no one will bother you tonight.” Her heart picked up speed. Not because it was a good line, but because something in the solemn utterance made her actually believe him. But why would this male promise her anything? What did he care if she slept well or not? His promise produced a visceral reaction in her. Heat curled low in her belly as she measured his physical ability to defend her. His arms bulged with solid muscle; pectorals stood out in stark relief beneath the finely woven white uniform tunic. She’d already noticed he moved with a grace and ease belying his large stature. Yes, he probably could effectively handle any threat that came his way. And it shouldn’t turn her on so much that he’d offered her his protection. When her n*****s stiffened beneath her tunic, she folded her arms across her chest to hide them, fighting off her attraction for the obviously virile male. “Don’t bother. I don’t trust you more than any other being here.” His lips quirked. “Smart female. Well, I’ll watch over you just the same. I don’t like seeing you unprotected.” He reached for his sword belt and unclipped a slender titanium object about the length of her palm and the width of two fingers. He offered it to her. She looked at it without moving, then, when she realized what it was, snatched it out of his hand before he changed his mind. Grasping the handle, she unsheathed the small dagger and held it to the dim light, examining the blade. Razor sharp. Gleaming. Praise our long-lost Mother Earth. A shock of warmth traveled through her chest. Another being had understood her well enough to offer the tool she desired most at the moment. It threw her off balance. She was used to males seeing her as an object, looking at what they might take from her. This one—a being in a position of power no less—looked and gave her something. His lips turned up even more at whatever he saw in her face—the shine of appreciation, perhaps. Or maybe awe at his generosity and trust. Because he should’ve seen she was far from trustworthy. She’d be using the dagger and any other means she could find to escape this rathole as soon as possible. She wet her lips with her tongue, trying to ignore the way his gaze dropped to her mouth and heated. “Thank you.” “I’m Lundric.” She blinked. Not Master Lundric or Captain or whatever his title was. Just Lundric. She supposed she owed him her name in return, though it went against her personal code of keeping herself closed off. He waited. “Cambry.” “Cambry,” he repeated in a soft voice, as if savoring the sound of her name on his tongue. He stared at her another moment, like he was drinking her in, then stood and positioned himself against a nearby wall, making his intent clear. I promise no one will bother you tonight. She and her brother had always looked out for one another. They’d been a team, watched each other’s backs. But she couldn’t trust anyone else to do it. Even so, a c***k fell from her shield, jumbling her emotions. Fear and loss warred with the stirring of something warmer. The idea of having Lundric watch over her should not make her feel safe. She needed to stay vigilant, look for her opportunity. She palmed the knife and lay down on her side with her back to the wall and her face toward her creepy neighbor. No, she was on her own until she found and freed Tal. ~.~ Cambry. The name suited the exquisite female. Lundric had been fascinated by the auburn-haired human from the moment he saw her. She held her chin high, walked with an aggressive swagger, and carried herself with ready alertness, like she was prepared to address any threat. She also gave off attitude in waves. He had no doubt she could defend herself with the proper weapon. Which was why he gave her one. A woman so beautiful would have admirers. And he didn’t trust any male here—human or Zandian. He hated thinking of her being vulnerable to attack. The mere idea of it had him clenching his fists, a red haze seeping in and stealing rational thought. So he leaned up against the wall near her nest on the floor to watch over her. He ought to make the rounds—walk the perimeter of the large hall to make his presence felt, but nothing could tear him away from his vigil. He’d already decided she belonged to him. His little human. He’d been raised to believe humans were inferior, weak. They were an enslaved species, after all. Yet Zander, the prince of his species, had taken the human slave, Lamira, as his mate. Rok, his superior here, had mated her sister, Lily. He’d heard his mentor, Master Seke, the Zandian Master of Arms, had been given their mother as his slave concubine. So why shouldn’t he have one, too? There were no Zandian females of mating age left—his species was nearly extinct. And rumor had it Daneth, the prince’s physician, had determined Lamira to be the best gene match for Zander to breed. If humans were the closest, most beneficial species for them to mate, he would gladly take one. This one. They were headed to war. His whole life had been spent preparing for it. It only made sense for him to also breed before they left. Daneth had already taken and frozen Lundric’s seed as a precaution, but wouldn’t leaving an actual child be better? He had to do his part to preserve what little was left of Zandian genetic code. What a lie. He didn’t give a veck about preserving his genetic code. He just wanted Cambry. The fierce little rebel with cunning intelligence behind those big brown eyes. The female who snatched a dagger up and looked ready to use it. The beautiful, tough little human. He’d like to tame the wild animal right out of her. Teach her no harm would ever come to her by his hand, but there would be plenty of pleasure. Teach her not to bolt when he wrapped his fist in that dark auburn mane and pulled her head back while he drove deep from behind. When he pinned her slender wrists above her head and licked and sucked those magnificent little breasts he’d seen shifting beneath her tunic. What color would her n*****s be? Pink? Peach? It wasn’t just physical, though his need for her had been immediate and undeniable. No, he also wanted to find out what had hardened the little human and figure out how to win her softness back. Cambry. His human. He would ask the prince if he could have her. He kept his post beside her for the rest of the night, satisfied when she finally did slip into a restless sleep, drifting off for an hour at a time before jerking awake and looking around. She glanced over at him each time and he lifted his chest as if to show her it made him proud to be the one who watched over her. From now on, he’d be the only vecking being who had the privilege. A duty he took more seriously than death. Because if anyone threatened that little human—his female—he’d crush them. The center of the pod didn’t have windows, so it was hard to tell when dawn came. Living without light would be difficult for the Zandians, who relied on light for energy more than food. They’d have to make frequent trips to Zander’s palatial pod for the crystal-amplified light baths. It didn’t do much to improve the prisoners’—make that former prisoners’—morale, either. The group—mostly humans with a few odd other species mixed in—still wore the downtrodden faces of any refugees. Rok’s female, Lily, had been working hard to instill hope, and some seemed to believe her promise of a better life on Zandia, but most braced their shoulders as if ready for another attack on their dignity. As the beings began to rouse, he turned on the sunlight simulator. A new group of guards came in for next shift, reporting to him for duty and carrying boxes of nutrition packs. He eyed the packs with distaste. They were disgusting compared to the meals he’d enjoyed on the palatial pod, but he was tired, his energy weakened from lack of food and light. He needed rest, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his female sleep another night in this crowded hall. As the beings filed forward to receive their nutrition packs, he gave orders to his guards. “They need to be given living quarters today.”