“And unfortunately, Drung there is the Second Mate,” he told Lan’ara, sounding both annoyed and a bit bored. “He’s a Trollox, in case you didn’t notice the multiple heads,” he added.
“How dare you bring the girl around here, Needrix?” The middle head of the Trollox spoke, its voice like a metal blade scraping over gravel. “How dare you buy her out from under me when you know I’ve been looking for the right female to have my heir for cycles, so I have?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your fucking heir,” the Kindred growled, tightening his grip on Lan’ara. “And what else was I supposed to do with her once I’d bought her? I had to bring her back to the ship. Don’t worry—she’ll live in my quarters and stay strictly away from you.”
Lan’ara thought she could certainly promise to obey the big Kindred’s rules. She wanted nothing to do with the disgusting three-headed beast who was towering over her head, licking its chops as it eyed her body greedily.
“You don’t know the first thing about that female you bought,” the middle head of the Trollox called Drung snarled, its yellowed tusks dripping saliva as it spoke. “I stayed and talked to the slaver, so I did. I got her file. You don’t know how it is. After you touch her the right way—”
“I’m not interested in abusing her or in anything you have to say,” the Kindred, who was apparently called “Needrix” growled. “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone unless you have a work-related question.”
Ignoring the horrible snarl these words produced from the mountainous Trollox, he kicked the shiny side of the ship. Immediately, a hatchway opened for him and he walked in, still carrying Lan’ara.
Five
“So I guess this is your new home—for now,” Need said roughly as they entered The Dark Star. “It’s pretty standard—for a Cytovin vessel, anyway.”
He could tell by the girl’s wide eyes that the interior of the ship didn’t look standard to her. Need could hardly blame her—the first time he’d boarded a Cytovin vessel, he’d been surprised as well. For Cytovins—of which Captain Glo’ll was one—were sentient plants. Plants that required a lot of greenery.
Green and purple and orange creeper vines adorned the walls of the space ship, their large leaves fanning gently in the artificial breeze. A blanket of soft gray-green moss carpeted the floor of the corridor and tiny, white Star Blooms outlined every hatch and door.
In other words, the inside of the entire ship was like a garden.
The girl looked around, her gold-flecked eyes getting wider and wider.
“It’s…beautiful,” she breathed at last. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“Takes a bit of getting used to,” Need grunted. He put her down abruptly and she gasped and nearly fell, clutching at his arm to steady herself. Then, as though realizing what she’d done, she snatched her hand away again as though he’d burned her and shot him a fearful look.
Her reaction irritated him even further for some reason.
“I carried you through the marketplace because you couldn’t seem to keep up, but, but you can walk—right?” he demanded.
“Yes, my Lord.” The girl gave a quick nod, a fearful look on her lovely face as though she was trying to read his mood.
His mood was black, Need thought. He felt like a new pet owner who had been saddled with an exotic animal he didn’t want—an animal that was going to take more time and credit to care for than he had to give.
Behind them, Drung had entered the ship as well, his broad shoulders brushing against the Star Blooms and his Trollox stench nearly overpowering the sweet, green, growing scent of the plant life.
Need saw the girl flinch again, her eyes wide with fear. He would have to keep her well away from the big bastard of a Trollox, he decided. Clearly Drung scared her to death—probably because it was obvious he still wanted her. Imagine staying after the auction to speak to the slaver and read the girl’s file! What in the Seven Hells was wrong with him, still lusting after her when she was bought and paid for by another?
By me, Need thought angrily. Drung can’t have her—she’s mine! A surprising bolt of possessiveness shot through him at the thought. A wish to keep his new acquisition safe from the Trollox’s ravening lust.
The emotion surprised Need, and not in a good way. It was just his Kindred heritage asserting itself, he thought uneasily—making him want to take care of the helpless female. Still, he didn’t like being made to feel things against his will. Irritated all over again, he took the girl by the arm and began steering her down the plant and vine-lined corridor.
To his relief, Drung turned and lumbered the other way, going towards his own cabin which was at the opposite end of the ship from Need’s. Indeed, only Need and Captain Glo’ll had cabins in the front—private ones with bulkhead views of the stars. Yet another reason why the big Trollox was after his position—not that he’d ever get it, Need thought grimly.
He was in such a hurry to get the girl back to his quarters that he almost didn’t notice the way she was walking—hobbling really—as though she was hurt.
Need frowned and looked down at her. He’d thought that maybe the hard-packed dusty ground had hurt her feet out in the marketplace. But the carpet-moss which lined The Dark Heart’s floor was as soft as a pillow—a real pleasure to walk on. And yet she was limping along as though she was walking on knives. What in the Seven Hells was wrong with her?
The minute he got her into the room, he turned to the girl and glared at her.
“What’s wrong with you, anyway? Why are you walking like that?”
“Like what, my Lord?” She was still clutching his shirt to her chest, her eyes wide with fear.
“Like your feet hurt.” Need gestured at her dusty bare feet and ankles. “Did you twist an ankle?”
She looked up at him, her lip trembling just a bit and he had the feeling she was trying hard to hold back tears.
“My Lord,” she whispered. “It’s not my…not my feet that hurt.”
“Not your feet?” Need frowned. “Then what—”
Then he noticed the way she was standing, her legs slightly apart as though she couldn’t bear to press her thighs together.
Suddenly he remembered the knobbly end of the stick the slaver had used on her—the smear of blood on her inner thighs.
“It was that damn stick thing that bastard forced into you, wasn’t it?” he demanded, glaring at her. “It hurt you—made you bleed.”
“I…I think it might have torn something inside me,” she whispered. “Forgive me, my Lord!” she added, her voice low and frantic as though she feared that he might beat her for being hurt. “I am still a virgin—I swear it! I have never had a man between my thighs!”
“I don’t give a damn about you being a virgin or not, girl,” Need growled at her. But it wasn’t the girl he was angry at this time—it was himself.
Shouldn’t have let that damn stick anywhere near her, he thought, remembering the look of pain on her pretty face as the ugly thing had forced its way inside her. Should have grabbed it and broken the damn thing in two the minute it got anywhere near her.
But he hadn’t and now the girl was in pain and it was his fault—his responsibility.
He would have to take care of her.
A brief mental image shot through his brain—a picture of himself kneeling between the girl’s thighs and lapping gently at her swollen pussy. The essence in his fangs—which had grown unaccountably sharp for some reason—would repair the damage the stick had done to her. She would moan softly and card her fingers through his hair while he healed her…tasted her…
Just like you tasted Cleah, whispered a little voice in his brain.
At that, Need snapped out of the momentary fantasy and pushed the mental image again. Though all Kindred loved to taste their females, he had promised himself never to do such a thing again. He couldn’t heal the girl with his tongue—nor did he want to, he told himself.
He never wanted to taste a fema
le again.
“Come on,” he said to the girl brusquely. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Six
The inside of the Kindred’s ship was like nothing Lan’ara had ever seen before. Instead of cold, bare metal, there were vines and flowers everywhere. The doorways and hatches were all outlined with small, white blossoms and there was soft moss underfoot.
It would have been beautiful if she wasn’t so filled with fear and inner turmoil—and if she didn’t ache so badly.
The Kindred—Needrix, she reminded herself. Should she call him “my Lord Needrix?” If she dared to address him, she would. Anyway, Needrix seemed to be angry at her for walking stiffly. But when she finally admitted why she was hobbling and that she was in pain, he immediately swung into action.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he told her and at once went into another room where she heard the sound of water running.
Lan’ara barely had time to admire his cabin—which was large and bachelor-neat with a separate sleeping chamber and a long window which was presently blacked out on one wall—before he came back for her.
“All right.” He gave her a sharp look. “Can you walk or should I carry you?”
“I can walk…my Lord Needrix,” Lan’ara said quickly. She was hoping her address would make him feel more favorable to her but the big Kindred only scowled.
“I’m not ‘my Lord’ anything, girl,” he snapped. “My name is Need.” His frown deepened. “And since it seems we’re going to be stuck with each other for some time, you might as well tell me your name, too.”
“Lan’ara, my Lo— I’m Lan’ara,” she said swiftly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her slip. He might tell her to just call him by his first name but that was really difficult for her, after years of being drilled in the proper way to address the man who was your owner, master, husband, or all three.
“Lan’ara, hmm? All right.” He nodded. “Well if you can walk, come with me to the fresher and let’s get you cleaned up.”
Lan’ara did her best not to limp as she followed him into the bathing area he had called a “fresher.” She could feel his eyes on her, watching her the whole time, and she tried not to make him angry.
Or angrier than he already is, she amended to herself.
“Here you are.” He was pointing to a deep tub filled with steaming water. It was wreathed around with green and purple vines that had long, bell-shaped blossoms. The flowers were a rich shade of royal blue and many of them trailed from their vines and floated in the water.
“Oh!” Lan’ara exclaimed before she thought of it. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, my Lord,” she added and then bit her lip—would the big Kindred get angry at her for addressing him incorrectly?
But he only shook his head.
“No need to thank me. The wash blossoms are just part of living on a ship owned by a Cytovin. Just get in the water and they’ll take care of you.”
Lan’ara didn’t know what he meant by the flowers “taking care” of her but she was too nervous to ask. When he helped her off with her torn gown and gestured for her to step into the tub, she quickly did as he said.
It was embarrassing to be completely naked in front of him, but Lan’ara had always known that once a man bought her, he would own her body and would probably want to look at it and do much more than look. So she didn’t try to cover herself, though she wished desperately that she could.
She tried not to wince when the steaming water hit her injuries, but she couldn’t hold back a little cry when the heated liquid enveloped her torn flesh.
“What’s wrong?” The big Kindred was instantly alert.
“Nothing, my Lord. I’m fine!” Lan’ara said quickly, though tears had sprung to her eyes with the pain of having her injuries bathed in such hot water.
“Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong when you’re practically crying in pain,” he growled, frowning. “What is it, girl?”
“Nothing, only…just the heat of the water against my…in the spot where I’m hurt,” Lan’ara said. “It’s not a problem, my Lord. I’m already getting used to it.”
“Seven Hells!” he snarled and at first Lan’ara was afraid he was angry with her all over again. But then he said, “Goddess, I’m fucking this whole thing up from start to finish,” and shook his head.
“My Lord?” Lan’ara asked, startled. Try as she might, she simply could not get his first name to come out of her mouth rather than the more formal and respectful form of address she’d been taught to use.
“First I let that bastard of a slaver use that damn stick thing on you,” the big Kindred went on. “And then I try to leave you alone on a strange planet—never thinking that you don’t have any way to get back to wherever it was you were taken from. And then I made the Goddess-damned water too hot and burned you where you’re already hurt!”
“It’s not your fault, my Lord,” Lan’ara said quickly. “You’ve been more than kind to me—truly you have!”
“No, I haven’t.” Need glared down at his own large hands for a moment before looking up at her. “And you shouldn’t expect me to be kind, girl—I don’t have it in me. But I will try to be fair and to take care of you properly. After all, you’re my responsibility now.”
Lan’ara didn’t know what to say to that. She felt like pointing out that no one had forced him to buy her. But of course she dared not be so impertinent with her new owner. No matter what he said about taking care of her, he could still decide she was too much trouble and try to sell her back to the slaver.
An even worse thought entered her head—what if he got tired of her and sold her to the huge, beastly Trollox who was apparently his crewmate?
The very idea made Lan’ara almost ill with fright. She would do anything to avoid that fate—anything! So she kept her mouth shut and looked down at the steaming water—which was much less painful now that she had gotten used to it. She was determined to be as quiet as a mouse and not bother her new owner one bit more.
That was her intention, anyway, until something under the cloudy surface of the bath grabbed her.
“Oh!” she gasped and shot up in the middle of the tub with the hot water sluicing down her naked body.
“What? What is it?” The big Kindred looked alarmed.
“Something in the water!” Lan’ara gasped. “It…it grabbed me!”
“What? Oh…” A look of dawning comprehension came over his face and to Lan’ara’s surprise, he actually chuckled. It was the first time she’d seen his face when he wasn’t frowning or scowling or growling and it was amazing how much nicer he looked.
Still, the joke seemed to be at her expense so she couldn’t really join in.
“Is there supposed to be something in the water, my Lord?” she asked, striving to keep her tone civil instead of irritated and ill-used, which was how she felt.
“It’s just the wash blossoms,” he explained. “They wash you all over once you get into the water—that’s why there’s no need for soap or any kind of scrubber—the flowers do all the work. I do admit they take some getting used to, though,” he added. “I should have warned you.”
“You did say they would, er, ‘work on me’,” Lan’ara reminded him. “I just didn’t know what you meant, my Lord.”
“You really don’t have to call me that, you know,” he rumbled, frowning. “I’m not royalty or nobility or anyone of any special importance.”
“It’s what we were taught to call our owners at the academy,” Lan’ara said softly. “And, well…you bought me. So you own me now, my L—” She broke off abruptly and repeated, “You own me.”
“So I do, I suppose.” He sighed deeply and a troubled look came over his face. “And to think I only meant to stretch my legs and get a bit of fresh air when I went out today. Never meant to spend all my savings on a slave girl, Gods damn me.”
“I can make it worth your while,” Lan’ara said quickly, her heart pounding. “Though I am a virgin, I’ve been trained in all the arts of p
leasure, my Lord! I can pleasure you so well you’ll be glad you bought me—I swear it!”
“Is that right?” He studied her with those strange bronze eyes of his and Lan’ara became suddenly aware that she was still standing up in the tub completely naked and on display.
Her nipples tightened in fear and she had the sudden urge to cover herself. Indeed, her hands began creeping up to try and hide her breasts and sex. But then she remembered all over again that her body was not her own—she belonged to the big Kindred now. If he wished to look at her, he would and she must let him. So she forced her arms back to her sides, though her hands curled into fists of effort from holding the embarrassing pose.
For a long, breathless moment the big Kindred’s eyes roved over her bare flesh.
“So you’re offering to pleasure me, are you?” he rumbled softly.
“Yes, my Lord,” Lan’ara said quickly. “Would you like me to use my hands on you? Or perhaps you’re prefer to spill your seed in my mouth or in my…” She hesitated, not wanting to offer herself completely, especially when she was wounded, but knowing she must. “Or in my sex,” she whispered at last. “You can…can take me however you see fit. I am yours—all of me.”
“Take you as I see fit,” he echoed. “Use you like a common whore. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”
“I only seek to give you pleasure, my Lord,” Lan’ara whispered, wondering how she could possibly get on his good side if even the offer of her body made him angry. “I…I don’t want you to regret buying me,” she added softly.
“I already regret it, girl.” He looked up to meet her eyes for a moment and then turned his head abruptly, almost as though he was making a fierce effort to tear his eyes away from her naked body.
“But—” Lan’ara began.
“Sit back down in the water, girl.” His voice, which had become if not friendly, then at least civil, was cold as ice again. “Cover yourself. And don’t worry about pleasing me—I have no interest in using you like that.”
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