“And what?” he demanded.
Lan’ara shook her head.
“I don’t know. The nurse did say the shots they gave us would make our lives easier on our new home worlds and make us very, er, appealing to our new owners.”
She didn’t want to admit that the nurse had said it would make her irresistible. It might make the big Kindred angry if he thought he was being manipulated somehow—even though Lan’ara had no intention of manipulating him. She had no idea what was happening to her body at all.
“Maybe that’s it then.” He frowned. “Maybe they injected you with some kind of lust compound.”
“It might explain why the wash blossoms were so attracted to me, I suppose,” Lan’ara said carefully.
His frown deepened. “They’re not the only things being attracted, girl.”
Suddenly he pushed her off his lap, leaving Lan’ara to stand on wobbly legs as he got up off the floor.
“My Lord?” she asked uncertainly.
“I swore to myself I wouldn’t touch you again,” he growled, glaring at her. “And the next thing I know, I’m sucking your sweet nipples and holding you in my arms.”
Lan’ara felt cold all over.
“Forgive me, my Lord! I swear I wasn’t trying to entice you. The blossoms, they—”
“I’m not blaming you, girl,” he snapped. “It’s my own fault. I was weak, Gods damn me! Don’t worry, though—it won’t happen again.”
“What won’t happen?” Lan’ara asked, her heart thudding in her chest.
“I won’t touch you,” he told her. “Not in that way—not in any way. Not again.” He frowned. “And since the fucking wash blossoms won’t leave you alone, we’ll just have to find another way for you to bathe. Maybe the old sonic shower in the back of the ship. That should do, at least until we can get you to Genu Six.”
For some reason, Lan’ara felt her heart sinking. Which was ridiculous. She ought to be happy he was swearing not to touch her—she needed to be pure to be acceptable to Senator Pouncenblast.
But she couldn’t seem to help herself—the craving for the big Kindred’s touch was satiated for now, but it seemed to linger inside her. The way she felt reminded her of the furled wash blossoms—replete for the moment, but never far from searching for their next meal.
But of course, she could never tell the big Kindred that.
“Yes, my Lord,” she said dully. “Thank you, my Lord.”
“You don’t have to thank me for not abusing you, girl,” he said roughly. “Not when I’ve already done it by touching you intimately twice.”
“You didn’t really, though,” she protested. “The first time you were healing me. And the second time, I…” She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks get hot. “I asked you to suck me…my nipple, I mean.”
“Still shouldn’t have done it.” A look of determination came over his strong features. “It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Lan’ara whispered again.
“Get dressed. Er…get yourself together.” He made a motion to the still-open front of her shirtdress. “It’s time for Last Meal and you’ll have to come with me—I couldn’t get you out of it.”
“All right.” Lan’ara began buttoning the bronze shirtdress slowly but inside her mind was churning.
Already she could feel the hungry flower inside her unfolding its petals—already her skin was craving the feel of his big hands caressing her. What was happening to her? She had never had such cravings before. Could there have been something in the shots the nurse from the academy gave her that was causing this?
Lan’ara didn’t know. And now that the big Kindred had sworn never to touch her again, she had no idea how she was going to feed the cravings that had somehow been awakened within.
Sixteen
So much for your earlier vow, whispered a little voice in the back of Need’s head as he watched the girl button the uniform shirt up, finally covering the full, ripe mounds of her breasts. Breasts he already longed to cup and suck again.
No!
He pushed the desire aside and looked away from her. It was time to stop thinking of touching the girl and start planning how he was going to get rid of her. She absolutely could not stay aboard The Dark Star one solar day longer than was necessary. Having her too near was dangerous—both for his self control and for his peace of mind. He hadn’t been tempted by a female in over ten cycles and now look at the way he was acting! Yes, the girl definitely had to go.
But first he had to take her to Last Meal.
“Are you ready?” he asked, snatching a glance at her.
She was examining herself anxiously in the viewer.
“I think so.” She looked up at him, her gold-flecked eyes wide. “Do I look pleasing enough to meet your shipmates, my Lord?”
Need took in her full curves, hugged lovingly by his bronze uniform shirt, her long waterfall of curly gold and black hair, and her big, dark, gold-flecked eyes. The sight of her affected him—made his shaft throb for release in the tight confines of his flight leathers.
The primal urge made him angry with himself all over again.
“You look fucking gorgeous,” he said roughly. “But I’m sure you know that. And as for meeting my shipmates, you’ve already met Drung.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I trust I don’t have to tell you to stay away from him?”
Her face went pale.
“No, my Lord,” she whispered. “I don’t…don’t want to get anywhere near him.”
“Good.” Need nodded in satisfaction. “Other than that fucking Trollox, the rest of the crew isn’t hard to get along with. Come on.” He sighed as he nodded towards the door. “I’ll introduce you.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Lan’ara nodded her head submissively.
“And please try not to call me that in front of the rest of the crew,” Need growled. I’ll never hear the end of it if everyone thinks I’m making you bow and scrape to me. It’s bad enough that I bought a slave girl in the first place.”
“Yes, my…all right,” the girl answered. “But what should I call you?”
“I told you before, girl—just call me by my name—Need,” he told her in exasperation.
“It seems so disrespectful to call you by your first name, though,” she objected.
“Why? Because they taught you at that fancy school you went to that you had to flatter a male’s ego to make him like you?”
“Well…yes,” she admitted hesitantly.
“I have news for you girl—I already like you,” Need growled. “A hell of a lot more than I should—a hell of a lot more than I want to. So just call me Need and be done with it.”
“Yes, my…yes, Need,” she murmured. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” he advised her. “And come on—we’re going to be late.”
He ushered her out of the fresher and through the front door of his quarters.
No doubt Last Meal was going to be interesting tonight—and probably not in a good way.
Seventeen
Lan’ara trailed the big Kindred down the vine-covered, moss-carpeted hallway until they came to what seemed to be the central living hub of the ship. There was a food prep area with counters, a sink, a convection laser wave cooker, a food storage container, a fast-heat/fast-cool unit, and even a magnetic strip with several sharp-looking knives gleaming on the wall.
She surveyed the set up with satisfaction and hope—maybe she would get to help out some here. Cooking and baking had been two of the extracurricular activities she had excelled at while attending Twyleth Tigg. Of course, most of the girls that went to the exclusive academy were destined to live in households run by multiple servants, where they never had to lift a hand to do any kind of work besides making their lord and master happy. But Lan’ara’s mother had taught her to be self-sufficient in the kitchen and she genuinely enjoyed preparing a well-cooked meal.
Directly adjacent to the food prep area was a dining area with a long wooden table that had
various sized chairs placed around it. The chair at the end had a high back and carved wooden arms, all covered in living vines and flowers—that must be the Captain’s chair, Lan’ara decided. The other chairs seemed to be normal except for one thick bench at the far end which looked strong enough to support a terga beast. Lan’ara could guess who that one belonged too. With a shiver, she promised herself to steer clear of it.
Beside the dining room was an entertainment area. The door was open and Lan’ara could see a broad viewscreen set up and three large couches placed around it. She wondered what kind of vid shows the crew liked here. There had been a similar viewing room back at Twyleth Tigg and she and her girlfriends had gathered there most nights after their lessons for the day were done and watched all kinds of juicy trash—though they also had to watch comportment and etiquette vids there during the day.
She was just wondering where all of Need’s crew mates were, when there was a soft click from somewhere above her head and a smooth, deep voice murmured,
“All personnel please report to the dining area for Last Meal. Repeat, it is time for our evening repast. Please report at once.”
“Here they come,” Need murmured beside her and after a moment, Lan’ara saw a female-looking head and torso appear from around the corner of the hallway that led into the communal living area. It had long blonde hair and big green eyes—three of them. It was followed directly after by a male head and torso—also with three eyes. But when the two of them came completely into view, Lan’ara saw—to her shock—that both torsos were attached to the same waist.
The creature came lumbering into the kitchen on a set of legs like tree trunks, and the two beings—who were attached at the waist—seemed to be arguing about something.
“The Weblies ought to draft Bentis,” the male half of the strange duo was saying. “He’s the only player who can score enough goals to get them to the playoffs next season.”
“Oh please!” scoffed the female half. “Bentis couldn’t make a goal if the post was tied around his neck! The Weblies need Torger—and that’s who they’ll draft, if they know what’s good for them.”
Lan’ara couldn’t quite hold back a gasp. Her home world had been mostly humanoids with only an occasional gray-skinned Asher thrown in for variety. There were a few alien visitors from time to time, of course, but she had never seen anyone like the double person who was standing across the room from her.
“What’s the matter, girl—never seen a Duplo before?” Need muttered to her.
“Uh, no. No, I haven’t,” Lan’ara admitted.
“Try not to gape,” he told her. “Krax and Kreeva is the pilot—he/she won’t bother you as long as you don’t bother him/her. He/she is mostly too engaged in conversation with him/herself to mind anyone else anyway.”
“I thought you were the pilot, my…I mean, Need.” It still felt wrong to call him by his first name, she thought.
The big Kindred shook his head.
“Nah. I’m the Navigator—I use the star charts to plot our courses. It gets tricky sometimes because The Dark Heart specializes in ‘hard to get items.’ So often I’m taking back ways and finding new wormholes to get us around some sticky situations and avoid those who might want to search our cargo.”
He sounded justifiably proud of his skill, Lan’ara thought. She didn’t know much about space flight but she had heard that astro-navigation was supposed to be tricky, so clearly her new owner was a smart man.
Two more people came out of the hallway that must lead to the back of the ship and to Lan’ara’s relief, this time they weren’t joined at the waist. One was a short humanoid woman, only about four and a half feet tall. Despite her diminutive stature, she had a fierce air about her. She had brush-cut salt and pepper hair and deep-set gray eyes. She was wearing a white, long-sleeved jumpsuit which was neatly tailored to her petite frame.
Walking beside the tiny woman and bending almost double to talk to her was a tall, slender creature who Lan’ara thought was probably male. He had short black hair and glowing pink eyes and he seemed to be made of some stretchy, bendy material that contorted easily as he walked. His body was so thin and tall it reminded her of a long bean.
“Laxah is the ship’s med tech,” Need murmured to her, nodding at the short woman. “She’s kind of cranky but she’s good at what she does—patched me up more than once after a job gone wrong.”
He nodded at the bendy male talking to the tech. “And that’s Psoas, the engineer. He’s got the heart as soft as a mallow sweet unless he catches anyone messing with the ship. He loves The Dark Heart like it was his own baby and he’s very protective of her so mind you don’t go anywhere near the engine room.”
“I won’t,” Lan’ara promised quickly. She thought she could safely promise not to go anywhere on the ship except the big Kindred’s quarters—unless she was allowed out to help with the cooking or maybe to watch a vid in the viewing room. That would be nice but she wasn’t going to count on it. Need still seemed to be angry about having bought her in the first place. And that thing he’d said about liking her too much—what had that been about? Anyway, whatever it meant, Lan’ara doubted he was going to be very lenient with her about her leisure hours.
“Well, well—and who is this?” Laxah, the med tech, had turned from her conversation with the bendy engineer and was studying Lan’ara with sharp gray eyes. She looked from Lan’ara to Need and frowned. “I wasn’t informed that we had a new crew member aboard.”
“This is Lan’ara,” Need said, nodding at her. “And Lan’ara, this is Laxah.”
Well, at least he knew her name! He just called her “girl” so often, Lan’ara had wondered if maybe he had forgotten it.
“Hello,” she said politely, nodding at the med tech. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, my dear, but what is it you do? Why are you here?” Laxah demanded.
“Oh, um, my Lord—I mean Need—bought me at the slave auction back on Yys,” Lan’ara faltered.
“What?” Laxah’s gray eyes widened, then narrowed as she glared up at Need. “I thought the Kindred didn’t believe in dominating and mistreating females! I actually respected you—despite the fact that you’re male. And now you go and buy a female slave?”
“Now look, Laxah—it’s not like that,” the big Kindred protested uneasily.
“Then what is it like?” Laxah demanded. “Why would you buy her if you weren’t looking for a female to hurt and molest?”
The tall bendy pilot called Psoas had taken an interest in the conversation now. Though he was standing on the other side of the table from Need and Lan’ara, he stretched his long torso across the room to study Lan’ara with his bright pink eyes.
“She’s pretty—at least by humanoid standards,” he remarked to Need. “And don’t mind Laxah,” he added, speaking to Lan’ara. “She’s from Zetta Prime so she pretty much thinks all males are scum.”
“They are and there’s the proof!” Laxah exclaimed.
“But my Lord is not abusing or molesting me!” Lan’ara protested, quite forgetting in her rush to defend the big Kindred what he had told her about calling him by his first name. “He saved me.”
Laxah’s salt and pepper eyebrows rose nearly to her brush-cut hairline.
“My Lord?” she asked, looking at Need. “Is that what he has you calling him?”
“No, damn it,” Need growled. “It’s what they taught her to call her, uh, owner—at the fancy academy she attended before the pirates stole her and sold her to the slavers.”
“Who sold her to you, which makes you a slaver too!” Laxah snapped. “Or at least a slave owner.”
“Who’s a slaver?” the female head of the Duplo demanded. Both the male and female torso of the being was turned towards them. Clearly they had lost interest in their own argument in favor of paying attention to what was going on between Laxah and Need.
“Laxah, please!” the big Kindred said, frowning. “Don’t try
to paint me as some evil, abusing bastard just because I bought the girl.”
“Well how else would you characterize someone who buys a sex slave?” the diminutive med tech demanded.
“She’s not my sex slave!” Need roared. “I never—I haven’t taken her like that, all right?”
“You expect me to believe that?” Laxah sniffed. “You males are all the same.”
“Ah, I see we’re mostly here and assembled for Last Meal.”
The cool, smooth voice cut through the increasingly angry conversation and made Lan’ara turn her head. When she did, she saw a person who seemed to be made entirely of branches and vines entering the common area from the front of the ship. He had glowing gold eyes which looked her over with interest.
“You must be Needrix’s new acquisition. Welcome, my dear, to The Dark Star,” he remarked, nodding his head at Lan’ara as a crown of pale white flowers sprouted from his forehead. “I am Captain Glo’ll.”
Lan’ara knew the proper way to greet a male of status and rank—it was practically the first thing they taught you at Twyleth Tigg Academy.
“Hello, my Lord Captain,” she said, sinking into a low curtsey. “I thank you for your clemency in allowing my Lord Need to bring me aboard. Your kindness is beyond measure and your ship is the most beautiful one I have ever seen.”
Which was true, considering the only other long-range ships she’d been in had been the pirate ship, which had been kept pitch black, and the filthy, crowded hold of the slave ship. But her compliment seemed to please the Cytovian.
“Well!” Captain Glo’ll’s eyes glowed even brighter and a lovely red rose suddenly burst into bloom right over his heart—or where a humanoid’s heart would be, anyway. He nodded approvingly at her. “Such lovely manners!”
“Thank you, my Lord Captain.” Lan’ara rose gracefully and looked at the rose he had grown. “How enchanting! Do you always make such lovely flowers appear on your person?”
“I am Cytovian, my dear—we are a plant-based life form. Sprouting flowers is one of the ways we convey emotions—among other things.” He plucked the red rose from his chest and handed it to her.
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