Twenty-Six
“You’re very quiet this evening, my Lord. Is everything all right?” Lan’ara looked up at the big Kindred anxiously as they stood together by the counter.
She had been cooking and baking all day, making sweets for everyone. The small cakes had been finished an hour before noon and then she had tackled the Chieva brittle for Laxah. In the middle of that, Krax and Kreeva had stopped by and dropped off the recipe for jim-jams.
Lan’ara had even made a dessert for Captain Glo’ll. She had found the Cytovian’s private soil garden in one corner of the food prep area—a hidden, slide out drawer which had popped out at her when she accidentally bumped it with her hip. Inside the broad, deep drawer in a refrigerated and humidified environment were seventeen or eighteen different kinds of dirt of varying colors and textures.
She had chosen a dark, rich-smelling loam and mixed a little sweet-sap with it before using a fancy little ramekin she found in the dish cupboard to mold it into a fist-sized cake. This she had covered in cling-film and stored carefully in the cold unit beside the jim-jams.
Just as she had finished this, Need had finally walked into the food prep area, only about an hour and a half before Last Meal.
Now they were working together to prepare the evening repast, but the big Kindred was silent and brooding. He had barely said two words to Lan’ara the whole time, except to explain how to make the peebla bread while he made the Yerba stew.
“Fine. I’m fine,” he growled, giving one of the tung-tung roots an especially vicious chop with his knife. “Got no problems here, girl. Except for the fact that the whole crew is going to complain about the food when we serve it tonight,” he added, frowning.
“Why should they?” Lan’ara asked. “It all looks delicious!”
“Oh, it will be,” he assured her. “But like Laxah says, it’s what I always make. They’re pretty fucking sick of it by now, but I don’t have the time or inclination to learn anther damn recipe.”
Lan’ara had a sudden idea.
“My Lord,” she said carefully. “What if I made a few small variations on the recipe?”
He scowled at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…I could add some fresh herbs to the bread,” she suggested. “Maybe some different spices to the stew or a different vegetable or two. Just something to change things up a bit.”
He narrowed his bronze eyes and looked at her.
“You can do that?”
“Why not?” Lan’ara shrugged. “My mother used to say, any good recipe is just a stepping off point. The trick is to take it and make it your own.”
“Your mother, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “So you weren’t born and bred at that damn academy you told me about?”
“Oh no, my Lord. I lived with my mother and my four little brothers until I was fourteen,” Lan’ara told him.
“Ah, that’s right.” He nodded. “I’d forgotten, Gods damn me. You did say something about having a mother and brothers.”
Lan’ara nodded. “I also had a father. But he…” She cleared her throat. “He died in an accident at the mill he managed. Then things got…difficult.”
“Difficult, hmm?” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Would that difficulty have anything to do with how you ended up at that academy in the first place?”
Lan’ara nodded again.
“A scout came to our town. He was looking for good girls. Girls who hadn’t…hadn’t let a man ruin them,” she said, feeling her cheeks get hot.
“Ruin them?” His eyebrows shot up. “How could making love with someone ‘ruin’ you?”
“Because then I’d no longer be a virgin,” Lan’ara explained. “We were always told at the Academy that a man—especially one willing to pay what they were asking for us—would want to be first with the girl he chose.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” Need growled, scowling.
“Well, that’s just how it is.” Lan’ara cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was chaste and pure so… so the scout paid my mother and took me.”
She felt her cheeks get even hotter, remembering the things she had done with the big Kindred the night before. Nobody could call her chaste now. And yet even now she could feel herself wanting to do those things again…longing to touch him and let him touch her…
She’d been having the touch cravings ever since the big Kindred had first walked into the food prep area and greeted her with the surly words, “Time to make Last Meal.” The whole day long she’d barely been bothered at all—though she did think of Need often. But the moment she saw him, it was as though something woke up inside her. The secret flower she kept within, unfurled its petals and the longings began. Even now, as they spoke about her past, she could barely concentrate on anything because she wanted him so badly.
Lan’ara tried to find a subtle way to assuage her cravings.
“My Lord, could you show me the right way to knead this peebla bread? It seems too sticky to me,” she said, as she added some fresh cut herbs.
“Here, it’s not that hard,” Need growled and came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her to show her what she already knew. As surreptitiously as she could, Lan’ara leaned against him, brushing her own bare arm against his forearm, trying to feel his skin against hers.
If the big Kindred noticed her ruse, he didn’t mention it. Though he did seem to take a long time kneading the bread, Lan’ara thought, as though lingering over the task so they could be close.
Or maybe she was just imagining it. But was it her imagination when Need came to stand directly behind her and reached around to show her how to chop the plongas just right?
“There’s a trick to them,” he told her. “You want to be able to get the seeds out without scarring the flesh. Here—I’ll show you.”
Lan’ara pretended to watch but in actuality, she was just leaning back against his broad chest and enjoying the feeling of his big body encircling hers. That helped the cravings a lot more than just standing beside him watching him knead the bread while their forearms brushed, but she still felt like she needed more.
The flower inside her was hungry—greedy. It urged Lan’ara to do things…things that would have been unthinkable even a few days before. Her mind kept filling with images of the two of them naked in bed together, with Need on top of her, looking into her eyes as he filled her up with his thick shaft…
She told herself it was wrong to think such things and even wronger to act on them. She had to be a virgin to be acceptable to Senator Pouncenblast. But the Senator wasn’t here and even if he had been, the big Kindred was so much more attractive! He smelled so good and he was tall and muscular and strong and…
There you go again, getting carried away, Lan’ara told herself sternly. Stop it now and concentrate on making Last Meal!
She did the best she could, focusing on what she could do to change the flavor and texture profile of the yerba stew. It was basically a good, meaty broth with chunks of braised yerba and cubed vegetables floating in it. A blank canvas, Lan’ara thought. She mixed some of the warming spices she’d found in the cabinet and pureed some of the vegetables to thicken the thin broth. Soon a fragrant, spicy steam was rising from the stewpot and the bread was baking in the wave-oven.
“Well…” Need looked around. “The bread and stew are almost done and the table is set. Looks like everything here is ready. Guess I might as well go check our heading once more.”
“Wait!” Lan’ara blurted before he could go. She couldn’t bear for him to leave her now—not when she craved his touch so badly.
“Yes?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You need something, girl?”
“Would you…uh, could you teach me how to run the viewscreen in the vid room?” Lan’ara asked, searching for something—anything—to keep him with her. “I…I’d like to be able to watch something and keep an eye on the food too,” she explained.
Need’s eyebrows shot up but he only shrugged and led the way into the view
ing room. Picking up the remote-glove, he pointed it at the screen and pressed the Power button.
“There,” he said flatly. “It’s on.”
“Oh…” Lan’ara bit her lip, feeling foolish. “Thank you,” she said faintly. “But, wait,” she added quickly, as he was about to walk out again. “My Lord, won’t you show me how to find the vid programs?” She sat on the center couch and looked up at him appealingly. “Please?”
“Very well.” Need sat beside her and picked up the remove-glove again. Slipping it onto his big hand, he snapped his fingers, causing a scrolling list of programs to appear on the broad screen. “You just pick from here,” he explained.
Lan’ara took a chance and snuggled close to him, leaning against his side.
“You pick, my Lord,” she murmured, laying her cheek against his shoulder. “What is your favorite program?”
“Well…” The big Kindred seemed tense for a moment, but then he slowly relaxed. With a sigh, he put his arm around Lan’ara and drew her closer. “Let’s see…” he murmured and began scrolling through the list.
Lan’ara watched the screen but she barely saw anything. All she could think about was how good he smelled—how nice it was to be held close to his big, warm body. Safe in the circle of his arms, the touch cravings eased a little and she felt like she could relax for the first time since she’d woken up that morning.
Sighing happily, she snuggled even closer, determined to enjoy the time she had with the big Kindred for as long as he would allow it.
Need knew he shouldn’t be cuddling with the girl—she practically belonged to another male. In a day or two, or maybe less time than that, he would get a call from Genu Six and it would be that damned Senator, saying he wanted her and was willing to pay to get her back.
Not that the money mattered much to Need anymore. Of course, forty thousand credits was still a lot of cash, but getting his money back wasn’t his main reason for selling her to Senator Pouncenblast. No, what made him so eager—and so reluctant—to send her to Genu Six was the fact that she had gotten under his skin.
There was no denying it, Need admitted to himself as she pressed her lush, curvy body against his, while they watched a vid about deep-space asteroid mining. He wanted her—wanted to keep her. And that was dangerous territory to be in.
He couldn’t fall in love with her, he reminded himself sternly. That way led to heartache and ruin. Yet he already had one foot on the path because of all the touching they’d been doing.
A Kindred warrior—unlike males of other species—had a very difficult time giving his body without giving his heart. It was simply the way the Goddess had built them, which made having a loveless sexual encounter which was purely physical was difficult, if not impossible, to do.
Have to stop touching her, Need told himself. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to push the curvy little female away. She felt so right nestled in his arms, her soft cheek pressed against his chest. Curled up against him as she was, she reminded Need of a happy, contented feline and he couldn’t bear to dislodge her.
Well, it’s only this once, he told himself, trying to put his uneasiness out of his mind. You can sit with her on the couch without losing your heart. Besides, soon she’ll be gone and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.
The thought made him unaccountably sad but he pushed the emotion away. The girl had to leave—it was for the best. In the meantime, he would guard his heart and try not to do anything foolish.
What else could he do?
Twenty-Seven
Last Meal that night was a rousing success, much to Lan’ara’s delight. Everyone on the crew loved the subtly different yerba stew and peebla bread.
“This is the best you’ve ever made it!” Kreeva gushed to Need.
“It’s the same yet…different. But really good,” Krax said, agreeing with his other half for once.
“It does seem to have a whole different flavor profile,” Laxah said, nodding thoughtfully. “And the broth is thicker. I like the herbs in the bread, too.”
“You can thank Lan’ara here, for changing things up a bit,” the big Kindred rumbled, proving once again that he actually did know her name. Lan’ara wished again that he would call her by it instead of referring to her as “girl” all the time.
“Well, she’s done a wonderful job of waking up your tired old recipes,” Psoas said, grinning. “I’m just hoping she did half as good a job on the small cakes.”
“And the jim-jams!” Karx and Kreeva said at once.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to trying a piece of that brittle if it came out,” Laxah remarked.
“I have dessert for everyone,” Lan’ara told them, smiling. “If everyone is done with their main course, I’ll be happy to serve it.”
There was a chorus of agreement, so she got up and began clearing away the dishes. But to her surprise, Need got up too.
“I’ll do this, girl,” he told her, taking the stack of dirty dishes she was collecting from her hands. “You just dish out dessert—they’re all bursting to try the goodies you made for them.”
Surprised but grateful for his help, Lan’ara nodded and murmured, “Yes, my Lord.”
She went to work and soon had the small cakes, the jim-jams—which were a type of fried turnover with jammy fruit filling in the middle—and the chieva brittle all on the table. She passed out small dessert plates as well and everyone dug in.
Lan’ara had made certain to make enough of all the desserts so that everyone could try some of each. For the next few minutes, there were oohs and ahhs from everyone at the table as they enjoyed what she had made them. Psoas declared that her small cakes were just as good as the ones his mater used to make and Kreeva and Krax exclaimed that the jim-jams were the best they had ever tasted. Laxah was pleased with the chieva brittle too and complimented her on a job well done.
“That’s not an easy recipe,” she told Lan’ara. “Believe me, I’ve tried it more than once and I could never get the brittle this thin and delicate. How did you do it? Mine always comes out like a lump of lead!”
Lan’ara shrugged and smiled.
“I don’t know—I just seem to have a knack when it comes to food, especially sweets. At least that’s what my mother used to say.”
“Your mother was right,” Need told her. “I don’t usually have much of a sweet tooth, but these are damn good, girl.” He nodded to the small cake he still had on his plate and took another bite of it.
Lan’ara flushed with pleasure at his compliment. No matter what the rest of the crew thought of her efforts, it was Need’s opinion that mattered to her the most.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she murmured, smiling at him.
“Well, it seems like you’ve made my crew extremely happy with your culinary expertise, my dear,” Captain Glo’ll said to her. “Though I don’t approve of the kind of food you meat-creatures eat, I’m glad to see them satisfied.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Lan’ara jumped up and ran to the cold storage unit. She got the delicate little loam-cake she’d made earlier and brought it out to the captain. “I made something for you, too,” she told him. “I used a little of your special soil—I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well, how thoughtful of you!”
Captain’ Glo’ll’s golden eyes glowed with pleasure. He took the spoon Lan’ara offered him and dug in, taking a big bite of what looked like the world’s densest chocolate cake. As he chewed, his eyes widened and then closed in obvious pleasure.
“I hope you like it,” Lan’ara said. “I just put a little sweet sap and a few spices…”
“Like it?” The Cytovian’s eyes popped open. “My dear, I love it!”
A whole bouquet of long-stemmed roses in every color of the rainbow sprouted from his chest, right over his heart. He plucked them and handed them to Lan’ara, who blushed and took them with many thanks.
“In all my years as Captain of The Dark Star, no one has tried to make proper Cytovian food for me,�
�� he remarked, taking another bite of the sweetened loam cake. “And the fact that you went out of your way to make special treats for the rest of the crew speaks volumes about your character, my dear.” He looked at Need. “I know you consider this young lady an investment, but in my estimation, you’re a fool if you give her up.”
“Well…” Need looked distinctly uncomfortable but before he could really answer, a snorting, trollish voice broke through the crew’s chatter.
“I notice you made something special for everyone but me, so you did, girly,” Drung said, glaring at Lan’ara. “Why didn’t you come ask me what Trollox delicacy I might like for sweeties?”
“Oh, I…” Lan’ara didn’t know what to say. It was true—she hadn’t even thought to ask the huge Trollox what recipe she might make for him. But that was because she hated and feared him! He was the one who was responsible for asking the slaver to use that awful stick on her, which had stolen her maidenhead! And he had said crude and disgusting things to her more than once. That didn’t exactly make her want to do anything nice for him.
“She didn’t ask what you wanted because Trollox food is disgusting,” Psoas said, twisting his rubbery face into an expression of extreme revulsion.
“And I’ve told her several times never to go anywhere near your filthy room,” Need growled. “Besides, after all you’ve done and said to her, you don’t deserve a damn thing from Lan’ara.”
“She should have been mine,” Drung snarled, drool running down his tusks. “The girly should be cooking for me right now, and warming my bed with her soft little body!” He glared at Need. “Sell her to me. I have investments I can call in, so I can. I’ll pay you the forty thousand so you get your money back, so you will!”
“Why do you think I bought her in the first place?” Need exploded. His eyes were glowing red, Lan’ara noticed, her stomach clenching in fear. “To keep her away from you, you filthy, disgusting, Trollox! If you even come near her I’ll fucking kill you.”
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