The sensitive tubb-oh was clearly upset by this arrangement—it shivered and shook like an equine with a stinging fly on its back. But its front paws had been hobbled so it couldn’t move an inch, let alone get rid of the stranger inhabiting it.
Need saw at once that it was Velda—if there had been any question, the jewel colored tanska fruit were still rolling around in the bottom of the tubb-oh. And since Velda was here, Lan’ara was hopefully close by.
“Hey—wake up!” He shook the shoulder of the one sleeping in the tubb-oh roughly. “Get up! I want to ask you some questions!”
“Wha…?” The man opened bloodshot eyes, bleary from drink. “Wha choo want, Mister?” he slurred, squinting up at Need.
“The girl—I want the girl that was in this tubb-oh.” Need grabbed him by the front of his slick, greasy shirt and yanked the male up to glare at him. “And you’re going to tell me where she is or I’ll bash your brains out against the pavement there!” he added, nodding down at the cracked paving stones that lined the narrow road.
The male’s bleary eyes widened and he nearly choked.
“Wh-what girl? I ent seen no girl!” he gasped. “Why Slick and I found this tubb-oh wanderin’ around loose but there weren’t no girl in it!”
By the way his eyes were shifting all around, Need could tell he was lying. Wrapping one hand around the male’s dirty throat, he dragged him out of the tubb-oh and rapped his head smartly against the hard wooden side of the tavern.
“Oh!” the man clutched at his head. “That hurts!”
“Lies are painful,” Need advised him. “Tell me the truth this time or I’ll knock your brains out!”
Apparently his threat did the trick.
“Mistress Bigaboo has her, so she does!” he howled. “Please don’t kill me, kind sir!”
“I might not if you tell me where this Mistress Bigaboo is. Make it quick, now!” And he made as if to knock the male’s head against the pavement.
“I’ll tell, I’ll tell!” he howled so loudly that the other man, who had been snoring like a porcine, came awake with a snort and blinked his eyes owlishly at Need.
“Wha’s goin’ on, Slick?” he demanded blearily. “You already drank up your share of the profits?”
“Profits from what?” Need demanded.
“From sellin’ the girl to Mistress Bigaboo, o’course,” the man replied. He squinted at Need. “Do I know you?”
“No, but you’re going to.” Red Rage was creeping over Need, tinting his vision and making everything look bloody. He wanted to kill these two bastards. Clearly they had found Velda with Lan’ara inside and had taken the liberty of selling the girl to buy drink for themselves.
But if you kill them, you’ll never find out where Lan’ara is! the voice of reason whispered in his head. Be careful Need—find out where she is before you give in to the Rage.
Reaching down, he lifted the other drunk by his throat as well so that the two of them dangled like rag dolls from his hands.
“Now tell me!” he roared in their faces. “Where is this Mistress Bigaboo and what has she done with my Lan’ara?”
“She…she runs a brothel,” the second male gasped. “Down on the Southeast corner of the docks.”
“You’ll know it by the sign,” the other said helpfully. “It says ‘pretty pussy for cheap’ so it does!”
“A brothel? You sold my female to a brothel?” Need roared. “When? How long ago?”
The two of them shook their heads wildly.
“Don’t know!” the first male gasped. “Couldn’t have been too long ago—I still have half a bottle left.”
“She’s a virgin!” Need was so angry now his head was pounding. “A virgin and you sold her to a whorehouse!”
“Well she won’t be much longer if you don’t hurry,” the second male told him. “Mistress Bigaboo believes in breaking in the new girls right quick. So you better let us go if you wanna get to her before that happens.”
Need couldn’t take it anymore. With an angry move, he bashed their heads together as hard as he could and then dropped them in a heap on the dirty paving stones. He had no more time to waste with these bastards—he had to find Lan’ara and fast.
Before it was too late.
Thirty-Eight
“Come on now, girlie! The Mistress said you might be a bit shy so I’ve been patient-like. But enough is enough, I paid top dollar for you and now it’s time for you to put out.”
The huge, dirty man advanced on Lan’ara, who backed away from him as fast as she could.
“Please,” she begged. “I don’t belong here! Please, kind sir—if you could just help me get back to my rightful owner, he’ll pay you a large reward—I know he will!”
“Don’t want no ‘large reward’,” the man snarled, turning suddenly nasty. “Just want to dip my wick in your sweet honey pot, girlie. So get on the bed and spread for me—now!”
“No!” As she backed away, Lan’ara searched desperately for something—anything—she could use as a weapon. But there was nothing in the room except the flat pillow and stiff, dirty blanket on the rickety cot. She didn’t want to get anywhere near there for fear her first “customer” as Mistress Bigaboo called him, might force her down on the filthy mattress. Just the thought of that—of having him anywhere near her—had her stomach roiling.
He had backed her almost into a corner, near the dirty slit which served as a window. The faint breeze, redolent with the odor of rotten fish and filth drifted in, making her feel even more nauseous. Turning her head, Lan’ara shouted out the window.
“Help! Somebody help me! I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being attacked!”
“Yell all you want. Just who do you think is gonna come, girlie?” the huge man sneered. “You think you’re the first unwilling female Mistress Bigaboo forced to be a whore? Nobody ‘round these parts cares. So just get on the bed and spread your legs for me so we can have a little fun.”
“No!” Lan’ara gasped as he made a grab for her. She broke and ran but there was nowhere to run. In a half-second, the man had her up against the wall, caging her with his arms on either side of her head.
“Now, girlie,” he snarled, his breath thick and rotten as it blew in her face. “You’re gonna give me what I paid for!” And he grabbed her by the shoulders so she couldn’t get away.
Lan’ara felt her stomach rolling at the touch of his skin against hers. She wanted to fight—wanted to struggle—but the sudden nausea overcame her and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up all over the man.
“Please,” she gasped, turning her head to try and keep him from kissing her—which he was now trying to do. “Please, I’m going to be sick!”
Oh Gods and Goddesses, where was Need? And what was she going to do if he never found her?
Thirty-Nine
Need found the brothel the two drunk idiots had mentioned easily enough. It had a blinking holo-sign out front that showed an erect phallus squirting cum in a splashing arc over and over. Under that blinked the words, “Pretty Pussy for Cheap!!!” just as the males had described.
Gods, to think that Lan’ara had been sold to a place like this for the price of a drink! It was almost more than he could bear.
He stiff-armed the cheap wooden door, leaving it hanging on one hinge as he barged into the darkened interior.
“Hey, now! What do you think you’re doing?”
A blousy female with matted red hair came running up to him. The Rage was on him so intensely Need could hardly speak. But somehow he managed to get out a few words.
“A girl was brought to you,” he snarled, glaring down at her. “Long, curly hair and big dark eyes with gold flecks in them. Creamy brown skin. Where is she?”
The female—who must be Mistress Bigaboo—frowned and put a hand on her ample hip.
“If you’re talking about my new girl, you’ll have to wait your turn. She’s with a customer now.”
“What?” Need roared so loudly that
she actually turned pale and took a step back. “Where is she?” he demanded, glaring at her.
His eyes felt hot and red and he knew they were probably glowing with the Rage—the murderous need to kill whoever had threatened his female. But he didn’t care—he just needed to get to Lan’ara.
“WHERE IS SHE?” he roared in the woman’s face.
“I…she…” Mistress Bigaboo took a step back, her face white.
And that was when he heard Lan’ara’s voice coming from somewhere above.
“Help! Somebody help me! I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being attacked!”
Need cocked his head for a moment and then charged up the rickety stairs. He was greeted by a long hallway with a row of doors on either side.
Need glared at the cheap wooden doors. Lan’ara was behind one of them and he was going to find her and kill whoever had made her scream like that.
He swore he would.
Forty
Lan’ara was going to throw up—she knew she was. The more the big, dirty man touched her, the sicker she felt. Her body was reacting to him with the same violent intensity she remembered from the time she’d eaten bad stew meat that one time when she was younger. She wanted to scream but she didn’t dare to open her mouth again for fear she would lose every bit of the breakfast she’d eaten that morning—a morning which seemed so dreadfully far away and long ago she could barely remember it.
Dimly, she was aware that there was some kind of commotion going on outside her room. The sound of doors slamming open and people shouting penetrated the fog of nausea but the pressing need she felt to empty the contents of her stomach was so overwhelming she could scarcely pay it any attention.
“Come on, girlie—give us a kiss,” the customer holding her against he wall crooned, leaning closer.
Lan’ara squeezed her eyes closed and turned her head to the side, avoiding his mouth, filled with rotten teeth. His breath was worse than the fetid odor wafting through the window but that alone couldn’t account for her need to throw up—could it?
Going to puke! she thought dismally—she hated to throw up! Going to be sick all over him…
And then something penetrated the fog around her. Someone was calling her name. No…not just calling it—roaring it.
“Lan’ara? Girl, where in the Seven Hells are you?”
Lan’ara felt a surge of hope. She swallowed hard, trying to get her gorge under control.
“Here!” she gasped, wishing her voice would come out stronger…louder. “I’m here, Need—in here!”
Her voice sounded barely more than a whisper in her own ears but somehow it was enough. The wooden door to her room banged open, splintering into long, jagged shards with the impact as it hit the wall. Looking over the customer’s shoulder, Lan’ara saw Need standing there. Or maybe looming might have been a better word.
His eyes were blazing and blood red and he seemed to have grown somehow—to have doubled in height and mass. His broad shoulders filled the doorway and his chest heaved with emotion.
“You!” His voice was a low, menacing growl that would have struck fear into the heart of even the fiercest male. “Get your hands off my female—now!”
“What?” The dirty male pinning Lan’ara to the wall half-turned his head in apparent confusion. “Who are you?” he snapped at Need. “Wait your turn—I already paid.”
This was absolutely the wrong thing to say to the huge, angry Kindred warrior. Striding forward, he took the man’s head in both hands and gave a sharp twist.
There was a sickening crunch and then Lan’ara found she was looking at the back of the man’s head instead of the front. Need had twisted it all the way around so that his greasy, thinning hair was where his face had been a moment before.
The man’s hands dropped lifelessly away from her shoulders and his big body sagged in Need’s merciless grip.
The moment his skin was no longer touching hers, the terrible need to puke which had come on her the moment he grabbed her, left Lan’ara immediately. It was replaced by a swell of relief so strong it nearly knocked her over.
“Need!” she gasped, forgetting for once to call him “my Lord.” “Oh, Need, you came for me!”
“Of course, I came for you, girl!” He dropped the limp body of the other male and kicked it to one side as he reached for her. “Are you all right?” He studied her anxiously. “Did he hurt you?”
Lan’ara shook her head.
“He tried but he didn’t…he hadn’t…”
But no more words would come. Instead she let out a sob and then she was safe in Need’s arms and the big Kindred was holding her.
He picked her up like a baby and cradled her close to his chest. Lan’ara buried her face in his neck and sobbed, overcome with relief from the tension inside her that had stretched her nearly to the breaking point.
“I…I hoped you were looking for me,” she gasped at last. “But I didn’t know…couldn’t be sure. I was so scared, Need—so scared!”
“Of course you were. It’s all right now—all right, sweetheart.” His deep voice was a soft, soothing rumble—much different from the ferocious, menacing growl he’d been using only a moment earlier.
Lan’ara barely registered the endearment, though part of her noted it was nice he wasn’t calling her ‘girl’ for once.
“What happened?” he asked her. “How did you get here? Did those two bastards I saw outside find you and sell you?”
“I…I guess so.” Lan’ara swiped at her eyes and looked up at him. “But I didn’t know it. I think I must have inhaled some of the yarrow root powder before I bumped my head on Velda’s side. Because when I woke up, everything seemed beautiful and perfect and the two men who found me seemed kind and helpful.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Even Mistress Bigaboo seemed angelically lovely.”
“If that’s the female downstairs then that yarrow root is strong stuff,” Need muttered. “But look, sweetheart—you’re sure you’re all right? Nobody hurt you? Nobody forced you to…” He trailed off, looking at her anxiously.
“He was trying.” Lan’ara nodded down at the limp form of the “customer” lying with his head twisted all the way around so that he was staring blankly at the rotten timbers of the ceiling, though his chest and stomach were pressed to the sagging floorboards. “He was trying to,” she told Need again. “But he didn’t. You got to me in time. Just in time.”
She sighed and pressed her face to his neck again, breathing in his comforting, spicy scent. He smelled like safety and protection, she thought. He smelled like home.
“Good.” Need held her tighter. “Thank the Goddess I got to you when I did. I never should have brought you out here in the first place.”
“You couldn’t have known all this would happen,” Lan’ara pointed out. “And besides, I’m safe now that you’re here. Always safe with you, my Lord.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “But please—can we go home now? I mean, back to the ship? I’m so dreadfully tired.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take you back to The Dark Heart and ask Captain Glo’ll to keep an eye on you. He should be back by now.” He sighed. “Then I have to clean up this mess. Myakk inhaled some of the yarrow root too, but I’m afraid he’s on a bad trip. Thinks all the demons of all the Seven Hells are after him.” He shook his head. “Not sure how I’m going to salvage the deal.”
“Oh dear! If you need to tend to that first—” Lan’ara began.
“No.” Need shook his head firmly. “No, you come first.”
And still cradling her close to his chest, he carried her out of the room and away from the awful whorehouse.
Forty-One
For a wonder, Velda was still tied and hobbled where Need had last seen her. The two drunks, however, were nowhere to be found. Which was a damn good thing for them—Need wouldn’t have been opposed to bashing their heads together again to teach them a lesson about how to treat a female in distress.
Before dealing with Myakk again—who could still be seen flopping in the pile of cushions and moaning that demons were eating his soul, Need took Lan’ara back to The Dark Heart. There, he was relieved to find out that Drung had decided to go out and explore the marketplace after all.
“Are you sure?” he asked Psoas, who met them at the door.
The engineer nodded, his long, rubbery neck swaying with the motion.
“He heard there was a brothel that catered to Trollox—never saw him lumber so fast in my life.” Psoas laughed. “Told me not to wait up because he expected to be there a while.”
Need smiled grimly in return.
“I feel sorry for the females working there. But I’m glad he’s out—I need to leave Lan’ara here for a bit while I finish sorting out our shipment.”
“I see.” Psoas’ pink eyes scanned over the scantily-clad girl—Need had given her his shirt to tie around her waist, which hid the high slit in the skirt, but the top of her gown still plunged far past the point of decency. “Something wrong?” he asked casually.
“Wrong? No, of course not,” Need lied. “The girl’s tired out—that’s all.” He looked at Lan’ara. “Why don’t you go lock yourself in my quarters and take a rest, sweetheart?”
“Yes, my Lord.” Raising up on tiptoes, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you again for rescuing me,” she whispered.
Need suppressed the urge to draw her to him and hug her tight. After so nearly losing her, the last thing he wanted was to leave her alone again. But he had to get this mess with Myakk straightened out or he would never hear the end of it from Captain Glo’ll.
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