Targeted

by Evangeline Anderson

  “I know—you have ripe, luscious curves.” He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently around. “You’re what the Twin Kindred call an ‘Elite’—a female the Goddess has blessed with a fuller figure than most.”

  Emily gave a little laugh that was almost half sob.

  “Seriously? Well, I guess that’s a nice way to put it.”

  “It’s the only way to put it.” His golden eyes roamed over her hungrily. “And besides, all Khalla are shaped as you are. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your curves or try to hide them.” He nodded at her arms, which were still crossed gingerly over her chest, hiding the silver nipple caps. “Now, what happened with the water? Were you trying to boil yourself alive?”

  “No. I was trying to get these off.” Reluctantly, she dropped her arms, revealing that she still had the silver pinchers on. She was glad that the metal dildo-like thing Grandy had given her to wear was safely hidden inside her—she really didn’t want him seeing that part of her as well.

  “Won’t they come off?” He frowned in concern.

  “Not for me, anyway.” Emily sighed. “I seem to remember that they hurt a lot going on. But that’s nothing to what it felt like when I tried to take them off.”

  The big Kindred swiped the water off and reached for a towel. “Come—let’s get you dry so I can have a look.”

  Emily stepped, shivering, out onto a green and blue vine bathmat and saw that the towel he was holding out for her seemed to be made of a hundred thousand tiny pink and orange flowers which had somehow been woven together into a rectangular piece of fabric.

  “What are those?” she asked uncertainly. “Uh—how can flowers dry me off?”

  “They’re water-mouth blossoms,” Tragar rumbled patiently. “They’ll suck away any moisture they find. Come…let me dry you.”

  Still feeling incredibly self conscious, but not quite as bad as she had before about being naked around him, Emily raised her arms slightly and allowed him to wrap the strange pink and orange flower-towel around her body.

  At once, she felt a light, feathery sensation as though a million tiny mouths were sucking at the moisture left by the shower. It didn’t hurt at all but it did feel strange and a little tickly.

  “Oh!” she looked down at herself but the towel didn’t seem to be doing any harm. In fact, as soon as she was dry, the tickling sensation stopped and it felt like any other towel. Well, if a towel had been made out of cool, waxy petals that was. Again, not uncomfortable but not exactly what she was used to either.

  “Come into the sleeping chamber where the light is better,” Tragar said. “Let me see if I can get those damn things off you.”

  He held the vine curtain aside and she stepped into the room and went to sit on the high bed which seemed to have a coverlet much like the towel only this one was made of larger, white blossoms with green centers. Emily didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it earlier—probably she’d still been disoriented from fainting.

  She still felt hungry but not nearly as lightheaded now. The shower had certainly woken her up and she did feel refreshed—although she could have done without the avalanche of foam and the freezing and scalding water at the end.

  “Now, come…” Tragar sank to his knees before her, just as he had back on his own ship, and gently parted her towel, baring her breasts.

  Emily caught her bottom lip between her teeth when she saw how much bigger her breasts had grown. Pretty soon there wouldn’t be a bra anywhere that would fit her! And they ached so much. Though the little voice inside her was still insisting she needed to keep the silver nipple caps on, she began to feel that it really was time to take them off. If they would come off, that was.

  “Please, be careful,” she said when he reached for her with his big hands. “I…it hurt so much when I even tried to get it off. I…I’m just so tender right now.”

  “I know you are, my Khalla.” His deep, rumbling voice was gentle as he cupped her full breasts in his hands, being careful not to touch the nipples just yet. “I believe that is because your nectar is ready to flow but the star-silver pinchers are keeping it in.”

  Emily shook her head.

  “But I don’t want it to flow. I’m afraid to let it flow.”

  “Change is always hard,” Tragar murmured. “But you cannot stop it from happening, Emily. The nectar must flow.”

  “But I don’t want to be pumping out that weird honey-looking stuff like a fountain,” she objected as he took the first nipple cap between his thumb and finger very gently. “I’ll be leaking and making a mess everywhere and my nightgown is already ruined!”

  “Xen’dex has some special clothing you can wear to help with that,” he assured her. “I’m going to try and take this one off now, Emily.”

  “All right.” Resolutely, she looked away, not wanting to see what he was doing. It was the same way she refused to watch the nurse stick her when she got a shot or had a blood draw. “But how is special clothing going to help?” she continued, talking to keep herself from thinking of the impending pain. “I mean, are there cups in it to collect the stuff or what?”

  “No, a Khalla’s nectar is meant to flow and bless whatever it lands on.” Tragar sounded distracted, as though he was concentrating hard on the task at hand, but he still answered her. “On Rageron, a Khalla in her second stage will often be taken to local farms that her flowing nectar may bless the crops. It’s said that ground which has absorbed the nectar of a Khalla is twice as fertile and will yield more abundantly than any other.”

  “So…she’s like some kind of weird traveling fertility goddess? Walking around, just leaking all over the crops?” Emily didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “Not exactly. The Khalla is a physical manifestation of the Goddess in her most perfect form. Her touch is healing and her honey and nectar are the essence of fruitfulness and life.”

  “That’s nice I guess,” Emily said doubtfully. “But will I have to do that once we get to Rageron? I mean, I know you’ve seen me, uh, without a top on. But I really don’t want to go all around in front of a bunch of strange farmers so I can water their crops with my, uh, nectar.”

  She had a mental image of a bunch of men in overalls and pitchforks who nodded sagely and watched as she squirted the amber-honey looking liquid over their cornfields, using her breasts like some kind of weird water guns.

  But Tragar was shaking his head—she could see it from the corner of her eye.

  “No—you won’t be required to do so. And you may be through the second stage before we get there.” He sounded a little grim. “It would be better if you stayed in Scintil and didn’t enter Vlammen until we reach the Holy Mountains but I’m not sure that will be possible.”

  “But what happens during Vlammen? I mean, I know you said something about my honey flowing like my nectar, whatever that means but—”

  “They’re off. You can look now.”

  “Really?” Emily looked down at her chest and saw that he had indeed managed to get the silver pinchers with their long, golden tassels off. “I didn’t feel a thing,” she exclaimed. “But, oh…am I okay?”

  Her nipples, which had been dark pink and very puffy, were now almost red and looked twice as swollen as before.

  “Don’t try to touch yourself,” Tragar cautioned. He had tossed the silver pinchers aside and was opening a small blue jar that had pale pink cream inside. It smelled like peppermint and flowers. “Here—let me rub some healing ointment on you—it should help.”

  “I hope so.” She nibbled her bottom lip nervously as he scooped some of the pale pink ointment up on one fingertip and began to slowly circle the outer edge of her areola with it. She knew he was probably just working his way inward, being careful not to hurt her, but the warm, gentle touch was doing strange things to her, making her throb and ache between her legs where the silver shaft was still buried.

  For a moment she wondered if she should tell him about that but she decided to keep quiet about it for n
ow. The little voice inside her still insisted it needed to stay where it was and anyway, she really didn’t want him looking between her legs and seeing how hot and wet his tender treatment of her nipples was making her pussy.

  “Feels all right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as his finger slipped over the tight red bud of her nipple.

  Emily nodded and bit back a moan. God—that felt amazing. How could the big Kindred be so stern and angry one minute and so gentle and careful the next? She tried not to notice how his golden eyes were half-lidded as he touched her or how good it felt when he put down the pot of ointment and rubbed both nipples at once, pinching and tugging lightly to really massage the pink healing salve into her flesh. Instead, she crossed her legs tightly, trying to fight the rising tide of desire inside her and failing miserably.

  At last, after stroking and rubbing her nipples for what felt like forever, he sat back a little. Emily dared to look down and was relieved to see that her swollen buds had at least returned to a dark pink shade instead of the ominous red. But Tragar was still frowning for some reason.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously, trying to read his face. “What’s wrong? They’re back to the right color at least—that’s good, right?”

  “They’re the right color but…” He cupped her globes and massaged gently with no result. “Look—your nectar isn’t flowing—not even a drop.”

  “Well, I mean that’s good right? That means I’m still in the first stage of Scintil?”

  He shook his head. “Based on how much fuller your breasts are, I believe you should be entering the second stage by now. The nectar must flow or you’re going to be in a great deal of pain, I’m afraid.”

  Emily bit her lip. In fact, now that he’d stopped touching her nipples, her breasts ached sharply again, making her wince when the heavy globes swayed with even the slightest movement. But she wasn’t sure if she ought to admit that or not.

  Tragar, however, seemed to read the pain on her face.

  “You’re already hurting, aren’t you?” he murmured, frowning at her. “Your breasts are giving you pain because they’re too full.”

  “It’s…uncomfortable,” Emily admitted. “But maybe it’s because the pinchers just came off. Maybe the situation will, uh, resolve itself after a little while.”

  “Maybe…” He didn’t sound convinced. But just then Emily’s stomach rumbled, much to her mortification.

  “Oh, excuse me!” She put a hand to her belly, her cheeks getting hot. “I’m just hungry, I guess. It’s been a long time since those protein bars we had back on your ship.”

  “As for that, I believe Xen’dex’s mate is making a late meal for us now. We’re going to eat with them and stay here tonight. We’ll be off again tomorrow as long as you’re well enough to travel.”

  “I’m well enough,” Emily protested.

  He frowned. “That remains to be seen. I still don’t like the way you’re not even producing a single drop of nectar from either peak.” He sighed. “But for now, let’s go eat and see if the situation will “resolve itself” as you said.”

  “But I can’t go out in nothing but a towel,” Emily protested. “And anyway, now that the pinchers are off, I’m back to square one. Everything hurts me except, well…” She could feel her cheeks getting hot with a blush. “Except you.”

  “I would love nothing better than to hold your breasts in my hands the entire time we are eating,” he growled softly. “As a true chosen mate would. But since I am not your chosen mate, it would probably be better for you to wear this.”

  He rose and went to the other side of the bed. There was a gauzy top there so lightweight it looked like it barely weighed a thing. It fluttered in the air lightly as Tragar brought it to her.

  “Lift your arms,” he instructed. “Let me slip it over your head.”

  “But…won’t it hurt?” Emily couldn’t help remembering how the soft, silky material of her nightgown had felt like sandpaper against her sensitive tips.

  “It is fabric made of the petals of the lassa flower—the same flower used to make the healing ointment,” he rumbled, pointing at the ointment pot still lying on the bed beside her. “It shouldn’t irritate your peaks—for a short time, at least.”

  “All right.” Carefully, she let the soft, floaty fabric settle around her. The top was pale green and had spaghetti straps that could be adjusted to be longer or shorter through a series of loops. “Hey—it really doesn’t hurt.” Emily was relieved as the soft blouse settled against her sensitive nipples. She could see them poking out under the flower fabric, making two obscene little tents, but at least they were covered. The hem of the top felt about to her navel and while she wished it was longer, Emily was just glad to be decent for now.

  “It won’t hurt at first,” Tragar said, handing her a long green skirt with a slit up the middle which appeared to go with the blouse. “Though after a little while even the lassa fabric will irritate you. But this blouse can be adjusted for that. Watch.”

  Leaning over her, he did something to the loops on the spaghetti straps, shortening them so that the hem of the pale green blouse was suddenly raised to just above her nipples.

  Emily bit her lip as she looked down at the obscene sight of her full breasts thrusting out from under the gauzy green fabric.

  “Um…is that really necessary?”

  “Not now. It maybe become so later, especially when your nectar starts to flow.” He readjusted the straps so that her breasts were hidden again, much to Emily’s relief. “The fabric also repels nectar so it won’t stain when it starts to flow. The nectar simply rolls right off.”

  “Okay, well that’s good I guess.” It still seemed to Emily that she was going to be walking around all sticky and leaving a trail of the honey-looking nectar everywhere she went but at least her clothes wouldn’t be stained. “Do you mind not looking while I put this on?” she asked, holding up the skirt. “I’m still kind of, um, shy.”

  Plus she didn’t want him to see the silver shaft which was still inside her. Her breasts might be achy and full but the shaft didn’t have anything to do with that—or so the little voice in her head insisted. And as long as it wasn’t hurting her, she had decided to leave it where it was. After all, if it could keep her from moving to the third stage, or Vlammen as Tragar called it, it would be worth a little discomfort of having a foreign object inside her.

  “Of course.” Tragar turned around courteously and she dropped the towel completely and pulled on the skirt. She wished she had panties to go with it but at least she was covered. The fabric was stretchy and the slit of the skirt came up to her mid thighs so she was easily able to walk in it.

  Once she was dressed, Emily felt much better. The skirt and blouse outfit, though not what she would have picked for herself, was certainly flattering. And even if it hadn’t been, anything was better than her ragged, stained nightgown.

  “I’m ready,” she said to Tragar and he turned around to look at her.

  “You look beautiful, my Khalla,” he murmured and held out an arm to her. “May I escort you to dinner?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Smiling and trying to ignore the ache in her breasts, Emily took his arm and let him lead her from the room. She could still feel the bumpy silver shaft moving within her with each step, but at least her nipples didn’t sting anymore and she and Tragar seemed to be on talking terms again. She just wished her breasts didn’t hurt with every step.

  Still, maybe the problem will take care of itself, she thought hopefully. Maybe the nectar will just go away—just dissipate or something. It didn’t seem very likely but a girl could hope, couldn’t she?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This is delicious, Saskia!” Emily said. “I’d ask for the recipe but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t find the ingredients back on Earth.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Saskia smiled and passed her a small piece of undu bread, shaped like a hand for good luck. “It’s my specialty, so it tis. Tho
ugh I never thought to be making it for a Khalla from so far away.”

  Tragar watched as Emily dug into the steaming bowl of charnoth stew which their hostess had set before her. It really was delicious, with a thick, meaty broth and chunks of taroth root and other vegetables throughout it. In contrast, there were also delicate simbla blossoms floating on its surface, their fragile purple petals unfurling in the steam.

  He was eating his own stew but keeping an eye on Emily, who was sitting directly across the table from him. So far, she still hadn’t shed a single drop of nectar and he was becoming more and more concerned.

  He knew the nectar wasn’t flowing yet because the pale green fabric of her clothing remained unchanged. The flower-blouse she had on would repel the liquid of course but still, the passage of the nectar would have changed its color, turning the pale green to a deep turquoise.

  Of course, when she really started flowing the straps would have to be adjusted to reveal her nipples completely—they would be much too sensitive at that point to have even the softest petal fabric against them. But so far Emily seemed to have no such problem. In fact, he would have thought she had no problem at all, but for the slight wince he saw on her face any time she moved too quickly and caused her heavy breasts to jiggle.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?” Xen’dex, who was sitting beside him, murmured for his ears alone. “Concerned about your Khalla.”

  “I removed those damned pinchers myself—she couldn’t stand to do it,” Tragar muttered back. “And her breasts have grown so much fuller I was certain her nectar would flow at once. But so far…not a drop.”

  “That’s not good.” Xen’dex frowned. “Possibly prolonged exposure to the star-silver inhibited her flow or thickened the nectar. Which can be extremely dangerous.”

  “She admitted her breasts ache,” Tragar said in a low voice. “But I don’t know what to do about it. I even tried massaging them but…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”