Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Oh, am I?” Lan’ara put her fingertips to her hot cheeks. “I guess maybe…don’t you think it’s a bit warm in here, my Lord?” she asked, indicating his living quarters.
His frown deepened.
“It’s the same temperature it’s always been. Usually you’re too cold.”
He was clearly referring to the way Lan’ara asked him to “warm her up” every night—a request that always ended with the two of them naked, their bodies entwined. This made Lan’ara blush even harder because—while she had done things with the big Kindred she never would have dreamed of in her chaste life at the Twyleth Tigg Academy—they still didn’t talk about their bedroom activities.
Well, except for Need promising he would never touch her again every morning, that was, she thought ruefully. She wished he would touch her now. Even though they hadn’t been out of bed that long, last night still seemed a long time ago and her body was already hungry for his touch again. She wanted to feel his big hands caressing her body—his mouth between her legs.
But of course she couldn’t say that—it would only make him angry.
“Maybe I’m just flushed with excitement,” she said, trying to smile. “Other than that awful planet where you bought me, I’ve never been on another world before.”
“Well, Felicitus Twelve is nice enough, as long as you stay close to the civilized quarter,” Need lectured. “But you don’t want to go wandering off into any dark alleyways while we’re there. They do a brisk business in cloning and they’re not particular who they chop up to grow clones from.”
“Chop up?” Lan’ara asked, horrified.
He nodded grimly.
“Takes a good-sized piece of flesh to grow a passable clone—a finger at least. So if you don’t want to find yourself parceled out into finger-sized pieces for your DNA, you’d better stick close to me.”
“I will,” Lan’ara promised quickly. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time, my Lord!”
“Good.” He nodded. “There are plenty of sex slavers too. So like I said, stick close. Now come on—Myakk is supposed to meet us at exactly half past noon—which can be tricky to calculate since Felicitus Twelve has two suns. If I’m not there on time, he might get nervous and leave before we can finalize the sale and get the product.”
“Of course.” Lan’ara nodded and followed him out of his quarters. She promised herself she would stick to the big Kindred as though she was his shadow—there was no way she wanted to go wandering off and get chopped up for clones or captured by sex slavers!
No way in the Seven Hells, as Need would say.
Thirty-One
Need strode through the main marketplace on Volusia, the capital city of the main continent of Felicitus Twelve. It was a colorful place—not quite as brutal and bloodthirsty as the market he’d bought Lan’ara at, he thought. Though he was well aware that the charming outer appearance could be misleading. Down every dark alleyway was a slaver or a chop-shop artist looking for prey. Abductions from the Felicitus market were common and finding the person who had been abducted was rare.
Which was one reason he kept a firm hold of Lan’ara’s hand, entwining her small, slim fingers with his as they walked along. He was well aware that the two of them probably looked like lovers out for a stroll, but for once he didn’t care.
He didn’t actually like bringing the girl with him to the deceptively dangerous market and had weighed the decision carefully before he made it. But leaving her alone in The Dark Heart with Drung at large just wasn’t an option. The marketplace might be hazardous but at least here he could keep her with him and protect her at all times.
He watched Lan’ara ooh and ahh at some of the booths they passed as they walked. One of them was selling Celorian silk, the diaphanous fabric so fine it floated in the lightest breeze like a flutterby’s wings. It was dyed all manner of wondrous hues and kept changing colors as the pale bluish sunlight of Felicitus Twelve’s main sun hit it.
Beside the silk booth was a tassel shop. Felicitan women wore the long, silky, braided tassels as jewelry and adornments, hanging from earbobs and necklaces and belts.
Need found himself thinking that Lan’ara would look very well in a new gown made of the silk and adorned with the tassels. She would probably enjoy wearing something besides one of his uniform shirts, too. Not that he would be buying her something new to wear as any kind of a gift because he liked her, he hastened to tell himself. But only because Senator Pouncenblast would be more likely to buy the girl if she was dressed and presented well.
The thought of selling her to the other male had become less and less palatable to Need recently, but he refused to abandon it entirely. If he gave in and admitted he wanted to keep her—that he was falling for her—then he admitted he was willing to be hurt again.