“You don’t know the first thing about that female you bought,” the middle head of the Trollox called Drung snarled, its yellowed tusks dripping saliva as it spoke. “I stayed and talked to the slaver, so I did. I got her file. You don’t know how it is. After you touch her the right way—”
“I’m not interested in abusing her or in anything you have to say,” the Kindred, who was apparently called “Needrix” growled. “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone unless you have a work-related question.”
Ignoring the horrible snarl these words produced from the mountainous Trollox, he kicked the shiny side of the ship. Immediately, a hatchway opened for him and he walked in, still carrying Lan’ara.
Five
“So I guess this is your new home—for now,” Need said roughly as they entered The Dark Star. “It’s pretty standard—for a Cytovin vessel, anyway.”
He could tell by the girl’s wide eyes that the interior of the ship didn’t look standard to her. Need could hardly blame her—the first time he’d boarded a Cytovin vessel, he’d been surprised as well. For Cytovins—of which Captain Glo’ll was one—were sentient plants. Plants that required a lot of greenery.
Green and purple and orange creeper vines adorned the walls of the space ship, their large leaves fanning gently in the artificial breeze. A blanket of soft gray-green moss carpeted the floor of the corridor and tiny, white Star Blooms outlined every hatch and door.
In other words, the inside of the entire ship was like a garden.
The girl looked around, her gold-flecked eyes getting wider and wider.
“It’s…beautiful,” she breathed at last. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“Takes a bit of getting used to,” Need grunted. He put her down abruptly and she gasped and nearly fell, clutching at his arm to steady herself. Then, as though realizing what she’d done, she snatched her hand away again as though he’d burned her and shot him a fearful look.
Her reaction irritated him even further for some reason.
“I carried you through the marketplace because you couldn’t seem to keep up, but, but you can walk—right?” he demanded.
“Yes, my Lord.” The girl gave a quick nod, a fearful look on her lovely face as though she was trying to read his mood.
His mood was black, Need thought. He felt like a new pet owner who had been saddled with an exotic animal he didn’t want—an animal that was going to take more time and credit to care for than he had to give.
Behind them, Drung had entered the ship as well, his broad shoulders brushing against the Star Blooms and his Trollox stench nearly overpowering the sweet, green, growing scent of the plant life.
Need saw the girl flinch again, her eyes wide with fear. He would have to keep her well away from the big bastard of a Trollox, he decided. Clearly Drung scared her to death—probably because it was obvious he still wanted her. Imagine staying after the auction to speak to the slaver and read the girl’s file! What in the Seven Hells was wrong with him, still lusting after her when she was bought and paid for by another?
By me, Need thought angrily. Drung can’t have her—she’s mine! A surprising bolt of possessiveness shot through him at the thought. A wish to keep his new acquisition safe from the Trollox’s ravening lust.
The emotion surprised Need, and not in a good way. It was just his Kindred heritage asserting itself, he thought uneasily—making him want to take care of the helpless female. Still, he didn’t like being made to feel things against his will. Irritated all over again, he took the girl by the arm and began steering her down the plant and vine-lined corridor.
To his relief, Drung turned and lumbered the other way, going towards his own cabin which was at the opposite end of the ship from Need’s. Indeed, only Need and Captain Glo’ll had cabins in the front—private ones with bulkhead views of the stars. Yet another reason why the big Trollox was after his position—not that he’d ever get it, Need thought grimly.
He was in such a hurry to get the girl back to his quarters that he almost didn’t notice the way she was walking—hobbling really—as though she was hurt.
Need frowned and looked down at her. He’d thought that maybe the hard-packed dusty ground had hurt her feet out in the marketplace. But the carpet-moss which lined The Dark Heart’s floor was as soft as a pillow—a real pleasure to walk on. And yet she was limping along as though she was walking on knives. What in the Seven Hells was wrong with her?
The minute he got her into the room, he turned to the girl and glared at her.
“What’s wrong with you, anyway? Why are you walking like that?”
“Like what, my Lord?” She was still clutching his shirt to her chest, her eyes wide with fear.