The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

“Right,” Laxah scoffed. “Save her from what may I ask?”

“There she is,” a deep, grunting voice proclaimed, cutting through the mutters of the other crew members as they watched Laxah shouting at Need. “There she is—the female who should have been mine.”

Eighteen

Lan’ara felt fear twist like a knife in her gut as she turned and saw the huge Trollox standing in the doorway. He was so big, he filled it completely, blocking access in or out of the common area—not that she was about to try and run past him, she thought. She shrank back behind Need instead, barely keeping her head out just a bit so she could keep an eye on the monstrous form looming over them.

All three heads had their greedy little eyes fastened on her and the middle head—the only one that seemed to talk—was slavering. Thick streams of drool ran down between its yellow tusks and sank into the mossy floor. Its moist, piggish snout wrinkled as it sniffed the air—smelling for her scent, no doubt, Lan’ara thought faintly.

“Should have been mine!” Drung grunted again, still eyeing her with all three heads. “A certified virgin and with nice wide hips—she would have been perfect to carry my heir, so she would!”

“Carry your heir?” Laxah interjected, staring with distaste at the huge Trollox. “What in the name of the Goddess are you talking about, you filthy swine?”

“Drung was bidding on the girl at the same time I was,” Need spoke to the med tech but his eyes were fixed steadily on Drung. Hiding behind him, Lan’ara could feel how tense his big, muscular body was—as though he was preparing to fight the Trollox if he had to.

“He was?” Understanding suddenly filled Laxah’s sharp gray eyes.

“Yes, but I won the bid,” Need growled. “The girl is mine,” he added, glaring up at Drung.

“And how much do you know about her?” the Trollox demanded. “You might have gotten the girl but I got her file, so I did. Tell me, Kindred, has she started making nectar yet? Has she started having the Touch Cravings? What about the Shivers—or the Thirst?”

“What do you know about it?” Need demanded.

“Afraid I can’t tell you that.” All three pairs of greedy eyes focused on Lan’ara again. “Though maybe I’d be willing to let you have a peep at the file for a night with the girl. Just one night wouldn’t hurt. I wouldn’t stretch her out too much—just put the tip in, I would.”

“You stay away from her!” Need snarled angrily. “Or by the Goddess, I’ll rip off every one of your fucking heads and your shaft and feed them to the deep dark outside!”

“All right, all right—enough posturing.” Captain Glo’ll’s smooth voice was stern. “You meat-creatures are always so possessive,” he scolded, frowning as he shed leaves all over the moss carpet. “Drung, the girl belongs to Needrix, who bought her fair and square and I don’t want to hear anything more about it. Now—let’s all take our places at the table, shall we? Whose turn was it to cook tonight?”

“My turn,” Kreeva, the female half of the Duplo answered. “But Krax wouldn’t help me, so I’m afraid it’s just turny-flips tonight.”

“What do you mean, I wouldn’t help you?” the male part of the Duplo demanded as they all took their seats around the table. “I always help you!”

“No, you don’t!” the female half snapped back. “You’re lazy! You’d rather play on your entertainment link than lift a hand to chop a vegetable once in a while.”

The Duplo went on arguing with itself as he/she passed out the food, which appeared to be a kind of flat bread folded over with filling inside, and poured everyone a glass of weak green wine.

Lan’ara found herself seated at the far left side of the table with Need across from her, Captain Glo’ll to her right, and Laxah to her left. Drung, to her great relief, sat at the far other end of the table on the thick wooden stool she’d noticed when they first came in.

“So Need bought you in order to keep Drung from getting his filthy paws on you?” Laxah demanded, before Lan’ara could even take the first bite of her turny-flip.

“Yes, exactly,” she said quickly, wishing the other woman would just let the subject drop. “And I cannot tell you how grateful I am to my Lord for rescuing me.”

Laxah snorted.

“There you go with that ‘my Lord’ nonsense again! Does he really want you to call him that, as though he was some kind of royalty?”

“No, I don’t,” Need growled before Lan’ara could answer. “But it seems she can’t break herself of it, no matter how often I tell her to just call me by my name.”

“It’s disrespectful to call your owner or husband by his first name,” Lan’ara objected. “Or so I was taught,” she added quickly, not wanting to give offense.