“On which side?” she asked hesitantly.
Need considered for a moment.
“Either,” he said at last. “I usually sleep in the middle so it doesn’t matter which side you take. Just pick one and I’ll take the other.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” she murmured and slipped beneath the covers on the right side of the bed.
Need took the left, more aware than he wanted to be of her curvy form under the covers beside him in the darkened room. Maybe he ought to sleep on top of the covers to avoid temptation? But no—that was ridiculous! He could control himself. He just had to put his mind to it, that was all.
The thing was, he knew perfectly well that if the girl had shied from his hand or begged him not to touch her, he would have had no problem leaving her alone. Like all Kindred, he had no interest in an unwilling female. It was the fact that she needed him—that she all but begged him to stroke and caress her ripe body—that made her so hard to resist.
Of course, a case could be made that she was only begging for his touch in order to gain his goodwill. That could certainly be true—she was, after all, technically his property and she would want to remain in his good graces as much as possible.
The theory might have held water—except for her scent, Need thought, grinding his teeth together. Her Goddess-damned, enticing feminine scent.
He could smell it even now—the delicious fragrance of her desire. It was laced with lust pheromones that a male with a less-discerning sense of smell never would have noticed. But Need’s sensitive Kindred nose told him exactly how much the girl wanted him and let him know that her longing for his touch was no lie.
When she had spoken of being in pain, back in the sonic shower booth, she had been telling the truth. Her body was in some kind of cycle, he thought—that had to be it. The way she was getting so hot and bothered…and the way her nipples leaked the sweet, sticky nectar when she was aroused and close to coming…not to mention how sweet her pussy honey had become.
It must be what Drung had called her “Ripening” whatever the hell that meant. Need wished to the Goddess he had stayed long enough for the slaver to give him the file that went with the girl, but he’d been in too much of a hurry to be rid of her.
Aren’t you still in a hurry to be rid of her? whispered a little voice in his head. And well you should be. Having her close is dangerous—she’s too beautiful, too easy to like, maybe even to love if you let her stay long enough. Be careful, Need—once you let her creep into your heart, there will be no getting her out again.
Right. Which was why he fully intended to get rid of her as soon as he possibly could.
He turned over resolutely, putting his back to the girl, determined to put her out of his mind and get some sleep.
But that was when he felt her shivering.
Lan’ara was cold…so cold. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She just knew that the minute she slid between the crisp sheets, she felt her body temperature start to drop.
She clutched her arms around herself and drew her knees up to her breasts, tucking as much of her body as possible into the long black undershirt Need had given her to sleep in. She slipped her fingers—which suddenly felt almost frost-bitten—into her armpits and curled her toes tight to try and conserve body heat.
None of it helped—she just got colder and colder.
Lan’ara knew she was tucked into a warm bed with plenty of covers around her, but for all the good they did her, she might as well have been standing naked in an icy wind at midnight. She was that cold.
Her body shivered helplessly and her teeth began to chatter. What was wrong with her?
Apparently the big Kindred wondered the same thing because he turned over in the bed to face her, his bronze eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
“What in the Seven Hells is wrong with you, girl?” he demanded, a note of worry in his voice.
“I d-don’t kn-know,” Lan’ara admitted, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely speak. “I’m j-j-just so cuh-cold all of a s-sudden!”
“You’re shivering,” he pointed out. “But it’s not a bit cold in the room—if anything it’s warm.”
“N-not to m-m-me,” she gasped.
He reached out to her and she felt his warm fingertips brush over her arm.
“Gods, your skin is like ice!” he exclaimed. “But why? It makes no fucking sense!”
Lan’ara wanted to tell him it didn’t matter if her sudden shivering and chills made sense or not—the fact was that they were happening and she was miserable! But by that time, she could barely get her frozen lips to form words at all—in fact, she was so cold she felt in danger of freezing solid, like one of those fossils scientists found on planets which were frozen now, but had once held life.