The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

Psoas frowned.

“I don’t know that she’s suited to engineering. I’m able to stretch and contort myself to see any part of the ship’s engine at any time.” He frowned thoughtfully at Lan’ara. “How stretchy are you? And are you good with mechanical things?”

“Not very and not at all, I’m afraid,” Lan’ara said apologetically. “What I’m best at, honestly, is cooking and baking.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Psoas’s pink eyes brightened. “You were going to make me small cakes today, right?”

“Sure.” Lan’ara smiled. “My Lord Need has told me that I’m on my own until this evening. I would be pleased to spend the day making your family recipe.”

Laxah scowled.

“There you go again—jumping to serve a male’s will!”

“No, I honestly love to cook,” Lan’ara protested. “And trying new recipes is fun. Maybe I could make something for you, too?” she asked Laxah.

“Well, if you honestly like to cook, there is that chieva brittle I was telling you about last night, before that swine, Drung interrupted us.” She made a face.

“I’d be pleased to make it for you,” Lan’ara said quickly, not wanting to talk or think about the disgusting Trollox.

“Small cakes first, though!” Psoas exclaimed. “Here—I’ll get you the recipe. I printed it out last night after Last Meal.”

One of his arms stretched out the doorway and down the corridor which led to the back part of the ship. It got longer and longer and thinner and thinner until it was completely out of sight. But a moment later, it was snaking back to its owner, one six-fingered hand clutching a printed sheet of paper.

“Thank you,” Lan’ara said politely, taking it from him. She scanned it over and nodded to herself. Small cakes looked to be a kind of little hand-held confection coated in a creamy glaze—not unlike the fairy bites she’d made at the academy. They would be time-consuming to make, but she had all day, after all.

“Well?” Psoas’s head was hovering over her shoulder anxiously, reading the recipe as she scanned it. “What do you think? Can you make them?”

“Absolutely, as long as we have all the ingredients,” Lan’ara told him.

“We do! We do! Here!” Both arms stretched out this time and his hands opened the tall dry storage pantry and began eagerly picking out boxes and bottles.

“Psoas, I wish you’d at least get up,” Laxah grumbled as she rose to wash out her goo bowl at the sink, maneuvering around the long, stretchy arms as she did. “You take up so much more space, all spread out that way!”

“Sorry.” The engineer’s body got up from the couch and came to join his head and hands. He did take up less space when he was all together, Lan’ara thought. “There,” he told her, nodding proudly at the assembled ingredients on the counter. “Everything you need to make small cakes.”

“I’ll get right to work,” Lan’ara promised, smiling. “You can have them for dessert after Last Meal tonight.”

“Small cakes for dessert! I could just kiss you!” Psoas exclaimed, his neck stretching so that his face was quite close to Lan’ara’s. “Oh, but I’d better not,” he added, withdrawing a bit. “I’m pretty sure Needrix wouldn’t like that, even if it was only intended as a friendly gesture.”

“What does Need care?” Laxah demanded. “He’s selling her to another male, remember?”

“That’s what he says, but don’t you remember the way he acted last night when Drung was saying he wanted her?” Psoas raised both eyebrows, his face hovering near the med tech’s now. “I’ve never seen him that upset—I thought he was going to explode at the mere thought of another male touching her.”

“He was defending his property,” Laxah said shortly.

“No—he was defending his female,” Psoas corrected her. “Don’t you know that when a Kindred chooses a female, he bonds her to him for life? Need may say he’s going to hand her over to that buyer on Genu Six, but after that little performance last night, I’d be very surprised if he actually does.”

“Really?” Lan’ara felt her heart leap in her chest. Could it be that Need would want to keep her after all?

“Really,” Psoas assured her. “He’s not going to want to give you up. So you see,” he went on, speaking to Laxah now. “There’s no need for you to teach the girl to be a Med Tech—unless you want to. Or for me to teach her how to fix ship engines. She can stay right here on The Dark Star and just cook and bake to her heart’s content.”

Lan’ara felt as though he had planted a seed of hope in her heart—a seed that couldn’t help but sprout and grow. She imagined herself cooking for the crew during the day and then sleeping in the protective circle of Need’s arms every night. It wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury as she would be if she went to Senator Pouncenblast on Genu Six, but it would be a life with the big Kindred, which she had somehow become very attached to in a short time.