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)
And that simply wasn’t an option.
Still, since it had been several days and the Senator’s secretary hadn’t called him back, he had been considering what would happen if he had to keep the girl.
It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. Lan’ara had found her place in the crew, having taken over the cooking duties completely. She spent her days happily concocting delicious meals and special desserts for everyone.
Well, everyone except Drung. But after his last outburst, where he had accused Lan’ara of making special food for everyone but him, the Trollox had been keeping to his own room during Last Meal. Surprisingly, Captain Glo’ll allowed this, though he usually insisted that everyone in the crew be present at the dinner table every night.
He was probably getting sick of Drung, like everyone else on the crew, Need thought. Living with a Trollox was a chore—between their disgusting body order, their smelly food, and their generally nasty dispositions, they weren’t the kind of people anyone but another Trollox would seek to spend time with.
Maybe Captain Glo’ll would even decide they didn’t need Drung anymore—that would be nice. If the Trollox was no longer aboard The Dark Star, Lan’ara would feel much more comfortable—if she did end up staying, Need amended to himself.
But if she stayed, how would he be able to keep from bonding her to him?
Every morning he swore never to touch her again and every night he broke his vow because he couldn’t resist her luscious body or her sweet, shy way of offering herself to him. He thought of the night before, when they had lost themselves in each other.
“Please, my Lord—take me!” she had whispered in his ear. And Need had wanted to—so fucking badly. It had taken every bit of his waning willpower not to fill her with his shaft and sink his fangs into her neck, bonding her to him forever…
“Oh look—what are those?” Lan’ara’s sweet voice pulled him out of his reverie.
Need looked where she was pointing.
“Tanska fruit,” he said, looking at the jewel-colored, fist-sized fruits, piled in a pyramid in the fruit seller’s stall. He had to admit, it was a tempting display.
“They look delicious!” Lan’ara remarked wistfully.
“Actually they’re hard as a rock,” Need told her. “You’ll break your teeth on them if you try to eat one.”
“Please, good sir, do not malign my fine fruits,” the fruit merchant—an oily-looking male with a drooping black mustache under his two noses proclaimed, hearing Need’s words.
“Well?” Need said shortly. “Tell me I’m wrong then.”
“You are, in fact, correct that the tanska fruit cannot be eaten raw,” the merchant admitted, his primary nose wrinkling ruefully while the secondary nose above it twitched. “But stewed as the filling for a pastry or some other prandial delight, they are juicy, succulent, sweet, and tangy all at once. Not to mention that they are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. Much like your lovely lady, there.” He smiled appealingly at Lan’ara.
“So, they’re good for cooking pies and turn-overs and things like that?” She ignored his compliment but was clearly very interested in the fruits.
“They are indeed, lovely one,” the merchant told her. “And each color has a subtle taste difference, though they all work well together to form a most delicious flavor if you wish to mix them.”
Lan’ara looked up at Need, her eyes shining with hope.
“My Lord, I do not yet have anything prepared for this Last Meal’s dessert,” she said softly.
Need felt his heart squeeze in his chest when she looked at him like that. He found he liked the idea of getting her something she wanted—something she had specifically asked him for.
“Well…” he said, squinting up at the double suns. They had yet to converge which meant they had a little time before the meeting.
“Please, my Lord? If they are not too expensive,” Lan’ara added hastily.
“They are very reasonably priced,” the merchant promised. “Two for a single credit—you could hardly get such quality more cheaply than that!”
Actually, Need new perfectly well that some stalls sold the jewel-toned fruits at ten for a credit but he didn’t mind the expense—he just wanted to see Lan’ara happy.
“All right, girl,” he said gruffly. “Go on and pick out as many as you think you need to make dessert tonight.”
Lan’ara’s big, gold-flecked eyes lit up with happiness.
“Oh, thank you, my Lord! You know I love trying out new ingredients!”
“Yes, yes—I know,” Need said indulgently. “But don’t take too long—we have to get where we’re going soon.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Lan’ara took the net bag the merchant handed her and quickly began picking through the pyramid of deep blue and amber and ruby red fruits. When the bag was bulging, she turned to Need.
“These should be enough, my Lord.”
“So they should—for the next five Last Meals in a row!” He couldn’t hold back a wry smile as he saw her blush at his words.