“Oh!” Lan’ara exclaimed before she thought of it. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, my Lord,” she added and then bit her lip—would the big Kindred get angry at her for addressing him incorrectly?
But he only shook his head.
“No need to thank me. The wash blossoms are just part of living on a ship owned by a Cytovin. Just get in the water and they’ll take care of you.”
Lan’ara didn’t know what he meant by the flowers “taking care” of her but she was too nervous to ask. When he helped her off with her torn gown and gestured for her to step into the tub, she quickly did as he said.
It was embarrassing to be completely naked in front of him, but Lan’ara had always known that once a man bought her, he would own her body and would probably want to look at it and do much more than look. So she didn’t try to cover herself, though she wished desperately that she could.
She tried not to wince when the steaming water hit her injuries, but she couldn’t hold back a little cry when the heated liquid enveloped her torn flesh.
“What’s wrong?” The big Kindred was instantly alert.
“Nothing, my Lord. I’m fine!” Lan’ara said quickly, though tears had sprung to her eyes with the pain of having her injuries bathed in such hot water.
“Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong when you’re practically crying in pain,” he growled, frowning. “What is it, girl?”
“Nothing, only…just the heat of the water against my…in the spot where I’m hurt,” Lan’ara said. “It’s not a problem, my Lord. I’m already getting used to it.”
“Seven Hells!” he snarled and at first Lan’ara was afraid he was angry with her all over again. But then he said, “Goddess, I’m fucking this whole thing up from start to finish,” and shook his head.
“My Lord?” Lan’ara asked, startled. Try as she might, she simply could not get his first name to come out of her mouth rather than the more formal and respectful form of address she’d been taught to use.
“First I let that bastard of a slaver use that damn stick thing on you,” the big Kindred went on. “And then I try to leave you alone on a strange planet—never thinking that you don’t have any way to get back to wherever it was you were taken from. And then I made the Goddess-damned water too hot and burned you where you’re already hurt!”
“It’s not your fault, my Lord,” Lan’ara said quickly. “You’ve been more than kind to me—truly you have!”
“No, I haven’t.” Need glared down at his own large hands for a moment before looking up at her. “And you shouldn’t expect me to be kind, girl—I don’t have it in me. But I will try to be fair and to take care of you properly. After all, you’re my responsibility now.”
Lan’ara didn’t know what to say to that. She felt like pointing out that no one had forced him to buy her. But of course she dared not be so impertinent with her new owner. No matter what he said about taking care of her, he could still decide she was too much trouble and try to sell her back to the slaver.
An even worse thought entered her head—what if he got tired of her and sold her to the huge, beastly Trollox who was apparently his crewmate?
The very idea made Lan’ara almost ill with fright. She would do anything to avoid that fate—anything! So she kept her mouth shut and looked down at the steaming water—which was much less painful now that she had gotten used to it. She was determined to be as quiet as a mouse and not bother her new owner one bit more.
That was her intention, anyway, until something under the cloudy surface of the bath grabbed her.
“Oh!” she gasped and shot up in the middle of the tub with the hot water sluicing down her naked body.
“What? What is it?” The big Kindred looked alarmed.
“Something in the water!” Lan’ara gasped. “It…it grabbed me!”
“What? Oh…” A look of dawning comprehension came over his face and to Lan’ara’s surprise, he actually chuckled. It was the first time she’d seen his face when he wasn’t frowning or scowling or growling and it was amazing how much nicer he looked.
Still, the joke seemed to be at her expense so she couldn’t really join in.
“Is there supposed to be something in the water, my Lord?” she asked, striving to keep her tone civil instead of irritated and ill-used, which was how she felt.
“It’s just the wash blossoms,” he explained. “They wash you all over once you get into the water—that’s why there’s no need for soap or any kind of scrubber—the flowers do all the work. I do admit they take some getting used to, though,” he added. “I should have warned you.”