Lan’ara had even made a dessert for Captain Glo’ll. She had found the Cytovian’s private soil garden in one corner of the food prep area—a hidden, slide out drawer which had popped out at her when she accidentally bumped it with her hip. Inside the broad, deep drawer in a refrigerated and humidified environment were seventeen or eighteen different kinds of dirt of varying colors and textures.
She had chosen a dark, rich-smelling loam and mixed a little sweet-sap with it before using a fancy little ramekin she found in the dish cupboard to mold it into a fist-sized cake. This she had covered in cling-film and stored carefully in the cold unit beside the jim-jams.
Just as she had finished this, Need had finally walked into the food prep area, only about an hour and a half before Last Meal.
Now they were working together to prepare the evening repast, but the big Kindred was silent and brooding. He had barely said two words to Lan’ara the whole time, except to explain how to make the peebla bread while he made the Yerba stew.
“Fine. I’m fine,” he growled, giving one of the tung-tung roots an especially vicious chop with his knife. “Got no problems here, girl. Except for the fact that the whole crew is going to complain about the food when we serve it tonight,” he added, frowning.
“Why should they?” Lan’ara asked. “It all looks delicious!”
“Oh, it will be,” he assured her. “But like Laxah says, it’s what I always make. They’re pretty fucking sick of it by now, but I don’t have the time or inclination to learn anther damn recipe.”
Lan’ara had a sudden idea.
“My Lord,” she said carefully. “What if I made a few small variations on the recipe?”
He scowled at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…I could add some fresh herbs to the bread,” she suggested. “Maybe some different spices to the stew or a different vegetable or two. Just something to change things up a bit.”
He narrowed his bronze eyes and looked at her.
“You can do that?”
“Why not?” Lan’ara shrugged. “My mother used to say, any good recipe is just a stepping off point. The trick is to take it and make it your own.”
“Your mother, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “So you weren’t born and bred at that damn academy you told me about?”
“Oh no, my Lord. I lived with my mother and my four little brothers until I was fourteen,” Lan’ara told him.
“Ah, that’s right.” He nodded. “I’d forgotten, Gods damn me. You did say something about having a mother and brothers.”
Lan’ara nodded. “I also had a father. But he…” She cleared her throat. “He died in an accident at the mill he managed. Then things got…difficult.”
“Difficult, hmm?” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Would that difficulty have anything to do with how you ended up at that academy in the first place?”
Lan’ara nodded again.
“A scout came to our town. He was looking for good girls. Girls who hadn’t…hadn’t let a man ruin them,” she said, feeling her cheeks get hot.
“Ruin them?” His eyebrows shot up. “How could making love with someone ‘ruin’ you?”
“Because then I’d no longer be a virgin,” Lan’ara explained. “We were always told at the Academy that a man—especially one willing to pay what they were asking for us—would want to be first with the girl he chose.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” Need growled, scowling.
“Well, that’s just how it is.” Lan’ara cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was chaste and pure so… so the scout paid my mother and took me.”
She felt her cheeks get even hotter, remembering the things she had done with the big Kindred the night before. Nobody could call her chaste now. And yet even now she could feel herself wanting to do those things again…longing to touch him and let him touch her…
She’d been having the touch cravings ever since the big Kindred had first walked into the food prep area and greeted her with the surly words, “Time to make Last Meal.” The whole day long she’d barely been bothered at all—though she did think of Need often. But the moment she saw him, it was as though something woke up inside her. The secret flower she kept within, unfurled its petals and the longings began. Even now, as they spoke about her past, she could barely concentrate on anything because she wanted him so badly.
Lan’ara tried to find a subtle way to assuage her cravings.
“My Lord, could you show me the right way to knead this peebla bread? It seems too sticky to me,” she said, as she added some fresh cut herbs.
“Here, it’s not that hard,” Need growled and came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her to show her what she already knew. As surreptitiously as she could, Lan’ara leaned against him, brushing her own bare arm against his forearm, trying to feel his skin against hers.