But its eyes weren’t vacant now—they were shining with a cruel kind of intelligence. And though he didn’t answer, the left head kept speaking. It had a cool, cultured voice that sounded eminently reasonable.
“You only think you love her because of the Lust Bacterium that’s been injected into her,” it went on, nodding down to the cracked liquid crystal screen. “It says it all right here—or it did before she broke it. The injection is meant to make her irresistible to whoever owns her.”
“You’re lying,” Need said hoarsely. “That’s all you fucking know how to do is lie, Trollox!”
“Have you tasted her honey? Or sucked the nectar from her breasts?” the left head went on inexorably. “I know you have—the Kindred can’t resist tasting their females.”
“That’s none of your fucking business!” Need snapped.
“Your emotions are being chemically manipulated by the compounds in her juices,” the left head insisted. “The Twyleth Tigg people know their business, you see. They want their customers to be happy and satisfied and they don’t want any returns. So they inject their brides with the Lust Bacterium right before they send them out to meet their new owners and mates. The minute a male touches a Twyleth Tigg bride intimately, he’s hooked—addicted. Just like you are, Kindred.”
“You’re lying,” Need said again, but this time he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t help thinking of how sweet Lan’ara’s honey and nectar tasted—and how addictive it was. He found himself craving it often—craving the girl. Hell, even the wash blossoms were addicted—they couldn’t stay away from her when she was in the damn tub. And the slaver had said something about Lust Bacterium at the auction, hadn’t he?
“You only think you love her,” the left head said again, persistently. “And the girl has been trained to make you think so. Always puffing up your ego by deferring to you and calling you ‘My Lord.’ Tell me—does she beg to suck your cock? And has she pleaded with you to fill her yet?”
Need felt rocked to his core. He wanted to deny what Drung’s left head was saying, but it all rang true. The way Lan’ara so often wanted to drink his seed…and the way she’d begged him to fill her just now…
“No!” he said but instead of a shout, it came out as a whisper. “No, I…I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Kindred.” The left head smirked. “She’s been manipulating you from the first. With her body as well as her pretty little face. She’s fake, through and through—trained and engineered to make you love her and never leave her. To protect her and take care of her. You think you love her…but you’re wrong. What you love is a pretty lie—one that’s been pulling the wool over your eyes from the moment you bought her.”
“You…you’re a liar,” Need muttered, though he no longer believed it. “You just want her for yourself.”
“Of course I do, but I can wait. I won’t fall in love with her, after all—I just want her to carry my heir.” The left head smirked. “Think on what I’ve said, Kindred—you know it rings true. When you’re ready to give the girl up, I’ll take her off your hands and give you back the forty thousand you paid for her in the first place. That way you’re no worse off than you started—well, except for a bruised heart.”
It made a sad face and mimed wiping tears from its eyes.
“Shut up!” Need barked savagely. “Just shut up, you big bastard!”
“As you wish. I’ve had my say.”
The left head winked evilly and then the intelligence drained from its face abruptly, like water from a leaking can. It went back to looking dull and stupid and a rope of drool fell from its loose lips and stained the left side of Drung’s jerkin.
Need stared in confusion at the sudden transformation. What in the Seven Hells was happening? And could the awful things the Trollox’s left head had told him really be true?
You know they are, whispered a little voice in the back of his head. Admit it, Need—as much as you hate Drung, for once he’s telling the truth.
But no—he couldn’t believe the big bastard just like that. He had to at least ask Lan’ara. He looked up at Drung, who was still standing in his doorway, glaring down at him.
“Go away,” he said. “And don’t bother me again.”
Drung stabbed one thick sausage finger at him.
“The girlie should be mine!” the middle head declared. Then Drung turned and stumped off down the corridor, making the ship shake with his heavy tread.
Need watched him go, feeling like the Trollox had just disintegrated his heart with a well-placed shot from a blaster. The things he had said about Lan’ara couldn’t be true.
And yet, he was desperately afraid that they were.
Forty-Six
Though she was straining her ears from the bedroom, Lan’ara was only able to catch a few scraps of the conversation between Drung and Need. It seemed to take forever, though finally the big Kindred came back into the room and shut the door heavily behind him.