“Thank you, my Lord.” Lan’ara bent her head modestly, looking down at her hands. She had spent the night before and all of today being pampered with baths and skin treatments to get her ready for this moment. She knew the Senator would probably expect to take her tonight but she didn’t even care. She felt dead inside—empty. It was as though the big Kindred had taken her heart with him when he left her here on Genu Six. She felt hollowed out, emotionally and physically, as she waited for her inevitable fate.
“Well now, are you ready to give me an heir?” the Senator asked, raising both of his bushy gray eyebrows as though he was asking if she wanted a particularly nice treat.
“Yes, my Lord Senator,” Lan’ara said again.
“Now, now—you don’t have to be quite so formal, my dear,” he chided gently. “Just ‘my Lord Pouncenblast’ will do. You don’t have to call me by my title in the bedroom, at least.”
“As you wish, my Lord Pouncenblast,” Lan’ara said mechanically.
The Senator frowned.
“Are you quite all right, my dear? You seem rather dull tonight—at least, compared to the last time I saw you at the Beauty Ball at Twyleth Tigg.”
Lan’ara thought about pointing out that the last time he had seen her she hadn’t been kidnapped by pirates, sold at a slave auction, then fallen in love with and been summarily dismissed, rejected, and sold by her captor. But of course the Senator didn’t care—he only wanted her to be the bright, bubbly girl who had captured his attention at the Beauty Ball.
She had better make an effort here or she might be kicked out of the Senator’s palace—and then where would she go?
“Much has happened since we last met,” she said, forcing the corners of her mouth up into an approximation of a smile. “But of course I’m very happy to be here with you at last, my Lord Pouncenblast.”
“Of course you are. For what girl wouldn’t be?” he asked and laughed at his own joke. “Well now—let’s get down to business, shall we? First remove your clothing and let me see your lovely body.”
Feeling like she was watching herself from a distance, Lan’ara did as he said, removing the skimpy pink harem outfit to bare herself for him.
“Good…good.” Senator Pouncenblast nodded, his faded eyes roaming over her naked flesh greedily. “Ah, my dear—I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I took a ripe young bride for my pleasure. I really must do it more often!” he added, as though making a note to himself. “Some pleasures never get old.”
That’s all I am to him, Lan’ara thought dully. Just a thing he can take pleasure with. He doesn’t think of me as a real person with thoughts and feelings and likes and dislikes. He only wants to use my body to have some fun and make a baby.
She supposed the thought ought to make her angry—outraged. But she felt nothing right now…nothing at all.
Nothing until the Senator touched her bare flesh, that was. Because the moment his liver-spotted hand cupped her breast, Lan’ara felt a wave of nausea come over her.
Oh no! The illness caught her by surprise and she struggled against the urgent need to throw up. The sudden sickness reminded her of how she’d felt when the “customer” at Mistress Bigaboo’s whorehouse had touched her and that reminded her of what she’d read in her file.
“…you need never worry about your Twyleth Tigg bride cheating on you because the touch of another male’s hand upon her skin will trigger an attack of nausea so strong, she will eject the contents of her stomach upon him the moment he attempts to violate her.”
The words swam back into Lan’ara’s memory as she fought with her gorge again. How could she have forgotten? She should have told Need—explained to him that she had already formed a bond with him and that any other male would make her sick!
But would it have mattered? The big Kindred had been so angry with her, he hadn’t been willing to listen to anything she said. So now she was stuck here, trying not to puke all over Senator Pouncenblast while he fondled her breast.
“Such lovely firm flesh,” the Senator was murmuring as he continued to palm her left breast. “My dear, it’s going to be a pleasure to breed you.”
The correct response was, of course, “Thank you, my Lord Pouncenblast.” But Lan’ara was struggling so hard not to puke that she dared not even open her mouth. Instead, she offered him a closed-mouthed, tight-lipped smile and a noncommittal, “Mmm-hmm.”
“Such lovely symmetry, too,” the Senator went on, reaching for her right breast with his other hand. “Some girls, you know, have one breast that is a trifle larger or smaller than the other but I do believe that yours are the exact same size and shape. They are absolutely perfe—”