15 Targeted (40 page)

He was eating his own stew but keeping an eye on Emily, who was sitting directly across the table from him. So far, she still hadn’t shed a single drop of nectar and he was becoming more and more concerned.

He knew the nectar wasn’t flowing yet because the pale green fabric of her clothing remained unchanged. The flower-blouse she had on would repel the liquid of course but still, the passage of the nectar would have changed its color, turning the pale green to a deep turquoise.

Of course, when she really started flowing the straps would have to be adjusted to reveal her nipples completely—they would be much too sensitive at that point to have even the softest petal fabric against them. But so far Emily seemed to have no such problem. In fact, he would have thought she had no problem at all, but for the slight wince he saw on her face any time she moved too quickly and caused her heavy breasts to jiggle.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Xen’dex, who was sitting beside him, murmured for his ears alone. “Concerned about your
Khalla.”

“I removed those damned pinchers myself—she couldn’t stand to do it,” Tragar muttered back. “And her breasts have grown so much fuller I was certain her nectar would flow at once. But so far…not a drop.”

“That’s not good.” Xen’dex frowned. “Possibly prolonged exposure to the star-silver inhibited her flow or thickened the nectar. Which can be extremely dangerous.”

“She admitted her breasts ache,” Tragar said in a low voice. “But I don’t know what to do about it. I even tried massaging them but…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“I believe she should be in the second stage of
Scintil
by now.” Xen’dex shook his head. “If the nectar doesn’t being to flow soon, you may have to do something else to stimulate it.”

“Besides massaging her? What can I do?” Tragar demanded. He was glad that the table was wide and the females across from them were completely immersed in their own conversation—he had a feeling Emily wouldn’t like knowing he was discussing this with his old master at all.

Xen’dex sighed and looked troubled.

“You may have to suck her peaks—just enough to get the nectar flowing.”

“What?” Tragar shook his head. “But that’s forbidden! To suck the nectar from a
Khalla’s
peaks…It is
unthinkable.”

“Sometimes the unthinkable is necessary,” Xen’dex murmured. “And the rule against the sucking of nectar was not always in place—it is actually a fairly recent decree. Only in the past hundred cycles has it been considered forbidden.”

“Truly?” Tragar raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was prohibited by the Goddess herself.”

Xen’dex shook his head. “Not by the Goddess—by her Mouthpiece. The High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council.”

“That’s the same thing,” Tragar objected. “For surely the Mouthpiece of the Goddess would not say anything the Goddess had not given her to say. I
cannot
suck the nectar from Emily’s breasts—it is wrong!”

“It didn’t used to be considered so,” Xen’dex argued softly. “According to some very ancient texts I have studied, the chosen mate of the
Khalla-to-be
would suck her peaks and partake of her nectar regularly. It created a bond between them which would never form otherwise.”

“That was then—this is now,” Tragar objected. “All of my life I have been taught what a blasphemy it was for a male to let more than a drop or two of the
Khalla’s
sacred nectar to pass his lips.”

“You do not have to imbibe completely. The key is to start the nectar flowing, then stop sucking—and above all, not to swallow any of the nectar itself.”

“Master, you do not understand. I have already done things with Emily…things I deeply regret.” Tragar closed his eyes briefly, remembering the remorse he had felt after beating her with his belt. That had been bad enough. But to compound his sins by sucking her peaks until her nectar filled his mouth…no, he could not do it.

No man was worthy of such an honor—not even the
Khalla’s
chosen mate. It was frowned on by the Holy Council in the Holy Mountains—not just frowned on but outright
condemned
. Any male who did such a thing was a heretic—a blasphemer. Of course, after renouncing the Goddess, Tragar was already both those things. But he couldn’t shake the idea that what Xen’dex was suggesting was wrong.

“The nectar must be allowed to flow
freely,”
he pointed out. “It may be tested for sweetness but no more than a drop or two must pass a male’s lips.”

“Yes, if it
will
flow in the first place,” Xen’dex said in a low voice. “But if the star-silver has thickened it, you may need to help. Though it is forbidden, better that you should suckle her peaks to draw it out than that your
Khalla
should die if it will not flow properly.”

“She could
die
of it?” Tragar dropped his voice to a whisper, eyeing Emily, who was laughing with Saskia about something, with deep concern. He felt a knife twist in his gut at the thought.
No, she can’t die! I won’t let it happen!

“The nectar must flow,” his old master insisted grimly. “By
any
means possible. Outside of her body it is a healing ambrosia, filled with fertility and life. But if it remains within, unable to bless and heal, it becomes a poison to her.”

Something he had said troubled Tragar.

“What do you mean, it must flow by
any
means? Are you saying that even sucking may not be enough?”

“Pleasure may help as well if the sucking alone does not,” his master said obliquely. “That is all I may tell you for now. Consider
that
after you have gone to your sleeping chamber this night. And if you care for your
Khalla
as I know you do, you must do whatever is necessary to help her.”

“Yes, Master.” Tragar nodded, still watching Emily. He noticed the way her lips tightened as she moved just a little too fast…the way she bit her lip as if to hold back a gasp of pain when her heavy breasts jiggled. Obviously, she was in much more pain than she was letting on. But could he really break the ancient, sacred taboo to help her?

Yes,
he thought and knew it was true.
I would do anything to help her—even damn myself in the eyes of the Goddess.
Though what did it matter? He was already damned after having renounced her. He would do what he had to do to help Emily and to the Seven Hells with the rest of the universe.

* * * * *

Emily sighed as she got ready for sleep. She and Tragar were going to be sharing the large bed—which Saskia had told her had indeed been grown rather than made—and Emily was afraid it was going to be awkward. Not
just
because she was going to be sleeping beside the big Kindred warrior and inhaling that warm, spicy scent of his all night, but also because of the strange nightgown she’d been given to wear.

“It’s made especially for a
Khalla,”
Saskia had said, handing it to her. “I made it, in fact, for my dear friend who was one.” She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, she never got a chance to wear it.”

“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emily asked quietly, taking the lovely, periwinkle blue nightgown from her new friend. “I mean, forgive me if I’m being nosy but…”

“No, tis all right.” Saskia looked down at her hands. “She did not survive her
Tenrah.”

“Oh,” Emily whispered faintly. “And…does that happen often? People…
Khallas
die during their, uh, Shift?”

“Sometimes…” Saskia put a hand on her arm. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I didn’t wish to scare you—tis not my intention. Beleah, my friend, was always weak and sickly to begin with. You…you seem strong.” She smiled at Emily. “Much stronger than she was. And you have a male who cares for you.”

“Who, Tragar?” Emily tried to laugh. “He doesn’t really care—he’s just helping me because he has to. According to him a Beast Kindred is biologically unable to smell out a
Khalla
and
not
help her in any way he can.”

“It might have started like that,” Saskia said quietly. “But I don’t believe that is the case now. You should see the way he looks at you—the way he watches you, Emily. There is caring in his eyes—there is the
kheer’na.”

Emily frowned. “What’s
kheer’na?
My translation bacteria aren’t helping with that one.”

“A kind of possessive tenderness that all Beast Kindred males feel for their mates. It was when Xen’dex admitted he felt it for me that I knew he was the one. I was mated once before you know—my first mate was a Wulven male who died in a pack war. Oh yes,” she remarked, when Emily looked at her uncertainly. “Tis true—I am older than I look. Wulven females do not show their age. To say the truth, I am older than Xen’dex. Too old, I thought, to ever be mated again but when I saw the
kheer’na
in his eyes, I knew I was wrong and I gave myself to him without reservation.”

“Um…” Emily coughed into her hand. “I don’t know about seeing any
kheer’na
in Tragar’s eyes when he looks at me. I mean, sometimes he can be kind and sweet and understanding but other times he gets so
cold.
And he was really angry at me when we first met up with them outside the
Howlund.”

“Because he was frightened for you,” Saskia said quietly. “Because he thought he’d lost you. I never thought I would advise any female to go with a
Verrak
, but Emily—he
loves
you. Even if he does not know it yet himself.”

“If he loves me so much why is he taking me to Rageron so I can find some other guy?” Emily demanded. Just the thought of going with some strange Beast Kindred she didn’t yet know made her feel awful and wrong.
Not that I’ll probably even know it at that point,
she thought grimly.
Not if the other has taken over my body completely.

Saskia shook her head, her long dark hair shifting over one shoulder.

“I do not know. Maybe because he does not realize what he feels himself yet. But he will, Emily—he will. And you should recognize it in yourself as well.” Then she had patted Emily’s hand and stroked the periwinkle blue night gown once more, as if in parting. “Wear it in good health,
Khalla,”
she said softly. “And may it bring you and your chosen mate pleasure.”

Then she had glided out of the room, leaving Emily to contemplate what she had said…and the gown she was supposed to wear.

It really was a lovely color which made her no-color eyes look blue and almost pretty. But it was also strangely cut with a rounded neckline so low it fell just under the curves of her areolas and left her sensitive nipples bare. Emily couldn’t help feeling self-conscious when she put it on, even though Tragar had already seen her breasts plenty of times in the past few days.

Seen them and squeezed them and licked them,
whispered that snarky little voice in the back of her head.
Admit it, Emily—you’re hoping he might do more of that tonight.

Emily pushed it away. She was just wearing the clothing that had been given to her—the clothing that was fitting for someone in her condition. It wasn’t her fault that it was a bit revealing.