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  “I know—you have ripe, luscious curves.” He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently around. “You’re what the Twin Kindred call an ‘Elite’—a female the Goddess has blessed with a fuller figure than most.”

  Emily gave a little laugh that was almost half sob.

  “Seriously? Well, I guess that’s a nice way to put it.”

  “It’s the only way to put it.” His golden eyes roamed over her hungrily. “And besides, all Khalla are shaped as you are. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your curves or try to hide them.” He nodded at her arms, which were still crossed gingerly over her chest, hiding the silver nipple caps. “Now, what happened with the water? Were you trying to boil yourself alive?”

  “No. I was trying to get these off.” Reluctantly, she dropped her arms, revealing that she still had the silver pinchers on. She was glad that the metal dildo-like thing Grandy had given her to wear was safely hidden inside her—she really didn’t want him seeing that part of her as well.

  “Won’t they come off?” He frowned in concern.

  “Not for me, anyway.” Emily sighed. “I seem to remember that they hurt a lot going on. But that’s nothing to what it felt like when I tried to take them off.”

  The big Kindred swiped the water off and reached for a towel. “Come—let’s get you dry so I can have a look.”

  Emily stepped, shivering, out onto a green and blue vine bathmat and saw that the towel he was holding out for her seemed to be made of a hundred thousand tiny pink and orange flowers which had somehow been woven together into a rectangular piece of fabric.

  “What are those?” she asked uncertainly. “Uh—how can flowers dry me off?”

  “They’re water-mouth blossoms,” Tragar rumbled patiently. “They’ll suck away any moisture they find. Come…let me dry you.”

  Still feeling incredibly self conscious, but not quite as bad as she had before about being naked around him, Emily raised her arms slightly and allowed him to wrap the strange pink and orange flower-towel around her body.

  At once, she felt a light, feathery sensation as though a million tiny mouths were sucking at the moisture left by the shower. It didn’t hurt at all but it did feel strange and a little tickly.

  “Oh!” she looked down at herself but the towel didn’t seem to be doing any harm. In fact, as soon as she was dry, the tickling sensation stopped and it felt like any other towel. Well, if a towel had been made out of cool, waxy petals that was. Again, not uncomfortable but not exactly what she was used to either.

  “Come into the sleeping chamber where the light is better,” Tragar said. “Let me see if I can get those damn things off you.”

  He held the vine curtain aside and she stepped into the room and went to sit on the high bed which seemed to have a coverlet much like the towel only this one was made of larger, white blossoms with green centers. Emily didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it earlier—probably she’d still been disoriented from fainting.

  She still felt hungry but not nearly as lightheaded now. The shower had certainly woken her up and she did feel refreshed—although she could have done without the avalanche of foam and the freezing and scalding water at the end.

  “Now, come…” Tragar sank to his knees before her, just as he had back on his own ship, and gently parted her towel, baring her breasts.

  Emily caught her bottom lip between her teeth when she saw how much bigger her breasts had grown. Pretty soon there wouldn’t be a bra anywhere that would fit her! And they ached so much. Though the little voice inside her was still insisting she needed to keep the silver nipple caps on, she began to feel that it really was time to take them off. If they would come off, that was.

  “Please, be careful,” she said when he reached for her with his big hands. “I…it hurt so much when I even tried to get it off. I…I’m just so tender right now.”

  “I know you are, my Khalla.” His deep, rumbling voice was gentle as he cupped her full breasts in his hands, being careful not to touch the nipples just yet. “I believe that is because your nectar is ready to flow but the star-silver pinchers are keeping it in.”

  Emily shook her head.

  “But I don’t want it to flow. I’m afraid to let it flow.”

  “Change is always hard,” Tragar murmured. “But you cannot stop it from happening, Emily. The nectar must flow.”

  “But I don’t want to be pumping out that weird honey-looking stuff like a fountain,” she objected as he took the first nipple cap between his thumb and finger very gently. “I’ll be leaking and making a mess everywhere and my nightgown is already ruined!”

  “Xen’dex has some special clothing you can wear to help with that,” he assured her. “I’m going to try and take this one off now, Emily.”

  “All right.” Resolutely, she looked away, not wanting to see what he was doing. It was the same way she refused to watch the nurse stick her when she got a shot or had a blood draw. “But how is special clothing going to help?” she continued, talking to keep herself from thinking of the impending pain. “I mean, are there cups in it to collect the stuff or what?”

  “No, a Khalla’s nectar is meant to flow and bless whatever it lands on.” Tragar sounded distracted, as though he was concentrating hard on the task at hand, but he still answered her. “On Rageron, a Khalla in her second stage will often be taken to local farms that her flowing nectar may bless the crops. It’s said that ground which has absorbed the nectar of a Khalla is twice as fertile and will yield more abundantly than any other.”

  “So…she’s like some kind of weird traveling fertility goddess? Walking around, just leaking all over the crops?” Emily didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “Not exactly. The Khalla is a physical manifestation of the Goddess in her most perfect form. Her touch is healing and her honey and nectar are the essence of fruitfulness and life.”

  “That’s nice I guess,” Emily said doubtfully. “But will I have to do that once we get to Rageron? I mean, I know you’ve seen me, uh, without a top on. But I really don’t want to go all around in front of a bunch of strange farmers so I can water their crops with my, uh, nectar.”

  She had a mental image of a bunch of men in overalls and pitchforks who nodded sagely and watched as she squirted the amber-honey looking liquid over their cornfields, using her breasts like some kind of weird water guns.

  But Tragar was shaking his head—she could see it from the corner of her eye.

  “No—you won’t be required to do so. And you may be through the second stage before we get there.” He sounded a little grim. “It would be better if you stayed in Scintil and didn’t enter Vlammen until we reach the Holy Mountains but I’m not sure that will be possible.”

  “But what happens during Vlammen? I mean, I know you said something about my honey flowing like my nectar, whatever that means but—”

  “They’re off. You can look now.”

  “Really?” Emily looked down at her chest and saw that he had indeed managed to get the silver pinchers with their long, golden tassels off. “I didn’t feel a thing,” she exclaimed. “But, oh…am I okay?”

  Her nipples, which had been dark pink and very puffy, were now almost red and looked twice as swollen as before.

  “Don’t try to touch yourself,” Tragar cautioned. He had tossed the silver pinchers aside and was opening a small blue jar that had pale pink cream inside. It smelled like peppermint and flowers. “Here—let me rub some healing ointment on you—it should help.”

  “I hope so.” She nibbled her bottom lip nervously as he scooped some of the pale pink ointment up on one fingertip and began to slowly circle the outer edge of her areola with it. She knew he was probably just working his way inward, being careful not to hurt her, but the warm, gentle touch was doing strange things to her, making her throb and ache between her legs where the silver shaft was still buried.

  For a moment she wondered if she should tell him about that but she decided to keep quiet about it for n