Pairing with the Protector

by Evangeline Anderson

  Mama Tusker was coming and she was trapped.

  Fourteen

  “Quick! Get back to your cage!” Rafe exclaimed, but even as he said it, he knew there was no way for Whitney to get back in time. The way was too narrow and dangerous for her to run it and even if she did, the mother alien’s monstrous strides were eating up the ground between them—she would doubtless see Whitney attempting to escape and snatch her up before she could get to any kind of safety.

  “No, don’t run,” Dood hissed from the next cage. “I think I have an idea—we might be able to work this to your advantage.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rafe demanded, keeping his voice low. At any moment the huge blue alien would appear and they could not be seen communicating when she did.

  “Listen quickly.” The other male’s eyes were wide and earnest. “The Mindless Ones match for life and when they do, if you take one away from the other, they pine for each other.”

  “So?” Whitney was keeping a nervous eye on the bottom of the ramp as Mama Tusker descended. “What does that mean to us?”

  “It means you have to pine for your man,” Dood told her. “Look, she already knows that cage she put you in can be gotten out of by a “smart” tweedle. So if she sees that you got out, she’ll just think you’re really intelligent. And if you act like you’re missing the big guy over here…” He jabbed a thumb in Rafe’s direction. “Then she’ll probably assume you’re a matched pair after all.”

  “Do you really think so?” Whitney asked eagerly.

  Dood nodded. “Yeah, I do. But you two have got to play the part this time—you’ve got to act like a matched pair.”

  “How in the Seven Hells are we supposed to do that?” Rafe demanded in a low, frustrated growl. The idiot kept forgetting they were not from his home planet and didn’t know the customs of his people. “How do we—?”

  But just at that moment, the Mama alien came into view, her mountain-sized head bending down to peer at the cages.

  Whitney gave a muted gasp and reached through the bars to clutch at Rafe. He seized her back, putting his arms around her as well as the thick bars between them would allow and drawing her as close as he could.

  Let me keep her safe. Please, let me somehow keep her safe! he thought desperately. It wasn’t exactly a prayer—but it wasn’t far from one either, though he doubted there was anyone to hear it.

  Mama Tusker’s broad, lipless mouth turned down into a frown as she saw Whitney out of her cage and reaching through the bars to cling to Rafe.

  “Well, well—aren’t you a smart little tweedle?” she rumbled, reaching out to pluck Whitney from his grasp with her trunk. “Almost as smart as my sweet little Silky.”

  Whitney made inarticulate noises of grief and terror and held onto Rafe as long as she could. He, in turn, reached for her desperately. It was no act—he needed to hold onto her and keep her safe. He was driven almost mad by the feeling of having her torn from his arms.

  “My, my…” Their display was not lost on the mother alien. Her vast brow furrowed as she watched the two of them. “Maybe the two of you are a matched pair after all. Should I give you one more chance to prove it?”

  Rafe wanted to shout, “Yes!” at the top of his voice, but of course he couldn’t do that. He could only continue to reach for Whitney while she, in turn, reached longingly for him.

  After watching them for a moment, the mother alien seemed to make a decision.

  “All right—one more chance then,” she said and put Whitney back into the large middle cage which she had called the matching pen. Then, just as quickly, she opened the door to Rafe’s cage and plucked him out as well, setting him carefully in the cage beside Whitney.

  “All right now,” she rumbled, watching them closely. “Let’s see if the two of you are a matched pair or not.”

  Fifteen

  Whitney rushed into Rafe’s arms, not caring a bit that she was naked this time. His hard, broad chest felt like safety as she pressed herself against him and the warm, spicy scent of his skin which always reminded her of leather and the forest at night, along with some exotic but completely masculine scent she couldn’t name, filled her senses.

  His arms came around her like iron bands, crushing her to him and he buried his face in her hair, murmuring her name.

  “Whitney…oh gods, mon’dalla. I thought I’d lost you. Oh Gods…”

  “Rafe.” She pressed against him, quivering. “Oh Rafe, I never want to be separated from you again!”

  “And you won’t, if I have anything to say about it.” His voice was a low, dangerous growl and she saw that he was looking over her head at the vast blue face of Mama Tusker as she looked into the matching cage.

  “Well, it’s clear you’re glad to see each other,” she rumbled in that deep bounders-crashing-downhill voice of hers. “But that doesn’t really prove anything—you might just be siblings of some kind, for all your coloring is so different.”

  “Oh no!” Fear made Whitney’s throat tight. “She thinks we’re siblings, not a matched pair,” she whispered urgently to Rafe. “Quick—we have to prove her wrong!”

  “But how?” he muttered back, frowning down at her. “How do we convince her that we’re mates instead of siblings? That idiot Dood never told us.”

  Because he hadn’t gotten a chance before Mama Tusker had come down to the lower level, Whitney remembered. But suddenly a little voice spoke up in her head.

  Maybe he didn’t tell you, but he did show you. Think about it, Whitney—what did he try to do when she first put him in the cage with you?

  Suddenly she understood what they had to do.

  “Quickly,” she whispered to Rafe, who was still looking down at her in uncertainty. “Suck my nipples.”

  “What?” It was a whispered shout and his golden eyes went wide, as though he wasn’t certain he’d heard her right.

  “I said, suck my nipples!” Whitney hissed at him. “It’s what Dood tried to do when she put him in the cage with me. And it was what that feral male did to the feral female out by the ship,” she pointed out. Of course, the feral male and female had done a hell of a lot more than just that together, but she was hoping none of the rest of it would be necessary.

  “I should not…” Rafe growled uncertainly. “I am sworn to protect you and never molest you.”

  “Well, if you want to protect me you’re going to have to molest me—at least a little,” Whitney insisted softly. Then the improbability of the situation tickled her funny bone and she had to push down a fit of hysterical giggles that rose in her throat like bubbles in champagne. Instead, she reached up on tiptoes and grabbed for his wild black hair. Tugging on it, she urged him down. “Come on—she’s watching. There’s no time to lose!”

  Rafe took one last look at the frowning alien face hovering like an anxious moon outside the cage and appeared to decide she was right.

  “Very well,” he growled. “But only because there is no other way—this is not proper. You know it is not.”

  Slowly, stiffly, he sank to his knees before her and wrapped his arms around her waist. This position put his mouth just on the level of her bare breasts and before Whitney could say anything else to urge him on, he had sucked her right nipple into his hot mouth and was drawing urgently on her sensitive tip.

  Whitney gasped and arched her back, burying her fingers in his hair. Before, when Dood had tried this on her, she’d felt violated and terrified. But the experience was completely different with Rafe.

  Instead of feeling frightened and attacked, she felt safety in the big Kindred’s arms—but more than that, she also felt desire.

  Maybe it was his warm, wild scent in her nose or maybe it was the feeling of being in the arms of her Protector—a male who she knew would die to keep her safe if need be.

  Or maybe it’s just that you’ve been horny for him from the first minute you met him, whispered a naughty little voice in her head. Because let’s be honest girl—tell the tru
th and shame the devil as Grandma Washington used to say—you’ve been wanting to jump your bodyguard’s bones from day one.

  Not that she was going to do any bone-jumping right now, she reminded herself hazily. After all, they were just doing this so Mama Tusker would let them stay together. They were only putting on a show.

  But if that was true, then why was her whole body reacting so strongly to this little “display?” Why was her pussy throbbing between her thighs, so hot and wet she had to spread her legs to ease the intense pressure she felt there? And why was she running her fingers through Rafe’s hair and moaning for more, pressing her breasts out to meet his seeking mouth, writhing naked and shameless against him, desperate for more of his hot mouth on her sensitive nipples?

  The big Kindred took her up on her unspoken invitation, going back and forth between her berry-dark tips, sucking and lapping each in turn, sending sparks of pleasure straight down to her swollen pussy with each deep pull of his hot mouth on her tender peaks. As he drew back for a breath and looked up at her, his chest heaving with emotion, his golden eyes blazing with desire.

  “Gods, mon’dalla, I had no idea your nipples would taste so sweet,” he growled hoarsely, keeping his voice low. “Do you think we’ve convinced her yet?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Whitney breathed, barely even bothering to look at Mama Tusker. Normally she would never have acted this way in front of an audience. But she found she was so hot, she didn’t care about privacy anymore—she didn’t care about anything but Rafe and getting closer to him. “You…you’d better do some more,” she told him breathlessly. “And step it up a little—really make her think we’re together.”

  His golden eyes went half-lidded with desire.

  “As you wish, mon’dalla. Give me your breasts and spread your legs for me—I will prove that you are mine.”

  Those words spoken in his low, possessive voice sent a shiver of pure lust down Whitney’s spine. Pressing her left nipple to his seeking mouth, she spread her thighs as he had ordered and waited for whatever was coming next.

  Rafe sucked her tight point deep into his mouth and then she felt one large, warm hand cupping between her legs. An image flashed in her brain—the feral male out by the ship thrusting his fingers deep into the feral female’s sex as she moaned and writhed against him.

  “Yes,” she whispered to Rafe, parting a little more for him. “God, yes, Rafe—do it!”

  He didn’t need any more encouragement. With a soft groan in the back of his throat, he parted her pussy lips and slipped two long, strong fingers into her heated inner folds.

  Whitney gasped as he rubbed over her swollen clit and then moaned aloud as the fingers found the entrance to her pussy and thrust deep inside her, hitting bottom as he slid all the way home.

  “Yes!” she hissed, bucking against him, her sudden move helping him press even deeper into her. “God, yes!”

  Her only answer was a slow, steady pumping as he began to work his fingers in an out of her, and the deep drawing of his mouth on her breast.

  “Mmmm!” Whitney writhed against him, feeling her pleasure mount as he finger-fucked her steadily. Even as he did, the broad pad of his thumb had found the button of her clit and was making slow swipes back and forth while he thrust into her.

  God, never in her wildest fantasies had she imagined such a strange but completely erotic scenario with her Protector! But since it was happening, she was determined to enjoy every minute of it. Live for the moment was her motto and she was certainly living for this one.

  Almost before she knew it, Whitney felt her pleasure building to a peak. The heat and wetness of Rafe’s mouth on her tender nipples and the slow, deep fucking as he breached her pussy with his fingers was too much. With a low cry of pure need, she felt herself coming—coming so hard her knees gave out and she would have toppled over if Rafe’s arm hadn’t tightened around her waist, bearing her up against the onslaught of pleasure.

  “Oh…Ohhh!” she moaned, her eyes clenched tightly closed, completely forgetting about their alien audience. “Oh, yes!”

  Luckily she was calling out in English, which must have sounded enough like random sounds to Mama Tusker that she suspected nothing. But when Whitney’s eyes fluttered open and she saw those huge black eyes watching her, she gasped and tightened up at once. Somehow in the heat of the moment, she’d forgotten all about the enormous alien mother watching them. To be reminded that they weren’t all alone was shocking and not very nice at all.

  “Um…Rafe?” she hissed, tapping him rapidly on the shoulder.

  He looked up, his golden eyes almost drugged with pleasure—the pleasure of pleasuring her, Whitney realized. God, she’d heard that the Kindred always put their women’s satisfaction above their own but she’d never seen it in action before. He looked like he’d gotten more out of touching and fingering her than he would have if she’d given him a blow job—which was hard to believe, considering he was male. But still, that was definitely the impression she got.

  “Forgive me, mon’dalla,” he growled hoarsely, pulling away from her nipples at last. “I…forgot myself in the beauty of your body.”

  “That’s all right. I kind of forgot myself too,” Whitney whispered, feeling guilty when she thought of the screaming orgasm she’d just had, completely heedless of their alien audience. “Um…do you think we’ve done enough to prove we’re a matched pair?” she murmured, casting a sidelong glance at Mama Tusker.

  “Difficult to tell.” Rafe was looking at her as well. But the big black eyes were watching them with a look that was unreadable.

  “Maybe I…” Whitney felt her cheeks getting hot and she kept her voice low. “Maybe I should, uh, give you a blow job.”

  “I do not think that should be necessary,” Rafe rumbled. “But maybe this will help.”

  He withdrew his fingers from her pussy, (no easy task since Whitney had clamped her thighs shut and was clenching nervously now that she’d remembered the alien watching them,) and raised them to his mouth. Inhaling deeply, he seemed to take in her feminine fragrance because his golden eyes went half-lidded again with desire.

  “Gods, mon’dalla, you smell so sweet,” he nearly groaned. Then he made a show of slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, licking away her juices and savoring her secret flavor as though it was the finest thing he’d ever tasted.

  For some reason, this display seemed to finally decide Mama Tusker.

  “I thought so,” she rumbled, nodding decisively to herself. “I thought you two were a matched pair.” She cocked her head to one side and seemed to focus on Rafe, who was still cleaning his fingers with his tongue. “She’s not quite ready to mate yet, eh? But she will be soon, I’m sure.” She clapped her enormous hands together, making a sound like thunder and grinned delightedly. “And then just think what lovely little tweedle babies the two of you will make! With your golden eyes and her lovely dark hide—think how pretty they will be! And I will be the only tweedle breeder to have them! Oh, I can’t wait to see how jealous all the others will be if I bring the two of you to the show!”

  And with that, she reached into the matching pen and picked the two of them up at once in her trunk. Whitney found herself pressed naked against her Protector’s broad chest, but that was beginning to be nothing new—as was the strange sensation of being lifted by a being many hundreds of times bigger than her and carried like a doll.

  Mama Tusker put the two of them into a cage together—unfortunately, it was Rafe’s cage which didn’t open to anyone but her.

  “There now,” she rumbled, closing the door firmly behind them. “The two of you will be safe and sound in there and no one will bother you a bit when you’re ready to start making some lovely little tweedle babies.” Her wide, lipless mouth turned up into a smile the size of a chasm. “Now eat your dinner and get a good night’s sleep, my dears. You’re going to need your strength for breeding soon enough.”

  Then she le
ft, stumping heavily up the silver-blue ramp and switching off the lights again to leave them in the semi-darkness.

  Sixteen

  The minute the two of them were left alone and the mother alien was no longer watching Rafe distanced himself from Whitney. He let her go abruptly and put several feet of space between them, willing his blood to cool and his mating fist—which was throbbing between his thighs—to go down.

  Gods, he was nearly crazy with lust! The sweet/salty taste of her pussy honey and the feel of her soft, curvy body pressed against his own had been almost more than he could bear. And then all the mother alien’s talk of “breeding” and “making babies” had his Kindred instincts aroused to the highest peak. Though he knew it was wrong, he wanted desperately to Claim Whitney and make her his forever in reality—not just for show.

  “Rafe?” Her voice sounded uncertain as she came over to him. “Um, are you okay?”

  “I am well.” He shook his head, trying to clear the lust that clouded his vision. “Forgive me for that—for what we had to do together,” he added. “I know it cannot have been easy for you to allow me to touch you and taste you in that way, especially when it is so very wrong for a Protector to intimately touch one he is protecting.”

  “Is it?” Whitney asked. “Why?”

  “It is…” Rafe cleared his throat. “It is forbidden.” Also, it drew the two of them much too close together for comfort.

  Be careful, Rafe, whispered a little voice in his head. Remember Tenda. You’re in danger of breaking more than just your vow as a Protector here. If you keep going like this you’ll end up with a broken heart as well.

  Which was, of course, ridiculous. After what had happened to the female he had loved, his heart was completely barren—a desert where nothing could ever grow again. Still, it was better not to take a chance on any kind of affection sprouting between himself and Whitney. Better to keep his distance whenever he could.