Pairing with the Protector

by Evangeline Anderson

  Not that you probably have to worry about Whitney wanting to get close to you now—not after what you just did to her, that same voice in his head pointed out. You not only broke your Protector’s Vow, you enjoyed doing it. Hell, you reveled in it. You should be ashamed, Rafe—not worried that she might want more than you are able to give.

  This new thought—this new guilt—pressed down on him like a heavy weight.

  “Forgive me,” he said again. And, taking one of the huge white disks with the blue rind which had been pushed through the bars for Last Meal, he retreated to the far corner of his cage.

  Whitney watched the big Kindred go, feeling both blue and frustrated. She’d felt used and abandoned after sexual encounters before but somehow this didn’t seem to fit that particular category. After all, they had only been doing what they had done in order to fool Mama Tusker into thinking they were a matched pair and Whitney had gotten all the pleasure out of it while Rafe had been entirely on the giving end. It wasn’t like she’d given the big Kindred a blow job and then he’d walked away—he had given her a screaming orgasm—possibly the best one of her life—before leaving to brood in the corner.

  She stared at his broad back and frowned in frustration. What the hell was going on with him? Did he feel guilty about “molesting” her? Had he broken some kind of sacred vow he’d taken when he was invested as a Protector or something?

  Or maybe he just doesn’t want anything to do with you—maybe it was all an act and now he wants to be left alone, whispered a nasty little voice in her head.

  Whitney frowned. No, she wasn’t buying that. The big Kindred had been much too enthusiastic to be faking it. Also, there was the little—or rather, big matter—of the sizable erection she’d seen between his thighs. No man got that hard when he was pretending to enjoy himself.

  He wants me, she thought. He wants me as much as I want him but his Kindred honor is standing in the way.

  She thought about going and confronting him about it, but somehow she doubted that would do much good. Rafe was the kind of guy who took his time and he wasn’t going to be rushed.

  The best thing she could do, Whitney decided, was to act casual, as though nothing had ever happened. If she played it off and talked about other things—escape plans for instance, (since there was no way in hell she was hanging around this cage and waiting to have babies which would be stolen by Mama Tusker)—he might come around.

  That’s it, Whitney told herself. Act casual.

  With that idea firmly in mind, she leaned over and picked up the long green plank and tucked it neatly under her arm. Apparently it was supposed to be dinner and Whitney wasn’t the kind of girl who went around skipping meals—not even when she was stuck in a cage on an alien planet where her captors regarded her as an exotic pet.

  “Girl’s gotta eat,” she murmured to herself and headed over to the corner of the cage where Rafe was sitting to try and act casual.

  Seventeen

  “So do you think Mama Tusker is really going to take us to the show?” Whitney asked, settling on the large artificial log beside the big Kindred. It had gray “bark” molded out of some kind of plastic and reminded her of something you’d put into your fish tank back home—only about a hundred times bigger, of course.

  Rafe turned his head to look at her. His golden eyes were hooded and he was turning the bicycle-sized white disk with its blue rind meditatively between his hands, though he still didn’t appear to have eaten any of it.

  “Well, do you?” Whitney asked, balancing the pale green plank across her knees. It reminded her a little bit of a huge piece of celery, which she liked well enough when there was a bowl of dip to go with it, but wasn’t wild about eating plain. Especially a piece bigger than a baseball bat.

  “I…do not know.” His deep voice was hesitant and he didn’t seem to want to look at her.

  “Look,” Whitney said, deciding to abandon the casual act and go straight for the heart of the matter. “What happened between us just now…well, it happened but it’s over. We need to put it behind us.”

  He glanced over at her, his eyes narrowing.

  “You wish to forget what we did together? What I did to you?”

  “Well, not forget it exactly…”

  Whitney was fairly sure she was never going to forget what the two of them had done together in the matching pen—it had been the single most erotic experience of her life, even if Mama Tusker had been watching the whole time. But she wasn’t about to admit that to her Protector.

  “We don’t have to forget it,” she said, trying to think of a better way to put it. “But we can’t let it get in our way either. Listen, Rafe—we’re a team. And right now what we have to be focused on is getting out of here.”

  She put her hand on his muscular thigh to emphasize her point. He jerked a little—twitching like a nervous horse—but didn’t pull away. Slowly, he looked at her.

  “You really feel that way? You do not hate me for what I did or for breaking my vow as a Protector?”

  “Of course I don’t hate you!” Whitney exclaimed. “I mean, we both did what we had to do, right?” And who knew what else they might be forced to do together before this was all over? But she wisely kept that idea to herself.

  “I…suppose,” Rafe said, frowning.

  “You suppose right,” Whitney said briskly. “Now let’s see what’s for dinner and talk about an escape plan. If Mama Tusker really does take us to the tweedle show, we might actually have a shot at getting out of here.”

  “You may be right.” For the first time he turned to her, his broad shoulders, which had been hunched up around his ears, slowly relaxing. “Have you tried the food we were given yet?”

  Whitney shook her head. “Nope, but I’m about to. I’m getting damn hungry.”

  And with that, she picked up her pale green plank and took a big chomp out of one side.

  It did, indeed, have the texture of celery—Whitney thought as she chewed. Well, except for the strings—at least it didn’t have those. But it was crisp and crunchy and had a slightly sweet, bland flavor and it was pretty much the most boring thing she’d ever eaten.

  “Wow,” she said crunching dolefully and swallowing. “That’s some fine cuisine Mama Tusker had Zhu-zhu serve us.”

  Rafe frowned. “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Whitney said, shrugging. “But not by much. How’s yours?”

  “I haven’t tried it yet. I have to get past this blue rind.” He nodded down at the perfectly round tire-sized white disk. The bright blue edge around it seemed to be about three inches thick. Taking either side of the circle in his hands, he tensed for a moment, his muscles bunching, and then snapped the disk in two with a loud, crack.

  Whitney jumped and put a hand to her heart.

  “Goodness—that’s loud!”

  “Let’s see how it tastes.” Rafe took a bite and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

  “Well?” Whitney asked, eyebrows raised.

  He shrugged. “Slightly peppery but other than that, remarkably bland.”

  “Let me see,” Whitney said. “Peppery is better than nothing.” She had a bit of a hot sauce addiction and kept one of those mini bottles of Siracha on her key ring back home.

  Too bad I don’t have it with me now, she thought ruefully as Rafe handed her the other half of the large white disk. I could sure as hell use it!

  Though of course, if she’d been able to wish for something from back home, hot sauce would probably be last on the list. A weapon or a key to get out of the cage would be good. Clothes would be nice too—though to be honest, she was kind of getting used to being naked with the big Kindred.

  Maybe because of what you just did together. After he sucked your nipples and made you come, seeing each other in your birthday suits isn’t such a big deal, whispered a little voice in her head.

  Whitney felt her cheeks heat at the thought and quickly bit into the thick white slice t
o divert her mind from the hot but undeniably embarrassing memory.

  The huge alien fruit—or vegetable—reminded her a bit of a radish in both texture and flavor. Whitney liked radishes well enough—they were certainly better than celery—so she munched away, since there was nothing else to eat.

  “So I guess we’re on an all vegetarian diet here,” she remarked to Rafe, who was munching his own half-slice stoically.

  He shrugged. “I suppose. It is not to my taste but I have eaten worse.”

  “Really? Where? Were you trapped on Planet Vegan or something?” Whitney asked, grinning a little at the idea.

  Rafe shook his head. “No. Lost in the Deep Blue with few supplies.” Then, seeing her uncomprehending look on her face he added, “The Deep Blue is a jungle on my home planet of Rageron. It is almost impenetrable except for the natives who live there and the wild beasts who roam the interior.”

  Whitney would have asked more about the beasts—alien animals were, after all, her specialty. But something in his voice stopped her.

  There’s a story there, she thought, looking at him from the corner of her eye. But he’s not ready to tell it yet. Hell—he may never be ready.

  “This is boring and I’m getting full,” she said instead, looking down at her half-slice which was about a third gone. The alien radish might not be very interesting but it was plenty filling.

  “I have had all I want as well,” Rafe said, nodding. “What would you like to do? Should we look for a method of escape?”

  “I’d say we’re not going anywhere unless Mama alien or someone else opens the cage door for us,” Whitney said practically. “For right now, I thought I’d explore your cage and see if it’s as nice as mine was.”

  He frowned. “You found your cage to be ‘nice’?”

  She shrugged. “Sure—I mean, from a pet owner’s perspective it had just about anything a well-kept pet could want. I just want to see if yours is as well-stocked.”

  Sitting her giant alien radish slice down on the gray log, she went to explore Rafe’s cage. After a moment of what appeared to be silent consideration, the big Kindred followed her.

  Good, Whitney thought. We’re definitely getting back to normal. If you could call being trapped on an alien planet and kept in a cage normal, that was.

  The first thing she noticed was that Rafe’s cage had almost all the same conveniences as her first cage along with a few additions. Along with the giant exercise wheel, which was made of some kind of wood instead of wire, he had a climbing frame even taller than her previous jungle gym, a big round ball filled with the “happy tweedle weed” as Dood had called it, and a hanging sleeping tent in one corner which was made of the same felt-like material as the one in the old cage. There were even some of the brightly colored “pillows” which she was certain would come in handy when they wanted to sleep.

  So far everything looked good but she couldn’t find his water dish anywhere.

  “Where is it?” she muttered, kicking aside clumps of the greenish-purple grass.

  “Where is what?” Rafe asked, frowning as he joined her.

  “Your water dish. It should look like a kiddie wading pool—at least mine did. How do they expect us to drink if they don’t give us access to clean water?”

  “I believe that might be an answer to the problem.”

  He pointed and Whitney followed the gesture and saw a vast clear cylinder, about the size of a large water-heater, hanging from one corner of the cage. It had a kind of silver nozzle attached at one end and a clear drop of water was beading at its tip.

  Whitney recognized what she was seeing at once, from her years of having Guinea pigs and hamsters as pets.

  “It’s a water bottle!” she exclaimed, and hurried over to it.

  “A what?” Rafe asked, frowning.

  “A water bottle—like you’d use for a small pet,” Whitney explained. “Look, you just press it here…” And she reached up one hand and pressed the end of the silver nozzle, causing water to rush out and land in the grass at their feet.

  “I see.” Rafe nodded. “Not very convenient for drinking but at least it keeps the water fresh.”

  “Not only that, it’s going to make taking a shower much easier in the morning,” Whitney said practically. She frowned. “I just wish they’d given us towels or something to dry off with other than all this damn grass!”

  Rafe shrugged. “Judging from the state of the two we saw in the forest, I’m guessing that mindless tweedles don’t worry much about hygiene.”

  Whitney sighed. “You’re probably right. Still, it would be nice to have something.”

  Well, as her Grandma Washington always said, If wishes were horses, then beggars might ride. She was just going to have to make do with what they had, Whitney told herself philosophically.

  With the water situation sorted out, the next thing to do was designate a “restroom corner.” This was pretty embarrassing but Whitney, ever practical, realized there was no way around it. After a brief discussion, they chose the back corner farthest from the food, water, and living areas and Rafe helped her build a grass shield, just as she had in her first cage.

  When that was done, Whitney was still horribly bored. She supposed they ought to go to sleep, but she was wired—way too hyped up to even think of winding down. Well, maybe some exercise would help her to relax.

  “Come on,” she said to Rafe. “Let’s try the exercise wheel.”

  She got there before he did and climbed up into the large wooden cylinder but though she did her best, she couldn’t make the damn thing move. She huffed and puffed as she pushed against it, frowning.

  “Why won’t it go?” she asked, looking out at Rafe who was considering her with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “At a guess, I’d say the increased gravity here makes it heavy,” he remarked. “Luckily the mother alien—‘Mama Tusker’ as Dood calls her—didn’t try to remove our gravity regulators—maybe because she didn’t notice them.”

  He nodded down at the thin but tough strap around his right wrist, which had blended itself to match his skin color. Whitney’s had done the same.

  “But I thought these helped us get used to the planet’s higher gravity,” she remarked.

  He nodded. “Yes, but they still don’t make us as strong as those who are used to living in the higher gravity. Here—let me help.”

  He got into the wheel with her and leaning forward, gave it a push. At last the wheel started rolling and with the two of them pushing, it began to go quite fast.

  “This…is…fun,” Whitney panted, grinning at him. “It’s more…cardio…than I’ve had…in a month!”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Should I go faster?” Rafe wasn’t even breathing hard.

  Whitney shook her head, her long black braids flying.

  “Thanks but…I’m good,” she panted. Actually, she was thinking it would be good to stop soon. The wheel was already moving almost faster than she could keep up with and though it was clear the big Kindred could keep up this pace indefinitely, she most certainly could not.

  “You sound out of breath.” He frowned. “Perhaps we should stop now.”

  “Only if…if you want to.” Whitney tried to sound casual—as much as she could while panting for breath, anyway. She did try to go to the gym on a regular basis but she preferred Yoga or Pilates over jogging.

  She couldn’t help feeling relieved when Rafe first slowed and then stopped the huge wooden exercise wheel. He hopped down and offered her a hand, which she was glad to take. She was still feeling a bit winded from their short but intense jog—though she tried not to show it.

  “Let’s do something a little less stressful,” she suggested.

  Rafe frowned. “Like what?”

  “Like this.” Walking over to the big green ball with slits cut into its sides, Whitney picked it up and tossed it to him. “Here—catch!”

  The ball, being hollow and made of some light-weight plastic m
aterial, wasn’t very heavy, even in the increased gravity. Rafe caught it with ease and his frown deepened as he sniffed the strange fragrance coming from it.

  “What is that scent? I find it most unpleasant and yet…” He sniffed more deeply. “And yet, I want to smell more of it. Which doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I think it’s what our friend Dood calls ‘happy tweedle weed.’” Whitney told him, grinning. She held out her hands. “Here—throw it back.”

  Rafe did as she requested and she tossed it back again until they were playing a regular game of catch and filling the air with the strangely sweet stink of the tweedle weed as they did so.

  “So did you ever think you’d be captured and put into a cage and kept as an exotic pet?” Whitney asked as she threw the ball with both hands.

  Rafe shook his head as he caught the ball and threw it back. “It never occurred to me that something like this could happen. It is…very strange.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Whitney nodded as she caught the tweedle weed ball. “I feel like a Lilipution in Gulliver’s Travels.”

  He shook his head, uncomprehending.

  “A lilly-what in what?”

  “It’s a book about this guy who goes on a sea voyage and winds up in all these strange and distant lands,” Whitney explained. “In one of them, he’s a giant because all the people there are so small—they call themselves Lilliputions.”

  She caught the ball again and took a big sniff. She was beginning to feel rather light-headed but in a good way, so she kept going.

  “Anyway, the Lilliputions capture Gulliver and tie him down with lots of tiny ropes. They make him their prisoner but then he proves he’s a good guy and they let him go.”

  “He does?” Rafe asked. “How does he prove himself to these tiny people? These…Lila…lily…”

  “Lilliputions,” Whitney finished for him. “Well, actually, what happens is they have a fire in their town and the castle is burning down. So he helps to put it out.”