Brides of the Kindred

by Evangeline Anderson

  He sighed heavily. “Neither of which I can do anything about. Come. We have a long way to go before we can safely rest.” Turning, he led the way, not waiting to see if she would follow.

  * * * * *

  Sylvan heard her stumbling along behind him as they made their way down the side of the mountain and every instinct he possessed shouted that he needed to go back and help her. Needed to hold her in his arms and carry her to safety. But he forced himself to go on. She doesn’t want me, doesn’t want my help or my touch.

  It was true and he knew it. The rejection he could handle. But the fear in her eyes…

  Sylvan clenched his jaw. Goddess, that she could ever think I would hurt her. The very idea was like a fist in his gut. He would rather be hurt himself, would rather be wounded a thousand times over than allow her to get a single scratch.

  Should have left her alone. Shouldn’t have healed her. That was what scared her the most, waking up and seeing me bending over her with my fangs out.

  But he had been so worried. And besides, it was impossible for him to see her hurt and not want to heal her. He had told her once, the second time they met, that as a doctor he had no emotional attachment to his patients. But it was different with her—so very different. And those few moments before she’d woken up completely, before she’d started fearing him, had been beyond compare.

  He closed his eyes briefly, his cock and fangs throbbing as he remembered the way she’d moaned and arched her back, responding to his touch. It was almost as though she was offering herself, opening herself in the way a female would when she was willing to be bonded. Truly his intent hadn’t been sexual, but he couldn’t help becoming aroused by her reaction. The way her nipple had tightened under his tongue as he healed her and the warm secret scent of her sex getting wet and ready for him was enough to make him ache with desire.

  And then she saw me and realized who it was that was touching her, giving her pleasure, he thought sadly. After that all she wanted was to get away from me. From my fangs. She wouldn’t even let me finish healing her.

  Even now he could smell her blood on the wind. She must have scraped her hands and knees when she was scrambling to get away from him. He wanted in the worst way to examine them—to take away her pain. But he knew he would only add to it and increase her fear and panic if he tried. Sophia, I’m so sorry…Your pain is my pain. Your wounds, mine to heal. I give you the blood of my body, the heart from my chest. The—

  Sylvan stopped himself. Why had the words from the Blood Kindred bonding ceremony come to his mind? Words he was destined never to speak?

  Stupid, he told himself angrily, kicking a large rock out of the way. Stupid to let yourself have any kind of feelings for her. Even if your vow wasn’t in the way she’d never want you. Never stop fearing you long enough to let you in. Just forget about her—be cold as a Tranq should be.

  But he couldn’t. Sophia’s soft little hands had warmed his cold heart, even if she hadn’t meant to. And it seemed there was no freezing it again.

  * * * * *

  Sophia tried to keep up but it was hard to see in the darkness and her feet hurt. Her shoes were long gone—not that the low kitten heels would have been much good for hiking in the mountains but still, anything would have been better than nothing. The only thing that saved her was the fact that she had been walking barefoot outside on the hot Florida concrete since she was a little girl. Without that experience to toughen the soles of her feet, they would have been cut to ribbons within a matter of minutes.

  But it wasn’t just her feet that worried her—she was wondering where in the world they were. Because it sure as hell wasn’t Florida. Where are we and how are we ever going to get home? Does Sylvan know where he’s going, or are we just trying to get away from the shuttle?

  They were scrambling down the side of a mountain, that much was clear she thought, eyeing Sylvan’s muscular bare back as she went. The same mountain he had crashed them into, she was pretty sure. She still wasn’t sure why the big warrior had had to aim for a mountain in the first place, but at least they’d survived it.

  Now that she had a moment to think about it, she remembered the crash in horrible detail. The way the craggy rock face had gotten bigger and bigger in the viewscreen and the moment of impact when she felt something hard and sharp pierce her flesh, slicing across her breast like a line of fire. Then she’d been drowning in some kind of blue gel. It had dissipated but she could still feel the sticky remains of it on her skin…

  Once she started thinking about the crash she couldn’t stop—the details kept playing over and over again in her head like a horror movie. Just stop it, stop thinking about it. You survived, didn’t you? So what are you getting so upset about?

  But no matter how sternly she talked to herself, she kept seeing the side of the mountain rushing toward her again and again. Kept feeling the horrible impact and the sensation of suffocating in thick blue gel over and over. The endless loop got stuck in her head and made her feel shaky.

  Too much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Too much trauma and drama and pain and fear crammed into too little time. The stress of it was like a ticking time-bomb in her chest, ready to explode. But somehow she had to contain it. The last thing she wanted was to have a meltdown in front of Sylvan. Strong, I have to be stro—

  A loose rock shifted treacherously under her bare foot and she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. With a low cry, she fell to one side, hitting the side of her head.

  Sylvan was beside her at once. “Don’t try to get up,” he ordered when she scrambled to rise. “Lie still for a minute and let me see how badly you’re hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt,” Sophie objected, though her ankle was throbbing and something warm and wet was trickling down the side of her cheek.

  He frowned. “Don’t lie—to me or to yourself, Sophia. That was a bad fall.” Lifting her chin, he stared intently into her face. “Look up and open your eyes wide, I need to see your pupils and there isn’t much light.”

  Sophia stared up into the night sky, trying not to tremble under his touch. She could feel the tears welling up inside her until she felt like a cup that was about to overflow. The sharp stinging in her head and the dull throb in her ankle were the last straw. The physical pain in her body combined with her emotional turmoil, pushing her over the edge. Though she didn’t want to in the worst way, Sophie began to cry.

  “Sophia?” Sylvan’s voice was a harsh whisper in the darkness. “Please don’t cry. I know you don’t want me touching you, but I have to make sure you’re all right.”

  The pain in his voice made things worse somehow. “I…I’m sorry,” she gasped, trying to slow her tears and failing. “I just…I can’t…it’s too much.”

  “It won’t take much longer.” He was feeling her ankle now. Sophia hissed and jerked away from his gently probing fingers. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t think it’s broken but you have a bad sprain. It’s already swelling—you’re not going to be able to walk on it.”

  Fresh tears came to her eyes and she armed them away angrily. Why did she have to be so weak? “That’s it then. You’ll have to go on without me.” She tried to sound brave, but her voice betrayed her by trembling.

  “Go on without you?” Sylvan looked at her incredulously. “What kind of male do you think I am?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, knowing it wasn’t true. “You can go for help and come back for me.”

  “Do you really think I’d leave you here alone, helpless in the dark with the Scourge hunting you?” His voice had dropped to a low growl. “Never.”

  “Sylvan!” she protested but he was already gathering her up into his arms. “Sylvan, put me down. Be reasonable,” she pleaded. “I know you’re a big strong guy but I’m not exactly tiny. You can’t carry me all the way down the side of the mountain.”

  “Watch me.” He was already walking, holding her cradled in his arms as though she was a baby. He looked down at her briefl
y. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I know you dislike being close to me, but it can’t be helped. You’ll have to endure my touch until we find someplace safe to rest.”

  “It’s not that,” she protested weakly. “Not that I don’t like, uh, touching you. I just…don’t want you biting me. That’s all.”

  She had been hoping to make him feel better but if anything, the pain on his chiseled features intensified.

  “Rest,” he said after a moment. “We may have a long way to go. You need to conserve your strength.”

  What about your strength? she wanted to say, but the closed look on his face said the subject wasn’t up for further discussion. There was literally nothing else she could do but relax and let him carry her.

  At least the hated tears had dried up. But the crying spell had left her feeling horribly depleted and achingly tired. Though she tried to stay awake, she felt her head drooping against the broad plane of his chest. The first few times she jerked up, but the third time it happened Sylvan spoke again.

  “It’s all right, Sophia,” he murmured, looking down at her. “Let yourself relax. Sleep if you can—I don’t mind.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said drowsily. But she couldn’t help it—her head drifted down again. How could something as hard and muscular as his chest make such a comfortable pillow? “Shouldn’t…not when you’re doing all the work. Carrying me.”

  “It is my very great privilege and pleasure to carry you, Talana.” His deep voice rumbled through her, making her safe and reassured. And his scent—the same scent she’d noticed earlier when he had held her on the ship, now seemed incredibly soothing.

  Sophia yawned. “What’s…talana?” she asked, her eyelids drooping.

  “A nickname in my native tongue. An endearment.”

  “And what…” She yawned again. “What does it mean?”

  Before he could answer, sleep claimed her and everything faded to black.

  Chapter Eight

  “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?” Lock shoved his brother up against the wall of the guest suite they were staying in and glared into Deep’s bottomless black eyes. “Why are you acting this way? Are you trying to scare her off?”

  Deep laughed harshly and brushed off his brother’s hands. “As if we had a shot with her. Did you see those curves? She’s fucking gorgeous—an elite.”

  “We’re not bad looking,” Lock objected. “I’ve heard Earth females find our kind attractive.”

  “The other Kindred races, maybe. But not the Twin Kindred. We scare them, Lock. The idea of one woman with two males at once frightens them out of their skulls.”

  “They can’t all be scared—there are plenty of Twin Kindred with brides aboard the Mother ship.”

  “Not nearly as many as Beast Kindred and Blood Kindred. Why don’t you just face it, brother? Calling an Earth female as a bride is a bad idea.”

  “You didn’t used to think so.” Lock narrowed his eyes at his twin. “Come on, Deep—what is this really about?”

  “I told you.” Deep leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “It’s a bad idea, that’s all.”

  “And it wouldn’t have anything at all to do with what happened with Miranda?”

  A spasm of pain passed over Deep’s dark features and was gone almost at once. “That was over two cycles ago. Why are you even bringing it up?”

  “Because, Brother, I can feel your hurt—the pain still festers inside you.” Lock’s voice dropped and he went to the other man. “I know how you feel,” he murmured, squeezing Deep’s broad shoulder gently. “I felt the same agony when we lost her. But you can’t let that keep us from ever trying again.”

  Deep shook off his hand. “Why are you so eager, anyway? We just met this girl—this Kat. What makes her so special that you’re already thinking of claiming her?”

  Lock ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “Because she is, as you said, gorgeous. But it isn’t just that—she’s special, Deep. Couldn’t you feel it when you spoke to her?”

  “I didn’t feel a damn thing and there’s no way you could have either,” Deep growled. “Our minds aren’t even aligned with hers—we haven’t shared a single dream.”

  “But we could.” Lock glared at his twin in frustration. Deep had always been a pessimist, but ever since Miranda he’d closed himself off almost entirely. It was like he thought if he didn’t allow himself to feel anything he could never be hurt again. “Kat has potential,” he told his twin. “If you don’t scare her off, that is.”

  Deep narrowed his eyes. “Define potential.”

  “She’s beautiful, single, and she can stand up to you. The way she slapped you when you scented her…” Lock shook his head, laughing softly. “If that’s not potential, I don’t know what is.”

  “She does have spirit, I’ll give you that.” Deep smiled grudgingly and Lock felt something loosen in his heart. He seldom saw a genuine smile on his twin’s face anymore. “But Brother,” Deep continued, “If you don’t want to scare her off, you shouldn’t have agreed to let her act as our focus. If there’s anything more frightening than having two males inside her body, it would have to be having two males inside her mind. She’ll have to have a will of iron to withstand our joining.”

  Lock nodded, feeling troubled. “You’re right. But you saw her, Deep—she wouldn’t be denied.” He went and dropped down onto the extra long couch which was standard for all Twin Kindred suites. “And she’s right—she may make the difference between finding Sylvan in time or losing him and the Earth female he was with forever.”

  “True.” Deep seated himself beside his twin and put an arm over the other man’s shoulders in a rare gesture of affection. “Take heart, Brother. If she survives the joining and still comes back for more, I’ll admit she has potential.”

  “Very comforting.” Lock sighed and looked at his brother morosely. “I just wish F’lir was here to help us. We’ve never joined with a female mind before—hell, no male finder/seeker team has as far as I know. And the fact that she’s unmated just makes it that much more complicated.”

  F’lir, their old focus, had also been their mentor but he had gone to be with the Mother of Life over a cycle ago. The brothers had been searching for another focus—someone to channel their considerable power and talent and point it in the right direction—ever since. But it was a rare skill and so far they hadn’t found anyone who had anything near their old mentor’s ability.

  “F’lir’s gone,” Deep said shortly. “If he was alive we wouldn’t need Kat in the first place. But until we find another focus, using her memories and feelings for her friend is the best we’re going to do.”

  “Just promise me you’ll stop acting like a bastard,” Lock pleaded. “Having her hate us won’t help the process any.”

  Deep gave him a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll be on my best behavior.” He looked at the chronometer on his wrist. “Shouldn’t she be here by now? Maybe she has less potential than you thought.”

  Just as he spoke, a sharp rapping came at the suite’s wide silver door.

  “That’s her!” Lock jumped up and headed for the door. “Remember your promise,” he said, pointing at Deep.

  Deep raised a hand. “Warrior’s honor. Go ahead, let our lovely little Kat in.”

  Taking a deep breath and praying to the Mother of Life that his brother would behave, Lock turned toward the door and pressed the release.

  * * * * *

  Kat was slightly relieved to see it was Lock standing at the door instead of Deep. Then again, she reminded herself, she would have to deal with the dark twin eventually. She’d agreed to do this…whatever it was, with both of them.

  “Hi.” She smiled brightly as she stepped into their suite. It was large and roomy, with a fireplace in one corner and deep blue carpeting on the floor. Paintings featuring a wide golden ocean dotted with craggy islands were hung on the light blue walls. Not bad for a guest room. She hadn’t been issued one herself bec
ause she’d expected to leave right after the reception. Now it looked like she would be on board the Kindred Mother ship for quite some time which made her wish she’d brought a change of clothes. The silk sapphire dress she’d worn to Liv’s wedding looked outstanding with her creamy skin and auburn hair, but she’d been wearing it for hours now and she was dying to get into something more comfortable.

  “Welcome.” Lock smiled at her and the expression reached all the way down to the bottom of his eyes. Looking at him, Kat realized there was heat in those chocolate brown depths. He might not be as forward as his brother, but it was clear he liked what he saw when he looked at her.

  Fighting the urge to blush, Kat looked at the couch where Deep was sprawled like a lazy panther. “Hello,” she said in a much colder tone—more because she thought it was polite than because she really wanted to talk to the big bastard.

  To her surprise, Deep rose and made her a formal bow. “You are very welcome to our place of residence, my lady,” he murmured.

  Kat blinked in surprise. Was it her imagination or had he actually sounded sincere? “Thank you,” she said. “I’m, uh, pleased to be here.” Clearing her throat, she looked back at Lock. “Well? I’m ready so let’s get started.”

  “My lady—” Lock began but Kat held up a hand.

  “Okay, I just have to say this. Before we go any farther, could both of you please stop calling me ‘my lady?’ It’s getting really old. We’re not at the freaking Renaissance Fair, you know. I mean, what’s next? Are you going to offer to buy me a tankard of mead and joust for my honor?”

  Both the brothers looked thoroughly confused.

  “Buy you what?” Deep said.

  “What’s a joust?” Lock asked.

  Kat blew out a breath in frustration. “Never mind. The point is, I want you to stop calling me ‘my lady.’ All right?”

  Lock frowned. “But it’s the only proper term of address for an elite female.”