Bondmate

by J. J. Lore

  All the gruesome tales flooded her mind, and she screamed. Their grip on her eased, and she kicked against the bed until she fell off the side onto a carpeted floor. On hands and knees she struggled to escape, only to be captured by hard hands. They were the alien demons, come to capture her and eat her. Women had been disappearing from her community for years. Most had blamed perverted killers, but there had been whispers of these golden men with horns being in the area before some had vanished. She strained against their hold, her exhaustion forgotten as the basic urge to survive gave her a final burst of energy.

  “Quiet. Calm.” The deep voice carried right into her brain, and she twisted her head to look at the villain who’d spoken. It was the one who hadn’t smiled, the one who’d stroked her buttocks like he was measuring her for a roasting pan. Unaccountably, she stilled, the tension in her limbs easing as she stared into his gleaming eyes.

  “I am Mateen of the Albin. I’m not going to harm you.”

  Another voice cut in, and she turned to see the other devil, a slight smile returning to his mouth. He’d been the one who spoke before. “And I’m Bynton of the Albin. I’m not going to hurt you either.”

  She didn’t believe them, but wherever they were touching her felt only warm and solid, not painful. Big, solid chests hemmed her in; thick thighs pressed against her legs. A few shallow breaths calmed her a bit more. If they were going to eat her, she’d probably be in bloody chunks by now.

  “What do you want with me?”

  The men looked at each other and softened their hold on her enough that she could move a bit.

  “We want to talk to you.” Mateen stared at her, his brows lowered.

  “Learn about you.” Bynton released his hold on her arm long enough to adjust the way her cowl fit against her head. She swerved away from his touch, and he dropped his hand.

  “Didn’t have to grab me to do that.” It was only bravado talking at this point. She knew her legs were going to shake soon and she’d fall. Too little to eat over the last few weeks, running and screaming, terror, had all stolen away whatever she’d been holding in reserve.

  “We did. We needed privacy with you, and that wasn’t an option at the camp, was it?” Mateen’s voice was low, his reasoning logical. No, there was no privacy in the camp for anyone. She hadn’t had a moment of silence or peace since the soldiers had forced the evacuation of her apartment block in Puerta Santigo over a month ago, not that she’d had much solitude there. A blanket sectioning off half a tiny room hardly counted as a home. But she’d belonged there. Once she’d been evacuated her life had turned to hunger, filth, and desperation.

  “Privacy for what? Are you going to kill me?”

  Mateen narrowed his eyes, and she felt Bynton release her entirely as she asked her question.

  “Kill you? Why would we—?”

  “To eat me. The devils like to eat us, or so the stories go.”

  “We aren’t devils.” Bynton took a step away and jammed his hands on his hips, throwing his broad chest and thick arms into perfect display. “We are decorated warriors of a respected house, not uncivilized cannibals.”

  She would have shrugged, but the other male, Mateen, still held her close. His broad hand flexed against her back.

  “In the interest of civility, perhaps we might share a meal,” he said as he slid his other hand down her arm to stroke along her hand, his expression distracted like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. “After you bathe.”

  Why she should be embarrassed by her unkempt state, she didn’t know. Staying clean was of much less importance than the basics of survival, but a quick glance around her revealed this room was very tidy, and the men within it were equally hygienic. She certainly wasn’t going to disrobe in front of them. “These are the only clothes I have.”

  “We have replacements,” Bynton offered quickly. He stepped back to her side and again plucked at her cowl. “There’s a cleansing module just through that door. I can show you—”

  “Show me nothing. I’m not going anywhere but away.” It was weak defiance, further degraded by the sudden rumble from her empty belly. So these devils knew she was dirty and hungry. So what?

  “You need to eat before you return to that place,” Mateen declared in a decisive tone. She saw Bynton peered at his friend with a frown. “We will replace your garments as well.”

  He released his hold on her and stepped away. Bynton edged closer, the warmth of his body apparent to her, and for a bare second she wanted to close her eyes and lean against him, feel something solid in her world once again. So strange and dangerous.

  “I will prepare a meal while Byn assists you.” With that, Mateen turned away and left the room through a door she hadn’t noticed, leaving it ajar in his wake.

  “Come this way,” Bynton prompted her, and she took a few stumbling steps in the direction he indicated before sense restored to her.

  “Why should I? You captured me, frightened me, and now I’m supposed to bathe in this place I don’t even know? Eat with you?”

  Bynton’s expression softened, and he caught her hand in a surprisingly gentle grasp. “This was a traumatic way to meet, but we had no choice in the matter. There’s no reason for you to trust me or Mat, but we truly mean you no harm. The opposite is true. Our intentions are only the best where you are concerned.”

  They were kidnappers, scary beasts with horns and huge bodies. She couldn’t escape. Rather than argue, she relented and walked towards the room he’d shown her. Perhaps they wanted her clean and fed before they tortured her. At least she’d be presentable at her execution.

  ****

  Bynton was filled with a potent combination of delight and despair. Lovely No was naked behind a thin translucent barrier, and the humid air of the hygiene module was filled with her scent. Touching her, however briefly, had cemented his certainty she was the correct woman to complete his bond with Mateen, but she might refuse them, might prefer the known, if perilous, ways of the camp to the mystery of life with Alphan bondmates. He knew Mateen was counting on him to convince her, charm her, because his partner felt he was too gruff to make that connection. It was a vital task. Bynton already knew he’d be pitched into depression if she fled them.

  She moved, and he watched her shadowed form. She’d caught on to the basics of the functions of the room, and he’d left her for a moment so she could disrobe, even though he longed to be the one who pulled her soiled clothes from her body. The privilege of seeing her beauty was something to be shared with his bondmate, however, something to be arrived at by mutual consent.

  “May I help you with anything, No?”

  His question must have caught her by surprise because she let out a squeal and slipped in the shower. He saw her body topple, and without hesitation he rushed to the barrier, swinging it aside to find her crumpled on the wet floor, a small, damp towel clutched to cover her as she stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Long wet hair slithered over his skin as he gathered her up, her skin cool so cool and damp against his own.

  “Mateen!”

  His summons was quickly answered by the other man who crowded into the shower module, his face set in a stern scowl as he evaluated. “What happened?”

  “I startled No, and she fell.”

  “Why are you calling me No?” The young woman’s voice quavered, and she shook as Mateen slowly flexed her limbs. She winced when he reached her right elbow.

  “That’s what you said your name was.”

  “No. I mean, no isn’t my name.”

  Bynton lifted her carefully at Mateen’s nod and carried her to the bed as the other man collected some dry towels. He reached for one and rubbed at her hair as Mateen inspected her elbow more closely, running his fingertips along the joint and gently bending her arm. It was an injury neither of them would have noticed in training or battle, but his stomach knotted with worry for her regardless. She was so much smaller and more delicate than they were, and despite his growing compulsion to engage
in intercourse with her, part of him wondered how she might be able to accommodate him or Mateen in their aroused states.

  Without a word, Mateen slid from the bed and exited the room, leaving Bynton to continue to dry her. She modestly pulled the wet towel over her torso until he draped a dry one over her and tugged the damp one free. She raised her eyebrows and sat up, tucking the covering around herself as he applied himself to her slender legs. So curvy and smooth, so unlike his own. They were fascinating, as was her scent, a haunting mixture of musk and sweetness he’d never encountered before. That wasn’t a surprise. He’d rarely encountered women of his own species, and she was his first human female. Just as he was considering nosing along her calf to gather more of her in his nostrils, his bondmate reappeared with a cold pack, which he pressed to her injury.

  “It’s a minor contusion,” Mateen said as he frowned at her, glancing over her exposed arms and legs. Tiny bones showed under the skin of her shoulders and knees. “She’s undernourished.”

  “That’s a good reason to eat now.” Bynton smiled at her, pleased she was practically unharmed. Perhaps they would eat here in the bed, share the dishes and learn more about each other in a less formal environment.

  “What is your name?” Mateen’s question sounded harsher than he probably meant, and she jumped.

  “Avanelle Rein, of the, ah, formerly of Puerta Santigo.” Her little flash of pride, her attempt to emulate their own titles was a good sign she was growing more comfortable with them.

  “How old are you?”

  Mateen sounded like a commander taking on a new trooper he hadn’t requested, and Bynton tried to send him a message to ease back by eyeing him. Mateen caught it and frowned.

  “About twenty-five, I think.” She swallowed and curved her legs back, edging away towards the headboard. Having two kilo-heavy males looming over her was probably not the best way to get her to relax, even though both he and his bondmate wanted to come in much closer contact with her soon.

  “What do you want from me? Where am I? Where are my clothes?”

  Bynton preferred not to mention what Mateen had done with her ragged garments as soon as she’d stepped in the shower. They had probably been the only coverings Avanelle possessed and were now decomposing in the cycler.

  “You are on our ship. We have a proposition for you.” Mateen crawled to her side and pushed the dropped cold pack back to her elbow. A blunt force, that was his bondmate.

  Avanelle stared up at him, her hair sliding over her shoulders as she clutched the towel closer, the bottom edge riding up to the tops of her thighs. From his position near the foot of the bed, Byn could nearly see between her legs, just a dark shadow at this point, but after months of studying diagrams, he wanted to see the real thing. His breathing accelerated, and he leaned forward. A glimpse of pink, then Mateen’s voice interrupted his surveillance.

  “We are bondmates.” Mateen gestured at Byn even as he held Avanelle’s gaze. She frowned and shook her head, clearly not understanding the term.

  “We chose each other, to train with, fight beside, share both pain and reward. We are loyal to each other unto death.” Byn tried to explain a complicated relationship as simply as possible.

  Mateen harrumphed and continued down his direct path toward the goal of winning Avanelle. “We have reached the appropriate ranks and won enough honors to garner additional rewards in our household. One of which is to take—”

  “We are here, looking for you.” Byn broke in, sure Mateen would have laid out a quid pro quo arrangement that would send Avanelle running for the hatch. This sort of negotiation wasn’t like setting up a weapons maintenance schedule. Finesse was required.

  “Why? How could you? You don’t know me. You aren’t even human.”

  Mateen made a low, annoyed sound. Byn knew his feelings on the subject. He, too, disliked any sort of bigotry, no matter how unintentional. “Yes, and you aren’t even Alphan, but those distinctions aren’t a factor. We are compatible in the ways that matter.”

  “Matter how?” Avanelle blinked and drew her knees up, and Bynton saw the smooth curve of her bare buttock and nearly threw himself upon her. But he restrained himself, sure that sort of action would also send the woman running.

  “We wish for you to come with us, back to our home.” Mateen settled back on his haunches in front of her, his hands resting on his thighs and his arms akimbo. “To join our household.”

  “As what, a maid?”

  Mateen shook his head, and Bynton decided to help. It would be a good distraction from the mysterious parts of Avanelle’s body he was glimpsing. “No, as a partner.”

  She blinked and pursed her lips. “But I don’t have anything to offer…”

  Understanding dawned in her brown eyes, and her whole body tensed against the padded headboard. She barely breathed. “You want me as a sex slave.”

  Byn couldn’t hold back the low growl that had been building in his throat since he’d touched her earlier, and she turned her frightened gaze his way. “Not a slave.”

  “We aren’t forcing you. That’s why we are talking to you.” Mateen sounded reasonable. Bynton didn’t know how he did it. Merely being this close to Avanelle, hearing her say “sex” was stimulating him in ways he’d never imagined. None of his self-pleasure sessions had ever been this tantalizing, or his responses so immediate. Mateen surely had to be feeling the same tug of lust. The woman tucked her towel around her hips, which lowered the top edge and exposed most of her small breasts. They looked soft, soft enough to caress with his tongue.

  “We aren’t going to just take you,” Byn ground out, his self-control holding by a fine thread. Some pulse of emotion filled the air between them. This moment of tension was a crucial one. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mateen’s hand clinch on his thigh, the knuckles whitening with the pressure.

  Avanelle was quiet, motionless for a long beat, and then she tore her gaze from his to Mateen’s. “Why me?”

  “We sensed you, or rather Bynton did. He’s more intuitive than I. He was sure the connection could be made. You felt it, too. That’s why you panicked and ran.”

  Byn was glad Mat wasn’t explaining everything to her just yet. Small steps would lead to the largest reward.

  “I ran because I was scared. What connection?” She clenched one hand in the soft plush of the towel as the other smoothed along the sheet next to her hip. Byn wanted her to touch him like that, soft strokes and strong grips.

  “A bond, similar to the one Byn and I share.” The other man stopped and cleared his throat. “You would be safe and have every advantage we could provide.”

  “So you came here, to that camp, to find me, and you want me to go with you and have sex with you. Both of you.” Avanelle’s quick recitation of the basics of the situation earned her nods from both Mat and him. In no way did she understand the ramifications of this arrangement, or the potential for a challenge that might occur when they arrived home. Better to save those discussions for another time, if they were lucky enough to get it.

  “Come, have a meal with us as you consider these things.” Byn made the offer because he knew she had to be hungry and it was a way to prolong their interaction. It would also distract him from wanting to rip that towel from her body so he could start an in-depth study of human female anatomy. Sharing food was a significant social interaction in Alphan society, and the idea of including Avanelle pleased him deeply. He hardly dared hope this would be the first of many.

  “I want some clothes.”

  Byn glanced at Mat, who nodded to him. With reluctance he left the bed and walked to the storage unit where he retrieved some loose fitting clothing. They’d selected garments with adjustable fittings, unsure what size their prize would be. He returned to the bed and held out the shirt for her to assume. She looked up and reached for it with one hand, the other still clutching the towel. Struggling for a moment, she managed to get it over her head, but then was caught in the folds of fabric.


  Byn caught Mateen’s eye, and they both reached to help her realign the shirt. As she slid her arms in, he wasn’t able to resist peering down and catching a glimpse of her bare breasts. Round, with pale pink nipples, they shook as she shrugged the garment down. She pulled it past her waist, and Mateen tugged at the towel as Byn handed over the pants. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to, but his bond’s gesture left her uncovered for a quick moment, and the sight of her sex, modestly framed by her slim thighs and concealed by a cluster of soft brown curls, made his body tense from his toes to his suddenly throbbing staff. She was a rare jewel indeed. Mateen’s gruff exhalation indicated he’d also seen her, and the reality of this, that they’d found their woman, and she was finally safe with them, made his blood rush.

  Avanelle quickly turned to the side as she drew the pants up her legs, seemingly unaware how much she’d affected them. She struggled with the tapes at the waist but soon had them fastened. The top gaped open around her neck. They’d thought human women were larger, or she was a smaller than average specimen. She slid to the edge of the bed and stood, swaying slightly, the material falling over her hands. He and Mat were at her sides, rolling up the sleeves and the bottoms of the pants before she could make a move.

  He caught her gaze, and saw caution and bemusement, but fortunately no fear.

  Mateen grabbed the cold pack from the tangle of bedclothes and pressed it to her elbow. “Come, let us eat.”

  Chapter Three

  Avanelle woke up in the clean bed again. Relaxed and satisfied until she remembered her surroundings, she tensed. Where were they? The room was darker than it had been, and she couldn’t see a thing beyond the paleness of the sheets and a faint glow from a light along a far wall.

  They’d fed her. Those big golden men had arranged a multitude of small dishes in front of her, each containing a different food. Food like she’d never seen in her life. Red, yellow, green vegetables mixed together, served alone and with sour sauces. Slivers of meats she couldn’t identify, some charred as if they’d been roasted over a fire, others shredded into rich stews. Chewy breads and grain pilafs. It was all a wonder, and neither of the men had eaten from any of the plates until she’d tried a bite. It was difficult not to shove food down her throat, but she knew if she attempted too much, her long-denied stomach would rebel.