Bonding With the Beast_Kindred Tales_Brides of the Kindred

by Evangeline Anderson

  They were a pale, piercing, wintry blue—a blue so pale it reminded her of a Husky’s. In fact, the blue would have bled seamlessly into the whites of his eyes except for a ring of black around his irises. He had thick black lashes that were surprisingly long for a man, making his startling eyes strangely beautiful.

  “Blue,” she whispered, unaware that she was speaking aloud. “I could never see them in my dreams but they’re blue.”

  “And yours are brown—just as I saw in my dreams,” Hail murmured.

  “What?” Shock dashed her in the face like a splash of icy water. “You…you dreamed of me?”

  “And you of me.” Those piercing Husky blue eyes seemed to be boring a hole in her soul but somehow Isobel found she couldn’t look away. Her heart was pounding and her palms were clammy and damp. What was happening to her?

  It was Brandon who finally broke the tense silence.

  “Mom,” he said, still looking at his drawing which he seemed completely engrossed in. “Since the Kindred are genetic traders who come to other worlds to find women, did Hail come to marry you? He did—right?”

  “What?” Finally she was able to drag her eyes away from that strange, intense gaze. “Brandon, why in the world would you say something like that?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “It just seems like a good idea. I like Hail and he likes me. And if the two of you got married, you could make me a little brother—right?”

  “I…uh…” Isobel didn’t know what to say so she laughed nervously. “Excuse him,” she told Hail. “Kids, right? They come up with the craziest ideas.”

  Hail frowned. “I do not find the idea ‘crazy.’ Although…” He frowned regretfully. “There would be…impediments to such a union.”

  “I like Hail,” Brandon repeated, surprising her. He usually wasn’t so forthright about his feelings. “He talks like a robot and he’s really intelligent.”

  “I could say the same for you, young one,” Hail remarked and a slight smile quirked one corner of his thin but sensual mouth.

  “I don’t talk like a robot—I talk like a grown-up,” Brandon corrected. The fact that he was still speaking directly to Hail, even though he was keeping his eyes down on his drawing, surprised Isobel all over again. Her son had a tendency to withdraw into himself around strangers but somehow this huge, frightening Kindred had brought him out of his shell more completely than she’d ever seen anyone else do before.

  “So how do you do it?” Brandon asked, still drawing intently as he spoke.

  “How do you do what?” Isobel asked. She was used to him asking questions out of nowhere or continuing conversations they’d started days before as though there had been no pause. It was just the way his mind worked—he wasn’t neurotypical. In her eyes, that made him special and unique—she loved the way her son saw the world in such a different way. But it sometimes made other people who didn’t know or understand Brandon uncomfortable.

  “How do you make a baby?” he asked, looking up at last. “I mean, once you two get married. How will you make me a brother?”

  “Oh…uh…Brandon!” Isobel felt her cheeks going hot with a blush. She had ducked this particular question once or twice before but of all times for Brandon to bring it up again! She didn’t even know how to answer but Commander Hail didn’t seem to have a problem.

  “Well, there are the obvious methods of reproduction,” he began but then he saw Isobel shaking her head at him frantically. She was not ready to have this particular talk with Brandon yet—especially not in front of a stranger.

  “What obvious methods?” Brandon demanded.

  “But on my planet—my home world,” Hail continued smoothly, not answering his question, “We do not use such methods. Our DNA is mixed by the Tolleg surgeons and we are grown in a growth tank until we reach adulthood.”

  “What?” Isobel was surprised into blurting out. “So you were grown like a…like a test tube baby? You never had parents?”

  Hail shook his head. “No and I never missed them…before I came to the Mother Ship.” A wistful expression crossed his strong features. “Now when I see warriors and their mates interacting with their young ones I cannot help but wonder…and wish I could experience such a relationship.”

  “You can.” Brandon jumped up and to Isobel’s intense surprise, grabbed Hail by the hand. He almost never touched a stranger voluntarily, though he would submit to having his own hand shaken even when it was clear he didn’t want to. “You will,” he said, looking up at Hail, despite the fact that the big Kindred’s eyes were uncovered. “You’re going to be my new dad. I know because I dreamed it.”

  For a moment Isobel actually felt like the room was spinning around her. How could this be? Was Brandon serious—had he also been having dreams of the huge Kindred warrior? But how could he? What was going on?

  “Excuse me,” she said, putting a hand to her head. “Brandon-bug, mommy doesn’t feel so well. I think…I think I need some water.” Then, remembering her manners, she looked up at the big Kindred who was staring at her intently with a curious expression on his face. “Would…would you like a drink?”

  “Thank you, no—I’m fine. But are you well, Isobel? Your cheeks are very pink and your breathing is labored.”

  Her name spoken in his deep voice sent a shiver from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.

  “I…I’m fine. Just overheated. I’ll get that glass of water now.”

  “Can Hail draw with me some more?” Brandon asked.

  “I…I suppose so.” Isobel nodded distractedly. “I mean, I guess we can’t go anywhere until Mrs. Hallstead shows up.”

  “Good.” Brandon looked up at the big Kindred who was still standing. “You can sit with me again but put back on your oculars—okay?”

  “Certainly.” Hail pressed the button at his left temple again and the black, mirrored lenses extended and slid down in front of his eyes once more, hiding their strange beauty from sight. He settled beside Brandon on the floor and the two of them began talking about the drawing Brandon was doing again, taking up their conversation as though Isobel had never interrupted it in the first place.

  She took one last look at them and fled to the kitchen.

  Chapter Four

  From the safety of the kitchen, Isobel took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. What was going on here? First she and the huge Kindred were dreaming about each other and now Brandon was dreaming of them together too? How could something like this happen?

  She was tempted to call Kat and try to find out but she didn’t know how sharp the big Kindred’s hearing was. If he could see through walls, he might be able to hear through them too.

  Should I go with him? Or should I make an excuse and cancel?

  But what excuse could she make? Kat was waiting for her and it wasn’t like Hail had threatened her in any way. What would she say?

  “I’m sorry Kat but I can’t make it because I’ve been seeing the guy you sent to fly me up there in my dreams and now it turns out that Brandon has been dreaming of him too and he thinks we’re going to get married and make him a baby brother so I’m too freaked out to fly with him!”

  Right. That sounded just plain crazy. No, there was no way out of it—she would have to go ahead and ride with Commander Hail up to the Mother Ship.

  I’ll go, Isobel told herself. It’s just a quick trip. Kat told me it only takes about thirty minutes each way in a Kindred shuttle. Without Brandon to ask awkward questions, it should be okay.

  She hoped, anyway.

  Now that she had her nerve up and had made up her mind to go, despite the strange dreams, she wished Mrs. Hallstead would hurry and get there. Putting her head out the kitchen door, she took a look at what was happening in the small living room.

  Hail and Brandon were both bent over the diagram, which had grown even more elaborate. Brandon had his crayons out now and was coloring different parts as Hail pointed them out, his deep voi
ce a soothing, low rumble.

  Looking at them together, Isobel couldn’t help thinking of how different this scene was than the ones she’d witnessed between Brandon and his real father—her ex, Mitch.

  Mitch was a big, blond guy, around six three or four, with shoulders like a linebacker and a face that was constantly red with emotion. And unfortunately, the emotions most often expressed seemed to be anger, irritation, and impatience.

  Sometimes when she thought of him, Isobel wondered how she could ever have been attracted to her ex in the first place. He was noisy and athletic and loved sports—all kinds of sports—and outdoor activities like hiking and camping and fishing. He was the kind of guy who coaches soccer on the weekends for fun and shouts at the referee while watching a football game at home.

  Isobel herself was quiet and bookish, although she could stand up for herself when she had to. Maybe they had wound up together because opposites attract but the attraction had long since passed by the time she figured out something was different about Brandon.

  Mitch had always been impatient with their son’s delays and quirks. He wanted a son who was rough and tumble—a boy he could take outside and toss the football with. The fact that Brandon was exceptionally smart cut zero ice with him. He wanted a loud, happy, normal child—not one with special needs.

  The day Isobel had walked through the door and saw her ex shouting at their son, she knew it was time to leave. He’d been growing gradually more abusive and distant towards her but this was the first time she’d seen him yell at Brandon.

  “Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, you little shit!” he was screaming in their son’s face. “Look at me! Why won’t you look at me?”

  Brandon had almost completely shut down—a blank look on his thin, pinched features as he stared at the floor, unable to meet his father’s angry gaze. Even when Mitch shook him so hard his teeth clicked together and his glasses fell off, he still didn’t look up or respond. He had retreated into his protective shell—the one he went into more and more often around his loud, angry father.

  Isobel shivered at the memory. She had tried to explain to her ex that eye contact was difficult for kids on the Autism Spectrum—it was often overwhelming, especially if the other person was upset. And Mitch certainly was that. Apparently all the frustration he felt about having a son who was “substandard” had come to a head and was spewing out. It probably had something to do with the beer cans she saw crumpled in the garbage but at that moment, nothing could excuse what she was seeing.

  “You’re no fucking good at anything!” he’d been shouting as Isobel rushed over to pry his thick, meaty hands off Brandon’s thin, bird-like shoulders. “You can’t fucking catch a ball and you don’t even want to watch the goddamn football game with me. You don’t like to swim because the water’s ‘too cold,’ you don’t even want to go outside because the sun’s ‘too bright.’ What the hell is wrong with you, you little shit?”

  “Leave him alone! Leave him alone!” Isobel had shouted, prying his hands off their son and putting herself between them. “I’ve told you why he has a hard time looking you in the eyes! And the sunlight and the water temperature are sensory issues. If you would ever read any of the literature I tried to give you—”

  “Fuck your ‘literature’. Fucking excuses, that’s all it is,” Mitch roared, his face redder than ever and his breath heavy with beer. “You’ve been making excuses for the little shit ever since they told you he wasn’t acting like the other kids in preschool. Well he doesn’t need excuses—he needs to toughen up and start acting normal!”

  “He can’t. He’s not like other kids. He’s special—so special and wonderful and different but you can’t see that. You won’t see it!” Isobel cried.

  She’d been crying at that point—tears of rage and hurt pouring down her cheeks. Mitch had been abusive to her in the past when he was mad at her—mostly in little ways like twisting her wrist or pinching her to leave a bruise where no one could see. But he’d never laid a finger on their son before.

  And he never got a chance to again. The next day Isobel had filed the divorce papers she’d been holding back, hoping things would get better. Then she’d gotten Brandon out of school early and left, driving across the country from California to Florida. There she was able to get a job with a law firm she’d temped for during her USF years. It was a rough life, being a single mom, but in Isobel’s opinion, it was more than worth it never to see her ex scream and curse at her son again.

  With a shiver, she tried to push the thought of Mitch out of her mind. They hadn’t seen him in over a year which was good as far as she was concerned. Either it meant he couldn’t find them or he had given up looking.

  Isobel hoped for the latter. It would be much better if Mitch had decided to just cut his losses and start fresh with someone else—although she certainly felt sorry for the girl he might have picked to start over with, whoever she was.

  Just then the doorbell rang again and she had a moment of relief—Mrs. Hallstead was finally here—followed by a moment of trepidation—now she would have to be alone with the big Kindred for the next thirty to forty-five minutes on the trip to the Mother Ship.

  But there was no putting it off. As Brandon ran to answer the door—surprisingly unbidden—she took a deep breath, straightened her hair, pushed back her shoulders and prepared to leave with Commander Hail.

  * * * * *

  Hail cast a sidelong glance at the small Earth female as he started the lift-off sequence. She was securely fastened into the seat with the safety straps tight around her curvy body—he had seen to that himself. She had appeared uncomfortable as he leaned over her and he caught the scent of unease under her fresh, feminine fragrance. Gods, she smelled good! But he didn’t like that his nearness made her anxious. Somehow he wanted to ease her mind—but how?

  Isobel seemed to feel his eyes on her because she looked up briefly and then glanced quickly away, her cheeks going pink.

  “Are you well, Isobel?” he asked, hoping to start a conversation.

  “I…I’m fine.” She gave him a small, tentative smile. “I’ve just…never been off of Earth before.”

  “It’s a short trip to the Mother Ship,” Hail told her. “You may experience a bit of discomfort due to the G forces during lift-off but after that it’s what I believe you humans call ‘smooth sailing.’”

  “Thank you.” She risked a glance at him again and gave him another of those small, uncertain smiles. “So…what were you and Brandon drawing?” she asked, seeming to think she ought to hold up her end of the conversation.

  “He wanted to make a diagram of my oculars,” Hail said. “He is…different from the other young ones I have observed in my time aboard the Mother Ship.”

  Isobel’s shoulders stiffened.

  “Brandon is on the Autism Spectrum,” she said, sounding defensive. “So his brain works differently from other people’s. He’s actually extremely intelligent.”

  “I can tell—he spoke knowledgably about things most young ones his age would not comprehend,” Hail said. “And I did not mean different in a bad way. I found him very pleasant to talk and interact with.” He shot another sidelong glance at her. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “No.” She seemed to relax—or at least some of the tension went out of her shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just…a little touchy when it comes to my son. He’s the most important person in my life.”

  “I see. And…you have no mate?” Hail couldn’t help asking. He had scented no other male on her but she must have been with one once or Brandon would not have been born.

  Isobel shook her head, her long, golden brown hair brushing against the headrest behind her.

  “No. I…left my husband over a year ago. We haven’t seen him since and I hope we never do again.”

  “Why?” Hail asked curiously.

  Isobel shot him a glance.

  “Direct, aren’t you? If you must know, he was abusive. No
t in a huge way—he never broke my arm or pushed me down the stairs. But he would do little things—pinching me until I bruised or slapping my behind really hard—hard enough to leave a mark. Little things…little cruelties. After a while, they added up.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, clenched around the seat straps. “God, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I barely know you.”

  “I’m glad you’re telling me. Any male who treats a female in such a shameful way should be punished.”

  Hail’s voice sounded low and growling in his own ears and he could feel the anger rushing through him at the thought of what she had endured. Grimly he tamped the emotion back down. Gods, he really ought to adjust his emotion damper but some how he still didn’t want to. Being with Isobel—being so close to her in the cab of the small shuttle, smelling her feminine scent and hearing her soft voice—was extremely pleasant, even when she was telling him something that upset him and gave him negative emotions.

  “That’s the problem—there aren’t a lot of punishments for men like Mitch,” Isobel said in a low voice. “I mean if he’d put me in the hospital I probably could have gotten a restraining order but everything he did was little…mean and petty but nothing I could really show to a judge as a reason to keep him away from me.”

  “And that is why you left him,” Hail said. But to his surprise Isobel shook her head.

  “No,” she said in a low voice. “I caught Mitch shouting at Brandon. Shouting and…and shaking him.”

  The memory seemed to have a great effect on her—Hail saw the glimmer of tears in her lovely brown eyes. He knew this was something that happened when a person with emotions felt overwhelming sadness but he had never experienced it himself. His heart seemed to swell and contract in his chest when he saw her pain. Hail didn’t understand how it could be, but it was as though her emotion was affecting him too.