Kyn Series

by Mina Carter

  “Granddaughters?” Kalen couldn’t stop the question from springing immediately to his lips, but then, the weak pulsing of light in his hand brought him back to his reason for being here. He held the orb out.

  “Please…”

  He faltered. What did you call a goddess? He had no doubt the creature who stood in front of him was a deity. Kalen avoided religion like an arachnophobe avoided spiders, so he wasn’t sure what the approved method of communicating with one was.

  “Please, my lady.”

  He saw the small quirk of her lips, and realized she’d read his predicament easily. Instead of speaking again, he held out Vixen’s failing soul.

  She rose and took the small soul orb from him with delicate hands. Her bow-shaped lips pursed thoughtfully. “A soul. The soul of the warrioress Vixen.” She looked at him. “Her search is almost over. Why do you bring this to me?”

  Fear froze Kalen’s heart in his chest. What did she mean Vixen’s search was almost over? It couldn’t be.

  “She’s my bond mate, my lady…please, I can’t let her die.” Kalen dropped to one knee before the slender figure of the childlike goddess.

  She arched her eyebrow, an imperious look on her young face. “You can’t let her die? Why…what do you think you, a mere Kyn, can do to avert the will of the gods?”

  Kalen bit his lip—he was going to fail. Vixen would die and there was nothing he could do about it. Coldness seeped into his heart.

  “Nothing, my lady, except to beg you to take my soul in place of hers,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “You would offer your soul? Why?” Curiosity laced her tone, as if Kalen had finally done something interesting.

  Kalen looked up, hope bright in his dark eyes. “I love her. I would rather die so that she could live.”

  The goddess nodded and wrapped her hands around the faltering light in her hands. Kalen gasped and started forward, the urge to snatch it back, strong.

  “And if I refuse?” she asked, still watching him.

  His response was calm, as he stood and looked down at her. “Then take mine as well. I would rather share her fate, whatever it is, than live without her.”

  Silence stretched between them, the two powerful beings… a Kyn warrior and a goddess matching each other look for look. The tension tore at Kalen’s nerve, at his very will, as the impulse to scream and rail at her grew with each second.

  She smiled. Darkness closed around Kalen and tears filled his eyes. He had failed. Defeat crowded in his heart, crushing him, leaving him empty. Then, her voice whispered in his ear. “A soul offered willingly for love is a rare thing, warrior. Perhaps rarer than you realize for one demon-born. Live your days with your warrioress, and may the child she carries be the first of many.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I swear to god if you ever touch me again, Kalen, I’ll rip your hands off.”

  The irate female voice filled the small room and filtered out into the corridor beyond. Kalen, one hand being crushed in a grip of iron, managed a small smile and brushed the hair back from his mate’s face.

  “You’re doing great, sweetheart, just one more push and it’ll be all over,” he promised, one he’d been making for the last hour in the vain hope it would come true sometime soon and save his hand a mangling.

  “One more push?” Vixen, currently in her umpteenth hour of labor and way past a sense of humor, bellowed. “How many more damn ‘one more pushes’ d’ya want?”

  “Nearly there, Vixen,” the experienced, patient midwife calmly said, from the bottom of the bed. She may not have attended a birth where both parents were warriors, but in her years as a midwife, she must have dealt with near hysterical fathers of all descriptions, right? One yelling mother to be didn’t seem to faze her one little bit.

  “That’s it, one long push,” she encouraged, as Vixen gritted her teeth and bore down. Then the midwife moved…both parents waiting with their hearts in their mouths. A strong wail spilt the air in the quiet room and the midwife looked up, her face wreathed in smiles.

  “Congratulations, you have a little girl. And from the looks of these marks, you have another warrior in the family.”

  The End

  Feral

  Chapter One

  There was a baby on his doorstep.

  What Kyn warrior Feral knew about babies would’ve fit on the back of a postage stamp with room to spare. But even he was sure doorsteps weren’t their natural habitat. Which begged the question, why was there one on his doorstep, and where were the people who were supposed to be looking after it?

  “Well hello little…actually, what the hell are you?” he murmured, unable to work out what sex the baby was, from the non-gender specific yellow blanket wrapped around him. It was the sort of colour he knew women had a multitude of names for, and God help a guy if he got it wrong.

  “So, how did you get out here?” He squatted down to pick it up. It took three attempts; his large hands just didn’t seem to be the right shape, to pick up something so tiny. He lifted the squirming bundle carefully and glanced up and down the corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of a loiterer waiting around, watching the little one.

  Nothing. Zip. Nada. Not surprising. Even if someone had been lurking in the shadows, the near six and a half feet of solid, pseudo-tattooed, bare-chested Kyn male who’d opened the door would have scared them off for sure.

  Then the smell hit him.

  Pungent and forceful, it stripped several layers off the inside of his nose like a gallon of paint thinner. He recoiled and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He’d never smelt anything so god-awful in his life!

  “Jee…zuz Christ, are you supposed to smell that bad?” He looked at the bundle in surprise, settling it into the crook of his arm. He didn’t really want it so close, not smelling as foul as it did. But there wasn’t anyone else around, and big-arsed, scary Kyn warrior he might be, he couldn’t leave it alone on the floor. Anything could happen to the little bit. It could get cold and sick or wild dogs could come along…or…something. Although the stench might have warned even the latter off.

  “Okay, let’s see who you are then.” He reached out to move the edge of the blanket now covering the baby’s face—his fingers gentle as he pulled it free. He froze in surprise as his gaze locked on the baby’s hair.

  It was bright pink.

  Which meant two things: One, the baby was male. And two, even worse, it was a Pixie. They were the only species Feral knew of with weird hair colour. Of course he could be way off track here, but he seriously doubted anyone had taken a bleach bottle to the baby’s head to get that sort of colour.

  “You just had to be a Pixie, didn’t you?” He glared up and down the corridor again. Still no one. He sighed heavily, no point standing out on the doorstep like a spare prick at an orgy. A chill ran up the hallway and he shivered. Besides, it was cold out here and babies needed to be kept warm, didn’t they?

  He stepped back into his apartment, hooking a bare foot around the door and kicking it shut before wandering into the main room. He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the open area and frowned. Ok, what the hell do I do now?

  It was one of his rare nights off, so he wasn’t dressed for company. A pair of ripped, faded jeans hung off his hips and his feet were bare. Alone as he was, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt, the dark marks across one side of his body and up his neck that marked him as a Kyn warrior, clearly visible. Adding to the dress problem, he’d already had a couple of beers, so he couldn’t drive. Which left him with a problem. A small, baby-shaped one that smelled.

  He looked down, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the baby opened its eyes and blinked at him. Its wide, bright eyes were peacock blue. A colour which seemed odd next to the shocking colour of its…Feral corrected himself…his colour of hair.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got any suggestions as to what we should do, eh, little man?” The low rumble of his voice being the only sound in the l
arge living room, he spoke more to reassure himself; after all, the baby couldn’t answer him, could it?

  The baby just looked back and smiled. The toothless, gummy smile of the very young. Feral had to admit, even for a Pixie, he was cute. The sort of cute that women went gaga over. The little one was also more placid than he’d been lead to believe babies were. But just then, even as the thought wandered through his mind, the baby’s face crumpled. A slow motion movement which had the big Kyn warrior riveted in fascinated horror.

  “WwwwwwwuuuuaaahhhHHHHHHHHHH!”

  The cry started off low, like an old fashioned air raid siren. Feral had only ever heard them in films, but now, he held an appreciation of what it must have been like in London during the Blitz. It seemed impossible someone so small could make so much noise. But he was, and he was carrying on doing it, threatening to pierce Feral’s eardrums with the sheer volume.

  “Shh…shh…shh, it’s fine. Everything’s fine!” Feral jiggled the baby a little, trying to calm it down, but his action only released fresh waves of the foul stench emanating from the diaper. It wasn’t fine. It was so far from fine it beggared belief. He must really have pissed the fates off at some point for them to lump a baby on him, a Pixie baby no less, when his dislike…no, his hatred of Pixies was well known. Perhaps I kicked kittens or something in a former life?

  Out of ideas, he strode across the room to the breakfast counter. The apartments on his block were open plan, with the kitchen and dining room leading into the main living space. Bathrooms and bedrooms were separated by the narrow excuse for an entrance hall.

  He located his cell phone behind a couple of empty beer bottles and flicked it open. Vixen would know what to do. His partner of several years, and a mother herself, she’d know what to do with a baby. If he was lucky, she might even offer to look after the child for him.

  Here’s hoping, he thought, hitting the “speed dial” and lifting it to his ear.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Vixen’s phone…”

  “Crap!” Feral swore as his patrol partner’s voicemail cut in. He’d forgotten Vixen’s mate, Kalen, had taken her out of town for the weekend. A second “honeymoon” since Vix had been eight months pregnant, and the size of a house, during their first.

  “Bollocks, buggar and shit!” He flicked the phone shut and tapped the edge of it against his teeth. Then he realised the terrible wail had stopped and he looked down in surprise. Peacock blue eyes were fixed on his phone.

  “Oh, you like this, huh?” He smiled and waggled the phone. The baby watched it, tracking the movement. Feral frowned—he didn’t think a little one’s eyes could do that. He remembered reading somewhere that babies couldn’t focus on stuff until they were, like, months old. He shrugged to himself. He must have heard wrong, because little man here was tracking the phone like a damn hawk!

  Pudgy fists emerged from the blanket and made a grab for the sleek silver case, fastening around it and wrenching the thing from Feral’s grasp. He chuckled, an expression which turned to horror the next instant.

  “Okay, okay…oh no, not in the mouth! Not good, not food!” he exclaimed as his new phone was used as a teething ring, an expensive teething ring, gleefully being gummed and slobbered on by the baby Pixie.

  “Give the phone back to Feral. There’s a good little baby.” He coaxed and worked to get a finger between the baby’s mouth and the phone. But the slobbering little thing had formed an unbreakable seal and he couldn’t even get his smallest finger in. He hissed in frustration, looking at the baby in confusion as he tried several different angles in an effort to get the phone back. But it was no good. His hands were too big, more used to battling Rogue vampires than dealing with wee babies.

  Finally, he managed it, sliding his finger down the side and popping the phone free. He grimaced, as his finger and the phone, came away covered in baby slobber. He held the phone up in triumph, but definitely wasn’t prepared for what happened next. A furious squeal tore through Feral, attacking his eardrums as little fists struggled and pummelled the air.

  “WWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

  Feral stuffed the phone back in the baby’s mouth, silencing the squeal as quickly as it had started. Great, so what did he do now? He had no clue how to take care of a baby and had no time to learn. He needed to do something about the smell pretty soon. It was getting worse.

  Diapers. He knew he needed diapers. But what sort, and where could he get them from? Disposable ones would be fine—he wasn’t all earth-momma like the woman two units down. He often saw her outside, pinning out row upon row of white cloth diapers.

  Realisation hit him at light speed. Woman with children! Even better, she had Pixie blood. Glamour was easy, for a Kyn as old as Feral, to see through. Which meant he wouldn’t have to explain why the baby was sporting what looked like a bad dye job.

  Grinning, he did an about face, heading back into the corridor. Not bothering with anything more than sliding his feet into a pair of heavy boots, he trudged out the door in search of salvation.

  *

  The tub of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer was calling Tessa’s name. Chocolate fudge brownie—her favourite comfort food. And after the crap day at work, a quick stop on the way home became a necessity. Fresh from the shower and swaddled in one of her sister’s huge towelling robes, she padded into the kitchen to collect the tub and a spoon. She didn’t bother with a bowl, instead, she just pulled the lid off and dug in, right there in front of the freezer.

  “Mmm,” she moaned in pleasure as the first taste of the chocolatey, gooey treat hit her tongue. The stresses of the day melted away, aided by the long, hot shower and the taste of the ice cream. A little taste of her childhood. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the freezer.

  Today had been the day from hell. Working in a busy logistics office meant everything had been put on hold when the trunk shipments had been late, throwing the whole day into disarray. It also meant Tessa didn’t get to leave until late. Considering she’d been on duty since 6 am, it hadn’t impressed her.

  Finally, she’d been able to escape, a long weekend ahead of her. But even now, she wasn’t finished. No, she’d agreed to house sit for her older sister Lisa, who was off in Vegas with her hubby and the twins. So it had been a mad dash home to throw whatever she needed into a weekend bag, then a breakneck drive over to the apartment to catch Lisa before she left, and get the usual “remember to feed the fish” chat. Lisa was only a couple of years older than Tessa, but anyone would think she was Methuselah the way she carried on at times.

  Now though, all was calm. She’d waved Lisa and James off, twins already asleep and packed up in the back of the car, a little over an hour ago. Just enough time to unwind over a glass of wine as she watched the evening news, and take a long, hot shower. She just loved the shower here. A power shower, it had a setting that felt like needles bombarding her skin, thousands of tiny, dull pinpricks which took her breath away and felt absolutely wonderful after the day she’d had. She’d stood there for a full five minutes under the spray before even reaching for the shower gel.

  She opened her eyes and dug the spoon into the ice cream again, tucking the tub into the crook of her arm as she headed through to the main room. Flopping down in the middle of the comfortable sofa, she rooted around for the remote, spoon in mouth. She was sure it was there somewhere, she just needed to find it and then she’d be all set. The player was loaded with tonight’s choice of a weepy chick flick movie, one she’d been looking forward to watching for weeks, but just hadn’t found the time. Well, now she had the time. This weekend was all about her, and relaxation. Lots of relaxation.

  “Ahh, there you are!” She recovered the missing remote from under one of the many scatter cushions. Her sister seemed obsessed with the things. Either that or they were breeding. Tessa wasn’t quite sure which it was or which was scarier.

  Sighing in satisfaction, she spooned more ice cream into her mouth as she flicked the player on, curling her legs up unde
r her and settling herself into a more comfortable position. Life didn’t get much better than this, she decided, with a contented sigh as the opening credits rolled.

  Rap, rap, rap!

  “Damn it.” She looked over her shoulder, the knock on the front door continuing as she stared. Who on earth could that be? Had to be a cold caller, she decided. Lisa would have let all her friends know she was going to be away. Her sister was a control freak like that. So it had to be someone who didn’t know Lisa or James. And if it wasn’t, perhaps they would go away if she ignored them.

  Rap, rap, rap!

  No such luck, the hammering got worse. Tessa sighed as she contemplated moving, flicking pause on the remote and freezing the scrolling text on the TV screen.

  “This had better be good,” she grumbled under her breath as she put the tub on the floor, driving the spoon into the melting ice cream with a vicious stab, then got to her feet. It had better be good…and quick, since she had a major fan-girl crush on the actor in the movie. So the quicker she got back to ogle his toned and sculptured bod, the happier she’d be.

  She grumbled under her breath all the way to the door, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Ever security conscious, she threw the chain over before she opened it a crack.

  “Hello?” That was as far as she got, the sight which met her eyes stopping any further comment in her throat.

  On her doorstep was the most handsome, ripped guy she’d ever seen. Her eyes started at the middle of the broad chest, noting the heavily toned muscles as they moved outwards. A long way outwards, the guy was huge! And tall. Her eyes flicked upward. He had to be well over six feet. Made her feel kind of dainty, which wasn’t something Tessa got to feel very often.