The Bridal Hunt (Brides of the Hunt Book 1)

by Jeanette Lynn

  ✽✽✽

  It turned out there were a lot of other women here, more than I could have ever imagined, who've been here for years. I’d just barely started talking to any of them, picking up small things here and there as they gradually warmed up to me. The more we spoke, the more women I met.

  It was like they were coming out of the woodwork. Part of me wondered if I had temporarily been on a banned list or something for my eat you mix up back in the bridal-kidnap-daycare hut. I still blamed the snow beasties for that fiasco—mostly Kirch, but they could all share in the blame.

  Put it down to standoffishness or just plain old call me shy, but either way, the other brides started slowly seeking me out when I finally let my guard down, and that's how it’d all started. Moi, for company and conversation, shock-a-rooney, I could hardly believe it.

  These last few days in particular, the older ladies have really come around. It has been a never ending game of fifty questions, with everyone curious as to what our world is like now. Did the other women not tell them? And why have I only seen so few up to this point? Are they keeping the rest of my fellow bride-napped comrades separated as well for some reason?

  As we’d all sat around to eat, new brides and old coming together for the first day of my first big harvest, the questions had begun. Whatever came to mind, it came out of their mouths. Answering to the best of my knowledge, I found some of their inquiries a bit odd but entertaining. Sally was more than willing to fill in the gaps I couldn’t, and I gladly let her.

  When the older brides had started talking about their own Earth experiences, their stories weren’t really making much sense. Mentioning things that would be more than outdated compared to their age, and as in some cases I’ve only read about in history books, I was beyond confused, but unsure, exactly, how to go about asking.

  Tentative new friendships being kindled, I didn’t want to be thrust back onto the snow beast shit list again, opting to keep my mouth firmly shut. The rest of the day went by smoothly, as did the next, and I bided my time, listening and thinking—gathering information, more like—until I thought it the right time to speak up.

  Today, exactly seven days later, I finally gathered up the balls to blurt, "How old are you guys?" No one heard me so I said it again, mumbling to the woman in front of me, who couldn't possibly be in her eighties.

  The woman turned then, her full lips quirking as she laughed. Blue eyes dancing, she explained, "Time goes by slower on this plane, Earth's years passing by faster than ours."

  "Oh," I mumbled stupidly, not really knowing what to say to that.

  It goes slower here? How much slower? Which brought another troubling conundrum: if I ever did make it back, how much time would have passed between then and now? How different would it be? The thought had my gut tumbling.

  "Mama. Mina." Bia beamed as he walked up to us, another basket of materials for—wait for it—more baskets in his hands.

  Basket weaving, I thought glumly. Oh joy.

  "Bia, sweetheart," the blue-eyed woman—obviously Bia's mother—said, "you do know that Mina is with Veck, don't you, dear?"

  Not quite catching what that was all about, I glanced between mother and son, trying to understand the byplay.

  "Mmm-hmm," he murmured easily, nodding.

  Smiling over at me as he approached, he offered to carry my basket of supplies, carting it over to my chosen work spot for the day.

  "What was that all about?" I asked curiously, once we were well away from everyone else.

  "Hm? Nothing." Bia shrugged and glanced away. Those big blue eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

  When it looked as if I was about to pry, which I was, he forged ahead, the wind ruffling the hair of his furry, snowy white coat as he passed. It reminded me once more just how different we both are—exactly what he is. I tended to forget, the longer I'm here.

  They're all somewhat human to an extent, I supposed, yet not quite. Different, but the same. Damn. I sound like I’m making excuses for them. They’re kidnappers and I’m slowly falling in line... They abduct people to mate, for chrissake! And I’m relating to them.

  Isn't there a name for shit like that? When people go along like this? Like a syndrome or something when the kidnap victim falls in with their kidnapper?

  Or do I even qualify in that respect?

  And then I waffled again. This was kind of a messed up scenario to be stuck in the middle of—I didn’t know what to think, or where I fell in anymore.

  Even when I was plotting to get the hell outta here, and quite openly—my lack of cunning and stealth making my plans for escape obvious enough—I was left unharmed. I was hunted down and brought back, yes, but unharmed. Does it still make it right, though? No, and I knew that.

  I’d yet to hear of a bride being forced into one of these Bridal Hunts, and was beginning to wonder if that was just a scare tactic used to get the women they stole to agree.

  Veck of the terrible fibbers swore they went on, so I took it as truth, though I often wondered when the last one had actually taken place. Kirch’s threat to devour me had also been empty, as well. I’d had to ask a bride on that one to appease my paranoid self, just to be doubly sure.

  "No, really, though," I tried, tuning back in to Bia. My smile faltered as my question was met with silence. “Bia?” Blinking, I peered up at him.

  Bia glanced over reluctantly. “Hmm?”

  "You being nice to me has nothing to do with Veck, does it?"

  "I don't want to be closer to Veck." Bia snorted, skillfully avoiding answering.

  My stomach churned nervously, but I forged ahead. "Is there another reason, Bia? An ulterior motive?"

  Bia shook his shaggy head, sighing heavily. His nose crinkled as his fuzzy brow dipped low. "You worry too much, Mina."

  I grimaced inwardly, not liking his half-assed answers and talk arounds. Is there another reason? Is there? The thought further sickened me.

  Bia’s become a good friend. At least, I’d thought he had. I didn't want to think badly of him, but he has been acting a little funny lately.

  I'd truly thought he'd meant what he'd said when he gave me that bracelet. Was I wrong? What's wrong with him and Veck? Dorothy had made it a point to state that particular fact to him. What was that all about? Has he just been pretending to be my friend and I was too blinded by the prospect to see? Is that the real reason behind wanting to be friends? How does Veck tie in?

  Ugh. This better not be one of those stupid male things. Is this some kind of Abominable pissing match? I'd never sensed any kind of rivalry between the two.

  Truth be told, I'd always kinda thought they got along. So, what is it, then? My tummy protested, tying itself in knots. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose my lunch and then some.

  More than uncertain now, I spent the rest of my time by myself as I concentrated on my basket, hoping he didn't come back for another visit. Another one, at this point, wasn’t wanted.

  ✽✽✽

  When I got back to what I affectionately refer to as our cottage—my esteem for the hut rising when Veck made an attempt at primitive indoor plumbing—I noticed he was already home.

  There were still some kinks to work out with the inventive plumb job—more than a few, actually—and I don’t dare leave the door to the commode open ever, but it was progress. Thank god for ventilation—their version of it anyway.

  As I walked up the overgrown blue lawn, the grass blades having come in tipped with silver as it lengthened and faded, my ears pricked as they picked up on a strange thumping sound, along with what I thought resembled faint, muffled snarling.

  Huh.

  The noises stopped when I paused to listen, so I sloughed it off. Veck must’ve stubbed his toe or something.

  But, yeah, gotta love a male who's willing to sit through a long, lengthy discussion with you about a shitter, then turn around and try to put one in for you. A primitive, Abominable version of one.

  It wasn’t perfect by any means b
ut it got the job done and it worked, which meant no more midnight dashes to the outhouse. Talk about service.

  Shitter. I smirked, hefting my basket a little higher. Ah, Mina, eloquent as always. In hanging around with his foul-mouthed mate, my oversized beastie has adopted a few choice words and phrases of his own, shitter topping the list. It's funny when he says it, casually tossing it out there, not realizing it’s considered vulgar. It never fails to make me giggle and snort.

  Veck’s proved exceedingly curious about Earth culture, trying to learn everything he can about my home world. The male soaks everything up like a crazy, furred sponge.

  I’ve found I have to be careful what I say around him, make sure I don't make him think I really want something, for fear he might break his neck, bending himself over backwards trying to acquire or build whatever it is. The attempt with the bathroom, as crazy as that one was, was proof enough.

  My feet scuffed the stones laid into the ground just outside the door and I hesitated, my hand on the handle. A muffled growl came from just beyond and I frowned, fingers loosening before they tightened.

  My skin prickled, raising goosebumps along my flesh, but it wasn’t from the cold or the chilly wind.

  Another growl issued from just beyond the door.

  Could he have gotten injured? Broken something? Could he be bleeding? I mean, I know he’s a big, bad beastie, but there are so many things that could go wrong... With that thought in mind, I swung the door open and rushed inside.

  My mate still in one piece, everything else as well, I let out a quick sigh of relief. “Heard you walking up.” Shaking my head, I swept my bangs from my face. “Thought you were hurt or something.”

  Veck didn’t say a word, too busy pacing back and forth angrily to acknowledge me. He looked like he was grinding his teeth, his jaw set and clenched, fur bristling.

  "Veck?" I asked hesitantly, setting my things by the door as I stepped in to shut it behind me.

  The heavy slam of the thick wood sealing shut rang throughout the room, competing with the crackling of the fire in the hearth and Veck’s stomping steps.

  My mate’s head whipped around, icy white-blue eyes lit, his gaze slowly traveling up the length of my person to meet mine. Snarling low, he stomped over and scooped me up, his actions gentle despite the aggression rolling off of him. Nuzzling my neck affectionately, he held me tightly to his chest.

  "My Meanie," he murmured against my skin, a deep rumble issuing from his chest as his hot breath cascaded over my nape.

  Purring into the column of my throat, he nuzzled his way over to run his tongue across my shoulder. His teeth grazed it lightly, shivers breaking out all over my skin as he tickled and teased the sensitive spot.

  “Veck.” Laughing, I giggled, gripping his shoulders, trying to pull back. His teasing nips sent tingles tickling all the right places, hampering any proper protests from me as he carried me over to the bed.

  Pulling my mating fur around me securely, he pushed me back, laying me down along the soft pelts. Smoothing a big mitt of a hand over my chest through the soft material, he held me down one-handedly.

  Pulling my cocoon ends into a more burrito-like wrap, Veck kept the fur wrapped tightly around my arms, pinning them to their sides. Tucking me in tighter, he smoothed his fingers down my sides.

  "What are you doing?" A little surprised by his strange behavior, slightly alarmed but not panicked yet, gasping aloud, I tried to roll but the fur stopped me, sending me wiggling around experimentally. My mate could get playful at times, I knew this, but he always ended things before they’d begun.

  He cares, and he’s been so careful with me—Veck really has proven himself a good mate. It's become a bit of an issue for me these past weeks—several things among many, actually—my jumbled mind teeter-tottering back and forth.

  I have feelings for the big, hairy beast—strong, persistent feelings that have been kind of eating at me—that I’ve tried to ignore but find it almost impossible to.

  Among the many things running through my mind, I’ve been rethinking our original mating agreement. I mean, do I want to have sex with him? Don't I want to have sex with him? Should I have sex with him? Why shouldn't I? I know he wants me, right? And if I was being honest with myself, I wanted him, too.

  "Put claim on Meanie." Gnashing his teeth, Veck growled the words out angrily. "My mate."

  "What? Who?" I spluttered, trying to get my mind off the whole ‘sex, no sex’ dilemma and soothe the agitated beast looming over me. This was the first I'd ever heard about a claiming of any kind—aside from Veck’s, that is, but that’s no reason for him to get all riled up like this.

  "Kirch." Veck spit the word out, venom dripping from his voice. Another deep growl wrenched from his throat and he shook his shaggy head.

  "Kirch?! But-but-but... he can't!" I exclaimed, shocked at the very idea.

  Snarling low, Veck placed a staying hand on my stomach as I tried to wriggle free. “Don’t.”

  His words had me pausing, stunned, to gape up at him.

  "Veck... what are you doing?" Laughing a little nervously, I swallowed hard.

  The constricting confines of the fur he'd bound me in made me feel like a chubby, living sausage. I probably looked like a Mina burrito right now—a very horny, confused one.

  Muttering angrily under his breath, the big beastie pulled off my boots, one by one. Seeing where this was going, I started squirming even more.

  Again, I asked, or more like squeaked, “What are you doing?”

  "Claiming Meanie," Veck stated calmly as he ran his hands softly over my feet, his thick fingers rubbing my arches expertly.

  "This isn't right, you know," I got out on a gasp, trying to reason with him while stifling a soft moan. "You're doing this for all the wrong- Hey! Hands off the merchandise, buddy!" Jerking, I hissed angrily, glaring up at him as he slid lower, ignoring me.

  Sliding the blanket up to expose my lower half, he tugged my pants and panties down, easily slipping them the rest of the way off. I could have put up a fight, kicked him, tried to push him off, shoved a foot in his face, something to try and deter him, but I did nothing. Truth be told, I didn’t really want him to stop.

  Grumbling low, underwear in hand, he ran his fingers over the dampened crotch, purring.

  Shuddering as a happy sound rumbled his chest, he pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. A heavy purr vibrated through him, working its way up his throat to tumble from his lips. His hands tightened on the small bit of fabric—a tether to my world I stubbornly refused to give up—and Veck swallowed hard, his eyes closing tight as he fought for control.

  Sure, okay, so yeah, I was probably going to cave and practically ravish my snowy man-beast, eventually, but I wanted it because we wanted it, not like this.

  Veck’s lids shot opened and he growled low, frosty eyes full of fire as they narrowed and he boldly stared at my naked lower half. His gaze burning with sexual heat, he leaned in, bending down oh so slowly, placing himself over me.

  I wanted this, but I didn’t want it like this.

  "Please," I pleaded.

  Purring low, he ran his hands over my scalp, through my hair, rubbing me sweetly, marveling at the softness of the strands.

  "Please, don't do this." Oh, it felt good. Unable to help myself, I arched, leaning into his touch.

  Rough hands handled me so reverently, tenderly, reaching out and kneading my neck.

  Don't moan. Don't moan. Oh god, I moaned. Long, loud, and very much giving myself away.

  “Veck!”

  My mate pulled back, regarding me with those milky blue eyes of his, brimming with intelligence—the ones I've grown very fond of.

  "Meanie no want Veck? Kirch take Meanie from Veck, if Veck no claim Meanie."

  "Claim me?" I whispered, lips parting, eyes hooded, panting slightly.

  He nodded and placed his large, warm hand over my sex, cupping it as he looked back up at me.

  "Never hurt Meanie," h
e said fiercely, sincerely. "Meanie no more mates? No more mates for Meanie." There was a bit of an edge, a hard growl in his voice, a promise to his words that gave me goosebumps.

  I'm getting turned on by the snowman machismo. I truly must be welcomed to the neighborhood, sinking in the quicksand faster than I can navigate.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I've already sunk!

  "Other mates? F-f-for you or me?" I asked a little breathlessly.

  The hand cupping my sex developed wayward fingers when I shifted against him restlessly, brushing over me teasingly. My body heated up, despite my apprehension.

  "No more mates for Meanie." His voice rumbled low as he spoke and he grunted, frowning.

  "What about you? You gonna add a harem?" I muttered sarcastically, pausing at that.

  Veck grunted harder and shook his head, reaching up with his free hand to pull a few strands of my hair up to his nose. Shuddering on a rumbling purr, he inhaled deeply. "Lo denaii mate one.”

  "Lo de... that's you, what you are? Lo denaii?" I knew he’d said that before, Lo denaii something or other, from time to time, but I'd never asked him what they called themselves. It was just another word in a long string of growled out jibberish, and this is all so new to me... I was more than a little murky on all of their customs.

  Veck inhaled again, rubbing the soft brown strands against his cheek. "Yes. Only Meanie for Veck."

  I blinked at that, raising an eyebrow. "So... what you’re saying is, the women have more than one mate?" Grimacing, I was immediately appalled at the idea. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? But then again, I haven’t seen too many women with their mates.

  "Not Meanie." Veck shook his head vehemently. "Only Veck for Meanie."

  "Well, what about Candy? I thought Kirch chose her for a mate? He can’t have more than one, right?"

  Veck didn't answer, making me wonder what had happened to the whiny bit of blonde fluff. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her around for a while...

  My mate’s chest rumbled with a deep, rusty purr that vibrated against me, and he pulled me closer.