Pairing with the Protector: A Kindred Tales Novel (Brides of the Kindred)

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Of course not,” Whitney said absently, her attention clearly fixed more on the bed than on what he was saying. “Look at this—it has a real mattress! My Barbie bed from the Barbie Dream House only had a fake plastic molded one. This is way nicer—we might actually be able to use it.”

  “Forget the sleeping platform,” Rafe growled, glaring at her. He took her by the arm and turned her to face him. “Whitney, I don’t want you doing that again—don’t want you playing with the child. It isn’t safe.”

  “She’s a kid, Rafe.” Whitney shook off his hand impatiently. “If there’s anything I know besides animals, it’s kids. I’ve got five nephews and three nieces and I used to baby-sit all of them.”

  “Baby-sit?” Rafe frowned. “You sat on your younger kin?”

  Whitney burst out laughing.

  “No, you big lug—that’s just an Earth term that means I watched them when their parents—my sisters—were gone! I’m just trying to tell you, I know how kids’ minds work. Zhu-zhu is too young to even understand what sentience is—all she wants is a fun pet to play with. And if I can be that pet, she might be tempted to take me out of the cage. Instant escape, right?”

  Rafe glowered at her. “Or instant death. That ‘child’ is the size of a two-story building, Whitney! You should not be encouraging her to pick you up and play with you as though you were a doll.”

  She shrugged, apparently unconcerned for her own safety.

  “She’s a girl—that makes all the difference. Girls are more gentle with their toys and pets. Didn’t you see the way she handled Ti-ti, her doll? She’s a sweet little girl—she won’t hurt me.”

  “She won’t get a chance to hurt you because you aren’t going to encourage her to pick you up again!” Rafe growled, glaring at her. The thought of the child’s seven-fingered hand or trunk curled around Whitney’s waist, lifting her up, taking her away, made all his protective instincts rise and all he wanted to do was hold her close in his arms and keep her safe from all the dangers of this alien world.

  “Hey, I’ll be all right.” Whitney patted his arm reassuringly. “And it might be a way out of here—me playing Barbie and you playing Ken. Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

  Rafe didn’t know who “Barbie and Ken” were and he didn’t care. He only knew he didn’t want to lose Whitney and not only because he was her Protector and was sworn to keep her safe. The thought of not being able to keep her from harm, of never seeing her again, was completely intolerable.

  He frowned at himself uncertainly. Was he beginning…to care for her? Surely not. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

  “It’s not worth risking your life,” he growled fiercely, pushing his complex and confusing emotions aside. “I don’t want you to do it again—I mean it, Whitney!”

  She looked like she was about to argue, but then a change came over her face and she simply shrugged.

  “I hear you, Rafe,” she murmured, patting his arm again. “Now come on and help me move this bed to the back of the cage. No more saggy hammock tent—we’re sleeping in comfort tonight!”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The alien doll bed really wasn’t bad, although the piece of foam-rubber that was the mattress was a little too firm for Whitney’s taste. Still, it was way better than the sagging bottom of the hanging tent so she was prepared to put up with it.

  They had positioned it in the back of the cage, right under the hanging tent—which Rafe had managed to raise a bit higher—so it felt almost like a canopy bed. Then they had piled the greenish-purple grass all around it, creating a kind of privacy barrier. The result was a snug little nest that felt both cozy and sequestered, much to Whitney’s delight. And the brightly patterned gold and purple blanket that went with the bed was surprisingly soft and warm.

  “Mmm, this is nice,” Whitney murmured, snuggling down under the blanket and getting comfortable. Since the bed had been built for dolls which were bigger than Rafe, it was luxuriously large—maybe too large, she thought ruefully, as the big Kindred settled himself at a deliberate distance away from her, putting at least three feet of space between them.

  She frowned as she watched him through the gloom of the dimly lit downstairs area. How could she get him to come closer? And how could she get him to touch her? Not that she wanted him to break his vow, necessarily, but after sleeping so close to him the night before, she felt lonely and sad all by herself on one side of the big doll’s bed.

  “Rafe?” she asked quietly, and put out a foot to nudge the back of his knee.

  “Yes?” He half-turned his head to see her, though his big body remained facing obstinately away, Whitney saw with exasperation.

  “Rafe,” she said again in a low, coaxing tone. “Could you…would you hold me tonight?”

  He made a sound low in his throat which might have been either longing or protest or both and shook his head.

  “I…should not.”

  “Please?” Whitney pleaded shamelessly. I don’t mind being in a cage during the day but at night it’s so lonely and scary. I just…” She choked back a sob that she didn’t have to fake a bit. “I just don’t want to feel all alone here. Please, Rafe.”

  “Mon’dalla…” He rolled over and, much to Whitney’s relief, gathered her into his arms. “I can deny you nothing,” he rumbled low, in her ear. “Though I know in this case I should.”

  “Why should you?” Whitney protested, snuggling close to his broad, bare chest. His warm, spicy scent invaded her senses making her feel somehow aroused, protected, and cherished all at the same time. “Is it really just your vow?” she asked. “Or is it something else? Something in your past?”

  Rafe stiffened against her.

  “I do not wish to speak of it.” His voice was low and cold and he seemed on the verge of pulling away and leaving her alone again. Whitney sensed she had gone too far and hurriedly changed the subject.

  “Then let’s talk about how we’re going to get out of here,” she said quickly. “Let’s talk about getting Mama Tusker to take us to the tweedle show.”

  She could see him frowning in the dim light from the softly glowing sides of the ramp which led to the upstairs.

  “I am not sure we can get her to take us. Not if we must do…what Yancy and Yarrow have been doing.”

  “Do you think they’re actually, uh, doing it though?” Whitney asked. “Or just pretending?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Who knows? It is not our business to question or to judge them. But I am not sure about making such a pretense ourselves.”

  “I think we should do it,” Whitney said strongly. “Fake it, I mean—fake breeding,” she said quickly, when he looked at her with one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yancy and Yarrow and Dood all seem to think it’s the only way to get Mama Tusker to keep us together and take us to the show.”

  Rafe frowned. “I am not certain how I feel about even pretending to take you in that way.”

  “Why?” Whitney demanded, turning to face him more. “I mean, faking it isn’t actually doing it—isn’t actually having sex,” she pointed out. “We wouldn’t really be breaking your vow, any more than we did when you, uh, sucked my nipples and touched me in the matching pen cage.”

  His frown deepened until his face looked like a thundercloud.

  “I should not have done that.”

  “You had to,” Whitney said patiently. “How else could we have convinced Mama Tusker that we were a matched pair?”

  “We should have found another way.” But his deep voice sounded doubtful, as though he knew in his heart that there had been no other way to accomplish their goal.

  “I didn’t mind, you know,” Whitney admitted softly, drawing patterns on his broad chest with her fingertips. “It felt…really good to have you touch me and taste me like that. It wouldn’t really bother me if…if we had to do something similar in order to go to the show.”

  Rafe shook his head. “But it would bother me. It would be against my vow.”

/>   “But isn’t the main part of your vow all about protecting me?” Whitney asked reasonably. “I mean, keeping me safe no matter what you have to do in order to shield me from harm?”

  “Well…” Rafe shifted in the bed uncomfortably.

  “What it boils down to is that you’re supposed to look out for me,” Whitney said. “And if this is the only way to do it, well…what choice do you have?”

  “I do not think that our only choice is breeding.” Rafe’s deep voice was dangerously close to a growl but at least he didn’t pull away from her.

  “But we wouldn’t be breeding—not really,” Whitney reminded him. “Just pretend breeding. Like Yancy and Yarrow do.” Well, maybe anyway—she still wasn’t quite sure about them herself but she wasn’t about to point that out now.

  “Fake breeding,” Rafe mused and she could tell that he was mulling it over.

  “Sure,” she said encouragingly. “I mean, you could, uh, get up behind me and you know…pretend to, uh, take me. In fact,” she said, getting a sudden inspiration. “Maybe we should practice now—just so we’re ready for the morning when Mama Tusker comes to give us our breakfast.” She made a face. “Which I really hope isn’t more of those awful shroom slices!”

  “Practice?” Rafe sounded perplexed. “Why should we practice fake breeding?”

  “To make it look real, of course,” Whitney said. “And to get more, uh, comfortable with the idea—you know? We don’t want to fumble and bumble and look all awkward when we do it. We want Mama to look at us and think we’re going at it for real right away.”

  “I don’t know…” Rafe said hesitantly, but Whitney was already getting on her hands and knees on the bed and looking over her shoulder at him.

  “Come on, Rafe,” she said encouragingly, her voice just a little breathless. “Come get behind me and grab onto my hips.”

  “We should not,” he protested but he was already getting to his knees and putting his big, warm hands tentatively on her hips.

  “Sure we should,” Whitney said encouragingly.

  Her heart was pumping hard now and the blood was beginning to rush in her veins. Somewhere inside she heard a little voice demanding what she thought she was doing—this was wrong, she shouldn’t tempt her Protector this way. And yet somehow she couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Come on,” she urged Rafe, who was still keeping some distance between them. “You have to get closer than that or Mama’s going to know we’re faking it. You’re going to have to get right up behind me.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he rumbled but then Whitney felt the heat of his big body against her bare thighs and ass as he finally came close enough to touch her.

  “All right now,” she said encouragingly. “Lean into me and pretend…pretending you’re pressing your shaft deep inside me…inside my pussy.”

  She felt naughty saying such things to him but hot too—hot and wet and swollen between her thighs. Deliberately, she spread her legs and widened her stance, giving him better access to her open pussy. At the same time, she went from her hands and knees down to her elbows. Then she tilted her hips and pushed back against him, wanting to feel his big, hard body lining up with her own, pressing against her.

  He got even closer but then something hard and hot poked between her pussy lips. Rafe gave a strangled oath and began to back away.

  “No, don’t.” Whitney turned her head and put back a hand to grab his arm and stop him.

  “Forgive me.” His deep voice sounded strangled. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Don’t apologize—it’s a good thing,” Whitney assured him, her voice more breathless than ever. “I mean, we have to make it look real, right? So we can’t worry about it every time we accidentally touch. In fact…” she shifted against him, tilting her pelvis and widening her stance even more. “I think it would be good to practice that too—you touching me, I mean. Rubbing against me while you, um, thrust.”

  “And why would we practice such a thing?” Rafe asked flatly, though she noticed he hadn’t moved his hands from her hips.

  “So we don’t jump apart and give the act away every time we accidentally touch, of course,” Whitney said reasonably. “Go ahead—pretend you’re thrusting and rub against me at the same time, Rafe. It’s the only way to get used to it so Mama Tusker doesn’t suspect.”

  “Well…if you’re certain.” His deep voice was hoarse with desire, which only made Whitney hotter. She wasn’t certain of anything at this point, except that she wanted the big Kindred between her thighs. She only hoped she had convinced him to go there.

  When she felt something hard and hot rubbing between her open pussy lips, she knew she had been successful.

  “Mmm, that’s right,” she encouraged, panting a little at the pleasure of the broad head of his cock sliding against her wet, open folds. “Rub against me, pretend you’re actually thrusting inside me.”

  “Gods, it would be so easy to slip into you like this,” Rafe growled as he drew back and thrust against her again. For a moment the blunt tip of his shaft somehow found its way to the entrance of her pussy and Whitney held still for a long, breathless moment as it just barely pressed against her. He was right—one hard thrust would send his entire thick length to the hilt into her pussy. Just the thought of it made her inner muscles clench with both fear and desire.

  “Would…would it be that easy?” she asked, tilting her hips back and allowing the head of his cock to slide just inside her slippery entrance. Damn, that felt fine! But it would feel even better if he would put more in.

  Unfortunately, Rafe didn’t.

  “Yes—too easy,” he growled and then she felt him withdrawing. “We cannot do this anymore, Whitney—I am too tempted to take you.”

  Whitney was damn tempted too, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “We’ll have to try another way, then,” she said, getting off her hands and knees and turning to face him. “Lay down on your back.”

  “What?” He frowned at her. But when Whitney put her hands on his broad chest and pushed, he allowed himself to be settled back on the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking up at her as he lay on his back.

  “Just finding another way to fake out Mama Tusker,” Whitney assured him as she straddled his lean hips and settled herself against him. But she raised up again, almost as quickly. “Oh—what’s that?”

  “You settled against my mating fist.” His deep voice was slightly strangled. “It is…a ridge of flesh at the base of my shaft which ties me to a female I am trying to bond to me when I make love with her.”

  “It is? Can I, uh, look at it?” Whitney asked uncertainly.

  He shrugged. “If you like.”

  She scooted back and tried to examine him in the dim light.

  “Wow, it’s really big,” she exclaimed, running her fingertips carefully over the thick bulge. “Like somebody slid a donut over an extra-large cucumber. Um…” She looked up at him. “If you don’t mind me asking, how in the world do you use this thing? I mean, most girls I know could never accommodate something this big—and I’m including myself in that number,” she added.

  “There are chemicals in my pre-cum which make a female able to open for me,” Rafe explained. “Once my mating fist slips inside her, it ties us together until the bonding is done.”

  Whitney knew a little about the famous Kindred bond which granted both the Kindred warrior and his bride the ability to communicate telepathically and sometimes to feel each others’ emotions.

  “That sounds amazing,” she said honestly. “Have you, er, ever bonded with anyone like that?” The minute the question was out of her mouth, she wished she could call it back. She knew very well that Kindred bonded for life so if he had been bonded before, it could only mean that his wife had died or somehow left him—which wasn’t very likely at all.

  “Once,” Rafe said, surprising her by answering the question. “It did not…end well.”

  The look on his face told Whitney
that was all she was going to get out of him on that particular subject. But she didn’t really want to rehash an obviously painful past with Rafe, anyway. There were much better things she and the big Kindred could be doing, as far as she was concerned.

  “Thanks for letting me see,” she said, moving up to hover over him again. “Are you okay to go on?”

  “I suppose so,” he growled, looking up at her. “What now?”

  “Now this,” Whitney purred and pressed herself down against him so that her pussy lips parted, enveloping the length of his thick shaft in her slippery wetness.

  “Gods!” Rafe groaned and his hands went to her hips involuntarily. “So hot and wet, mon’dalla,” he muttered, looking up to meet her eyes.

  “Can’t…help that,” Whitney panted, pressing herself against him. God, it felt good to have his hot, thick shaft rubbing right against her sensitive clit! But she needed more—much more from him. “Roll your hips—thrust up,” she urged him, wiggling to feel him press against her open folds even harder. “Pretend you’re filling me up.”

  “You mean pretend I’m fucking you,” Rafe growled, his golden eyes glowing with lust in the dimness. “Gods, Whitney, if you only knew how tempted I am to break my vow and really take you…”

  “You can do what you want,” Whitney promised him recklessly. “Just move, Rafe—I need to feel you moving against me—inside me.”

  She meant inside her pussy lips but she made it clear she wouldn’t object to his shaft slipping deeper inside her either. Rafe seemed to take the hint because he made a low, guttural sound of desire and then his hips rocked up, the shaft of his cock rubbing hard against her open pussy and swollen clit.

  Whitney moaned as the pleasure shot through her and reached down to brace her hands on his rock-hard abs. God, it felt good to have him so close to her like this! The only thing better would be if Rafe would actually put himself inside her. But somehow he didn’t, even though he kept rubbing against her until she felt like she was going to explode.

  “Oh…oh, Rafe,” she gasped, writhing wildly on top of him. “Oh God, that feels so good! I think I’m getting close. Going…going to come if you keep it up!”