The Kindred Warrior’s Captive Bride
A Kindred Tales Novel
Evangeline Anderson
www.evangelineanderson.com
The Kindred Warrior’s Captive Bride, 1st Edition,
A Kindred Tales Novel
Copyright © 2020 by Evangeline Anderson
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Cover content is for illustrative purposes only.
Any person depicted on the cover is a model.
Contents
The Kindred Warrior’s Captive Bride
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
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About the Author
The Kindred Warrior’s Captive Bride
A Kindred Tales Novel
A Warrior who has sworn never to love again...
A hapless girl, kidnapped and sold at auction...
When Need buys Lan'ara, he swears not to love her.
But can he keep his promise?
Read The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride to find out.
Needrix is a Kindred warrior with a tragic past. After losing his pregnant mate during childbirth, he has sworn never to even look at another female again. So he tells himself to ignore the auction going on where a lovely young woman is being sold. But when Need's disgusting crewmate, a three-headed Trollox called Drung, starts bidding on her, he knows he can't abandon her to such a cruel fate. Need buys the hapless girl, swearing he won't fall in love with her and planning to get rid of her as soon as possible.
Lan'ara is a graduate of the elite Twyleth Tigg Academy—a finishing school where beautiful young ladies of good breeding are trained to be the wives and concubines of the richest and most influential men in the galaxy. But on graduation night, the school was raided by a band of pirates who stole her away and auctioned her off. Now she finds herself the property of a surly Kindred warrior who has vowed never to touch or love her. He even promises to bring her back to the man who bought her contract in the first place. So her life should be back on track, right?
Wrong. Neither Lan'ara or Need knows that she has been injected with the Lust Bacterium, a compound which causes her to need his touch. As her touch cravings grow stronger, Lan'ara finds herself turning to the big Kindred more and more. And Need finds it harder and harder to resist falling for the beautiful female he has rescued. But Drung the Trollox still wants her for his own and has sworn to take her away from Need, no matter what the cost.
Will Need and Lan'ara find true love? Or will they be torn apart by evil?
You'll have to read...The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride to find out.
Author’s Note
There is a scene in the first chapter of this book which may upset anyone who has been the victim of past sexual abuse. Please read responsibly!
One
Needrix didn’t give a damn about the girl.
That was what he told himself, anyway. Even as the Zorthian slaver dragged her up onto the auction block and ripped open her gown to show the creamy brown swells of her breasts with the tight, berry-dark nipples at their tips, he looked the other way.
Too bad for her. But that was life and life was a shitty mistress, one who took whatever and whoever she wanted and ground them into dust under her heel at random. You never knew when you were going to lose what mattered most to you in this uncaring universe—Need had found that out the hard way.
So he turned his head and pretended not to notice as the slaver boasted about how the girl was a verified virgin—only lately ripped from the protective womb of a private finishing school in the Trell’wick system, where only the finest and most beautiful females were taken in, specifically to be molded into wives for the rich and influential of the galaxy.
“Look at her flesh,” the slaver hissed to the patrons standing below the auction block. “Never been touched by a male’s hand—her virtue is guaranteed! And look at her skin—such a rare coloration! I’m telling you, this girl is a prize. She was going to be the bride of a Galactic Senator but now she can be yours for the right price!”
The males looking up at the girl whistled and hooted, shouting for more. Some of them were just passing by in the busy market square, while others were serious about wanting to buy. But everybody liked a free show.
Rather than looking at the girl, who was shivering and trembling and trying not to cry as she attempted to pull her torn gown closed around her, Need studied the crowd. Yys, the planet where Need’s ship had docked to re-supply and also take on new cargo—(no doubt illegal since Captain Glo’ll specialized in “hard to get items”)—was a space port at the hub of a busy system. So there was plenty to look at.
Need saw a pair of Torgians with their mouths open, their three rows of sharp, serrated teeth grinning like sentient nightmares, looking up at the girl. Beside them was a Xanther�
��a strange looking creature with a body about the same shape and size as Need’s own but with a long, flexible, telescoping neck which it had curved down so that its tiny head and wide, unblinking eyes could stare more closely at the shivering prisoner. Standing beside the Xanther was a Trollox—a huge sentient being with three heads, all of them leering at the girl at once.
Unfortunately, Need knew this last male. His name was Drung and he was the second mate on the Dark Star, the ship Need flew with.
Need himself was first mate and Navigator—a position Drung greatly coveted. He was always trying to pick a fight with Need, hoping to displace him. He wasn’t very subtle about it, though, and for the most part Need side-stepped his obvious attempts at one-upmanship and ignored the big bastard.
It helped that the Trollox’s right and left heads weren’t too smart. The right one never said anything but only giggled like a naughty schoolboy telling a dirty joke and peered slyly out at you from slitted yellow eyes. The left head, Need was convinced, was mentally deficient. It stared dully at the world from tiny black eyes like shriveled raisins and occasionally drooled down the left side of Drung’s tunic. It, too, never said a word.
It was the middle head you had to watch out for, Need thought as he watched his shipmate watching the hapless girl get auctioned off. The middle head was sly, with narrow red eyes and a snout like a porcine. It had two great tusks curving up from its lower jaw too, which—combined with the aforementioned snout—made it look like a wild boar.
All in all, it was a motley crew watching the auction—Drung most of all. All three of his heads were fixated on the trembling girl and the middle one was licking its chops eagerly. Lecherous, pig-snouted bastard.
Not that Need himself had such a fine pedigree, he reminded himself dryly. He was a hybrid—a byproduct of two different branches of the Kindred tree merging together. His mother’s people had been Blood Kindred and Need had the double fangs where another male’s canine teeth would be to prove it. His father’s people, however, had been Vision Kindred—a subgroup of the Kindred that were nearly extinct.
Vision Kindred had the special ability to see their enemies weaknesses but that wasn’t the only reason they had the title “vision” in their name. They also began Dream Sharing with their future mates early—as soon as the two of them had exchanged drops of blood in the Bonding Ceremony, which was typically held when the prospective bride and groom were only five or six cycles old.
Need had been through such a ceremony with Cleah—the female he had eventually mated—when the two of them were six cycles of age. They had grown up together and gotten Joined and bonded when they were just eighteen. The two of them had been devoted to each other, a perfect match despite their youth. Their lives had been wonderful—blessed by the Goddess—or so Need had believed.
Then Cleah got pregnant.
They wanted children, of course. But the pregnancy had been difficult right from the start. Cleah was sick all the time—she couldn’t keep any food or drink down to nourish her or the baby. And they lived far from any kind of advanced Kindred medical facilities.
Then Cleah had gone into labor several months too early—before she even began her fourth quadmester. Need had rushed her to the nearest Kindred medical facility but it was too late.
Both Cleah and his son had been lost.
The pain of the broken soul-bond when he lost his fated mate nearly killed Need—often he wished that it had. All the light had gone out of his life when Cleah died—what was there left to live for?
But somehow, he recovered. Recovered and went on, though there was nothing to go on for, he often thought. Only the knowledge that Cleah wouldn’t have wanted him to take his own life had kept him from ending it all and going to join her at the Goddess’s side.
That had been ten cycles ago—a decade of agony. Though time had blunted some of the pain it was still with him—a shard lodged in his heart that never really went away.
And around that shard of pain had grown a thicket of thorny vines—vines of anger and loss and resentment. Though all Kindred loved and revered females, Need had sworn to himself never to go near one again. Nor did he worship the Goddess, the Mother of All Life.
For she had taken the life of his mate—the only female in the universe that he loved. Why should he worship a being who would do such a thing? Why should he give his devotion and allegiance to the heartless deity who had deprived him of his mate and son?
The answer was, he shouldn’t. The Goddess wasn’t to be trusted—no female was. Cleah was gone and with her went any love or tenderness or devotion that Need had been able to feel towards anyone female. Those things were dead to him now—he didn’t even seek out female whores to slake his lust when he felt sexual need. Not that he felt it very often—when Cleah had died, his fangs had blunted and he’d had no desire to bite or Claim or make love with a female since.
His lack of desire or caring for females was what allowed Need to watch without compassion or mercy as the bidding began on the little female with the creamy brown skin. He watched without emotion as the slaver began taking bids from the males in the crowd, reminding them that she was a verified virgin and how she would have been the mate of a Galactic Senator had she not been captured in the raid on her school.
“Let’s start the bidding at five thousand credits,” the slaver cried, pointing to the trembling girl who was watching the crowd with wide, frightened eyes.
“Five thousand!” one of the Torgians bid, licking its three rows of serrated teeth with a long, leathery tongue. “She looks tender,” he added to the other Torgian beside him.
“And juicy,” his friend agreed.
“Indeed she is, my friends—there is no female as tender and juicy as a verified virgin!” The slaver nodded in agreement.
The girl stared at her prospective buyers in dawning horror as the implication of what they were saying came home to her.
“Ten thousand,” the Xanther called, bobbing his head on his long, telescoping neck. “Such a female is not for eating,” he told the Torgians, “But for breeding.”
“Well, if you’ve got a shaft as long as your neck, you’d better hope that little female has an elastic pussy!” one Torgian shot back, provoking a wave of trollish laughter from the crowd.
“Even if she doesn’t, there are surgeries designed to lengthen the vaginal canal,” the Xanther told them. “Surgeons from my planet perform them all the time on alien females. The entire abdomen can be used as a kind of sleeve to accommodate a male’s shaft.”
He peered more closely at the girl, extending his neck until his face was staring right into hers from only a foot away, though his body remained about twenty feet back in the crowd.
“The neck can be lengthened too to increase her beauty,” he remarked, still speaking about the girl rather than to her. He reminded Need of a male inspecting a vehicle he might like to drive—one which was easily customizable.
“My…my neck? You want to lengthen my neck?” The girl put a hand to her slender throat, her eyes grown huge with fear.
Her voice was so soft, Need was certain no one else in the crowd of males bidding on her could hear it. But for some reason, it carried to his ears, despite the jeering and catcalls all around him.
The Xanther drew back without answering her.
“The neck can be extended surgically until it is almost as long as my own,” he remarked, speaking to the Torgians instead. “Such body modifications on comely alien females are common on my home world, since females of my own kind are scarce.”
“This little female would be ideal for any kind of body-mods you want to give her,” the slaver remarked, provoking another look of fear from the girl on the auction block. “She’s young—her body will heal from any surgery you wish to try on her.”
Despite his calm façade of disinterest, Need felt a surge of anger. Clearly the damn slaver didn’t care if the girl he was selling got mutilated or raped or even killed and eaten—all he wanted wa
s his damn credits and to hell with the shivering female he had stolen from her home and was selling as a slave.
Then he caught himself. No—he didn’t care, he told himself firmly. Didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to any female. He had no interest in any of them now that Cleah was dead.
But then a third voice called out,
“Fifteen thousand credits for the juicy little bitch!”
It was a voice Need knew well—the voice of Drung the Trollox—or rather, Drung’s middle head—which was the one you had to watch out for.
“Fifteen thousand!” the slaver called, looking around the crowd. “Clearly you have good taste, fine Sir,” he added, nodding in Drung’s direction, which made the middle head grin widely, showing the blackened bases of its yellowed tusks.
“Here now!” one of the Torgians growled. “If the Xanther’s cock can’t fit inside the little bitch without some kind of surgery, I know the same must be said of you, Trollox! Your species is huge—you don’t even look compatible with so small a female.” He cocked his head to one side, his triple row of teeth gleaming with saliva. “Unless you have other plans for her. Are you going to eat her or breed her?” he inquired hungrily.
The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride: A Kindred Tales PLUS Length Novel Page 1