The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride: A Kindred Tales PLUS Length Novel

by Evangeline Anderson

  Suddenly she felt her stomach tightening as the pleasure that had been building threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Oh!” she gasped as her hips began to twitch and buck. “Oh, what is it? What’s wrong with me? It feels so good I don’t know if I can stand it!”

  “You’re coming, girl—reaching the peak. That’s all.” The big Kindred’s voice was rough but he continued to stroke her. “Thought that might happen if I healed your little pleasure button. It’s all right,” he added. “Relax and let it happen—the pleasure won’t hurt you. Might actually help the essence heal your wounds.”

  His calm reassurance coupled with the way he continued to stroke her kept Lan’ara from getting upset. She knew, of course, that males came to completion or “reached the peak” as her Sexual Instruction teacher had explained. That was what made a male shoot his seed from the tip of his shaft, which was what produced an heir in a girl’s belly. But she’d had no idea that a female could also “reach the peak”. It seemed incredible.

  “Oh!” she cried, her hips bucking helplessly. “Oh, my Lord Need! Oh, that feels so good.”

  “Gods, I can tell it does,” he murmured, still stroking her. “That’s right, girl—let yourself go. Just give it all up and let the pleasure take you.”

  “I will…I am…” Lan’ara gasped. She could hardly do anything else. The deep tidal wave of pleasure had carried her out to sea and she couldn’t fight it.

  But finally the overwhelming sensations ebbed and she collapsed and lay panting, her whole body feeling limp as an overcooked goola noodle.

  “Finished?” Need asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

  “I…I think so. Yes, my Lord.” Lan’ara bit her lip, feeling embarrassed again now that the deep pleasure was over. What had caused her to ask for such an intimate massage in the first place? Why had she been so willing to let a male she hadn’t even known a whole day touch her and give it to her?

  Well, aside from the fact that he owned her, of course.

  “Good. I think you’re healed.” The big Kindred licked his finger clean again and then parted her pussy lips once more with his thumbs to inspect her one last time. “Yes, completely healed,” he said, nodding. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel…better,” Lan’ara said cautiously. She was still breathing hard—coming down from the intense pleasure. Looking down at herself, she couldn’t help noticing how wet her thighs were and she felt embarrassed all over again. “I’m so sorry I made too much…too much juice when you healed me, my Lord,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “As if you could help it,” he growled softly. “Don’t worry about that, girl—you’re what my people call a numala—that’s all. A female who makes a lot of pussy honey. Hey,” he added, clearly seeing the shame in her eyes. “It’s a good thing. Nothing to be worried or ashamed of.”

  “Thank you,” Lan’ara said uncertainly. “And thank you for healing me, my Lord. Truly your essence is a miraculous substance.”

  “Some have said so. Though I haven’t used it for that purpose in years.”

  He got a far away look in his eyes and abruptly withdrew his hands. Then he rose from his kneeling position suddenly to tower over her.

  “I’ll get you something to wear,” he said.

  And turning, he left her lying there, still not certain quite how to feel about what had just happened between them.

  Twelve

  Need wasn’t sure what to think about what had just happened with the little slave girl. Why had she wanted him to touch her in the first place? Was it something she’d been taught about how to please a male? But no—her own orgasm had shocked her—he’d seen that much. She’d been surprised and almost frightened by her own pleasure.

  Gods, her pussy honey was sweet! He felt guilty for tasting it, even though he’d only licked it off his fingers and not tasted it straight from the source, as he had longed to do. It had taken every bit of self control he possessed not to lean forward and bury his face between her thighs, not to lap her sweet, soft little pussy while she was moaning and calling his name…

  No! Need shook himself. What was wrong with him, wishing he could taste her pussy?

  You swore off females, remember? he asked himself sternly. You made a vow to yourself never to take a mate again—it only leads to heartache and despair. Remember that, Need. You’ve done your duty by the girl and healed her—let that be an end to it. From now on, you have no reason to touch her again.

  Right. He wouldn’t touch her, ever again. And he would get her back to where she had been taken from as soon as possible and then never think of her again.

  Need nodded to himself, mentally sealing the resolution. He wasn’t going to get caught in the trap of desiring the girl and then falling for her and then, inevitably losing her, as he had lost Cleah. He would keep his distance—both emotionally and physically and before he knew it, the girl would be out of his life.

  Feeling better about his decision, he went to his clothes storage unit and looked for something to give the girl to wear. Of course, everything he owned was far too big for her, but her gown was ripped and bloody and dusty—ruined beyond repair and he couldn’t let her run around naked. So it was his clothes or nothing for her—and Need didn’t think he could keep his resolution not to touch her if he let her hang around his cabin in the nude.

  At first he feared he wouldn’t be able to find a single thing that would work for her but then, at the very back of his storage area, he saw a glint of metallic bronze.

  Reaching far back into the storage unit, he grabbed the items of clothing that had caught his eye and pulled them out.

  They were his old uniform shirts—the ones he’d worn whenever he visited the Mother Ship. There were two of them—long-sleeved, button-downs, made of a heavy, satiny fabric and dyed a deep bronze which happened to be the same color as his eyes. They denoted him as a Kindred warrior and Need hadn’t worn them in years.

  Don’t even know why I still have these, he thought, examining the shirts. It wasn’t like he was ever planning to go back to the Mother Ship and renew his allegiance to the Kindred Nation or to visit the Sacred Grove to pray to a Goddess who had deserted him in his darkest hour. The girl might as well wear them—he had no other use for them.

  He examined the shirts for a moment. Yes, they ought to hit her around mid-thigh and make a kind of dress—albeit a rather loose one.

  Need looked for a cord to belt them with and came up with one of his old neck cravats, which were sometimes worn by males on formal occasions on his home world. Well, he had no use for that either. Life on a smuggler’s ship tended to be on the informal side, he thought dryly.

  It wasn’t like he had to dress for dinner—although Captain Glo’ll did expect everyone in his crew to take Last Meal together. That was going to be interesting, considering that Drung had been bidding on the girl too and had lost.

  Need wondered if he could get the girl excused from the nightly Last Meal ritual. He hoped it might be possible, since she wasn’t technically part of the crew. He would have to ask the Captain when he went up to the bridge to lay in a course for their next destination.

  His mind still full of calculations for the near future, Need took the cravat—a long length of black silk—along with the shirts and brought them into the sleeping chamber.

  The girl (he tried not to use her name, even to himself if he could help it because it made her harder to keep his distance) had covered herself modestly with the towel. She was sitting up in the center of the bed, looking around his sleeping chamber curiously when he came back. She jumped a little when he walked in and her gold-flecked eyes scanned his face, as though trying to read his emotions.

  Need kept his features blank, hiding the immediate surge of agitation he felt when he saw her again…and smelled the sweet scent of her sex, which lingered in the air like an alluring perfume.

  “Here,” he said, dumping the shirts on the bed and tossing the cravat on top of them. “
These should do for you to wear. They’re mine so they’ll be too big, but you can roll up the sleeves and belt them with that.” He nodded at the cravat.

  Her face brightened.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” she said cautiously. “You are very kind to give me your own clothing to wear.”

  “You’re welcome,” Need said gruffly. “But it’s not like I’m giving you a gift—this is fucking necessary. Can’t have you running around naked, can we?”

  “Some men do, when they take a female as a slave or wife or as a concubine,” she said quietly. “Though I would much prefer to be clothed, myself, my Lord,” she added hastily. “So I thank you again.”

  Need thought about reminding her not to call him “my Lord”, but he doubted anything he said would stop her. The subservient form of address seemed to have been deeply ingrained in her at the place she’d been taken from—where was it again? He frowned. He’d heard the slaver mention it when he was calling out the girl’s details but it slipped his mind at the moment.

  “Where are you from?” He asked her. “I mean, where were you taken from by that scum of a slaver?”

  “Oh, he didn’t take me, my Lord,” she said quickly. “It was pirates that broke into the academy and stole me. Stole all of us—the ones that didn’t try to run, anyway.”

  A haunted look came into her lovely eyes and Need wondered what had happened to her. He knew pirates—especially the ones who stole human chattel to sell to slavers—weren’t the gentlest males. For a moment he thought of asking if she needed to talk. But no, he had to keep some emotional distance between them, he reminded himself. So he only asked,

  “Where did the pirates take you from, then?”

  “The Twyleth Tigg Academy for Young Ladies of Beauty and Breeding,” she said promptly. “It’s in the Trell’wick System on my home world of Bantu.”

  “Hmm.” Need nodded thoughtfully. “Is that in this galaxy? If so, maybe I can ask my Captain if we can divert our course and take you back.”

  “You’d take me back? Set me free?” Her eyes grew wide with hope for a moment but then her face fell. “Only, even if you would, it would do no good. The Academy was burned to the ground and all the instructors killed.” She looked down at her hands. “I…I saw it with my own eyes as they were forcing us into the pirate ship.”

  He felt another surge of pity for her that he quickly tamped down. But still, for the girl to have seen her school in flames and all her instructors killed, that was a lot to handle for one so young. How old was she, anyway, Need wondered?

  “How many cycles are you, girl?” he asked abruptly.

  “Nineteen, my last name day, my Lord,” she answered. “How old are you?”

  Need gave her a mocking grin.

  “More than ten cycles your senior, girl and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

  She bit her lip. “Forgive my impertinence, my Lord. I should not have asked.”

  “Never mind.” Need shooed it away. “If I can’t take you back to that academy of yours, where else can I send you? You must have another place to go to. A family? Surely you weren’t born and bred at the damn school the pirates stole you from.”

  Lan’ara looked down at her small, shapely hands again, which seemed to be a nervous habit, Need thought.

  “I’m originally from a small town on the other side of Bantu from the academy,” she said in a low voice. “But I have no family there to speak of—not…not anymore.”

  There was a depth of pain in her voice that made Need stare at her. A sorrow even deeper than the fresh and awful sight of seeing her school in flames and her instructors killed.

  Again he had the urge to ask her to tell more…and again he repressed it.

  “Well then,” he said, frowning. “Where can I take you? Can’t have a slave girl hanging around indefinitely.”

  “There is one place,” she said hesitantly.

  “Name it,” Need said at once. “Wherever it is, I’ll see if I can plot a course to it.”

  “It’s Genu Six,” she said. “That’s where Senator Pouncenblast lives. He bought my contract—I was to have been his Primary Bride,” she added, as though that was important.

  “Primary Bride, hmm?” Need felt a strange mixture of relief and reluctance. Genu Six was at least in the same galaxy they were headed for. But something deep inside him rebelled at the idea of giving the girl to another male.

  Mine, whispered a voice in the back of his brain. She’s mine.

  Don’t be an idiot, Need told himself savagely. What would you do with her if you kept her? You’re not going to bed her and as long as she’s on the ship, you’ll have to keep a watchful eye on that bastard, Drung. She’s nothing but another mouth to feed and the bill is coming out of your own earnings. No, it’s far better to get rid of her—to take her back where she belongs and forget this ever happened.

  “My Lord, are you all right?” The girl’s soft voice cut into his reverie. “You seem…very far away,” she said

  “Just thinking.” Need cleared his throat. “So you’re to be the Primary Bride?” he asked again, trying to get back to the topic of where he could drop her off.

  She nodded eagerly.

  “For Senator Pouncenblast says he’s tired of his current Primary Bride—apparently she was not able to give him an heir and so she’s going to be demoted when I go to him.” She bit her lip. “If I go to him,” she corrected herself.

  Need told himself he didn’t give a damn what happened to her, but he couldn’t help frowning at this small window into Lan’ara’s future life.

  “So he’s discarding a female he promised to love and cherish just because she can’t bear him an heir?” he demanded. “And what will happen to you if you can’t bear him one either?”

  “Oh, I’m certain I can,” she said quickly. “The women in my family are extremely fertile. Why, my own mother had me and my four little brothers. They…” She looked down at her hands, her voice catching a little. “We were all fine, healthy children. I’m sure I can provide the same for Senator Pouncenblast.”

  “Hmm.” Need said noncommittally. He still didn’t like the idea of giving her to a male who felt free to discard females as easily as pieces of clothing he’d grown tired of.

  “He’s a very kind man—really he is,” the girl said quickly. “Almost like a grandfather to me.”

  “A grandfather?” Need’s eyebrows shot up. And he’d thought he was too much the girl’s senior! “How old is he, anyway—this Senator Pouncenblast of yours?” he demanded.

  The girl twisted her fingers together in her lap.

  “Maybe…eighty-five cycles?” she said softly.

  “Eighty-five?” Need could scarcely believe it. “But you just told me you’re only nineteen cycles, girl!”

  “Almost twenty!” she said defiantly. “My name day is coming up very soon.”

  “Still.” Need shook his head. “That’s a sixty-five-cycle age difference. Are you saying you want to bed a male that old and bear his children?”

  “What I want doesn’t enter into it.” The girl’s dark eyes flashed in a rare display of temper. “He offers me a safe life—security and the promise that I’ll only have to service one man—not hundreds like I would have to if I went to the Flower House.”

  “The Flower House?” Need frowned. “Where’s that?”

  “It’s a place run by the academy,” she explained. “Or it was. I don’t know if the pirates raided there too or not. Anyway, it’s where all the girls whose contracts weren’t bought by rich patrons were sent. A place where they were forced to service all kinds of males all the time.”

  “A whorehouse,” Need said flatly. “You’re talking about a whorehouse.”

  “Whatever you want to call it, I didn’t want to go there.” Her eyes flicked up to his for a moment, then back down to her hands. “So when Senator Pouncenblast offered to buy my contract and make me his Primary Bride, I jumped at the chance.”

  Need supposed he coul
d see why. Even being with a male old enough to be her grandfather would be better that being forced to work in a whorehouse the rest of her life.

  “I see,” he said shortly. “Well then, to this Senator Pouncenblast on Genu Six is where you want to go?”

  She bit her lip again.

  “If…if you would truly take me there. The Senator has only paid the first half of my contract,” she added quickly. “And I’m almost certain he wouldn’t mind paying the second half to you, if you deliver me unharmed. So maybe you could make back some or even all of that forty thousand you spent on me.”

  Well that would be nice, Need thought. But somehow the idea of getting his money back didn’t make him as happy as he might have thought. What else was he going to do with the girl, though? Where else could she go?

  “I’ll see if Captain Glo’ll will allow me to plot a course to or near Genu Six,” he said at last.

  “Oh, thank you, my Lord!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands between her breasts and giving him a grateful look. “Thank you with all my heart!”

  “Not promising anything, mind you,” Need said quickly. The decision isn’t up to me—we’ll have to see what Captain Glo’ll says.”

  “I understand.” She nodded, her enthusiasm muted just a bit. “But thank you. For asking him and for being willing to take me where I belong, my Lord.”

  Need nodded a welcome, then decided he’d spent long enough in the same room with the distractingly pretty Lan’ara. (Sometimes he couldn’t help thinking her name, though he tried not to.)

  “I must go,” he said abruptly. “Get dressed and be ready for Last Meal when I come back—just in case I can’t get you out of it.”

  “Get me out of it?” She stared at him blankly.

  “Never mind, girl. Just get dressed.”

  Then he left her sitting on the bed and went to plot a course.