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

by Evangeline Anderson

  “You’re right—I did bid on her because you were bidding first,” Need snapped. “Because no female ought to have to be with the likes of you.”

  “Oh, so you think she’s better off with you, Kindred?” Drung demanded.

  “Hell, yes,” Need said emphatically. “I don’t abuse her or mistreat her. I don’t force her to live in filth—which she would have if you’d bought her. You would have chained her to your bed and raped her over and over to make her pregnant with your disgusting heir! I couldn’t let that happen to her!”

  “Oh, and I suppose you’re so much sweeter to her. You think you love her, don’t you, Kindred?”

  Need blinked in surprise. For it wasn’t Drung’s middle head which was speaking to him. It was the left head—the one which usually only drooled and looked at the world with dull, vacant eyes.

  But its eyes weren’t vacant now—they were shining with a cruel kind of intelligence. And though he didn’t answer, the left head kept speaking. It had a cool, cultured voice that sounded eminently reasonable.

  “You only think you love her because of the Lust Bacterium that’s been injected into her,” it went on, nodding down to the cracked liquid crystal screen. “It says it all right here—or it did before she broke it. The injection is meant to make her irresistible to whoever owns her.”

  “You’re lying,” Need said hoarsely. “That’s all you fucking know how to do is lie, Trollox!”

  “Have you tasted her honey? Or sucked the nectar from her breasts?” the left head went on inexorably. “I know you have—the Kindred can’t resist tasting their females.”

  “That’s none of your fucking business!” Need snapped.

  “Your emotions are being chemically manipulated by the compounds in her juices,” the left head insisted. “The Twyleth Tigg people know their business, you see. They want their customers to be happy and satisfied and they don’t want any returns. So they inject their brides with the Lust Bacterium right before they send them out to meet their new owners and mates. The minute a male touches a Twyleth Tigg bride intimately, he’s hooked—addicted. Just like you are, Kindred.”

  “You’re lying,” Need said again, but this time he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t help thinking of how sweet Lan’ara’s honey and nectar tasted—and how addictive it was. He found himself craving it often—craving the girl. Hell, even the wash blossoms were addicted—they couldn’t stay away from her when she was in the damn tub. And the slaver had said something about Lust Bacterium at the auction, hadn’t he?

  “You only think you love her,” the left head said again, persistently. “And the girl has been trained to make you think so. Always puffing up your ego by deferring to you and calling you ‘My Lord.’ Tell me—does she beg to suck your cock? And has she pleaded with you to fill her yet?”

  Need felt rocked to his core. He wanted to deny what Drung’s left head was saying, but it all rang true. The way Lan’ara so often wanted to drink his seed…and the way she’d begged him to fill her just now…

  “No!” he said but instead of a shout, it came out as a whisper. “No, I…I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, Kindred.” The left head smirked. “She’s been manipulating you from the first. With her body as well as her pretty little face. She’s fake, through and through—trained and engineered to make you love her and never leave her. To protect her and take care of her. You think you love her…but you’re wrong. What you love is a pretty lie—one that’s been pulling the wool over your eyes from the moment you bought her.”

  “You…you’re a liar,” Need muttered, though he no longer believed it. “You just want her for yourself.”

  “Of course I do, but I can wait. I won’t fall in love with her, after all—I just want her to carry my heir.” The left head smirked. “Think on what I’ve said, Kindred—you know it rings true. When you’re ready to give the girl up, I’ll take her off your hands and give you back the forty thousand you paid for her in the first place. That way you’re no worse off than you started—well, except for a bruised heart.”

  It made a sad face and mimed wiping tears from its eyes.

  “Shut up!” Need barked savagely. “Just shut up, you big bastard!”

  “As you wish. I’ve had my say.”

  The left head winked evilly and then the intelligence drained from its face abruptly, like water from a leaking can. It went back to looking dull and stupid and a rope of drool fell from its loose lips and stained the left side of Drung’s jerkin.

  Need stared in confusion at the sudden transformation. What in the Seven Hells was happening? And could the awful things the Trollox’s left head had told him really be true?

  You know they are, whispered a little voice in the back of his head. Admit it, Need—as much as you hate Drung, for once he’s telling the truth.

  But no—he couldn’t believe the big bastard just like that. He had to at least ask Lan’ara. He looked up at Drung, who was still standing in his doorway, glaring down at him.

  “Go away,” he said. “And don’t bother me again.”

  Drung stabbed one thick sausage finger at him.

  “The girlie should be mine!” the middle head declared. Then Drung turned and stumped off down the corridor, making the ship shake with his heavy tread.

  Need watched him go, feeling like the Trollox had just disintegrated his heart with a well-placed shot from a blaster. The things he had said about Lan’ara couldn’t be true.

  And yet, he was desperately afraid that they were.

  Forty-Six

  Though she was straining her ears from the bedroom, Lan’ara was only able to catch a few scraps of the conversation between Drung and Need. It seemed to take forever, though finally the big Kindred came back into the room and shut the door heavily behind him.

  “Girl,” he said, his deep voice hoarse. “We need to talk.”

  Inwardly, Lan’ara cringed. Not sweetheart and not her name—just “girl” again. So they were back to that. Need must be really angry with her.

  “Yes, my Lord?” she asked in a quavering voice, daring to put her head out from under the covers. What she saw confirmed her fears—he was definitely upset. Need’s face wasn’t angry but it was pale and drawn, like a man who has just received terrible news. What in the universe could that awful Trollox have told him?

  Need got right to the point.

  “Did you go into Drung’s room even though I forbid you to?” he asked bluntly.

  Lan’ara swallowed hard. There was no point in lying.

  “Yes, my Lord,” she said in a low voice. “But only because I saw my file just inside,” she added quickly, hoping to mitigate the situation. “And I wanted so badly to find out what was happening to me—to my body. I—”

  “You know damn good and well what’s happening,” Need said. His flat, cold tone disturbed her more than if he’d been shouting at her. “It’s exactly what was designed to happen.”

  “My Lord?” Lan’ara asked, raising her eyebrows in confusion.

  “Did you read the file?” he asked. “Well?” he prodded when she didn’t answer at once.

  “I…I did,” Lan’ara admitted.

  “And what did it say?” Need demanded. “Well? Tell me, girl.”

  “It said…said about how…how I was injected with the…the Lust Bacterium,” Lan’ara said haltingly. “About how it would make my…my juices sweet and—”

  “Sweet and addictive, you mean,” Need growled.

  Lan’ara frowned in confusion.

  “My Lord?”

  “Stop calling me that!” he roared suddenly. “You’ve been calling me that from the first, trying to manipulate me into caring for you! Haven’t you?”

  When she didn’t answer, he strode forward and seized her by the shoulders.

  “Well, haven’t you?” he demanded.

  He was scaring her now—scaring her badly. What had Drung said to him to make him treat her like this?

  “I…I was only d
oing what I’ve been t-trained to do,” Lan’ara stuttered, her cheeks flushing with fear and guilt.

  “Exactly. What you’ve been trained to do.” Need released her suddenly and wiped his hands on his trousers, as though he’d touched something dirty. “Get up,” he told her. “Get dressed. And don’t let me see you naked again.”

  “My Lord?” Lan’ara quavered.

  He glared at her.

  “I won’t have you tempting me again—not now that I know what you are. And to think I almost bonded you to me for life!” He spat on the floor, as though to get a vile taste out of his mouth. “You make me sick.”

  “But why?” Lan’ara began to cry—she couldn’t help it. “Why, my Lord?” she sobbed. “What have I done? I’m sorry I went into Drung’s room—I swear I’ll never disobey you again! Please!”

  “Shut your mouth, girl.” The volcanic anger was gone, replaced with a coldness Lan’ara sensed she couldn’t melt, no matter how hard she tried.

  Since her words couldn’t move him, she looked at him mutely, trying to plead with her eyes. For a moment, she thought he might be melting. His bronze eyes locked with hers and Lan’ara put all of her heart and soul into the look she was giving him. But then he shook his head and looked away.

  “Get dressed,” he said again. “I’m never touching you again. And from now on, you sleep on the couch—at least until we get to Genu Six.”

  Then he turned on his heel and left without another word.

  Forty-Seven

  Need was so angry he could barely see as he stabbed in the call coordinates for Genu Six. It was true—everything Drung’s left head had told him was true. The girl had even admitted as much. She’d told him herself what the file said about her being injected with the Lust Bacterium. And she’d said that she’d been trained to manipulate him.

  What other evidence did he need that she was a fake—a fraud just trying to win his heart for her own ends—exactly as Drung had said?

  He was angry with her—so angry and hurt he felt that his heart might explode and spray deadly shrapnel that would poison his entire body. But as enraged as he was, he still wouldn’t give her to Drung. Lan’ara might have hurt and betrayed him, but she didn’t deserve to be sold to the Trollox—no one did.

  Wouldn’t give a canine I liked to that big bastard, Need thought morosely.

  But Senator Pouncenblast was another matter. If he still wanted the girl, he could have her and welcome, as far as Need was concerned. All he wanted was to get her off The Dark Heart and away from him so he could forget her…forget how close he’d come to giving his heart, only to have it ripped from his chest again.

  Just as he was wondering if Genu Six was going to answer, the viewscreen flickered to life and the narrow fish-face of the Senator’s personal secretary appeared.

  “Yes?” he said in a bored tone, then appeared to recognize Need. “Oh, hello!” he exclaimed, brightening. “Are you almost here with the, er, shipment?”

  “Yes,” Need said shortly. “And it’s very strong stuff, so you’ll need to be damn careful with it.”

  “Of course, of course.” The secretary made a dismissive motion with one webbed hand. “We already have plans to cut it with various innocuous substances. That way, good trips will last only minutes instead of hours and bad trips will only last a month. In fact—”

  “What about the girl?” Need asked abruptly. “I need to know if your Senator wants her or not. She was a big investment for me,” he made himself add. “I need to know if I’m going to make my money back.”

  “Oh, well…” The secretary cleared his throat. “Actually, Senator Pouncenblast does want her, providing she is still, er, intact.”

  Need felt a strange mixture of regret and relief. So he wouldn’t be able to sell the girl to the Senator after all. She would have to stay. But what in the Seven Hells would he do with her?

  “Actually,” he said. “There was an…incident when I was buying her.” He explained how the slaver had used the device called a “stick” to verify her virginity. “So her maidenhead is gone,” he said flatly. “Which leads me to believe you won’t be wanting her after all.”

  “To the contrary,” the secretary said, to his surprise. “That shouldn’t be a problem. For while the Senator insists that all his brides are virgins, he has no taste for actually, er, ‘breaking them in’ so to speak. He says he’s too old to deal with a virgin crying and moaning in pain when he’s trying to use her for his pleasure. So he has the staff take care of the maidenhead before he spends a night with a new bride.”

  “Is that so?” Need frowned skeptically. “Then how can you tell if a girl is really a virgin or not?”

  “Oh, we use a semen meter,” the secretary said promptly. “It’s a device which, when inserted, can verify if the girl has ever had any male seed inside her at all. As long as this girl of yours comes up with a negative reading, the Senator will be happy to take her off your hands.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Need said shortly. Which was true—though he’d been inside her, he’d never actually given her his seed—thank the Goddess. If he had, they would be tied together permanently right now with no hope of escape.

  “Very good.” The secretary nodded. “Bring her along when you bring the shipment, then. We can do both transactions at the same time. When should we expect you?”

  Need checked the ship’s heading.

  “Tomorrow at noon,” he said.

  “Good, good. Then I’ll send you the correct landing coordinates. Stand by for transmission and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The viewscreen blinked to blackness and a set of coordinates began scrolling across the viewscreen. Need stared at them, unseeing.

  Tomorrow he would be rid of the girl, he told himself. And he would never have to see her again.

  He had no idea why the idea made his heart ache so.

  Forty-Eight

  Lan’ara kept her eyes down as she walked down the long marble hallway of Senator Pouncenblast’s mansion. Need was walking to her right and a little ahead of her, keeping his eyes forward and not looking at her. Lan’ara wished the big Kindred would turn his head and let her catch his eyes just for a moment…but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  Need had been completely silent ever since their last conversation where he had confronted her about going into Drung’s room and reading her file. Though Lan’ara had pleaded with him to listen to her and begged his forgiveness over and over, his icy façade had not broken even once.

  He had refused to answer her pleas—indeed, he had refused to talk to her at all. Not one word passed his lips and he hadn’t touched her once. He had even slept last night on the couch, leaving her shivering in the bed alone.

  In the morning he had presented her with a new dress—a delicate gold and green silk that fit her perfectly. The gift had brought tears to Lan’ara’s eyes—but not because she was happy. She was well aware that the big Kindred was just trying to make her look presentable so that he could get his money back for her. Obviously Senator Pouncenblast would pay more for a pretty, well-dressed bride than he would for a ragged-looking girl in a shirtdress.

  Wordlessly, Need had pointed to the dress and then to her. The implication was clear—put it on. Then he had turned to go, to leave her alone to dress.

  At that moment, fear and sorrow had filled Lan’ara’s heart and she had lost control of herself completely.

  “Please, Need!” she begged, throwing herself at his feet. She wrapped her arms around his legs and looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t do this—don’t sell me to Senator Pouncenblast,” she had begged brokenly. “Don’t send me away. I…I love you!”

  It was the absolute truth and it was breaking her heart. She had allowed herself to fall for the big Kindred, had given him her love which he apparently didn’t return. And now she was paying a terrible price for it.

  For a long moment, Need stared down at her, his expression unreadable. Lan�
�ara had almost begun to hope he would reconsider his drastic decision. Then, still without saying a word, he leaned down and unwrapped her arms from around his legs.

  He left her weeping on the floor and shut the door behind him.

  Eventually Lan’ara had dried her eyes and gotten dressed in the gorgeous silk gown. Clearly Need didn’t want her anymore. And just as clearly, he wasn’t about to change his mind.

  This is the life I anticipated for years, she reminded herself as she walked slowly down the long marble hallway. This is what I was trained for at the Academy. I worked hard to get Senator Pouncenblast to become my patron—to get him to buy my contract. All the other girls were jealous.

  But none of that seemed to matter now. All that mattered was that Need didn’t want her anymore and she felt dead inside.

  “Ah, here you are at last!” A man with a fishy face, bulging eyes, and gills on the sides of his neck rushed up to them at the end of the hallway. “We’ve all been waiting for you. I assume you have the product?” he asked, looking at Need.

  Needed patted the large carry-all slung over one shoulder.

  “All here,” he said shortly.

  “And this must be the girl the Senator picked from Twyleth Tigg.” The fish-faced man looked Lan’ara up and down appraisingly. “Yes, yes—very nice! I can see why he chose you, my dear.” He looked at Need. “Virginity will have to be verified of course. But if all is in order, we’ll be happy to give you your asking price.”

  “I only want what I paid for her in the first place,” Need said abruptly. “Forty thousand. No more, no less.”

  The other man blinked his bulging eyes in surprise.

  “No more than that? But my good man, do you know how much Twyleth Tigg brides go for? You finding this lovely little lady at a common slave auction is akin to finding a priceless pearl in a trash heap. She’s worth five times what you paid for her easily—if not more.”

  “Don’t care about that,” Need said stolidly. “Just what I paid for her is fine.”