Sylvan shrugged. “It was my manhood hunt so I was allowed the first thrust. With my shale—it’s like a long spear, twice the height of the male who carries it. And a blade on the end as long as my arm.”
“So in order to become a man you had to kill an abominable snowman?”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head. “It’s just…that’s amazing.”
“It’s the way of my people. We can be very direct in some ways. And not so direct in others,” he finished, frowning.
“Are you trying to tell me to watch my back?” she asked frowning. “I mean, even Baird seemed to think you really need to keep your eyes and ears open down there.” She nodded at the frozen white globe which was growing larger in the viewscreen. “Do I have to worry about being eaten by one of those abominable vranna things?”
Sylvan frowned. “You have nothing to fear as long as I am with you. And we won’t be on the surface anyway so you would never be in danger from any of the larger predators.”
Her eyes widened. “Are there worse things than giraffe-sized grizzly bears wandering around?”
“Certainly. And since it’s spring time now, a lot of them will be coming out of hibernation. A very long hibernation, since winters on Tranq Prime can last for dozens of your Earth years.”
“Spring time, huh?” She sounded doubtful. “I know what that means to me—flowers blooming, birds singing…”
“We have those things.” Sylvan nodded. “Maybe not in the way you think of them but we have them. Remind me to take you to see the snowdrop trees in bloom. They only blossom for a short time in spring. In fact, we may be just in time for the Snowdrop Festival. There’s a feast and a dance—it’s quite a big deal.”
“A festival? That sounds like fun.” She smiled. “You know, I was kind of apprehensive at first but now I really want to see your home planet.”
“Really? Are you interested in other cultures?”
“Just yours, mainly,” she said and then blushed.
Sylvan wished she didn’t looks so bewitchingly pretty when her cheeks turned that soft shade of pink. It made him want to drag her into his lap and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Until she bared her neck for him and begged for his bite… Never going to happen, he told himself roughly. Get over it. Move on.
“Well, you’re not ready to see my planet yet,” he said, more abruptly than he’d intended.
“I’m not?”
“No. If you set foot on the surface in what you’re wearing you’ll freeze to death in moments. Go to the back of the shuttle and look in the upright locker.”
Sophia did as he asked and came back wearing an oversized green-blue fur that dragged the ground. “I’m swimming in this thing.” She motioned at herself, the furry arm of the coat flopping.
“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s actually mine,” Sylvan apologized. “I had no time to get any in your size on such short notice. But I’m certain my mother’s sister can find you something once we get below the surface.”
“But what about you?” she objected. “You’ve only got your blue uniform shirt. I don’t want to take your coat—you’ll freeze.”
“Not nearly as quickly as you will.” Sylvan set the shuttle’s landing sequence on autopilot and turned back to her. “Blood Kindred have twice the number of red blood cells that humans do. They carry more oxygen and keep us warmer. Besides, we only have a few hundred yards to go from the landing area to the grotto entrance.”
“Uh…what about shoes?” She looked down at her woefully inadequate footwear. Two little straps went between her first and second toes and attached to a flat pad at the bottom, leaving her entire delicate foot exposed. Sylvan thought they were called “flop-flips” or something equally ridiculous. He couldn’t help noticing, though, that her toenails were painted an innocent shell-pink which was somehow devastatingly feminine.
“Those won’t do at all,” he told her sternly. “And I don’t have any boots that will fit you. I’ll just have to carry you.”
“Oh no, I don’t want you to have to do that. If it’s just a few yards like you said, I’m sure I can manage.”
Sylvan felt his heart knot like a fist. “A few hundred yards,” he corrected her gruffly. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to carry you? Remember I swore to leave you alone so you don’t have to worry that—”
“No, no!” she said hastily, cutting him off. “No, I just didn’t want to…to burden you.”
“You could never be a burden to me, Talana.” The endearment slipped from him before he could help it. Clearing his throat, he tried to cover his mistake. “Besides, if you don’t want to lose your pretty toes to frostbite, you’ll have to be carried whether you like it or not.”
Sophia went pale. “It’s that cold?”
He nodded. “It’s that cold.”
She bit her lush lower lip, another gesture that made him want her so much he ached. “Then I would like it very much if you would carry me, Sylvan,” she said in a low voice. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Truth be told, despite the biting cold he knew they would encounter, he was looking forward to the short trip between the landing area and the grotto.
It would probably be the last chance he ever got to hold her in his arms.
Twenty-Seven
Sophie didn’t know what to expect. She felt more than a little nervous about meeting Sylvan’s family. With all the talk of stabbing wild animals with spears and living underground in caves, she wondered if they might not be a primitive people. Of course, they had space flight and Sylvan didn’t strike her as a Clan of the Cave Bear kind of guy—the exact opposite, in fact. But maybe they had gotten all their technology in their trade with the Kindred.
Whatever she faced underground in the “grotto” however, she had to deal with getting there first. After they landed, Sylvan wrapped the long bluish-green fur around her tightly, making sure her hands and feet were well covered. Then he lifted her gently and nudged the door release with his elbow.
“Get ready,” he murmured in her ear. Slowly the shuttle opened to reveal a flat, frozen plain that appeared to be covered in short grayish-blue vegetation.
Sophie opened her mouth to reply—and nearly choked as a rush of freezing cold air gusted down her throat. “God!” She gasped and tried to draw another breath, only to feel like someone was stabbing her lungs with knives.
“Take short, shallow breaths,” Sylvan advised in a low voice. He had kicked the shuttle door shut behind him and was already striding over the frozen ground with swift, economical movements.
There was no wind at all but even the brush of the air against her face as he carried her hurt. It was a stinging, freezing cold that Sophie had never experienced before and she wasn’t equipped to deal with it. Despite being well wrapped up, her hands and feet were already numb and her eyes stung and watered. The tip of her nose felt like it might break off and every breath she took was like a spike in her lungs. She began to feel dizzy and the gray-blue plain wavered in her vision.
“Sophia? Are you all right?” Sylvan sounded concerned.
“Hurts,” she whispered. “Hurts to…to breathe.”
“Press your face to my neck,” he ordered. “Draw warmth from me.”
“But—”
“Do it!” It was a command, not a request.
Miserably, Sophie did as he said. She was certain her nose would feel like ice against his skin but she pressed her face against the side of his neck anyway. To her surprise, he was warm. Not just a little warmer than her but positively toasty. And he didn’t flinch when he felt her chilly touch.
Feeling a little less panicky, Sophie snuggled closer, nuzzling against his throat and breathing in his scent. It was sharp and spicy and utterly masculine—his mating scent again, she realized. Had he started exuding it because she was close to him or just because he felt protective of her? Either way, it smelled delicious and she breathed it in happily, glad to be able to dra
w a breath without the stabbing pain.
Sylvan went on tirelessly, though she couldn’t see how he could function in the extreme cold, let alone move well enough to carry her. She wondered drowsily how long it would be until they got underground—had they been walking for long? It seemed like an eternity, though it must feel even longer for Sylvan who was carrying her so patiently. Her hands and feet still felt numb but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing mattered because she felt so tired…so incredibly sleepy…
“Sophia? Sophia, wake up!” Sylvan’s voice was sharp in her ear and she stirred sluggishly.
“Huh?” She lifted her head and then winced as the cold air clawed at her like a wild animal. Quickly she pressed her face into his neck again. “Leave me alone.”
“I can’t. You must not go to sleep out here. You might not wake up.”
“Wha…what are you talking about?” She peered groggily up at him with one eye, trying to keep the rest of her face close to his neck. He was still striding along but he was looking down at her and his pale blue eyes were worried.
“The cold’s affecting you more than I thought it would.” He frowned. “Just stay awake—we’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” Were they going somewhere? When she pushed herself to remember it seemed like they were, but she didn’t know where or why. Why bother to go anywhere when she could stay close to Sylvan, breathing in his delicious mating scent? At first she’d been horribly cold but now everything was perfectly, beautifully warm…
“Almost to the grotto entrance.” Sylvan’s voice seemed to come from far away this time. “Stay awake, Sophia—please!” There was desperation in his voice and he was almost running now, jogging over the frozen ground with her in his arms, as though he was trying to win some kind of race.
“Slow down,” Sophie protested peevishly. His faster pace was joggling her uncomfortably, making it almost impossible to sleep the way she so desperately wanted to. “Can’t…get any rest…this…way.”
“You don’t need to rest. You need to wake up. Here.” He sounded relieved. “Here we are at last.”
He ducked his head and then they were passing into some kind of entrance. Sophie caught a vague glimpse of a stone archway and then a door slammed shut behind them and they were headed downward into warmth and darkness…
She must have gone to sleep after all because when she woke up she was lying on a hard surface (some kind of bench?) and someone was rubbing her hands and feet frantically.
Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head, which felt like it weighed about a thousand pounds. Looking down she could see Sylvan kneeling beside her. He was rubbing one of her hands which felt strangely numb. As her vision cleared, Sophie saw with horror that the hand he was working on was no longer tan—in fact, it was almost blue. Looking farther, she saw that her other hand and her feet were the same alarming color.
“Sylvan?” She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. “Sylvan, am I…will I be okay?”
His face was drawn and pale with concern as he continued to rub her hands and feet. “You would be if I could bite you—but I know you don’t want that,” he added before she could open her mouth to protest. “Even essence might not do the trick, though. What you need is more red blood cells circulating through your system.”
Sophie felt her breath catch in her throat as a memory came rushing over her.
“You need more blood, honey—better blood.” The tall, blonde nurse leaned over her with the hateful needle in one hand, sharp and silver and bright. “That’s all we want to do, just give you better blood. It’s just a little pinch and it’ll be over in a minute…”
But that was what they always said. And it was never just one little pinch. Her veins were tiny and hard to find. Sometimes she was stuck six or seven times before they could get one big enough for the transfusion. The needles left huge black and purple bruises on her pale arms and they hurt so much…
“No,” she blurted. “No, Sylvan, I don’t want a transfusion. I can’t—”
“I’m not talking about a transfusion. There’s no time for that, anyway.”
Sophie saw a flash of fang as he bit sharply into the blue bracelet of veins that ran along the underside of his inner wrist.
“What…why did you do that?” she barely had time to ask before he was holding his bleeding wrist to her mouth.
“Drink.”
“Drink your blood?” She wanted to recoil but she was too weak.
Sylvan cursed softly. “This isn’t the right way to do this but it can’t be helped. I offer you the gift of my blood freely, Sophia. You must drink.”
“But why? How will it help?”
“I’ve had your blood several times. That means my body is attuned to yours which causes it to produce chemicals tailored to heal and stimulate you.”
Sophie looked at him, wide-eyed. “So…you’re like my own personal pharmacy? Is that normal?”
He looked pained. “It would be if we were bonded. What matters now is that the taste of my blood should stimulate your body to start producing more red cells very quickly. And it will also warm you up rapidly.” He pressed his wrist to her lips and looked at her sternly. “You have frostbite in all your extremities. Drink now if you don’t want to lose your hands and feet.”
“Oh my G—” she started to say. But as soon as she opened her mouth, it was full of his blood.
Sophie wanted to gag but she forced herself not to. Have to do this. Have to. Have to, she chanted to herself and actually, after a moment she found that it wasn’t so bad. She’d been expecting the salty, coppery, slightly nauseating taste she got when she accidentally bit her tongue or cheek, but Sylvan’s blood was different.
It’s not bad, she realized with surprise. Not bad at all. I mean I wouldn’t pour it over ice cream like Hershey’s syrup but it doesn’t taste like blood—human blood, anyway. It’s kind of sweet and creamy and strong…To be honest, it tasted like something that might get her drunk if she drank too much of it. But Sylvan didn’t seem to be concerned about that. He watched her anxiously as she sucked at his wrist, as though trying to gauge her reaction to his blood.
Sophie wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen but suddenly she felt an intense warmth and tingling in her hands and feet. When she glanced down, she saw that her skin had returned to its normal color and she was able to move her fingers and toes. She pulled back from his wrist. “I think it’s working. Look!” She wiggled her fingers for him and smiled.
“Take a little more,” Sylvan urged. “To make sure.”
Sophie looked at his wrist which was already healing. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to make you weak.”
“Sharing the gift of blood with you can do nothing but strengthen me.” His voice was deep and soft and the way he was looking at her…
He’s so intense, Sophie couldn’t help thinking. As though we were doing something somehow forbidden. Forbidden but deeply desirable…
“Take from me, Talana.” Sylvan stroked her cheek, holding her gaze with his own. “I want you to.”
Sophie lapped at his wrist again, taking more of his sweet, strong blood in her mouth, and felt another warm tingle race through her. The heat was spreading up her arms and legs into her core and it seemed to be pooling between her legs, somehow. Her pussy suddenly felt swollen and sensitive, just as it had when he marked her, tasted her…
“It’s good,” she whispered, taking another small lick. “I didn’t think it would be but…I like it. Is that strange?”
“It’s because you are as attuned to me as I am to you,” he murmured. “Tell me, does it give you pleasure to drink of me?”
“Drink of me…I like that.” Sophie took another lingering lick, feeling the rush of tingling warmth that flowed directly to the tender spot between her thighs. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “It does give me pleasure. It’s almost like I can feel it—the effects of your blood, I mean—uh, everywhere.” A wave of embarrassment washed
over her and she wondered if he knew what was really happening to her every time she took another taste.
From the way Sylvan’s eyes were half-lidded with lust, he knew exactly how his blood was affecting her. “Are you wet, my numala?” he murmured, catching her gaze and holding it with his own. “Do you feel the pleasure of my blood between your thighs?”
Biting her lip, Sophie nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I…I do. Do…” She cleared her throat. “Do you feel the same way when you taste my blood?”
He nodded. “Your blood, your honey…as I said, my body is attuned to yours now.” His voice was a soft growl. “Everything about you makes me want you. Even the way you take my blood.”
Sophia’s eyes flickered down to the thick outline of his cock, pressing against the fabric of his black flight pants. “I…I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling flustered. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know you didn’t.” He shook his head. “The fault is mine.”
“Sylvan…”
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “Just drink of me one more time to be certain you’re well and we’ll say no more about it.”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
“When will I ever get the chance to give you the gift of blood again? To feel your soft lips pressed to my flesh as you take what only I can give you?” His voice was hoarse with need and longing. “Yes, Sophia, I’m sure. Drink of me. Drink and be healed. Drink and be pleasured.”
His soft words seemed to do something inside her, to touch and caress her exactly where the tingling warmth of his blood had already started a fire. Feeling like she was drowning in lust, Sophie met his eyes and flattened her tongue against his wrist to take another long, slow, lick of his blood…
“I see you’ve arrived in one piece, son of my sister,” said a high, feminine voice behind her. “It’s so good to see you again after all these…oh dear!”
Sophie was so startled she jerked away. At the same time, Sylvan pulled his wrist back and turned to look at whoever was speaking.
“Mother’s sister,” he said steadily to the tall, thin woman with pale blonde hair and light blue eyes, who was standing there in the stone hallway behind them. “I am pleased you came to meet us.”
Brides of the Kindred Volume One: Books 1-4 Page 70