Brides of the Kindred Volume One

by Evangeline Anderson

  Wish I could take care of you, she thought longingly. Wipe that grim look off your face and see you flash that little one-sided smile of yours. Maybe even hear you laugh. Had she ever heard him laugh? Sophie didn’t think so. I bet with that deep baritone voice of his it sounds great. Wish I could hear it, just once.

  Unable to help herself, she reached out to him…and realized afresh that she was locked in a dream—there was nothing she could do but watch.

  Sylvan finished drying himself and then he put back on his black pants and boots. He slipped on a red shirt he must have borrowed from Baird—it was the color of the Beast Kindred, not the pale blue of the Tranq Kindred—and went out.

  She watched, a silent, invisible passenger, as he took the small silver car she knew must be a transformed Kindred shuttle, down to South Tampa. This was the end of town where the very rich lived. Old money had built a row of fabulous mansions on Bayshore Boulevard—the long, palm tree lined road that stretched for miles along Tampa Bay.

  Sylvan obviously wasn’t looking for a walk on the beach and he showed no interest in the affluence around him. He kept his eyes straight ahead and took several turns until he pulled into a pristine lot filled with new cars.

  Sophie didn’t know a whole lot about motor vehicles—to her it was enough if a car got from A to B and had good cold AC—a must in the hot and humid Tampa summers. But even to her untrained eyes, the cars on this lot looked high end. Not to mention very, very expensive.

  Sylvan unfolded himself from the silver car—the Kindred shuttles really got small and unobtrusive in their Earth-bound state—and walked straight up to the glass and metal dealership that dominated the lot.

  The girl at the front desk, who had been playing in a bored sort of way with her cell phone, perked up immediately at the sight of Sylvan. She jumped up and ran around to talk to him, batting her eyelashes at him and jutting her hip to one side as though trying to show off how tight her short black skirt was. She was thin—a lot thinner than Sophie—and had lush blonde hair that was done in a fashionable retro-wave. Sophie felt a flash of jealousy zip through her like lightning as the girl stroked Sylvan’s arm flirtatiously.

  But why should I be jealous? He’s not really mine, after all. And even if he was, for a short time in the cabin, he won’t be as soon as we get back to the ship. Still, she couldn’t help wanting to slap the blonde girl who was fawning so disgustingly over the big warrior.

  Sylvan, however, seemed to notice the flirty receptionist about as much as a tiger on the prowl notices a fly. He was scanning the expansive showroom floor, obviously looking for something…Or someone. Sophie had an uneasy feeling but she tried to push it away. Maybe he’d decided to stay on Earth for awhile and he wanted a new car? But that didn’t make any sense. The Kindred were all stationed aboard the Mother ship with no exceptions. They only came down to the planet’s surface to claim their brides. So why was he here?

  Suddenly she had a moment of panic. Could it be that Sylvan had found his true bride? Was it some girl working here at this swanky car dealership? Was he going to claim her and take her back to the ship?

  It’s probably some girl who isn’t afraid of him—who isn’t afraid to let him bite her, whispered a spiteful little voice in Sophie’s brain. You can bet your boots that blondie there at reception would open a vein in ten seconds flat if he gave her so much as the time of day. Any girl would—just look at him.

  She watched with new eyes as Sylvan continued his search. No doubt about it—he was leading man material all the way. Despite the tired lines around his pale blue eyes, his features were handsome and strong. Straight nose, square jaw, cheekbones like granite. Not to mention the way he literally overshadowed every other man in the room with his large, muscular frame—even the tall, dark haired salesman who was coming over to shake his hand.

  Sophie frowned. There was something about that salesman. He looked familiar. For a human man he was pretty tall—six foot three or four at least—and he had broad shoulders. Despite his size, though, or maybe because of it, he was running to fat. The beginning of a very impressive beer belly was stretching the fabric of his Egyptian linen shirt and his dark curly hair was thinning on top. In another five years he’d probably be completely bald but his hair looked like it used to be really thick. Like something a girl would dream of running her hands through while he kissed her.

  I used to daydream like that, whispered a voice in her head—the voice of memory. Used to sit in homeroom right behind him and imagine what it would be like to reach out and touch those dark curls just once. And then on that night, that awful night, I had both hands buried in them. But I was yanking and pulling, begging him to get off me, to leave me alone…Oh God!

  The salesman was Burke Simpson. He had to be. Despite the beer gut and thinning hair, Sophie realized she would know him anywhere. Because he was the man she wanted to avoid most in the entire world.

  And now she was seeing him again. Seeing him up close and in person—or so it seemed in her dream—and she couldn’t get away from his hateful grin or those smirking, muddy brown eyes. Eyes she remembered staring down into hers while he ripped her dress and told her to “Just lay still, baby, and it’ll all be over in a minute.”

  Sophie recoiled in horror, feeling like she was reliving the traumatic night all over again. She didn’t want to be this close to Burke Simpson—never wanted to be anywhere remotely near him again.

  Have to get away! The part of her that recognized she was dreaming fought to wake up—to escape from her attacker. But she couldn’t go—she was a captive audience and it seemed that the strange scene playing out before her wasn’t done yet.

  Sylvan took Burke’s hand and nodded politely as the other man spoke. Suddenly it was as though someone had turned up the volume and Sophie could hear everything he was saying.

  “…just got these new models in last week,” he said, nodding at a sleek red sports car with a shiny silver jaguar hood ornament. “Now don’t let this sexy little number fool you—I can see what a big guy you are but she’s got a lotta leg room. Not to mention a trunk you could hide a body in.”

  “I see.” Sylvan’s deep voice was neutral but the pupils of his eyes had begun to go red—as red as the gleaming car Burke was trying to sell him. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said before Burke could go further into his pitch. “But can we go someplace private?”

  “Oh, so you want to make a deal?” Burke grinned eagerly.

  “Something like that.” Sylvan’s voice was quiet and cool but there was a dangerous glint in those red eyes. A look that made Sophie’s stomach knot with anxiety. Oh God, she really didn’t want to be seeing this.

  Burke led Sylvan to the back of the large showroom and into a small private room with a large glass window that faced the showroom. There was a nice wooden desk with several cushy chairs on either side of it. Clearly this was where he took clients to close negotiations.

  “All right now.” He closed the door and turned to Sylvan, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s talk. Depending on your credit history I think I can get you—”

  “Weren’t you the captain of the Hillsborough High Mustangs?” Sylvan asked, raising an eyebrow.

  How does he know that? Sophie wondered, feeling ill. I never told him our school mascot. Oh my God, make it stop. Please just make it stop and let me wake up.

  But it didn’t stop and she still couldn’t shake the dream.

  Burke puffed his chest out with pride. “Well, yeah, I was. I don’t remember you, though—did you play for another school? Lemme guess—offensive tackle,

  right? Man, you’ve sure got the size for it.”

  “Actually, I’m not human.” Sylvan bared his teeth in a ferocious smile and Sophie could see that his fangs were fully extended. Long and sharp and deadly, they proved his point more eloquently than any words could have.

  For the first time Burke really seemed to see him. And what he saw obviously made him uneasy. “Oh, uh—a Kindred
, right? I guess that would explain your eyes and those…” He gestured vaguely at Sylvan’s fangs. “Well that’s cool, man. We’re all really grateful to you guys. I mean, you saved our asses, right?” He tried to laugh but the sound died in his throat as Sylvan continued to stare at him.

  “Do you know a girl named Sophia Waterhouse?” he asked.

  Burke appeared to be pretending to think. “Uh…Waterhouse?” He shook his head. “Nope. No, sorry—doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “That’s strange.” Sylvan frowned. “I was under the impression that you were in the same class together.”

  “Uh, well, I mean, HH is a big school.” Burke was sweating freely now, the crisp collar of his linen shirt turning limp despite the excellent air conditioning. “I can’t remember everybody in my home room class—let alone my graduating class. You know?”

  “Think hard,” Sylvan said. “She’s about this tall…” He held out a hand about the level of his chest. “She has long dark brown hair that has red highlights in the sunlight and large dark green eyes. She is surpassingly lovely.”

  “Well, when you describe her like that…” Burke frowned. “Shy little thing? Has a twin sister that’s kind of mouthy and they hung around with a chunky chick with red hair?”

  Sylvan smiled grimly. “Yes, that’s her.”

  Burke grinned back. “Wait a minute, I get it! You’re thinking about calling her up in the draft as your, uh, bride, right? And you want to dig up a little dirt on her first—find out what she’s like before you take the plunge. Well, lemme tell you, she’s a lot wilder in the sack than she looks.” He winked at Sylvan and elbowed him, grinning. “Know what I mean?”

  “No.” Sylvan’s voice was dangerously soft. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Sophie, still watching the scene from the unbreakable prison of her dream, winced. Burke was either too stupid or too conceited to see the danger he was in.

  “Well, she acts like she’s scared of her own shadow, ya know? But pay her a little attention and watch out! She’s a hell cat. I mean, I took her to prom and she left some marks on me after the dance—hell, I’ve still got the scars to prove it.” He laughed and pounded Sylvan on the back. “Night to remember, right?”

  “From what I was told, the only marks she left on you were defensive wounds. When she fought to get you off her.”

  “Well, I mean, you know…” Burke shrugged, beginning to look uncomfortable again. “Lots of girls like to put up a fight, right? Just makes it that much more exciting.”

  Sylvan raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying you’ve done this more than once? You make a habit of luring innocent, unprotected females out with you for the sole purpose of raping them?”

  “Whoa—hey. Hey now, man…” Burke held up his hands and glanced through the window at the showroom where the customers and other salespeople were wandering around. “That’s a pretty ugly word to be throwing around.”

  “It’s a very ugly act.” Sylvan’s voice had deepened to a growl. “Do you deny that you did it to Sophia?”

  “It was nothing like that,” Burke protested. “I mean, just a little slap and tickle, right? And she loved every minute of it.” He tried to laugh but the sound died in his throat as Sylvan continued to stare at him.

  “You raped and brutalized the woman I love.” Sylvan’s hands curled into fists. “Then you threatened to come to her house and do it again if she dared to report your actions.” He took a step closer to Burke who had begun to sidle away.

  “I didn’t mean any of it.” Burke’s voice had gone high and thin. “I mean, I had a scholarship all lined up that I had to protect. I couldn’t let some mousy little bitch ruin my entire future—she wasn’t even that good a fuck, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know,” Sylvan said, his voice low and threatening. “Because unlike you, I am not a rapist—I don’t take women against their will. And from now on, you won’t either.”

  He pulled something out of the pocket of his black flight pants—a strange looking metal device that fit neatly into the palm of his large hand.

  “What the fuck is that?” Burke looked at the small device uneasily. “Some kind of gun or bomb or something?”

  “No,” Sylvan said simply. He bent his attention to the device which he appeared to be calibrating in some way.

  “Okay, I get what you’re doing here—you want to warn me off your girl. No problem, man.” Burke held up his hands again and began to back away. “Listen, I haven’t even seen her since high school. In fact, I haven’t even thought of her in years.”

  “She has thought often of you, though,” Sylvan said quietly. “Often enough to keep her from having another relationship since the night you raped her. Often enough to keep her from trusting another male—even one who would rather die than hurt her.”

  “What do you want me to do, offer to pay for her therapy?” Burke demanded. “Look, let’s just let bygones be bygones. Just put that…” He gestured at the device. “Whatever it is away and we’ll forget all about it. To show you my heart’s in the right place, I’ll give you a really sweet deal on that little beauty.” He nodded through the window at the red sports car.

  “I’m not interested in your shiny little toys.” Sylvan took another step forward until he was looming over Burke and the other man had to look up to see him. “I’m interested in vengeance.”

  “In what?” Burke clearly couldn’t believe the situation he was in. “Man, you’re crazy. All that crap with Sophie was years ago!”

  “And you’ll have years to think about the consequences of your actions. The rest of your life in fact.” Sylvan held out his hand, pointing the silver device at Burke’s crotch. There was a low humming sound and a beam of brilliant light shot out and burned a hole in the expensive dress slacks, right between Burke’s legs.

  “Holy shit!” Burke looked down at the smoking hole. His genitals were clearly visible, dangling like defenseless hairy fruit outside his ruined pants. The sight made Sophie feel like she was going to throw up. “You son of a bitch!” He looked up at Sylvan angrily while trying to cover himself with one hand. “You know how much these pants cost me? That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be,” Sylvan told him. “You asked me if this device was a bomb or a gun—it’s neither. It’s medical equipment. We use it for burning off unwanted growths.”

  “Unwanted growths?” Burke looked at him with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think you know.” Though his eyes were glowing red, Sylvan’s voice was distant…detached. “You’d better move your hand if you want to keep it,” he advised.

  “What?” Burke frowned, obviously still not getting it.

  “All right, I’ll move it for you.” Reaching out, Sylvan took him by the wrist almost gently. But it was clear when Burke tried to pull away that his grip was like iron.

  “Hey!” Burke tried again to yank his hand away unsuccessfully. “I—”

  Before he could say anything else, another short brilliant burst of light came from the device in Sylvan’s hand. There was a puff of black smoke from Burke’s crotch and when it cleared there was…

  Nothing. Oh my God, it’s gone. It’s all gone. Sophie couldn’t believe her eyes. Burke’s penis and testicles, which had been dangling outside his scorched slacks, were missing. Between his legs there was nothing but a shiny reddish scar, like a burn, long healed.

  Burke groped with his free hand between his legs, as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Where is it? Goddamnit—what did you do to my dick? What did you do to me?”

  “Made certain you’ll never be able to hurt another female again,” Sylvan said grimly. He was still holding Burke’s arm tightly in one hand and he pocketed the small silver device with the other. “A painless procedure, unfortunately, but necessary.”

  “What?” Burke looked at him, his eyes huge with fear and disbelief. “What did you say?”

  Sylvan ignored the questions. “Now, Sophia tells
me you marked her when she was struggling to get away from you.” He pushed up the cuff of Burke’s white linen shirt, revealing a tan wrist covered in black, wiry hair. “Just about here.”

  Oh God. Sophie wished she could close her eyes. Inside her the fear she’d felt that night—the desperation to get away before he could do it again—was welling up all over again. “Let me go,” she heard herself pleading. “Please, Burke, just let me go now.”

  “Marked her? What are you talking about?” Burke’s voice jerked her back to the present. He still looked shaky with shock. “Is this some kind of sick joke? You didn’t really, uh, burn off my dick, did you? I mean I didn’t feel a thing but where the hell is it?”

  “Gone,” Sylvan told him. “Permanently. You didn’t feel anything because it is, as I said, a painless procedure. But I think we can fix that—you deserve some pain for what you did to Sophia.”

  Burke looked at him with wild eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re kidding, right? This is just some kind of prank.”

  “No joke,” Sylvan assured him. “Don’t worry.” He was still holding Burke by the wrist and he squeezed it, his large knuckles turning white with pressure. “I’m not going to kill you. I swore not to.”

  “Then let me go, man!” Burke spat. “I have to go in the bathroom. Have to figure out what the hell you did to me. God, nobody told me you Kindred were such freaks!”

  “We’re simply very protective of our females. And we never, never take what isn’t offered freely. No matter how desperately we may want to,” Sylvan told him, squeezing harder.

  Burke glared at the big warrior. “Look man, you better let me go or you’re going to be sorry.”

  Sylvan shook his head and didn’t loosen his grip a bit. “I don’t think so. As I was saying, you bruised her—sprained her wrist when you raped her.” Despite his fearsome appearance, Sylvan’s voice was curiously gentle. “Isn’t that true?”