Unleashed by the Defender: A Kindred Tales Novel

by Anderson, Evangeline

  “What—?” was all Imani got out before there was a thundering explosion.

  Suddenly the air was full of flying shards of metal but she didn’t see much of them because J’are was covering her, shielding her with his big body. She heard him grunt in pain as several of the shards hit him but he never moved—just held her closer, his arms wrapped protectively around her head as he did his best to cover her completely.

  “Is…is it over?” she asked at last, her heart pounding wildly. “What happened? Was it some kind of bomb?”

  J’are rolled off her carefully, wincing.

  “Must have been.”

  “But…how did you know?” Imani’s head was still ringing. Far down the hallway, she heard someone screaming. The sound set her teeth on edge and made the short hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  “Smelled the explosive,” J’are said shortly. “Did you see anything before I pushed you down?”

  “I…I thought I might have seen one of those praying mantises—er, morphids—going around the corner.” Imani pointed with a shaky hand. “But—”

  “Stay here.”

  The big Kindred was up at once and running down the hallway. There were streaks of blood on his broad back but he was moving easily so Imani was hopeful no permanent damage had been done.

  Not to J’are, anyway, but what about the screamer down the hallway?

  Shakily, she got to her feet and started to go investigate, only to find she had to watch where she stepped—twisted pieces of the silver dome and hover tray were imbedded in the carpet everywhere.

  Imani picked her way down the hall anyway, being careful where she placed her feet, until she came to a hole in one of the walls. This must be where the spinning hover tray had ended up after J’are shoved it—right before it exploded.

  She was afraid of what she would see when she looked inside but she was more afraid not to look. After all, the bomb had been meant for her—she was sure of it. So in a way, if anyone had been hurt by it, was her fault.

  At least it felt like her fault.

  Peering carefully through the jagged hole the bomb had blasted in the wall, Imani saw a Mistress with bright pink hair lying in the middle of a vast bed with a bodyslave collapsed on top of her. It was clear they had been in the middle of what the Yonnites would doubtless call “illegal penetration” and that the bodyslave had been injured when the bomb blew. Now he was slumped on top of his Mistress and she was screaming and beating on his broad shoulders, trying to get his heavy body off her.

  “Oh, are you all right? Is he okay? Can I help?” Imani asked, stepping carefully through the hole in the wall. The pink-haired Mistress didn’t appear to hear her.

  “Get off me, Frone, you brute!” she shrieked, still trying to shift the heavy body off her own. “Get off, get off right now!”

  “I don’t think he can hear you,” Imani said, raising her voice to be heard above the screams. She made her way to the bed and leaned over to check the bodyslave’s vitals. Thankfully, he was still breathing and she didn’t see any wounds. There was, however, a large chunk of concrete-like material on the mattress by his head and a smear of blood on his temple. Imani thought that it must have hit him and knocked him out.

  “Hello, can I help you?” she asked, looking over the bodyslave’s broad shoulder. “Maybe we can roll him off you together?”

  “Who are you?” the pink-haired Mistress exclaimed. “Yes, get him off me, please!” she added, before Imani could answer.

  Imani put her shoulder to the bodyslave’s side and began to push. Gasping and shoving, she finally managed to get the heavy male rolled off his petite Mistress.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you!” The pink-haired Mistress was almost in tears. “Is he all right? Please don’t tell anyone what you saw!” she said in the same breath.

  “I won’t,” Imani assured her. “And he’s still breathing—I think he just got knocked in the head by a chunk of flying concrete.”

  “A chunk of what? Oh my dear, you have no idea how frightened I was!” The other woman widened her eyes. “Why there we were, when all of a sudden the wall just exploded!”

  “I know—my room is down the hall,” Imani said evasively. She didn’t want to admit the bomb had been meant for her. “If you’re all right, I’d better be getting back to my own bodyslave,” she added, hoping that J’are would have returned by the time she got back to her room.

  “Oh yes—yes of course! I’ll straighten myself out and call for some medical aid,” the pink-haired Mistress fluttered, holding out her hand. “Oh, and I’m Mistress Yank’doodle. Thank you so much again. And you are?”

  “Oh, uh, Mistress Williams,” Imani said, taking the offered hand and smiling.

  “Williams?” Mistress Yank’doodle frowned. “What an odd name.” She shrugged. “Well, odd or not, I’m so grateful you came to help me out. If you ever need anything, please let me know!”

  “I will, thank you.” Imani smiled at her once more and then exited Mistress Yank’doodle’s suite the same way she had entered it—by the gaping hole in the wall.

  “J’are?” she called hopefully as she entered the door, which had been left standing open. “J’are? Where are you?”

  But though she searched the whole suite, the big Nightwalker was nowhere to be found. Imani was beginning to think she’d better slip out of her nightdress and put on some decent clothes—if Yonnie Six clothing could be called “decent”—and go look for him when she saw him coming down the hallway.

  The only problem was, he wasn’t alone. Marching on either side of him with pain prods at the ready were two big, scaly Horvath guards and trailing after them was an angry-looking woman who appeared to be some kind of manager—if the gold nametag with elaborate script pinned to her collar was any indication.

  Uh-oh… Imani bit her lip.

  It looked like there was going to be trouble.

  Twenty-One

  “I’m very sorry, Ms. Williams, but you simply cannot stay here at the Luxx any longer. I’m going to have to ask you to pack your things and go.”

  The manager, a Mistress with short, no-nonsense black hair, fixed Imani with a glare.

  “What are you talking about?” Imani demanded, putting a hand on her hip. “Your employee was the one who tried to blow me up! And now you’re kicking me out?”

  “You have absolutely no proof of that,” the manager said frostily. “And I have an eye-witness account from the Mistress in the room across from yours that she saw your bodyslave detonate the bomb that damaged our building and nearly killed one of our guests!”

  “What?” Imani exclaimed. “That’s crazy! It was your praying mantis—I mean your morphid—that brought up the bomb on a tray and pretended like it was a complimentary breakfast! You ought to be questioning your own staff instead of accusing me and J’are!”

  She nodded at the big Kindred who was growling menacingly at the two Horvath guards on either side of him. She couldn’t tell if he had gone into feral mode or not but he certainly didn’t look happy.

  “I beg your pardon, we have no morphids on staff here,” the manager said icily. “We do not allow non-humanoids to work at the Luxx.”

  “What? But I was checked in by one at the front desk yesterday!” Imani protested. “And when I called for dinner last night, I talked to another one. And—”

  “And I believe you have overstayed your welcome, Ms. Williams,” the manager interrupted her. “I will give you and your bodyslave half an hour to vacate the premises. After that, I’ll have my guards escort you out.”

  Without another word, she turned and strode down the hallway, followed by the two lizard-looking Horvath guards who flanked her on either side.

  “J’are?” Imani looked up at the big Kindred uncertainly. She still didn’t know if he was in his feral state or his “thinking mind” as he had put it. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine.” He took a deep breath and blew it out, then did it again. It look
ed like a calming technique to Imani. “Don’t worry,” he added, when she continued to look at him anxiously. “I’m still in my thinking mind—my feral side hasn’t taken over.”

  “Oh, good.” Imani felt a rush of relief. “I was afraid those Horvath guards…”

  “They did make it more difficult not to revert to my feral state—especially since I spent the last three or four months in it,” J’are admitted, running a hand over his hair. “But I’m trying to stay in my thinking mind—I’m no good to you if I revert to my wild side.”

  “You’re fine either way but it is easier to have a conversation with your, uh, thinking mind,” Imani admitted. She sighed. “Though for right now, all there is to talk about is how fast we can pack and get out of here. I can’t believe the manager is throwing us out when it was her employee that tried to kill us! Did you see anything when you ran down the hall?”

  J’are shook his head.

  “No, but that doesn’t prove anything. Fucking morphids are quick.”

  “Who do you think sent it?” Imani looked around nervously. Even if they hadn’t been kicked out of the Luxx, she would have wanted to leave. There had been two attempts on her life in the past twenty-four hours and both of them had involved the huge pink praying mantises which seemed to be everywhere around here—no matter what the manager said.

  “Don’t know.” J’are shook his head. “Probably whoever killed Mistress Zangelo.”

  “But why?” Imani asked. “Do they think you know something? You didn’t recognize whoever it was on the vid-clip.”

  “Yes, but they don’t know that,” J’are pointed out. “I was in my feral state in court yesterday.” He shook his head grimly. “Someone must think I know something and they want to keep both of us quiet. My guess is we’ll need to be on our guard until we can get off Yonnie Six.”

  “Well, right now I want to get out of this hallway.” Imani led him into the suite which wouldn’t be theirs for much longer and closed the door. There were too many people milling around—Mistresses and their bodyslaves poking their heads out to see if things were safe—for her liking.

  She chose an outfit at random from her cube and was about to go into the bathroom to put it on when she caught sight of J’are’s back. The broad, muscular surface was streaked with blood and there were still several pieces of jagged metal sticking out.

  “Oh, J’are!” she exclaimed, causing him to turn around with a surprised look.

  “What is it? A problem?”

  “Your back!” Imani felt terrible that she hadn’t noticed it before. He had gotten those wounds saving her—how could she forget?

  “What about my back?” he frowned.

  “What about it? You have pieces of shrapnel still stuck in you from the tray bomb!” Imani exclaimed. “Can’t you feel them?”

  “Oh those…” He looked over his shoulder and shrugged dismissively. “Don’t worry about it—Nightwalkers are excellent healers.”

  “Of course I worry about it!” Imani said. “Come on—let’s get you fixed up.”

  She took his arm and tugged until he went with her into the bathroom where she had him sit on the edge of the huge marble tub. Digging through her carryall cube, she found a pair of tweezers.

  “Don’t move,” she told J’are and began to extract the shrapnel as well as she could. “God, your poor back!”

  “It’s nothing,” J’are said stoically. He didn’t even flinch as she pulled the twisted metal out of his flesh. “I’ve had worse in the hole.”

  Imani heard the pain in his voice, even though it didn’t show on his face and her heart went out to him.

  “I’m so sorry, J’are,” she murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I wish I could have gotten here sooner to free you from that awful place!”

  “You’re here now.” He turned his head and caught her eyes with his own. “That’s all that matters,” he rumbled. “You saved me, Imani.”

  Imani found she was getting that breathless feeling again and her heart was pounding.

  “You…you saved me too,” she pointed out. “If you hadn’t realized that breakfast tray was a bomb and thrown yourself on top of me…you risked your life to keep me safe.”

  “A male must always protect his female, once she’s Claimed him,” he growled softly.

  “J’are…” Imani didn’t know what to say. She wanted very much to go where this was leading but it wasn’t right—he was her client. Also, they were about to get kicked out of the Luxx and she wasn’t packed or dressed yet.

  “Of course, I know you didn’t really Claim me,” J’are said, looking away. “It only feels that way.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Imani said softly. “But it really would be inappropriate for us to get into a, er, relationship of any kind. I mean, you’re my client so—”

  “I understand.” J’are cleared his throat. “Are you almost finished? We don’t have much time to get out of here.”

  “I’ve got all the metal out—just let me wash off your back,” Imani told him.

  She was glad, in a way, that he was being understanding about the fact that they had to maintain a professional relationship. But another part of her wished the big Nightwalker would take her in his arms and, well, take her. She couldn’t help remembering the feral, forceful way he’d climbed on top of her the night before and rubbed his thick shaft against her pussy until she came so hard she saw stars.

  Stop that! she scolded herself as she sluiced water down his broad back. There’s no point wishing for something you can’t have and you know it. You—

  Her train of thought was cut off by what she saw. As the blood washed away from the big Kindred’s skin, the torn flesh began to knit together.

  “Oh my God!” Imani whispered to herself as she watched the savage wounds healing themselves. “That’s amazing!”

  “What is?” J’are twisted his head around, trying to look at his own back. “Am I growing a tail or something?”

  “Of course not. But your wounds…they’re healing! Just healing themselves,” Imani breathed.

  “Oh.” J’are shrugged. “That’s normal for my kind. Told you Nightwalkers have good healing abilities.”

  “You certainly do!” Imani said. “I can hardly believe it!”

  “How do you think I survived in the hole for so long?” His deep voice was harsh. “I was torn apart more times than I can count, but my body always healed.” He looked away. “Even when I didn’t want it to.”

  “Oh, J’are…” It seemed clear that he was remembering more and more of his experience in the Yonnite jail and it was obvious the memories weren’t pretty. Imani didn’t know what to say. “If…if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” she told him gently, washing away the last of the blood. “And I’m ready to listen.”

  “Thanks. But some things are better left forgotten.”

  “Well…”

  Imani didn’t want to push—he would talk if he wanted to in his own time. She cleared her throat.

  “Um…since you’re all healed, I’m going to get dressed. And then I guess we have to figure out someplace to go until our court date—which unfortunately, isn’t for hours.” She sighed. “Someplace public too—that might be safer in case Lady Zangelo’s murderer gets any ideas about trying to kill us again.”

  J’are frowned.

  “What about the public anti-grav pool?”

  “The what?” Imani frowned.

  “It’s a place Mother Hownow used to take me when I was younger—mainly because she didn’t want the trouble and expense of dealing with having an anti-grav pool of her own,” J’are explained. “There’s a place to eat where bodyslaves and Mistresses are allowed to dine together, too.”

  “That sounds perfect.” Imani smiled. “Do you know the way to get to it?”

  “It’s not far from here at all,” J’are told her. “Let’s both get dressed and I’ll show you.”

  “Okay.” Imani looked at her watch. “We’d better
hurry, though—we have to get out before they throw us out.”

  “We’ll make it,” J’are promised. “Come on—let’s get going.”

  Twenty-Two

  J’are cursed himself for a fool as they packed their things and left the Luxx. He had to stop feeling the way he did for Imani—had to force his feral side to understand she wasn’t his female after all.

  It was all a mistake, he told himself. She didn’t come to Claim me on purpose. She was just trying to get me to calm down so she could get me out of jail.

  What about the kiss they had shared that morning, though? Gods, her lips were so soft and sweet! And what about the memories that kept popping up from last night? Had she really held his shaft in her hand and stroked him until he came? It seemed like a dream but maybe not—the other memories he’d had seemed to be true.

  Especially the ones from the hole. He winced as flashes of the innumerable fights for his life in the dark passed across his mind’s eye. Gods, how had he not died down there?

  You didn’t die because you were waiting for her—dreaming of her, whispered a little voice in his head. Her smooth brown skin, her big dark eyes, her luscious curves…

  J’are pushed the thought away. Surely it wasn’t true—he couldn’t have been dream-sharing with Imani while he was down in the hole. She wasn’t meant for him—wasn’t the female the Goddess had chosen to Claim him. He had to get over his desire for her since it was clear she wanted to keep a professional distance between them.

  I have to leave her alone—respect her wishes, he told himself firmly. But deep inside, the feral part of him was growling, insisting that the little female was his and his alone and that soon he would bond her to him and fill her womb with his seed…

  No! J’are shook his head. He would never hurt Imani that way—never do something she didn’t want him to do or take what she was unwilling to give. Even in his feral state, he wasn’t the kind of male to engage in rape. He would never breed Imani and bond her to him—never.

  But what if you smell the Willingness on her—what if you smell her heat? whispered that little voice in his head. What if she wants it?