Pairing with the Protector: A Kindred Tales Novel (Brides of the Kindred)

by Evangeline Anderson

  Suddenly Rafe was in front of her, blocking the trunk, his golden eyes glowing red as he glared at the huge alien.

  Whitney didn’t know what else to do—she cowered behind him, peeking out at Mama Tusker who now had a look of surprise on her strange alien face.

  “Well, well—so you still defend your mate, do you?” she asked, speaking to Rafe.

  In answer, the big Kindred opened his mouth and growled at her—a low, rumbling sound that would have put any Pit-bull back home to shame, Whitney thought wildly.

  Through their bond, she could hear him thinking—if you could call it that, anyway. She seemed to see a red haze of Rage surrounding his mind and only one coherent word was coming through it—repeating over and over and over again.

  “MINE…MINE…MINE!”

  The world blared in her head like a claxon—a warning that if anyone tried to touch her—to take what Rafe considered to be his to protect—he would kill or die to defend her.

  His state of Rage seemed to take the giant alien aback.

  “Well!” Mama Tusker drew back her trunk quickly, as though afraid he might bite it. “Such a temper! You look positively vicious.”

  In answer, Rafe’s growl grew louder and he glared at her even more fiercely.

  “MINE…MINE…she is MINE!” Whitney heard him shout in her mind.

  “All right then—all right. But if you still want her, you have to treat her right,” Mama Tusker lectured, her huge, lipless mouth tightening at the corners in disapproval. “You’ve been neglecting her scandalously, you know! I can’t have tweedles together who won’t mate—it simply will not do!”

  With a frown, she shut the door to their cage and moved on, pushing stalks of some long, leafy vegetable into Yancy and Yarrow’s cage and telling them what good little breeders they were.

  But still Rafe didn’t relax. He held his protective position in front of Whitney until Mama Tusker had tromped back upstairs, leaving them alone again. Only when the giant alien was completely gone did his broad shoulders lower and the red glare leave his eyes.

  When he started to go to the opposite side of the cage again, Whitney caught him by the arm.

  “Wait, Rafe—we have to talk.”

  It was the first time she had touched him voluntarily since their bonding and she couldn’t ignore the tingle that shot through her, even at such limited contact.

  Rafe seemed to feel it too, because when he turned to face her, the expression on his face was like an ache in her heart. But when he spoke, his voice was perfectly flat.

  “What is there to talk about?”

  “What is there to talk about?” Whitney echoed. “What just happened! Or almost happened, anyway. Thank you for protecting me,” she added grudgingly.

  He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling.

  “It is my job.”

  His words, as much as the bland tone they were spoken in, pissed Whitney off. They would have hurt her enough to put her off completely if she hadn’t felt the fierce possessive protectiveness radiating from him like heat only a moment ago when she had been threatened.

  He cares, she thought, staring up at the big Kindred. He still cares, no matter what he says.

  “Yes, I care.” Rafe passed a hand over his face wearily. “I cannot help caring, Whitney. We are bonded—you are my life now. I cannot stop myself from reacting when you are in danger. I cannot keep myself from caring for you, no matter how I might try.”

  His words made her think of an old Crosby Stills and Nash song—a line that had stuck in her mind the first time she heard it.

  Your love is an anchor tied to me

  Tied with a silver chain.

  The thought that he felt that way about her—that his feelings for her were an anchor, dragging him down—that he cared for her even though he wished he didn’t, somehow hurt her more than anything else.

  Whitney put a hand to her heart, feeling an ache so fierce it nearly drove her to her knees. But they couldn’t go on like this—no matter how much it hurt, they had to talk.

  “We have to get out of here,” she told him, lifting her chin. “And we have to work together to do it—there’s no other way. We have to get back to the ship.”

  Rafe gave a harsh, barking laugh—a sound with no humor in it at all.

  “It wouldn’t matter if someone was kind enough to take us directly to the ship and put us in it,” he said dryly. “Because we are never getting home, Whitney. Never.”

  “What? How can you say that?” She put a hand to her throat, feeling panic trying to choke her. “How can you take such a fatalistic view? I thought you wanted to escape as much as I do!”

  “Of course I want to,” Rafe said harshly. “But if we escape, we’ll only be running from one danger to another. We’re trillions of light years from any point in space the Kindred have charted. I didn’t see a single landmark I recognized in the star charts I studied and there are no stable worm holes either.”

  “But…the worm hole that brought us here—” she began.

  “Is what you humans call a ‘crapshoot’,” Rafe interrupted her harshly. “The chances that it would even take us back to anywhere near the Mother Ship are a trillion to one.”

  He had told her as much before, but somehow hearing him say the words again felt like a stone against her heart.

  “So what are you saying?” she demanded. “That there’s no hope—none at all?”

  “Not of getting back to the Mother Ship and Earth,” Rafe said grimly. “The universe is vast and ever expanding. You must resign yourself to the fact that in all probability, we will never see home again.”

  Whitney lifted her chin, her eyes flashing.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a girl who just resigns myself to things.”

  He shrugged. “You can do as you please. It won’t change the facts of our situation.”

  Whitney poked a finger at him. “It seems to me that you’re letting the ‘facts’ of our situation make you give up. What happened to the warrior who wanted to escape and get out of these damned cages? You’re a grown-ass man—don’t tell me you’ve decided you want to stay here and be babied by Mama Tusker all your life!”

  Rafe looked away.

  “I still want to leave but I do not see a way to do so. And as I said, getting away from here would only mean trading one danger for another.”

  “You sound like Yancy and Yarrow and Dood,” Whitney accused him. “Deciding it’s better to stay here and live in bondage because it’s safer.”

  “Well, it is!” Rafe roared, surprising her with his sudden anger. “It is safer here, Whitney! Though it would kill me to have you taken from me—that I could not bear. If you would just agree to resume our mock mating when that damn Tusker comes to check in on us—”

  “No.” Whitney put up a hand to stop him. “I’m not agreeing to anything right now,” she told him. “I just…I need to think. Let me think.”

  He threw up his hands. “Do what you like but don’t think too long. If she tries to take you again, I do not know if I can stop her, though I will give the last drop of blood in my veins to try.”

  Whitney understood what he was saying. If they didn’t put on an act for Mama Tusker and she decided to try and take Whitney away and put her in another cage, Rafe would fight—quite possibly until he died—to keep her. And given that the monstrous alien was hundreds of times bigger and stronger than they were, his death was more than a possibility—it was a foregone conclusion.

  He’s saying he’ll die to keep me, she thought shakily. Even though he doesn’t want to care for me. I don’t understand this—any of it.

  “It’s too hard to explain.” Rafe looked suddenly tired—weary beyond words.

  He turned without saying another thing and went to the other side of the cage, leaving Whitney staring after him, wondering what in the hell she was going to do.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  She woke up the next morning and barely made it to the bath
room corner before she was horribly, miserably sick. Bright orange pieces of the bland, woody alien carrot, which had been supper the night before, pooled in a steaming mess at her feet before she covered them over with grass.

  Wiping her mouth shakily, Whitney went to the water bottle and took a drink and washed her face. She felt strange inside—a feeling which persisted even though her stomach was now perfectly empty. Was she getting some kind of a flu? That was all she needed right now.

  She put her hands to her temples and rubbed, feeling a pounding headache coming on as she reviewed her conversation with Rafe from the day before. So, the star charts revealed that they were irrevocably lost, they were stuck in a cage and were about to be separated, and there was no way home. Also Rafe loved her and hated the fact that he cared for her at the same time, which was, in itself, almost more confusing than anything else. What a horrible, horrible mess.

  What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

  The thought had been whirling around her head, pecking at her like a bad-tempered bird for days. Now it came home to roost, driving its beak mercilessly into her skull, no matter how hard she rubbed her temples.

  Trying to push it away, Whitney wandered to the other side of the cage and sat by the bars. She was glad it was too early for Mama Tusker to bring them breakfast—she wasn’t up to another scene like the one they’d had yesterday.

  Maybe Rafe is right, she thought, feeling sick. Maybe we should just pretend to mate and stay here the rest of our days, living the lives of pampered pets. Maybe all the dangers waiting out there in the uncharted universe are so much worse that this is the best we can hope for.

  “Hello, Whitney.”

  The soft voice made her look up and she saw Yancy standing on the other side of the bars, speaking to her.

  “Oh, hello,” she said dully. “How are you, Yancy?”

  “Better now,” the other girl said quietly. “Much better than I was, anyway.”

  “You are?” Whitney made an effort to perk up and forced a smile for the other girl’s sake. After all, Yancy was the closest thing she had to a girlfriend in this horrible place and it was important to support your friends. “I noticed you’d been kind of quiet lately,” she said.

  “I was…worried.” Yancy sighed. “But I’m better now—now that our future is secure.” She stepped away from the bars so that Whitney could see her more fully. At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but then the gentle but obvious curve of Yancy’s abdomen began to make sense.

  “You…you’re pregnant?” she asked blankly, looking from the other girl’s gravid belly to her strangely peaceful face.

  Yancy nodded. “I am. And I know how it must seem to you,” she added quickly. “But it was the only way Yarrow and I could stay together—the only way Mama Tusker wouldn’t sell us.”

  “But…but you…but he’s your brother,” Whitney couldn’t help exclaiming. “I mean, I understood the first time—the tweedle weed and the way it makes you feel but—”

  “It was the only way.” Yancy cupped her belly defensively. “We were desperate to stay together. And anyway, I think I’m only carrying two this time—two cubs, I mean. Maybe…” She bit her lip. “Maybe it will be easier to let them go since there are fewer of them. I’m going to try not to get too attached this time.”

  Whitney didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t imagine giving up her own babies to be sold. But then again, she couldn’t imagine getting those babies the way Yancy had. It was too awful to contemplate.

  If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, she heard her Grannie Washington telling her when she was younger. It was old advice, but still good, even on an alien planet, Whitney found. So she simply nodded and said nothing.

  “I noticed that you’ve been quiet yourself lately,” Yancy said, stepping close to the bars to hide her belly again. “And I noticed…” She cleared her throat. “Noticed that you and Rafe haven’t been talking much. Forgive me for asking but…did something happen at the Tweedle Beautiful show?”

  “You could say that,” Whitney said blandly. “We’ve had kind of a fight and we can’t seem to get over it.” Not that the big Kindred was even trying to get over it, she thought resentfully. “Anyway, we’re going through kind of a rough patch right now,” she finished, not wanting to give too much away. Yancy might be a friend but Whitney didn’t like to start airing her dirty laundry in public.

  Besides, the situation with Rafe was really hard to explain—even to herself.

  “I hope you are able to mend the breach so that you can stay together,” Yancy said. “But you shouldn’t let the litter feelings cause a permanent rift between you.”

  Whitney frowned. “Uh, litter feelings? What do you mean?”

  Yancy’s brow furrowed. “Well, I mean the feelings that come over any female when she is heavy with cubs. Haven’t you ever had a litter before? It makes you half-crazy sometimes—first you want to laugh, then you feel like crying. Sometimes the world looks so dark you can barely see any light around you at all.” She sighed. “That’s how I’ve been feeling these past few days. But I am better now.”

  Pregnancy hormones, Whitney thought, feeling sick. She’s talking about pregnancy hormones!

  “I assure you,” she told Yancy, “That I am not having litter feelings. But it’s sweet of you to ask,” she added, realizing the tweedle girl had only been trying to be nice.

  “Oh.” Yancy’s forehead furrowed. “Dood told us that Mama Tusker gave you and Beauty both the special food at the show and that Rafe bred you afterwards. And since the food accelerates the growth of a litter, I thought…”

  “Wait—what?” Whitney stared at her. “It what?”

  “The special food accelerates the growth of a litter,” Yancy repeated patiently. “You only have to look at Beauty to see it.”

  She motioned through the bars of her cage to the one beside her where the little blonde tweedle was in sight. By looking through the bars of both cages, Whitney was able to see that Beauty, too, had a rounded abdomen. In fact, hers was even more pronounced than Yancy’s was. She must be carrying more “cubs” in her “litter.”

  “Damn,” she muttered. “I…I had no idea the, uh, special food did that.”

  Yancy nodded. “It does. And since I heard you being sick this morning when you woke up, I thought maybe…”

  “Oh my God!” Whitney jumped up, putting one hand to her belly and the other to her head. She had never been pregnant before but now she remembered how miserable both her sisters had been during their first few months of pregnancy. Morning sickness had dogged them both until about the second trimester and then it had finally settled down.

  “I…I can’t be,” she muttered to herself. “No way. No way in hell.”

  But once the awful idea crept into her head, it simply wouldn’t leave.

  “I have to go,” she blurted to Yancy although where she was going, she didn’t know. There was nowhere to run from her awful predicament—nowhere to hide.

  And that was bad, because she now had some thing big to hide—for as long as she could, anyway. She didn’t want either Rafe or Mama Tusker to know she might be pregnant. She didn’t want the big Kindred to feel obligated in any way—this baby was hers—well, if she was having one, that was. And she didn’t want the giant alien to know and start taking offers for her baby on e-Bay—or the Tusker equivalent of it.

  That’s it, Whitney thought to herself as she paced around the back of the cage, head down, trying to think. That’s it—I’m getting out of here. And I’m doing it before I start to show.

  There was no way in hell she was going to stay in this damn cage on this horrible planet and let her baby be sold. And the minute she started getting a big belly, Mama Tusker would no doubt be watching her like a hawk, since she was so “exotic” and “valuable.”

  “I’m getting out of here and I’m going home,” Whitney muttered to herself. “I don’t care how hard it is—I
’m going!”

  But how?

  “Do not fear, daughter,” whispered a voice in her head. “What you need to do will be made clear. And once you have found your freedom, the way will be opened for you—this I promise.”

  Whitney looked around, startled. She had heard the voice once before and now, as then, she found herself comforted. But who was it and where was it coming from?

  “I am the Goddess—the Mother of All Life,” the voice spoke again, answering her question. “I watch over all my children—no matter how far away they are or how misguided they may be.”

  These last words sounded rather severe but somehow Whitney didn’t feel they applied to her. Was the Goddess angry at Rafe for some reason?

  “Do not worry about that—I will deal with your warrior in time, daughter,” the Goddess assured her. “For now, you must leave this place as quickly as may be.”

  “I want to,” Whitney said in a low, intense voice. “But how am I supposed to get out?”

  “The answer is right in front of you,” the Goddess whispered in her ear. And then the warm feminine presence which had filled the air around her faded and was gone.

  “Right in front of me?” Whitney asked, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

  But just then she heard thundering footsteps on the ramp leading down into the lower area of the Tuskers’ house. Looking up, she saw little Zhu-zhu standing right in front of her cage, and in her hand she held a doll.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Rafe sat with his head in his hands, wondering what he was going to do. Whitney hated him now and he didn’t blame her. He couldn’t explain to her how the past had warped him—how vulnerable loving her made him feel. Seven Hells, he could barely explain it to himself! And when he even thought of trying to tell her, the words got all tangled and sounded wrong in his mind.

  How can I keep her safe if she won’t even pretend we are mating? How can I protect her the next time she is threatened? I have no weapons and my strength is worth nothing here. There is no way out of here—no way home.