Pairing with the Protector Read online

  Not that you probably have to worry about Whitney wanting to get close to you now—not after what you just did to her, that same voice in his head pointed out. You not only broke your Protector’s Vow, you enjoyed doing it. Hell, you reveled in it. You should be ashamed, Rafe—not worried that she might want more than you are able to give.

  This new thought—this new guilt—pressed down on him like a heavy weight.

  “Forgive me,” he said again. And, taking one of the huge white disks with the blue rind which had been pushed through the bars for Last Meal, he retreated to the far corner of his cage.

  Whitney watched the big Kindred go, feeling both blue and frustrated. She’d felt used and abandoned after sexual encounters before but somehow this didn’t seem to fit that particular category. After all, they had only been doing what they had done in order to fool Mama Tusker into thinking they were a matched pair and Whitney had gotten all the pleasure out of it while Rafe had been entirely on the giving end. It wasn’t like she’d given the big Kindred a blow job and then he’d walked away—he had given her a screaming orgasm—possibly the best one of her life—before leaving to brood in the corner.

  She stared at his broad back and frowned in frustration. What the hell was going on with him? Did he feel guilty about “molesting” her? Had he broken some kind of sacred vow he’d taken when he was invested as a Protector or something?

  Or maybe he just doesn’t want anything to do with you—maybe it was all an act and now he wants to be left alone, whispered a nasty little voice in her head.

  Whitney frowned. No, she wasn’t buying that. The big Kindred had been much too enthusiastic to be faking it. Also, there was the little—or rather, big matter—of the sizable erection she’d seen between his thighs. No man got that hard when he was pretending to enjoy himself.

  He wants me, she thought. He wants me as much as I want him but his Kindred honor is standing in the way.

  She thought about going and confronting him about it, but somehow she doubted that would do much good. Rafe was the kind of guy who took his time and he wasn’t going to be rushed.

  The best thing she could do, Whitney decided, was to act casual, as though nothing had ever happened. If she played it off and talked about other things—escape plans for instance, (since there was no way in hell she was hanging around this cage and waiting to have babies which would be stolen by Mama Tusker)—he might come around.

  That’s it, Whitney told herself. Act casual.

  With that idea firmly in mind, she leaned over and picked up the long green plank and tucked it neatly under her arm. Apparently it was supposed to be dinner and Whitney wasn’t the kind of girl who went around skipping meals—not even when she was stuck in a cage on an alien planet where her captors regarded her as an exotic pet.

  “Girl’s gotta eat,” she murmured to herself and headed over to the corner of the cage where Rafe was sitting to try and act casual.

  Seventeen

  “So do you think Mama Tusker is really going to take us to the show?” Whitney asked, settling on the large artificial log beside the big Kindred. It had gray “bark” molded out of some kind of plastic and reminded her of something you’d put into your fish tank back home—only about a hundred times bigger, of course.

  Rafe turned his head to look at her. His golden eyes were hooded and he was turning the bicycle-sized white disk with its blue rind meditatively between his hands, though he still didn’t appear to have eaten any of it.

  “Well, do you?” Whitney asked, balancing the pale green plank across her knees. It reminded her a little bit of a huge piece of celery, which she liked well enough when there was a bowl of dip to go with it, but wasn’t wild about eating plain. Especially a piece bigger than a baseball bat.

  “I…do not know.” His deep voice was hesitant and he didn’t seem to want to look at her.

  “Look,” Whitney said, deciding to abandon the casual act and go straight for the heart of the matter. “What happened between us just now…well, it happened but it’s over. We need to put it behind us.”

  He glanced over at her, his eyes narrowing.

  “You wish to forget what we did together? What I did to you?”

  “Well, not forget it exactly…”

  Whitney was fairly sure she was never going to forget what the two of them had done together in the matching pen—it had been the single most erotic experience of her life, even if Mama Tusker had been watching the whole time. But she wasn’t about to admit that to her Protector.

  “We don’t have to forget it,” she said, trying to think of a better way to put it. “But we can’t let it get in our way either. Listen, Rafe—we’re a team. And right now what we have to be focused on is getting out of here.”

  She put her hand on his muscular thigh to emphasize her point. He jerked a little—twitching like a nervous horse—but didn’t pull away. Slowly, he looked at her.

  “You really feel that way? You do not hate me for what I did or for breaking my vow as a Protector?”

  “Of course I don’t hate you!” Whitney exclaimed. “I mean, we both did what we had to do, right?” And who knew what else they might be forced to do together before this was all over? But she wisely kept that idea to herself.

  “I…suppose,” Rafe said, frowning.

  “You suppose right,” Whitney said briskly. “Now let’s see what’s for dinner and talk about an escape plan. If Mama Tusker really does take us to the tweedle show, we might actually have a shot at getting out of here.”

  “You may be right.” For the first time he turned to her, his broad shoulders, which had been hunched up around his ears, slowly relaxing. “Have you tried the food we were given yet?”

  Whitney shook her head. “Nope, but I’m about to. I’m getting damn hungry.”

  And with that, she picked up her pale green plank and took a big chomp out of one side.

  It did, indeed, have the texture of celery—Whitney thought as she chewed. Well, except for the strings—at least it didn’t have those. But it was crisp and crunchy and had a slightly sweet, bland flavor and it was pretty much the most boring thing she’d ever eaten.

  “Wow,” she said crunching dolefully and swallowing. “That’s some fine cuisine Mama Tusker had Zhu-zhu serve us.”

  Rafe frowned. “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Whitney said, shrugging. “But not by much. How’s yours?”

  “I haven’t tried it yet. I have to get past this blue rind.” He nodded down at the perfectly round tire-sized white disk. The bright blue edge around it seemed to be about three inches thick. Taking either side of the circle in his hands, he tensed for a moment, his muscles bunching, and then snapped the disk in two with a loud, crack.

  Whitney jumped and put a hand to her heart.

  “Goodness—that’s loud!”

  “Let’s see how it tastes.” Rafe took a bite and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

  “Well?” Whitney asked, eyebrows raised.

  He shrugged. “Slightly peppery but other than that, remarkably bland.”

  “Let me see,” Whitney said. “Peppery is better than nothing.” She had a bit of a hot sauce addiction and kept one of those mini bottles of Siracha on her key ring back home.

  Too bad I don’t have it with me now, she thought ruefully as Rafe handed her the other half of the large white disk. I could sure as hell use it!

  Though of course, if she’d been able to wish for something from back home, hot sauce would probably be last on the list. A weapon or a key to get out of the cage would be good. Clothes would be nice too—though to be honest, she was kind of getting used to being naked with the big Kindred.

  Maybe because of what you just did together. After he sucked your nipples and made you come, seeing each other in your birthday suits isn’t such a big deal, whispered a little voice in her head.

  Whitney felt her cheeks heat at the thought and quickly bit into the thick white slice t