Pairing with the Protector Read online

  “By scooping up water and throwing it on the fire? Or by stamping it out?” Rafe guessed.

  “No, he…” Whitney started to giggle. Maybe it was the effects of the tweedle weed, but the next part of the story tickled her funny bone. It had always made her laugh when she was a kid, even though it was extremely juvenile. Or maybe because it was extremely juvenile.

  “He what? What does he do?” Rafe demanded, frowning. “How else could he put out the tiny people’s fire?”

  “He doesn’t have any water handy and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone by stomping on them by accident so he…he…” Whitney started giggling again. “He pees on them—on the castle, I mean—and puts the fire out that way.”

  “So he urinates all over the tiny people’s most important structure?” Rafe demanded. “And this makes them believe he is friendly towards them?”

  “I know it sounds…sounds ridiculous. But I didn’t write it!” Whitney was laughing so hard now she could barely breathe. Cognitively she knew it wasn’t that funny but the tweedle weed had almost the same effect on her that regular weed did—not that she’d smoked any since her undergrad days. But it just seemed to make everything funny and she found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop laughing.

  Across from her, Rafe’s face was doing something very strange. First the corners of his mouth twitched upwards and then a full-fledged smile emerged. After that, a surprised-sounding chuckle came from his deep chest. Soon, he was laughing right along with her—which only had the effect of making Whitney laugh even more.

  “Oh!” she gasped, holding her sides. “Oh, we have to stop! My stomach hurts!”

  “Mine too!” His laughter was deep, coming from the bottom of his chest, and it sounded a little rusty as though he hadn’t laughed in years. But it was a very pleasant sound just the same and Whitney found herself enjoying it.

  “Oh, I can’t stop!” Still laughing, she sat down in the purple-green grass with a thump, clutching her belly. “Oh my God, that tweedle weed is crazy!’

  “Is that why we’re laughing?” Rafe came over to try and help her up but when she grabbed his arm, he slipped on one of the many slick grass blades and wound up coming down with a thump, flat on his butt beside her. This only made Whitney laugh even harder until she was afraid she might damage something internally. But even that thought seemed funny and made her laugh even harder.

  “Hey, you two better take it easy with the tweedle weed,” a familiar voice called from the next cage. “It’s no joke if you breathe too much of it—I laughed until I passed out once.”

  Looking up, Whitney saw Dood’s face pressed between the bars of his own cage as he peered into theirs.

  “Hey, Dood,” she said and started laughing all over again. The idea of a guy named “Dood” warning them about overdosing on tweedle weed seemed like the funniest thing ever.

  “This is…is serious,” Rafe gasped, between bouts of laughter. He looked at Dood. “How can we…stop?”

  Dood shrugged. “Cold water helps. “Splash some in your face, man. And give your lady a splash too.”

  “I will.” Dragging himself up from the ground, still laughing helplessly, Rafe made his way to the enormous water bottle. Reaching up, he pumped the nozzle which caused a spray of cold water to hit him right in the face.

  For some reason, this made Whitney think of the poor Lilliputions getting peed on by Gulliver and she found herself laughing harder than ever. Oh God, was she ever going to stop? Bright lights were dancing in front of her eyes now and her stomach was tied in knots. Laughing was becoming painful and yet she continued on and on because literally everything she thought of was funny.

  No, it’s not! she told herself sternly. Or tried to, anyway. Think of sad things. Think of—

  But she was never going to find out if her remedy would have worked because just then Rafe came and picked her up and brought her over to the water bottle.

  “Hold still, mon’dalla,” he commanded and then a stream of cold water hit her full in the face and Whitney found herself spluttering instead of laughing.

  “Oh!” she gasped, wiping at her eyes. “Oh my God, thank you! That stuff is intense.”

  She wondered if cats who got catnip felt the way she just had—like they were on a trip they couldn’t come down from. It was certainly something to consider the next time before she gave Mr. Fluffypants any more nip.

  “I told you so,” Dood said dolefully from his own cage. “Like I said, you can pass out from it if you’re not careful. I know it gets damn boring hanging around in the cage all day but try to limit yourself to a few sniffs at a time, right?”

  “Ugh.” Whitney put a hand to her stomach gingerly. “My stomach muscles are so sore now! I haven’t laughed that much in ages.”

  “Nor have I,” Rafe admitted.

  Whitney frowned at him. “What are you talking about? You haven’t laughed that much in ever. You never laugh!”

  He frowned back. “There was a time when laughter was part of my life. That was many cycles ago.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry.” Whitney bit her lip, feeling like she’d offended him somehow. She wondered if his dour attitude most of the time had to do with the story she suspected he had in his past. “All the same,” she said, “You have a really nice laugh, Rafe. I enjoyed hearing it—and laughing with you.” She winced as she prodded her sore stomach muscles again. “But I think I’ll take a hard pass on the happy tweedle weed from now on.”

  “I will pass on it as well. Though…” He cleared his throat and looked down at her. “Though I have always enjoyed hearing your laugh too, mon’dalla. It is very beautiful—just like you are.”

  “You two should get a room,” Dood advised sourly. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t already after that show you put on for Mama Tusker back in the matching pen.”

  Whitney felt her cheeks get hot but she refused to let Dood upset her or make her ashamed.

  “So what if we did?” she demanded. “We were just trying to prove we were a matched pair, that’s all. Didn’t we do the right thing?”

  “You did—just not enough of it,” Dood remarked. “You know, sooner or later Mama Tusker is going to expect to see you breed, not just get all hot and heavy with each other.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Rafe said firmly, before Whitney could think of a suitable answer. “I am Whitney’s Protector—I am sworn not to molest her sexually.”

  Dood snorted. “Coulda fooled me! I thought for sure the two of you were going to go at it right there in the matching pen.”

  “We were not about to…to go at it,” Whitney said with as much dignity as she could muster. She became aware that Rafe was still holding her cradled to his broad chest and they were both buck naked. Though she was getting kind of used to being nude, she couldn’t help being nervous, held in the arms of the big Kindred as she was.

  Dood nodded. “Riiiiight,” of course you weren’t,” he said sarcastically.

  “Are you accusing Whitney of lying? I can make you very sorry for that,” Rafe growled, glowering at the other male. It was clear there was still no love lost between the two of them.

  “Rafe, put me down please?” she whispered to the big Kindred, feeling self-conscious.

  He set her down at once but kept a protective arm around her shoulder. Even though Dood was in the next cage, he still clearly didn’t trust the other male.

  But the tweedle was shaking his head.

  “Good luck with the whole—we’re not going to breed thing. After all the weed you two snorted—”

  “What does that have to do with it?” Whitney demanded. “And you heard Rafe—we’re not going to!” Although she really wouldn’t have minded “breeding” with the big Kindred, to be honest. Though she couldn’t let him know that, of course.

  “Well, I don’t know how you’re going to manage around here without breeding for Mama Tusker,” Dood said. “If she doesn’t think you’re trying to make babies, she