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

  As she worked herself against the hardness, she felt someone shifting behind her. Whoever it was made a low rumbling sound of sleepy desire in the back of his throat and then the hard thing was rubbing against her of its own accord, sliding against her slippery inner petals and her throbbing button until Whitney gasped and tilted her pelvis back, wanting even more of the pleasurable sensation.

  “Mmmm, mon’dalla,” a deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Gods, so soft and wet…”

  I am wet, aren’t I? Whitney thought. Wow, this is such a realistic dream!

  A big warm hand cupped her breast from behind and began to tug at her nipple as the hard thing rubbed even deeper into her wet pussy.

  Whitney moaned loudly and arched like a cat, tilting her hips back and seeking more pleasure, wanting it to never end…

  But her noisy sounds of pleasure seemed to burst the deliciously erotic dream she was having.

  “Whitney? Gods! What are we doing?” The voice behind her sounded shocked and the hard thing between her thighs was suddenly yanked back and away at the same time the hand cupping her breast let go.

  “What…who…?” Whitney turned hastily to see Rafe trying to put space between them. But because of the saggy, hammock-like bottom of the hanging tent, the two of them kept rolling back together.

  At last he managed to get out of the sleeping tent entirely and climbed hastily down the ladder. He stood there in the greenish-purple grass, hands on his hips, breathing hard and looking like a man who had done something he was deeply ashamed of.

  “Hey, are you all right out there?” Whitney poked her head out and looked at him. She noticed that the truly enormous shaft she’d seen the day before was completely erect and the tip of it was shiny and wet.

  Understanding filtered through her foggy brain and she bit her lip.

  “Uh-oh. Um, did we…” She made a gesture with one hand.

  Rafe looked up at her. “Almost. Forgive me—I don’t know quite how it happened.”

  “It was my fault,” Whitney admitted, not wanting him to blame himself. “I thought I was just having this amazingly erotic dream. I never thought it was true. I mean that we were actually…” She made another one-handed gesture, indicating the whole embarrassing situation.

  “Damn it—why do I keep breaking my vow with you?” Rafe looked angry, but more at himself than her. “Why can I not control myself?”

  “It’s the weed.” The soft voice startled them both and Whitney turned to see a new face peering through the bars of the cage, but on the other side this time. She recognized the black-haired girl she had seen snuggled up with the black-haired male on her journey to get to Rafe the night before. Where was her mate? For whatever reason, the girl stood there alone, though she modestly tried to hide her naked body behind one of the bars of her cage.

  “Hello.” Feeling awkward, and wishing she had something to cover herself with, Whitney climbed down from the sleeping tent and approached the bars. “I’m Whitney and this is Rafe,” she said, nodding at the big Kindred. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Yancy,” the girl said, nodding at her. “It’s pleasant to meet you.”

  Whitney had a vague recollection of Dood saying something about someone with that name, but her head felt fuzzy and she couldn’t quite remember what he’d said.

  “Hello, Yancy,” she said, nodding back.

  “What were you saying about the weed?” Rafe asked, turning to face her at last. Whitney had the sneaking suspicion that he’d been waiting for his erection to go down before he faced the new girl and sure enough, when she snuck a peak between his legs, she saw that he was mostly un-aroused now.

  “I was saying that the weed can cause…side effects.” The girl spoke hesitantly, as though she was broaching a delicate subject.

  “Besides laughing like a spotted hyena, you mean?” Whitney asked, frowning.

  Yancy frowned. “I do not know what a ‘spotted hyena’ is but yes, besides the hysterical laughing.”

  “What side effects?” Rafe demanded. “What in the Seven Hells did it do to us?”

  “The weed…” The girl coughed delicately. “It, well…it promotes breeding. Which is why Mama Tusker makes certain to put some of it in each of the cages, I suspect.”

  “Oh, no wonder I was so hor— uh…” Whitney stopped herself and cleared her throat. “No wonder I was feeling so amorous when I woke up,” she finished a bit lamely.

  “As was I,” Rafe growled. “Well, I suppose we have a second reason to stay away from it now.”

  “Just as long as you pretend to play with the ball when Mama is around sometimes,” Yancy cautioned them. “That way she thinks you’re getting the full effects of it.”

  “Hello—are these our new neighbors? Are they Thinking Ones, then?” The black-haired male came to join the girl on the other side of the bars. Looking at their identical raven-black hair and startling green eyes, Whitney couldn’t help thinking they were awfully similar. Maybe Mama Tusker had put them together to breed for a certain look or trait.

  “Yes, they are. This is Whitney and this is Rafe,” Yancy said, pointing them out. “And this is my brother, Yarrow,” she said, nodding at the black-haired man beside her.

  “Your brother?” Whitney said blankly. “But I thought…”

  “That we were mates? Yes, so does Mama Tusker. She’s thought that for the past three cycles.” Yarrow laughed as though it was a fine joke.

  “But we were told by Dood that tweedles who don’t, er, breed, are not kept here for long,” Rafe objected, frowning. “How do you get around that? Surely you do not…”

  “Oh, certainly not!” Yancy said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

  “You mean Mama Tusker doesn’t keep tweedles who don’t look like they’re breeding,” Yarrow corrected Rafe. “It’s easy enough to fake it, you know. The Tuskers are so huge they really can’t see exactly what’s going on with the naked eye. So we just…pretend every now and again and that seems to make her happy.”

  “I see,” Whitney said a bit blankly. She couldn’t imagine “pretending” to breed with your own brother but apparently Yancy and Yarrow were used to it.

  “Why do you not try to escape?” Rafe asked. “Surely this cannot be an easy life for you, pretending to be mates when you are actually siblings.”

  “And you think living out in the open is easier?” Yarrow demanded. “With all the predators out there? We tweedles are at the very bottom of the food chain—don’t you know that?”

  “Actually, we’re not from here,” Whitney said and explained as they had to Dood, that they were from another galaxy.

  Yarrow listened skeptically and she got the distinct impression that he didn’t believe her at all. But he only shrugged politely when she was finished.

  “Well, your galaxy sounds like a fine place. But for my money, there’s no place safer than in a cage, living as a treasured pet. Why, we have all the food we can ever want, a soft place to sleep, fresh water, plenty of tweedle weed to while away the hours…”

  “But I thought you told us to avoid the tweedle weed,” Whitney protested. “Yancy said it has side effects. That it leads to, uh, breeding.”

  “Only if you’re not careful,” Yarrow said dismissively. “You can have a sniff or two of it as long as you don’t get carried away.”

  Whitney wanted to ask if he and Yancy had ever gotten “carried away” but then she decided she didn’t want to know.

  “So the two of you are happy and contented here and never want to leave?” Rafe asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Oh yes—Mama is very kind to us and little Zhu-zhu is also very sweet, although she’s not actually supposed to play with us,” Yancy put in. “But she loves to come and watch us and sometimes she gives us things.”

  “Like food?” Whitney asked, thinking of the giant celery plank and blue-rimmed radish which had been dinner and was probably going to be breakfast too.

  “And other things. Like that.” Yarrow pointed deepe