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

  “Of course not,” Whitney said absently, her attention clearly fixed more on the bed than on what he was saying. “Look at this—it has a real mattress! My Barbie bed from the Barbie Dream House only had a fake plastic molded one. This is way nicer—we might actually be able to use it.”

  “Forget the sleeping platform,” Rafe growled, glaring at her. He took her by the arm and turned her to face him. “Whitney, I don’t want you doing that again—don’t want you playing with the child. It isn’t safe.”

  “She’s a kid, Rafe.” Whitney shook off his hand impatiently. “If there’s anything I know besides animals, it’s kids. I’ve got five nephews and three nieces and I used to baby-sit all of them.”

  “Baby-sit?” Rafe frowned. “You sat on your younger kin?”

  Whitney burst out laughing.

  “No, you big lug—that’s just an Earth term that means I watched them when their parents—my sisters—were gone! I’m just trying to tell you, I know how kids’ minds work. Zhu-zhu is too young to even understand what sentience is—all she wants is a fun pet to play with. And if I can be that pet, she might be tempted to take me out of the cage. Instant escape, right?”

  Rafe glowered at her. “Or instant death. That ‘child’ is the size of a two-story building, Whitney! You should not be encouraging her to pick you up and play with you as though you were a doll.”

  She shrugged, apparently unconcerned for her own safety.

  “She’s a girl—that makes all the difference. Girls are more gentle with their toys and pets. Didn’t you see the way she handled Ti-ti, her doll? She’s a sweet little girl—she won’t hurt me.”

  “She won’t get a chance to hurt you because you aren’t going to encourage her to pick you up again!” Rafe growled, glaring at her. The thought of the child’s seven-fingered hand or trunk curled around Whitney’s waist, lifting her up, taking her away, made all his protective instincts rise and all he wanted to do was hold her close in his arms and keep her safe from all the dangers of this alien world.

  “Hey, I’ll be all right.” Whitney patted his arm reassuringly. “And it might be a way out of here—me playing Barbie and you playing Ken. Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

  Rafe didn’t know who “Barbie and Ken” were and he didn’t care. He only knew he didn’t want to lose Whitney and not only because he was her Protector and was sworn to keep her safe. The thought of not being able to keep her from harm, of never seeing her again, was completely intolerable.

  He frowned at himself uncertainly. Was he beginning…to care for her? Surely not. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

  “It’s not worth risking your life,” he growled fiercely, pushing his complex and confusing emotions aside. “I don’t want you to do it again—I mean it, Whitney!”

  She looked like she was about to argue, but then a change came over her face and she simply shrugged.

  “I hear you, Rafe,” she murmured, patting his arm again. “Now come on and help me move this bed to the back of the cage. No more saggy hammock tent—we’re sleeping in comfort tonight!”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The alien doll bed really wasn’t bad, although the piece of foam-rubber that was the mattress was a little too firm for Whitney’s taste. Still, it was way better than the sagging bottom of the hanging tent so she was prepared to put up with it.

  They had positioned it in the back of the cage, right under the hanging tent—which Rafe had managed to raise a bit higher—so it felt almost like a canopy bed. Then they had piled the greenish-purple grass all around it, creating a kind of privacy barrier. The result was a snug little nest that felt both cozy and sequestered, much to Whitney’s delight. And the brightly patterned gold and purple blanket that went with the bed was surprisingly soft and warm.

  “Mmm, this is nice,” Whitney murmured, snuggling down under the blanket and getting comfortable. Since the bed had been built for dolls which were bigger than Rafe, it was luxuriously large—maybe too large, she thought ruefully, as the big Kindred settled himself at a deliberate distance away from her, putting at least three feet of space between them.

  She frowned as she watched him through the gloom of the dimly lit downstairs area. How could she get him to come closer? And how could she get him to touch her? Not that she wanted him to break his vow, necessarily, but after sleeping so close to him the night before, she felt lonely and sad all by herself on one side of the big doll’s bed.

  “Rafe?” she asked quietly, and put out a foot to nudge the back of his knee.

  “Yes?” He half-turned his head to see her, though his big body remained facing obstinately away, Whitney saw with exasperation.

  “Rafe,” she said again in a low, coaxing tone. “Could you…would you hold me tonight?”

  He made a sound low in his throat which might have been either longing or protest or both and shook his head.

  “I…should not.”

  “Please?” Whitney pleaded shamelessly. I don’t mind being in a cage during the day but at night it’s so lonely and scary. I just…” She choked back a sob that she didn’t have to fake a bit. “I just don’t want to feel all alone here. Please, Rafe.”

  “Mon’dalla…” He rolled over and, much to Whitney’s relief, gathered her into his arms. “I can deny you nothing,” he rumbled low, in her ear. “Though I know in this case I should.”

  “Why should you?” Whitney protested, snuggling close to his broad, bare chest. His warm, spicy scent invaded her senses making her feel somehow aroused, protected, and cherished all at the same time. “Is it really just your vow?” she asked. “Or is it something else? Something in your past?”

  Rafe stiffened against her.

  “I do not wish to speak of it.” His voice was low and cold and he seemed on the verge of pulling away and leaving her alone again. Whitney sensed she had gone too far and hurriedly changed the subject.

  “Then let’s talk about how we’re going to get out of here,” she said quickly. “Let’s talk about getting Mama Tusker to take us to the tweedle show.”

  She could see him frowning in the dim light from the softly glowing sides of the ramp which led to the upstairs.

  “I am not sure we can get her to take us. Not if we must do…what Yancy and Yarrow have been doing.”

  “Do you think they’re actually, uh, doing it though?” Whitney asked. “Or just pretending?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Who knows? It is not our business to question or to judge them. But I am not sure about making such a pretense ourselves.”

  “I think we should do it,” Whitney said strongly. “Fake it, I mean—fake breeding,” she said quickly, when he looked at her with one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yancy and Yarrow and Dood all seem to think it’s the only way to get Mama Tusker to keep us together and take us to the show.”

  Rafe frowned. “I am not certain how I feel about even pretending to take you in that way.”

  “Why?” Whitney demanded, turning to face him more. “I mean, faking it isn’t actually doing it—isn’t actually having sex,” she pointed out. “We wouldn’t really be breaking your vow, any more than we did when you, uh, sucked my nipples and touched me in the matching pen cage.”

  His frown deepened until his face looked like a thundercloud.

  “I should not have done that.”

  “You had to,” Whitney said patiently. “How else could we have convinced Mama Tusker that we were a matched pair?”

  “We should have found another way.” But his deep voice sounded doubtful, as though he knew in his heart that there had been no other way to accomplish their goal.

  “I didn’t mind, you know,” Whitney admitted softly, drawing patterns on his broad chest with her fingertips. “It felt…really good to have you touch me and taste me like that. It wouldn’t really bother me if…if we had to do something similar in order to go to the show.”

  Rafe shook his head. “But it would bother me. It would be against my vow.”