Brides of the Kindred Read online

  For that was obviously his intent. From his slow, sensual beginning, Sylvan had progressed to a fierce sexual assault on the tender area between her thighs. It was as though he knew she was warmed up and ready for him. Ready to feel his tongue lashing her clit and pressing deep inside her pussy as he thrust it relentlessly into her over and over again.

  “Sylvan!” she gasped as he tonguefucked her. “Sylvan, please! You’re going to make me…you’re pushing me too far. I can’t…I won’t be able to hold back.”

  His only response was to grip her hips even harder as he lapped her. God the things he was doing to her felt incredible. Sophie knew she would have lost it already if she wasn’t so afraid of the consequences. Because now she could feel his fangs. They didn’t hurt her or pierce her flesh but they were definitely there—four sharp points bracketing her tender pussy, reminding her of what Sylvan ached to do to her the moment she came. Which was going to be any minute if he kept this up…

  Clutching desperately at the headboard, she tried to hold the orgasm back. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. She’d never been able to come easily—not even when she touched herself, which wasn’t all that often. But ever since she’d been with Sylvan, her body seemed to be in overdrive. Was it a response to his mating scent? Or was he just that good at going down?

  Whatever the reason, she felt the pleasure peaking inside her again. She couldn’t stop it—another orgasm rolled over her, drenching her in intense, almost overwhelming sensation and making her tremble helplessly against his mouth. Oh God, what was Sylvan going to do to her now?

  * * * * *

  The urge to bite, to mark, to inject his essence and claim her for his own was almost insurmountable. Sylvan struggled with himself, willing the cool, logical side of his personality to take over and take control of the situation. But though it had ruled him his entire life, that side was weak now. In its place was a ravenous beast, a hungry warrior that wanted nothing more than to blood and claim his bride.

  The feeling of her trembling against him as she came, as well as the sweet gush of honey from her pussy, lit a fire inside him. He felt his cock swell and his fangs get even longer with the need to release, to fill her with his cum and essence at the same time.

  Mine, she’s mine, the beast inside him raged. Have to have her. Have to make her mine now!

  Gripping her hips, he pulled her legs even further apart, baring her tender inner thighs for his hungry fangs. He could feel them throbbing as they filled with the pale blue liquid that was unique to his kind. The essence that could heal almost any illness with a single bite—and bind the female of his choice to him. Sylvan opened his mouth to bite…

  And heard her soft voice begging him not to.

  “Please, don’t bite me, Sylvan.” Her tone was filled with fear and agitation. “Please.”

  The fear and pleading in her voice cut through the blood lust that had fallen over him like a smothering curtain. Though his need to bite her remained just as strong, his reason returned and enabled him to hold back…at least for the moment.

  Sylvan paused.

  Have to stop. Have to let her go now, he told himself firmly. But the voice of reason was weak, ineffectual. In contrast the roar of the beast within was almost deafening. Need her. Want her. Have to mark her—make her mine! Now!

  He couldn’t help himself anymore. The need to have her, to bind her to him was simply too great. The bonding wouldn’t be complete because his cock wasn’t buried to the hilt inside her pussy. But filling her with his essence would still mark her as his and keep other males away from her. And he had to have her. Oh Goddess, Mother of All Life, forgive me…

  His fangs throbbed and stung with a pleasurable kind of pain. The ache of fullness which could only be relieved by biting and releasing their load of essence into tender, female flesh. Sylvan stretched his jaws wide—

  “Sylvan? Sylvan can you hear me?” The familiar mind voice invaded his head, cutting through the claiming lust and the urge to blood his bride like a knife.

  “Baird?” he sent back, hardly able to believe it. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Brother. I hope I’m not interrupting anything but you’re in danger.”

  Sylvan looked at Sophia. He saw the fear in her eyes, felt the way she was trembling as she waited for him to bite. He was in danger in more ways than his brother knew. In danger of harming the female he would rather die than hurt. In danger of breaking his vow, both to Sophia and to the Mother of Life.

  “Oh yes, you’re interrupting,” he sent grimly. “But don’t worry about it.” He had never been more glad to be interrupted in his life.

  * * * * *

  Sophie was beyond relieved when he stopped in mid-chomp. She could see his fangs pressing against her vulnerable inner thigh, could feel their razor sharp tips digging into her tender flesh. But he hadn’t broken the skin…yet.

  The sight and feel of him about to bite her had her nearly hyperventilating. The pleasure of the intense orgasm he’d given her was rapidly draining away to be replaced by an all consuming fear as panic raced through her. It brought her past back in a sickening rush—reminded her too much of what she’d gone through when she was still a little girl.

  The shots…the transfusions…needles everywhere…She could almost smell the rubbing alcohol—that harsh, stinging gonna-get-a-shot odor that made her stomach churn with dread. All she could think of was how much it was going to hurt—that sharp, hard stick of a needle sinking into flesh—multiplied by the four jagged points in his mouth.

  “Please,” she breathed again, afraid to move, afraid to do anything but beg. “Please, Sylvan, don’t.”

  With a low, frustrated growl, he pulled back. But the need in his eyes still burned just as brightly, his lust for her white-hot and unquenchable. “Need to mark you. Need to make you mine.” His voice was the growl of a beast denied its prey. “But I won’t. Not now.”

  “Sylvan…”

  “Get up.” He was already urging her off the bed and reaching for his clothes. “Baird called me from the Mother ship. He’s coming for us but he says the urlich aren’t far from the cabin. We’re going to have to make a run for it.”

  “What? Did he bespeak you? How does he know?”

  “Yes, he bespoke me. And Deep and Lock told him—they’re finder/seekers.” He was pulling on his black flight pants and tall black boots as he spoke. “Here.” He threw her the blue uniform shirt which had been lying at the end of the bed.

  “Finder whats?” She was pulling on the shirt as she spoke, infected by his sense of urgency.

  “Never mind. Let’s just hope you’re marked well enough that my scent throws them off.”

  “Am I? I mean, can’t you tell?”

  Grabbing her arm he pulled her close. Leaning over her, he inhaled deeply, his eyes closed for a moment as if in deep concentration. When he opened them, there was a troubled look on his face. “I think you are but it’s hard for me to tell. I’m so sensitive to your scent now I smell it even when I shouldn’t be able to.”

  “What? What does that mean?” She looked at him worriedly.

  “It means your scent is imprinted on my brain—like everything else about you.” He cupped her cheek and stared down into her face. “The color of your eyes, the exact tone of your voice when you’re nervous, or frightened, or in need. The shade of pink your cheeks turn when you’re embarrassed. I’m full of you, Sophia. Full to overflowing…but it does me no good.”

  “I…” She wanted to look away from the frightening intensity of his gaze but somehow she couldn’t. “I don’t know what that means,” she whispered at last.

  “It means I’m damned.” His tone was desolate. “Completely and utterly damned.” Abruptly he let her go. “Baird says there’s a clearing a half a mile North of here. If we can get there, out into the open sunlight, we’ll be safe. And the sooner we go the better.”

  Sophia took a deep breath, trying to push down the fear and panic that