Pairing with the Protector Read online

  What in the Seven Hells does she think she’s doing? Rafe wondered as the little girl laughed delightedly and tugged back, creating a kind of tug-of-war with the green plank.

  At last she was admonished by her mother that it was “almost bedtime” so she gave up and let Whitney pull the plank all the way into the cage before saying goodnight to all of the “tweedles” and thundering off to bed.

  Finally the lights in the lower area got dim and the sound of retreating footsteps up the long silver-blue ramp told Rafe they were alone. It was the moment he had been waiting hours for.

  “Whitney!” he called hoarsely, across the empty space that separated their cages. “Whitney are you well? Please, mon’dalla, tell me you are!”

  Thirteen

  Whitney had been waiting for this chance from the minute she and Rafe had been separated. Pushing her face to the space between the bars of her cage, she called back to him.

  “I’m okay, honestly, Rafe. He didn’t hurt me, I swear it!”

  “She’s right, I didn’t hurt her. If anything, she hurt me—she nearly yanked my hair out by the roots!”

  To Whitney’s surprise, Silky had joined in the conversation. It might not have been the smartest idea because the minute he heard the other male’s voice, Rafe turned towards him with the most murderous glare Whitney had ever seen. His eyes glimmered blood red in the dim light which she knew meant he was going into Rage—the state of berserker fury that came over all Kindred warriors when they thought a female they cared for was threatened.

  “You fucker,” he said thickly, his voice nothing but a deep, menacing growl. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

  Silky paled but held his ground—which happened to be well out of Rafe’s reach.

  “Look man, she’s telling the truth—I didn’t hurt her! And I wouldn’t have tried anything at all if Mama Tusker hadn’t been watching and I didn’t think your female was one of the Mindless Ones.”

  “Mindless Ones—what’s that?” Whitney called. She wished they were closer together so she didn’t have to yell. It was like shouting across a football field to be heard.

  “You know—the tweedles who live like animals. Look, I’ll tell you—I’ll explain anything you want to know about this place,” Silky promised. “But you have to make your man here promise not to mess with me.”

  Whitney looked at Rafe doubtfully. His eyes still glared red in the dimness and his broad shoulders were tensed and heaving with Rage.

  “I’ll try,” she said. “But it’s not like I control him. We’re a kind of team—I’m a scientist and he’s my Protector. That’s why he’s so pissed off that you attacked me—his job is keeping me safe.”

  “A job in which I failed.” Rafe’s deep voice was unexpectedly heavy. “But I will not fail again,” he added, glaring at Silky.

  “Look, just call him off!” Silky begged Whitney. “Come over here and try to talk him down.”

  “Come over? How? I’m locked in the same as you two.” Whitney gestured at her cage door which was firmly shut.

  Silky shook his head, his long auburn hair flying.

  “No, you’re not. You have the one cage in all of Tweedle Town with an old lock—the non-touch kind.”

  “Tweedle Town?” Whitney raised an eyebrow at him.

  “It’s what I call this fucked-up little village of shitty cages,” Silky said impatiently. “Look, just reach your hand through the bars and push down on the metal plate. The cage door will pop right open—I promise. I know because I used to have that cage until Mama Tusker caught me out and moved me.”

  Experimentally, Whitney reached through the bars as he directed and pressed against the flat metal plate she found there. At first it didn’t seem like it would work but then, with an audible click, the cage door popped open and she found herself staring out of the unobstructed doorway.

  “Whitney! Be careful, mon’dalla!” Rafe exclaimed hoarsely.

  He didn’t have to tell her twice, Whitney thought grimly. The semi-circular array of cages were all placed on a row of wooden crates. The crates came up to the Mama alien’s waist, so she only had to bend down to see the occupants. But since her waist-height was about three stories high, Whitney had the feeling of looking down from the top of a tall building with no ledge in place to stop her if she fell.

  Luckily, the cage door swung open to the left and the way she needed to go was to the right. There was about two feet of room between the cages and the edge of the wooden crates, so there was a narrow pathway to cautiously make her way along, past the middle cage and towards Rafe’s area.

  As she went, Whitney felt the eyes of the other humanoids staring at her. There was one little female with long blonde hair who had the air of a pampered cat. She was nestled in a bed of grass and only looked incuriously as Whitney made her way past her cage.

  Not all the caged inhabitants were so sanguine, however. There were several cages with single males in them who stood up and grunted at her as she passed. Whitney watched them carefully. If any of them decided to shoot an arm between the bars and make a grab for her, it was a long way to the ground if she dodged them and fell.

  But the two seemed content to watch her as she went—small comfort considering they might be put into the matching pen with her next time. Also, both were big and muscular while neither appeared to be intelligent enough to be reasoned with. Whitney kept her eyes on the two of them as she passed and was glad when they left her alone.

  She also passed one cage with two occupants—a male and female who both had black hair and bright green eyes. The two of them were snuggled together on a bright puffy cushion which looked a little like one of those padded dog beds you could buy for your pet at Wal-Mart. They watched Whitney as she passed, neither making any gesture but their eyes looked a little less blank than the others, she thought.

  At last she reached Rafe’s cage. He reached eagerly though the bars for her and Whitney grasped his hands and arms with her own. She still felt awkward about being nude around him, but she was so grateful to be able to touch him and be near him again, she didn’t even care that she was bare-assed naked. In fact, she wished she could get closer and hug him. It would feel so good to press her face against his broad chest and breathe in the warm, masculine scent which always seemed to hang around him.

  “Whitney! Mon’dalla!” He grasped her arms eagerly in his big hands which were warm against her chilly flesh. “Are you well?” he asked her earnestly, ducking his head to look into her eyes. “Are you truly?”

  “I really am,” Whitney assured him. “Honestly, Rafe—Silky didn’t hurt me. He stopped trying as soon as I told him to back off.”

  “Like I said, I thought she was one of the Mindless Ones,” Silky put in helpfully. “And I’m not really called Silky—that’s just what Mama Tusker calls me because of my hair.” He flipped his long auburn mane over one shoulder—a move Whitney was more used to seeing done by a woman. Clearly he was proud of his silky tresses and just as clearly they had inspired his name.

  “Who are you then? I mean, what’s your name?” Whitney asked him.

  “You might as well call yourself Dead Meat because that’s what you’re going to be when I get my hands on you,” Rafe growled, before the other male could answer.

  “Now, Rafe…” Whitney patted his arm soothingly. “Let him talk. He’s been here longer than we have and he knows what’s going on. He might teach us something if you don’t scare him to death.”

  Rafe glowered. “I am surprised you can be so forgiving after he tried to attack you, mon’dalla.”

  “I can, though,” Whitney said firmly. “And if I can, you can too, Rafe. Please,” she added, looking into his eyes. “We need to know everything we can and he’s the only one we’ve met who can tell us.”

  “Well…” She saw him visibly struggling with himself but finally he nodded and took a deep breath. The red light died out of his eyes and he looked at the other male with something approaching calmness.