Guarded by the Hybrid (Kindred Tales)

I got no answer to my half-prayer, but a sense of certainty settled over me. I was meant to be here. I didn’t know why, but I was.

I was just going to have to do the best I could, though how the little female I had been hired to guard would feel about that—or about me—I had no idea.

SEVEN

From the diary of Lady Isla, wife to Lord Baslik Le’rank of Telmar Two of the Orinthian System:

I don’t trust him—not a single bit! I am very glad I hid my diary in my bathing chamber—it is where I will write from now on because it is the only place I may lock myself away and be sure of privacy. I hear him out there, pacing and muttering to himself in those deep, rumbling tones. What kind of man has Baslik hired to hurt me? And what makes him think the giant Kindred can bring on my glow any better than Baslik himself has been able to?

I have no answers to any of these questions, but I know eventually I must face the truth—my husband is determined that this man will touch me and if I don’t let him or try to hide from him, another beating is sure to follow.

Is it better, though, to be beaten than to submit? Once I might have thought so—before Baslik broke my wrist. But I can still remember the dull grinding of the shattered bones and the piercing, blinding pain, followed by the nausea and the wave of gray unconsciousness. Now I’m not so sure.

If only I could make myself unconscious while the giant touches me, but that is not how it works. Nana told me that the glow could only be brought to my skin through the touch of a man I loved and trusted and that I must be as committed to the process as the one who was touching me.

How could I commit to the process and like the feeling of Baslik sliding his clammy hands up and down my bare flesh? I never should have married him.

But likewise, how can I derive any enjoyment from this giant manhandling me in any way he pleases? The very thought makes my skin crawl with terror. Baslik is rough enough as it is, but the giant is huge—and no doubt immensely strong. What if he hurts me even more than Baslik? What if he tears me when he shoves those enormous fingers into my…

Isla stopped writing and laid down her pen. Some things were too horrible to contemplate. She would take a warm bath, she decided. It would relax her and help her sort through her feelings and fears. In the meantime, the giant Kindred could go rot for all she cared. She refused to think of him anymore until she had to.

But promising oneself not to think of a thing or person almost ensures that they are uppermost in one’s mind. As she lay soaking in the tub, Isla couldn’t help dwelling on the size of the enormous Kindred—especially his hands, which would soon be on her. How many had he killed with those huge paws? Had he ever raped anyone before? Would she be his first victim…or his thousandth?

At last she realized she was doing nothing but making herself miserably afraid. She would have to do as she had done when she was a child and was dreading the bitter draught of soothing syrup her Nana insisted she take at night.

Isla was going to have to go and take her medicine.

But I won’t let him know I’m afraid of him, she told herself. I’ll march right into the bed chamber and demand that he get it over with. Then at least I shall know the worst—I shall have some idea of what I must put up with until Baslik at last decides to send him away.

Once the thought was in her head, she knew she must act on it. To hesitate would be to lose her courage.

She climbed out of the deep soaking tub and wrapped herself in a soft, luxurious towel made of white hinta wool—a fleece so soft and fine it was lighter than silk against her skin. But Isla had long ago stopped carrying about the little luxuries she had gained when she married Baslik Le’rank—she understood well enough what she was paying for them and the price was much too high.

Anyway, she had no thought for that now. Marching up to the bathing chamber door, she unlocked it and threw it open. The giant Kindred was in an armchair by the fireplace and appeared to be perusing one of her books—a surprise, Isla thought. Who knew a great thug like him could read?

Before she could lose her nerve, she strode swiftly over to him. Though he was sitting and she was standing, they were still nearly eye-to-eye due to his immense height.