Raised to Kill

He thought with eagerness of the days to come. Of the weeks of the Claiming Period they would fulfill together. He wanted to be able to touch her beautiful body—to stroke her long, silky indigo hair and run his hands over her smooth, creamy, caramel-brown skin. But he wanted to get to know her too, Brand reminded himself. His new bride had some interesting quirks he was as eager to investigate as he was to explore her beautiful body.

For instance, what was the deal with Allara and music? He had known that music was important to her people and she had reacted very favorably to music that was skillfully played or sung. She had especially seemed to like the song he had sung for her, which was very gratifying.

Brand thought he had a decent voice—he’d even been in a male singing group on his home world of Rageron. Though he had never been formally trained, he could harmonize well with others and he had enjoyed passing the time singing the hunting and Claiming songs of his people with other males of his tribe.

But enjoying music and being enraptured by it were two different things. The look on Allara’s face when he was singing to her was something akin to ecstasy. Her eyes had grown wide and her entire body had trembled with emotion. Not only that, he had been able to pick up the distinct scent of female desire coming from her when he got back to the table. Music was really important to her—thank goodness he wasn’t tone deaf like the woman who had driven them out of the tent with her awful singing!

Thinking of that made him glance at his new bride again, to be certain she was all right. Her face had gone so pale when she begged to leave the tent. He’d been afraid she was going to be sick or faint on the spot.

So bad music affected her just as much as good music did—that was definitely something to remember.

Maybe I should sing to her some more when we get into the suite, he thought. Or maybe he could put on something soft and jazzy and show her how the humans “slow danced” together. It might be a little awkward because of their height difference but he thought he could find a way to make it work…

The thought of holding her close, her entire body pressed chest-to-chest with his, was damn near irresistible to Brand. In fact, he found everything about Allara irresistible.

Well, you’d better resist, whispered a little voice in his head. Remember your plan to be friends first and to go through the entire Claiming Period. You don’t want to hurt her or scare her by rushing her. This Joining has to last a lifetime—you need to start off right and that means going slow.

Looking down at the lovely little female in his arms, Brand promised himself that was exactly what he was going to do. He wouldn’t rush a single step in the all-important Claiming Period. And by the end of it, he hoped that Allara would be eager to bond with him.

Nine

“Well, here we are,” Brand rumbled.

The door slid shut behind them and Allara looked around. They had come into a living area which was quite unlike anything she had at home.

There was a large piece of furniture which looked like many chairs put together. But instead of being carved of wood, it was padded with an unknown material which made it look puffy and fat. It was big enough for four or five of her people to sit side-by-side, Allara thought. Or else maybe two of the giant Kindred.

The long, puffy chair sat in front of a fireplace where a low fire crackled softly to itself. Its flames were blue and green instead of red and orange, however, which was strange.

Also odd was the covering on the floor. Instead of rushes, as her people had in poorer homes, or woven mats like they had in the Great Houses, there was a soft, fibrous covering almost like shelken wool over the entire floor. Allara wondered how it would feel on her feet if she took off her shoes—and if Brand would ever let her down.

“I think I can walk now,” she said cautiously, wondering if he would refuse to release her again. “If you are tired of carrying me.”

“I could never get tired of that,” he murmured, giving her that half-lidded smile that made her stomach flutter. “But sure, baby, I can put you down.”

He set her gently on her feet.

“This is…an odd dwelling,” Allara remarked, looking around some more. There were shelves with things on them she didn’t understand. Instruments and ornaments she was afraid to touch.

“Feel free to explore if you want—this is your home now too,” Brand told her. “Or, would you like me to give you a tour?”