Raised to Kill

“So…they wanted you to sing the melody while the others sang the harmony?” Brand asked.

She had frowned.

“Melody? Harmony?”

Brand furrowed his brow, trying to think how to explain. Then he remembered that he’d seen the sheet music for Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on the grand piano—she must have been playing that before Selena had realized how talented she was and moved on to more difficult pieces.

“It’s like this,” he said. “If I sing,

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

How I wonder what you are?

Up above the world so high.

Like a diamond in the sky…

“I’m singing the melody. But I can also sing the second part or harmony. Like this.”

And he sang it again, this time in harmony.

Allara watched him with wide eyes, one hand pressed to the right side of her chest.

“Oh, husband,” she breathed, when he was finished. “Even with such simple music, your Song touches me!”

“Well, thank you, baby,” Brand told her. “But do you see what I mean about melody and harmony?”

“Oh yes.” She’d nodded eagerly. “You mean the Ascendant or dominant part and the secondary part.” She smiled at him. “Your Song is amazing, no matter which part you sing.”

“That’s very sweet of you, I used to sing in a group back on my home planet,” Brand told her. “But I’d love to hear your Song, baby. Do you think you could sing for me?”

“Here? Outside of a Song House?” Allara had looked uncertain about the idea.

“Please?” Brand coaxed. “I’d love to hear you sing.” Knowing how talented she was with musical instruments and how soft and sweet her speaking voice was, he was dying to hear her singing voice or “Song” as Allara called it.

“Well…” She looked down at her hands. “I suppose if it would please you, husband.”

“It would,” Brand had assured her. “Very much, baby.”

“I cannot sing the words that are in my heart, but I will sing the tune of them,” Allara had told him. And then she opened her mouth and began to sing in a voice so sweet and pure and beautiful, it took Brand’s breath away.

There were, as she had said, no words but the notes themselves were gorgeous and sad—a soft, mournful lament that brought tears to Brand’s eyes though he didn’t know why. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he began to hum along with her and then raised his voice to sing the harmony to her soft, longing, melody.

But at that point Allara had stopped singing at once.

“Oh!” She put a hand to her chest, her eyes wide and scandalized. “Oh, you must not, husband!”

“I must not what? You don’t want me to sing with you?” He looked at her, puzzled. “Why not, baby? I thought you said that people ‘mingled’ their Songs on your planet.”

“Yes, but only women with women and men with men,” Allara had exclaimed. “A man and a woman must never mingle their songs.”

“But why not?” Brand asked again. “I mean, we’re married.”

“That makes no difference.” Allara shook her head vehemently. Her cheeks were flushed and she was nearly panting. “The mingling of male and female Songs causes too many feelings—forbidden feelings! We must not!”

“Well…okay. I understand if you don’t want to sing a duet.” Brand had been disappointed, though. For the very brief time when their voices were mingling, he had thought they sounded uncommonly good together. But apparently it was against Allara’s beliefs to sing a duet, and he didn’t want to disrespect her religion.

“Forgive me, husband, but do you mind if I use the room of necessity?” she had asked, still looking extremely agitated. “I believe I must take a cold shower in the shower cube.”

“A cold shower?” Brand frowned. “Why not take a dip in the bathing pool instead—as long as you can swim,” he’d added cautiously. It wasn’t their Bathing Week yet, so he wasn’t allowed to go in with her, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

“My hot blood demands a cold shower,” she had repeated urgently. “May I go?”

“Well, sure…” Brand shrugged. “You don’t have to ask me, baby. Do what you want and I’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you!”

And Allara had fled the table.

Now, as he finished washing up the dishes, Brand wondered what had gotten into her? He hoped she was feeling better now that she’d had a shower. It was getting towards evening and he was hoping to do some serious snuggling with his pretty little bride.

Twenty

Allara shifted on the big bed, looking down at the silky white nightgown Kat had made for her to wear. It was much different from her usual scratchy wool gown back home. The thin material outlined the dark points of her nipples and slid sensuously over her skin—perhaps too sensuously.

I should not be having such thoughts—such feelings, Allara told herself sternly.

But the feelings caused by her Song mingling with the big Kindred’s—even for just a few moments—had nearly overwhelmed her. Even a long, freezing cold shower had barely cooled her blood.