Raised to Kill

Like his entire shaft—and his mating fist, whispered a little voice in her head. And then her pleasure exploded and she was coming—coming with the big Kindred’s fingers deep in her pussy as she cried out,

“Husband! Husband!” again and again.

Twenty-Six

So it was all lies. Everything Aunt told me about how the Kindred are cruel—about how they want to hurt their wives and tear them open. All of it was just to make me hate him and think he was evil. But he’s not evil at all.

Allara was thinking hard, as she lay securely in her husband’s arms on the morning after the first night of their Bathing Week. The lights in the bedroom were dim, suggesting early morning. They would gradually come to simulate full daylight, but for now it was still only dawn.

The night before had been a revelation to her. And now that her last fear of the big Kindred was gone, she was once again questioning her mission.

How can I kill him now? she asked herself. Now that I know he doesn’t want to hurt me—that he only wants to love me.

Well, it certainly didn’t take you long to abandon your entire purpose in life, sneered her aunt’s voice in her head. You were raised to kill him—born to satisfy the Blood Feud. It is your only purpose for being. How dare you turn your back on your own people and choose the Kindred over the Q’ess?

Allara had no answer for that. She looked down at her chest where the skora she had worn from the age of twelve cycles, when she took the Unbreakable Oath, rested between her breasts. It seemed to burn her now, a token of shame rather than of honor.

How could she possibly be thinking of breaking her oath? If it were known, her father and her aunt would be cast down, their status as members of the Seventh Great House revoked forever. And her own name would be reviled by every man, woman, and child of the Q’ess.

Yes, but who’s going to know? whispered a persuasive little voice in her head. The Q’ess lead lives completely disconnected from the rest of the universe. Who’s going to tell them that you didn’t actually complete your mission? Even Aunt said that if you didn’t get a chance to press the transmitter button to let them know the deed was done, they would just assume that it was. So who will be the wiser if you break your oath?

It went back and forth like that—the restless inner dialog. The voice of honor fighting with the voice of desire until Allara felt as though she was being torn in two.

I can’t lie here anymore tormenting myself, she thought. I will get up and make First Meal for my husband. Maybe keeping my hands busy will silence my mind.

She slid out of bed as silently as she could, shivering a little in the slightly chilly air, since she was still naked. Well, she couldn’t cook First Meal like this.

Going to the closet, she began looking through the dresses and other garments Kat had made her, searching for the silky red robe that belted at the waist, which she liked to wear in the early mornings before she took a shower and got dressed for the day.

But this morning, her fingers encountered a new fabric mixed in among the rest of the soft, pretty dresses—new and yet familiar.

“My wedding dress!” Allara gasped, as the shimmering, silver fabric came into view in the dim light.

“Oh, hey baby—you found it.” Brand’s deep voice was still thick with sleep and she turned to see him propped up on one elbow in bed.

“I…I didn’t know it was mended,” Allara said through numb lips.

“Yeah, Kat gave it back to me yesterday. Apparently it took longer to fix the rip than she’d thought.”

“I…I would like to examine it in the light but I do not wish to disturb you, husband.” She pulled the dress off the hanger and clutched it to her chest. “I will take it into the room of necessity.”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want,” he murmured sleepily. Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, he rolled over again. “Gonna catch another half hour of sleep.”

“Sleep well, husband,” Allara told him, hardly knowing what she was saying. Then she fled into the bathroom with the silver dress clutched in her arms.

Twenty-Seven

Once in the room of necessity with the door firmly closed and locked behind her, Allara called, “Lights high,” and winced as the automatic lighting system brightened the room immediately. After her eyes adjusted, she anxiously examined the newly mended dress.

But it wasn’t the place where Brand had ripped it off her that worried her— she was much more focused on the bottom of the dress. Anxiously, she felt along the back hem, where both the poison pill and the transmitter which would let her aunt and father know she had completed her mission had been sewn.