Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

But how? Her aunt had declined to go over any kind of plan for such seduction. She had assured Allara that the evil giant would rip off her gown and take her at once—possibly even the first moment he met her. But since they had gone through an entire wedding ceremony and were now inside his domicile where it was private and he had yet to start ripping, Allara didn’t know what to do.

She supposed the best course of action was just go back out to the living area and spend time with him, hoping he would eventually start tearing off her dress before he threw her to the floor and penetrated her.

The thought made her shudder with dread. Why oh why must she endure the shame of penetration before she could kill him? Why had her aunt never told her before of this crucial extra step? The excuse that it would not be proper to tell her until her wedding night rang hollow to Allara.

I think she didn’t tell me because she knew I might have refused to commit myself to the mission if she did, she thought to herself.

But it was too late now—she had taken the Unbreakable Oath at the age of twelve cycles, taken it before her father and her aunt and all of the Song Leaders at the Song House of the Seven Great Houses. If she broke it now, her entire family would be cast down into shame and all of the Q’ess people would be shamed with them.

“I must do this,” Allara said to her image in the 3-D viewer. “I must fulfill my mission—no matter how hard it is. I must honor my oath!”

Hearing the words out loud—however softly—seemed to strengthen her resolve. Lifting her chin, she marched out of the fresher…only to hear the soft, seductive sound of music flowing from the living area.

Ten

“I hope you don’t mind,” Brand said when she came back to see him standing beside the long, puffy chair and swaying slightly to the music. “I wanted to show you what I was talking about earlier—about slow dancing?”

The lights had been dimmed so that the room was lit only by the flickering flames of the fire. The music filling the room from some unknown source was slow and seductive. It stroked across Allara’s skin like the softest of feathers, lightly teasing—just enough to make her body light up with interest.

“Slow dancing?” she asked, playing for time. “Is that where the men and women sway to the music?”

“Yes—they sway together. Come here.”

He beckoned to her, so Allara went at once because a woman did not ignore her husband when he called for her.

She was surprised to see that he had a metal footstool in front of him. It wasn’t very tall but once she had stepped up onto it, Brand did something to it that made it grow.

“Oh!” she gasped, as it raised her into the air. Reaching out, she found herself grasping her new husband’s broad shoulders for balance.

Brand smiled at her.

“Sorry if that surprised you. I bought it especially for you—so you can reach things on high shelves.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” She said, not know what else to say.

He was now only about an inch taller than her and Allara found it disconcerting to be face-to-face with the big Kindred. His eyes seemed to glow in the firelight, the blue and green flames flickering in their golden depths.

She wondered if she should let go of his shoulders now that she was in no danger of falling, but he put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him.

“Put your head on my shoulder,” he instructed, so Allara did, because a woman did not disobey direct orders from her husband either.

She found that this new position put her face close to his neck where his warm, enticing scent was even stronger. His big, hard body pressed against her much smaller one and his arms around her waist felt like warm, flexible steel—strong and yet yielding at the same time.

Slowly, the big Kindred began to sway to the soft music and Allara copied his motions, swaying with him as the soft tones caressed her skin.

“This…this is slow dancing?” she asked, rather breathlessly.

“Mmm-hmm. You like it?” His voice was soft and low.

“It certainly is slow. And it is very…intimate,” she replied, not sure what else to say.

“That’s the idea, baby. It’s a good way for us to get to know each other,” Brand murmured. His warm breath tickled the sensitive side of her throat, making her shiver.

“What music is this?” Allara asked, trying desperately not to let his bewitching scent and the feeling of his big, hard body against hers entice her.

“A human kind of music called jazz,” he told her. “It’s best for this kind of dancing.”