Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

Abruptly, she pulled away.

“You okay, baby?” Brand’s deep, rumbling voice was hoarse with desire.

“I…I should not have acted that way. I am sorry—the music and the Songs of so many instruments excited me,” Allara confessed, feeling her cheeks get hot with shame. What would he think of her if he knew her true purpose here, she wondered for the first time? How much would he hate her if he knew the mission she had been born to fulfill?

“Are you shy all of a sudden?” He brushed her hot cheek lightly with his fingertips, sending a shiver down her spine.

Allara looked up at him in despair. Why did her new husband have to be so handsome? Why did every part of him have to call to every part of her—from his scent to his Song, to his kind, gentle gestures—if only he hadn’t been her enemy, how happy their life could have been together!

“Women do not…act so among the Q’ess,” she said in a low voice. “It is my blood—it is too hot. I am too sensitive to the feelings caused by Songs and…other things.”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting excited when you kiss your husband,” he rumbled softly. “We’re married, Allara—Joined in the eyes of the Goddess and the law. It’s all right for us to want each other—to want to touch and kiss and caress.”

Allara wished she could tell him that it wasn’t right—not for her, anyway—not in light of her mission. But then it occurred to her that he did have a point about one thing—they were legally married. And by Q’ess tradition, once a woman was married, she must obey her husband in all things. So if her husband wanted to kiss mouth-to-mouth and do…other things, why, there was nothing she could do about it.

I must obey, she told herself. I must do my best to make my husband happy.

Even if she planned to kill him as soon as he had taken her.

Allara pushed the thought out of her mind and looked up at the big Kindred.

“Husband,” she said, “May we go home now?”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. “I have a special Last Meal planned that I hope you’re really going to like.”

He rose smoothly—graceful despite his immense size—and reached for her hand. But Allara held out her arms to him.

“Will you take me home the way you brought me here?” she asked shyly.

His face broke into a grin.

“You want me to carry you again, baby?”

“Unless…I am too heavy?” Allara looked at him hopefully.

He laughed.

“You’re light as a feather, sweetheart. I told you, I could carry you all day.”

Leaning down he swept her into his arms and cuddled her close against his broad chest. Allara sighed in contentment and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Her mission was on hold for now and there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing but obey her husband in all things and try to make him happy.

Nineteen

Brand hummed to himself, occasionally breaking into snatches of song, as he finished putting away the dishes. As he had hoped, the Last Meal he had planned had been a rousing success. He had fixed Allara another favorite recipe of his mother’s—t’gar stew—with fresh bread and had finished with a delicious chocolate mousse for dessert.

Allara had especially liked the mousse and she couldn’t seem to get over the idea of him cooking for her.

“You must let me do the cooking soon,” she’d protested. “It is my place as a woman and a wife! It is my purpose in life.”

“We can share the cooking and cleaning if you want, baby,” Brand had told her. “But there’s no way that’s the focus and purpose of your life.”

“No?” She had looked at him uncertainly. “What else would you like me to be doing, husband?”

“You’re going to have a career in music,” Brand told her. “I mean, with talent like yours? It would be a crime against the Goddess to waste it!”

“But…I was only repeating the music that Selena taught me,” she’d protested. “What is so very unusual about that?”

“It might not be unusual among your people,” he said firmly. “But among the humans and the Kindred, someone who can sit down and play any musical instrument they touch for the first time is considered a prodigy—extremely talented,” he’d added, for clarification.

“The Song Leaders did want to elevate my Song several times,” Allara had confessed shyly. “But my Aunt would not let them do it. She said—”

She’d stopped abruptly, biting her lip.

“Do you mean they wanted to let you sing a solo?” Brand had asked, trying to understand. “Sing all by yourself while everyone else listens?” he added, thinking she might not know the term.

“Oh no—only men may do that,” she’d exclaimed. “And usually the women in the Song House sing all together. But sometimes the Song Leaders decree that three or four of them may mingle their songs for the whole House to hear. They wanted me to sing the Ascendant or dominant part while the others sang the lesser parts.”