Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

After Allara’s music lessons, they had lunch together and Brand did some work from home while Allara read books from Earth or literature from the Kindred worlds with interest.

But often, especially if he forgot himself and started humming or singing to himself while he worked—which wasn’t uncommon—they had to take a break for her to “touch herself” while Brand watched. She seemed to take his words that she should bring herself pleasure seriously, because she never held back when she was aroused. Instead, she came to him and murmured in his ear,

“Husband, I feel the need to stroke my pussy. Do you wish to come and watch?”

Brand found this hot little invitation completely irresistible and he never turned her down. He loved to hold her and sing softly in her ear while she stroked herself and moaned in passion. He couldn’t wait until he could touch her himself or better yet, taste her.

After Allara came—often multiple times—he sucked her fingers clean and then went into the fresher to jerk off. He still remembered how frightened she’d been of the idea that his shaft was so big he would injure her with it on their wedding night. He wanted to explain to her how his body would make compounds to help her open up, but he was waiting until the Bathing Week—when they would see each other completely naked—to do so.

After they made and ate supper together, they would often watch a vid from Earth before bedtime. Allara didn’t really “get” much of the Earth humor—Brand suspected because she came from a fairly cheerless society. Her favorite movies were dramas with tense plots and serious characters.

Brand was easy-going—he would watch anything. Once he figured out the kinds of vids his new bride liked, he went out of his way to find them. One night, near the end of the Holding Week, he put on a vid called Assassin.

“What is this movie about, husband?” Allara asked as she settled beside him on the couch.

“Hmm, well let’s see.” Brand looped an arm around her, loving the way she settled against him so naturally now, her small body pressed against his own much larger one. She was so damned adorable, the way she cuddled close to him and he also loved the way she called him “husband” all the time. It was too cute, as Kat would have said.

He found the summary of the Assassin vid and began to read it out loud to Allara.

“Says here—A general’s young daughter is kidnapped and trained as an assassin. When she doesn’t execute a mission, she is ordered to kill her betrothed, forcing her to choose between love, family, and the assassins who trained her,” he read.

“What?” Allara stiffened against him and her eyes grew wide. “She must kill the one she loves? Why would you choose such a vid, my husband?”

Brand shrugged.

“I don’t know—it looked serious and it seems to have a lot of action and drama. Plus, it got good reviews—I thought you might like it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Allara rose from the couch, a troubled look on her face.

“Hey, where are you going?” Brand asked, honestly mystified as to why she was so upset. “What’s wrong, baby?”

But Allara wouldn’t answer him. She claimed she had a headache and wanted to go to bed early.

“All right, that’s fine with me.” Brand shut off the vid. “I don’t mind going to bed early.”

But she shook her head, her face pale.

“Please, husband, I would like to be alone, if it would not offend you.”

“Of course not, baby.” He shrugged again. “I’ll stay here and watch something else. You take some time for yourself.”

“Thank you, husband.” And she had fled, looking more troubled than Brand could remember since their wedding night, when she’d offered to let him “take her” no matter how much it hurt.

He meant to give her privacy—he honestly did. But after shifting on the couch for several long, unhappy minutes, he heard the sound of her sobbing in the bedroom.

At that point, Brand couldn’t stay away from his new bride anymore. He went to the bedroom and saw her curled into a ball on the bed, crying as though her heart would break. The sight reminded him of their first night together when she’d been so frightened of him. But Allara wasn’t afraid anymore—what could be troubling her now?

“Baby?” he murmured, coming to sit beside her on the bed. “Allara? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

But she had only shaken her head and cried harder. Concerned, Brand tried to put an arm around her. Allara shrank away from him, curling into an even tighter ball, her arms wrapped protectively around her shaking shoulders.

Brand didn’t try to force her to come to him. Instead, he began humming softly—an old lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was little.