The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

“P-p-please,” was all she could manage as she looked up at him in the dim room. “P-please, m-my L-l-lord!”

She didn’t know what she was begging for, but the big Kindred seemed to understand.

“Come here,” he said, drawing her to him. He ran his big hands up and down her arms briskly and then pulled her close, holding her to his big body to try and warm her up.

At once, Lan’ara felt herself beginning to thaw. She pressed close to his muscular body eagerly, glad that he didn’t wear a shirt to bed. In fact, all he had on was a pair of long, silky sleeping trousers which felt wonderful against her skin. She rubbed her face against his broad chest, loving the warm scratch of his chest hair against her cheeks and the tip of her nose, as she breathed him in.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly, as her muscles—knotted into coils of tension from the sudden onslaught of freezing cold—slowly relaxed. She pressed even closer to him, wanting to have maximum contact.

In response, Need tightened his grip on her, his big body enfolding her much smaller one, giving her his healing warmth as he stroked his big, warm hands over her back and shoulders.

“Better now, girl?” he murmured in her ear. “You’ve mostly stopped shivering.”

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord,” Lan’ara murmured. She hoped he might hold her all night long, though she knew she had no right to ask such a thing.

“You’re welcome,” he said and let out a growling sigh. “Gods, just can’t seem to keep my hands off you. Any idea what brought that on?”

“No, my Lord Need,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his scratchy chest. His warm, masculine scent seemed to fill her senses, making her tingle in her most sensitive areas. With a little moan, she realized that her breasts had become engorged again and her nipples were painfully erect as they rubbed against his torso.

Oh no—here we go again! she thought despairingly. What if she started leaking again and the amber liquid called nectar got all over him? Would he be angry with her? Push her away?

Lan’ara didn’t think she could bear it if he did. It felt so good to be close to his big body—so warm. She was certain if he pushed her away again she would only start getting cold again.

I need to be close to him, she realized. It’s the only way to stay warm—to keep from shivering and shaking myself to death. It was like I was getting sick, I felt so bad before he touched me.

Speaking of feeling sick, her mouth was suddenly parched. She swallowed and heard a dry click in her throat. Oh no—what new problem was this? She remembered Drung taunting the big Kindred at Last Meal—asking if her breasts had started leaking nectar. Wondering aloud if her pussy honey had turned sweet and if she’d had ‘The Shivers’ or ‘The Thirst’. All of these things seemed to be related—to be part of the “Ripening” he’d talked about. But what did that mean? What was happening to her body?

Lan’ara wished desperately that she knew. She shifted unhappily and swallowed again, her mouth as dry as dust.

Need seemed to sense that something was wrong with her because he murmured,

“What is it now, girl?”

“Nothing, my Lord,” Lan’ara said quickly. She was afraid if she complained about having a dry mouth he would tell her to get up and get a drink of water and then, when she came back to bed, he would refuse to hold her. “Nothing at all,” she said again.

The big Kindred shifted against her and she had the idea that he might be getting ready to push her away, Desperately, she clung to him.

“Please, my Lord,” she begged softly. “Please keep me by you! I swear I’ll die of cold if you don’t.”

“Seven Hells,” he growled.” You really can’t sleep on your own?”

“I suppose I can try,” Lan’ara said doubtfully. Though she would much rather not. The cold spell she’d endured had been intensely painful and it wasn’t something she wanted to go through again.

“All right. Turn over then,” he told her.

Lan’ara turned on her other side—though she would have preferred to sleep facing him—and he cupped her small body with his own much larger one. His chest was pressed to her back and when Lan’ara pushed back with her bottom, seeking more contact, she felt something hot and hard poking her between her legs.

His shaft! she thought, biting her lower lip. That’s his shaft poking at me.

The thought might have horrified or frightened her in the past, but now it caused a surge of desire to cascade through her. Her nipples got even tighter and she could feel the place between her thighs getting hot and wet and swollen.

“Sorry,” Need growled in her ear and shifted his hips to put some space between them. “Didn’t mean to.”