The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

“Better, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up at her as she moaned softly and wiggled her hips. “All full now?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes for a moment in pure ecstasy. “Gods, yes, my Lord. Finally the emptiness inside me—the hungry flower as I think of it—is filled.”

“The hungry flower, eh?” Need growled, caressing her full hips. “And is she finally satiated, this flower of yours?” He nodded down to the spot where he was thrust to the hilt inside her. The puffy outer lips of her pussy were spread to show her hot, throbbing little clit, a sight that made his shaft get even harder inside her. “Well, is she?” he asked Lan’ara.

“She is…and she isn’t,” she answered slowly. “I thought that all I wanted was to be filled with your shaft, my Lord. But now…”

“Now what?” Need raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, now…now I feel myself craving your seed inside me,” Lan’ara admitted softly. “It’s feels the same way it does when I thirst to drink your seed with my mouth. Only…down below.” She shifted on him again, lifting experimentally so that an inch or so of his thickness slid out of her…then lowered herself so that he filled her completely once again.

Both of them moaned at the delicious friction and Need knew, abruptly, that he was lost. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was going to fuck her and fill her and bite her and bond her. He was going to Claim her completely, despite the knowledge that opening his heart to her might lead to pain. He was—

A banging on the outer door interrupted his thoughts.

“Kindred!” roared a thick, trollish voice. “Kindred, get the fuck out here! I know you’ve been in my room and I know what you did!”

Forty-Five

Lan’ara felt frozen with terror as Need slid out of her and pulled on his trousers. Oh Gods and Goddesses, Drung knew—he knew she’d been in his room! What was going to happen now? How angry would Need be when he found out she’d disobeyed him?

She cowered in the bed, sliding under the covers and pulling them over her head. She only hoped that Need would forgive her when he found out that she’d done what he told her not to…

Need yanked open the door angrily. Of all times for the fucking Trollox to interrupt! He’d been just about to bond Lan’ara to him. How dare the big bastard ruin such an intimate moment?

“What in the Seven Hells do you want?” he growled. “You’re not welcome in my rooms and you damn well know it!”

“Nor are you welcome in mine, Kindred,” Drung’s middle head spat. “But you came in anyway—so you did. Or you sent the girlie in.”

“What are you talking about?” Need demanded contemptuously. “Lan’ara wouldn’t go anywhere near that stinking hovel you call a room. She doesn’t want anything to do with you, you filthy Trollox!”

“Then why is my room filled with her sweet scent?” Drung demanded. “And what about this?”

He thrust a black framed, liquid crystal screen in front of Need’s face. A jagged crack ran diagonally from one corner to the other, marring the display.

Need frowned, recognizing it as the “file” Drung had been bragging about having—the one which supposedly held all of Lan’ara’s personal information. Could she possibly have sneaked into Drung’s room to look at it and then dropped it and broken it? If so, they would have to have a talk—what she had done was extremely dangerous. If Drung had caught her at it…But no, that didn’t bear thinking of.

Anyway, he certainly wasn’t going to admit to the Trollox that anything she might have done was wrong.

“So what?” he said coolly, looking from the cracked screen to the angry Drung. “So what if she did go into your rooms to look at the file? It’s about her anyway and it should have come to me when I bought her. It’s rightfully mine.”

“It is not! No more than the girlie is!” Drung raged, his piggy little eyes narrowing in fury. “I saw her first, so I did! You only started bidding after I did!”

“You’re right—I did bid on her because you were bidding first,” Need snapped. “Because no female ought to have to be with the likes of you.”

“Oh, so you think she’s better off with you, Kindred?” Drung demanded.

“Hell, yes,” Need said emphatically. “I don’t abuse her or mistreat her. I don’t force her to live in filth—which she would have if you’d bought her. You would have chained her to your bed and raped her over and over to make her pregnant with your disgusting heir! I couldn’t let that happen to her!”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re so much sweeter to her. You think you love her, don’t you, Kindred?”

Need blinked in surprise. For it wasn’t Drung’s middle head which was speaking to him. It was the left head—the one which usually only drooled and looked at the world with dull, vacant eyes.