Raised to Kill

His Song mingled with hers had felt like…

Like he was kissing my entire body—putting his lips all over me instead of on my mouth, she thought and shivered again.

The feeling had been especially strong in the tips of her breasts and between her legs. Now she saw why the mingling of a male and female song was forbidden, Allara thought. She had always secretly wondered why it was considered the worst sin imaginable. But just think if all the men and women in the Song House sang at the same time, all mingling their songs—why, it would cause a riot! Or at least, some extremely questionable carnal activity. Truly the Song Leaders were wise not to allow it.

But in that brief moment when Brand’s voice had mingled with hers, she had felt intense pleasure and it was hard to forget it now.

But I must forget—I must not let myself feel these feelings for him, she told herself sternly. Yes, he is my husband and I must obey him until I can complete my mission, but allowing myself to revel in the way his Song caresses me will only make it harder when the time finally comes to plunge my skora into his heart.

She looked down at the bejeweled sheath still hung around her neck and suddenly wished she could take it off and forget about it. After all, how would anyone know if she did? Her aunt and father would simply assume she hadn’t been able to send the transmission after completing her mission. They would still be elevated in the Song House and celebrated for having produced the one who satisfied the Blood Feud. How would they know—how would any of the Q’ess know—if she did not actually complete her mission?

The thought was so seductive she was immediately ashamed of herself. It was only her second night with the big Kindred and already she wished to stay with him instead of killing him, which was what she had been born to do. How could she so easily forget her destiny and abandon her mission? How—?

Suddenly her ear caught the sound of her new husband singing, soft and low. Allara couldn’t quite catch the words, but that didn’t matter. It was his Song that slipped through the air and caressed her with silken fingers, teasing the tips of her breasts until they tightened with pleasure and sliding between her thighs to stroke the sensitive little button between her nether lips.

Allara’s hot blood—just barely cooled by the cold shower—immediately blazed to life again. She lay back on the bed, her back arching sensuously as the Song grew louder, stroking all her forbidden places…

At that moment, the bedroom door opened and Brand came inside, still singing. When he saw Allara on the bed, his golden eyes went half-lidded and he raised an eyebrow.

“You okay, baby?” he rumbled.

“Oh, husband…” Allara couldn’t help herself—she held out her arms to him. “Your Song,” she whispered breathlessly. “You were touching me again.”

Brand seemed to take this as an invitation.

“Of course I want to touch you again, baby,” he murmured. “Give me a minute to get ready for bed.”

He changed quickly into his long black sleep trousers and joined her on the bed. Allara’s body was still tingling with the aftereffects of his Song, so when he took her in his arms, she flowed to him as easily as water flows downhill.

“Husband,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

She meant with his Song, but she didn’t pull away when he began to stroke her back and sides.

“Mmm, baby girl, you feel so good in my arms,” he murmured and then he was kissing her again, mouth-to-mouth, deep, long kisses that made Allara’s heart pound against her ribs and her blood run even hotter.

His mouth tasted sweet—like the dessert he had made for them—and his big, warm hands were running up and down her sides and hips. Allara moaned and shifted against him, trying to get closer, trying to get more. She liked the way it felt when the sensitive tips of her breasts rubbed against his broad chest.

“Gods, Allara, you’re driving me crazy, baby,” he growled, breaking the kiss at last. “Wish I could take off this little nightgown you have on and really touch your sweet, curvy body.”

“Why…why can’t you?” Allara breathed, undulating against him. The idea of letting a man touch her beneath her clothing—especially one of the evil giant Kindred—would have made her blood run cold only a few days ago. But now she found herself longing for Brand’s touch.

“Because it’s still just our Holding Week, baby,” he explained. “I can only touch you over your clothes, remember?”

“My…my nightgown is very thin,” Allara pointed out breathlessly.

“Mmm, so I see.” He propped himself up on one elbow to admire her. “So thin it’s practically see-though. I can see your full breasts and tight little nipples with no trouble at all.”