Raised to Kill

Allara’s pleasure was already beginning to climb when a whole bevy of servants came in and started to clear the table. She stiffened at once, gasping quietly as they started whisking away used silverware, cups, and tableware efficiently, not even looking at her.

“Madam,” said one, who appeared to be the head servant. “Are you well? Do you require more time to finish your dinner?”

“N-yes!” Allara gasped, not sure what else to say. “I will…will sit here a moment longer while I…”

She bit her lip—under the table, she could feel Brand lapping at the right side of her clit while the pearls buzzed the left side. At the same time, the big Kindred was filling her pussy with two thick fingers.

“While I finish,” she got out at last.

“Very good, madam,” the servant replied and continued clearing the table.

Meanwhile, Brand—who must have heard the conversation—kept on licking her under the tablecloth.

Oh, why won’t he stop? Does he not understand there are others here? Allara wondered distractedly. But Brand showed no signs of stopping. If anything, he intensified his attack, thrusting deeper and deeper into her pussy with his long fingers and lapping her clit mercilessly until at last an orgasm so intense that it hit Allara like a thunderstorm and rocked her entire body.

She had to bite the palm of her hand to keep from screaming or crying out for him and her entire body stiffened, causing some sideways glances from the servants. However, by that time they were almost finished clearing the table and none of them said a word.

After they left, Brand came out from under the table with a sly grin on his face and his lips still wet with her juices.

“Mmm, baby. I think these are my favorite pair of panties yet,” he rumbled.

“Oh, husband! Why did you do that?” Allara panted. “You made me come in front of all those people. It was so embarrassing.”

“But it was hot, too—wasn’t it?” he asked, giving her a naughty smile. “Sitting there letting me taste your pussy while all those people had no idea what was going on, right under their noses?”

Allara had to admit that he was right—though it was certainly nothing she would have dreamed of doing back when she had lived among the Q’ess.

I am becoming less like them and more like him every day, she thought, glancing at her husband. I do not think that is a bad thing. For every day my aunt’s voice grows fainter and my own grows louder.

All her life she had been raised as nothing but an agent of revenge. Now she was finding there was more to her—much more—than she had ever been led to believe.

Thirty-One

“So you enjoyed our honeymoon?” Brand asked again, recalling her to the present. Their time at Darden Three was over and they were in the shuttle, flying home.

Soon, Allara was certain, Brand would call the Mother Ship and ask them to fold space so the shuttle could bypass the light years between here and the Earth’s moon where it orbited. In fact, she was a little surprised that he hadn’t called them yet—they had been flying for over an hour now and were far from Darden Three.

She roused herself from her memories of their time together and smiled at her husband. She couldn’t help thinking of their last night together—the night with the vibrating pearl panties—and the way he had carried her back up to their room and made her come three more times with his fingers and tongue.

Thank the Gods of All Creation I didn’t listen to my aunt and kill Brand, she thought as she looked at him. What a terrible idea it was now—the notion of fulfilling her mission.

The big Kindred had won her heart with kindness and patience and most of all with his steadfast love. She was so glad and grateful for the Claiming Period, which had enabled her to hold off on fulfilling her purpose and allowed her to see what a sweet and wonderful man her new husband really was.

I would rather stab myself in the heart now than stab him, she thought, looking down at the jeweled skora which she still wore. It occurred to her that it was time to take it off now—she didn’t need it anymore. She was never going to fulfill the mission she had been raised to do. The Blood Feud would go unsatisfied and that was just fine with Allara.

“Yes, husband,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I couldn’t imagine a more perfect honeymoon or a more beautiful time together.” She sighed. “But now I suppose we must go home?”

“Why, are you sorry to leave Darden Three?” Brand asked.

Allara nodded.

“It was so beautiful—so perfect. Will we ever go back there again?”

“Sure we can, baby. We established diplomatic relations with them and they’re eager to have the friendship of the Kindred. We can go back on regular vacations if you’d like,” Brand promised.