Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 130947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Baird growled low in his throat. “No threat about it—it’s a promise. Can’t wait to eat her.” Just the thought of spreading his bride’s sweet, creamy thighs and lapping between her legs had his shaft pulsing—so much that it was hard to concentrate on the other male’s words.
Sylvan rolled his blue eyes and hissed in disgust. “That isn’t what I meant at all. Haven’t you ever heard the human legend about the young female who wore a red hood and was menaced in the forest by a large lupine predator?”
“No, should I?”
“It was in the human training course I sent over for you to study,” his half brother reminded him. The Kindred had a natural affinity for languages. Being genetic traders they found it extremely easy to pick up any native tongue including the slang—which allowed Baird to curse as fluently as any Earth born human—a fact that pleased him to no end. But the nuances of culture sometimes eluded them so the training courses were a necessity—one he guiltily acknowledged he had mostly skipped. But it was difficult if not impossible to concentrate on obscure Earth myths and legends when all he could think about was her. He saw her in his mind’s eye constantly—when he wasn’t blocking out images of his recent imprisonment that was.
Dark, so dark and cold. Chained to the wall when the wires weren’t piercing him. Fucking wires, raping his mind, stripping his memories, sucking away his strength. Showing him things—unspeakable things—until he didn’t know what was truth and what was a lie. Telling him he’d never get free, never see the ones he loved again, never see her…
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ugly images. He would have died or gone insane if the alignment between his mind and hers hadn’t happened just as he’d been captured. The Scourge were a parasitic race that lived off the agony of others and their ability to get inside a prisoner’s mind took torture to a new level. To make matters worse, he’d roused the interest of their AllFather and had been singled out for special attention. Apparently his pain had a unique flavor…Baird felt a chill creep down his spine. Without the dreams of his bride to keep him sane he would have given up hope of living, let alone escaping from that hell hole.
He owed her everything—she was the other half of his soul. And he couldn’t wait to see her, couldn’t wait to hold her close and claim her.
How often had he imagined this day? How often had he pictured meeting his bride, taking her in his arms and looking into her eyes for the first time? Baird thought about how soft her body would feel against his hard warrior’s muscles. How good it would be to breathe in her feminine fragrance and know she belonged only to him. Her lips would taste so sweet and when she gave herself to him, he would fill her for hours, covering her slighter body with his larger one and taking her until his scent was all over her and any male within a fifty mile radius would know to stay the hell away from her.
Yes, that was what he needed most of all. To be inside her, breeding her, bonding her to him forever. She was his and he would never let her go…
He became aware that Sylvan was talking again. Couldn’t the male ever just shut up? “What?” he asked in irritation.
“I said you need to remember this is still a new trade. It won’t be like it is for males who call brides from Tranquil Prime or Rageron or Twin Moons. This is unknown territory for the human females—they don’t know what to expect.”
“You seem to know a hell of a lot about calling a bride for a male who swore he’d never take one of his own,” Baird snapped. When he saw the pain in Sylvan’s ice blue eyes he regretted his hasty words. He shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Sylvan shook his head and ran the tip of his tongue over the short, sharp fangs in his upper teeth. Baird knew it was a habit he had when distressed or unhappy and he further knew that those fangs would never grow unless Sylvan found a woman of his own. Not for the first time he wished things could be different for his half brother. Even before their father had died they had always been close—spending most of their time together since neither one was mated. Now Sylvan would be left alone.
“Sylvan—”
“Baird—” They began at the same time and Baird shook his head. “Shouldn’t have brought it up. Not my business.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Sylvan ran a hand through his spiky blond hair. “You know the vow I took.”