“Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity,” Allara said politely. But then her emotions overcame her and she gave the other woman a swift hug and a kiss on the cheek. “This truly has been the most amazing experience of my life,” she told Selena, who started laughing.
“Glad you got your money’s worth,” she said, hugging Allara back. “But you should thank your new hubby—he’s the one who looked me up and asked me to give you lessons.”
“Oh, yes!” Allara turned to her new husband with shining eyes. At that moment, she had forgotten her mission entirely.
She forgot he was the evil one and the enemy of her people and that she must kill him and then kill herself to satisfy the Blood Feud. She only remembered that he was the one who had given her this opportunity—a chance she would never have gotten had she stayed among the Q’ess.
He saw the look on her face and knelt with his arms outstretched, just as he had when he kissed her goodbye. Allara ran to him, her heart full to overflowing with all the music and the many different Songs she had learned that day. He was the author of this day—the one who had made it all possible. She was not usually effusive—her aunt and father did not allow such things. But they were not here and Brand was.
“Oh husband, thank you! Thank you!” she exclaimed, and covered his face in kisses.
Brand laughed and kissed her back. In the process, their lips met and then Allara suddenly found they were kissing mouth-to-mouth again.
The sensation of the big Kindred’s lips against her own sent a pleasurable shock through her and she opened her mouth in a little gasp. Brand’s tongue was there at once, lapping gently at the inside of her mouth, teasing her, daring her to try more.
His scent was all around her, overwhelming her senses and Allara found she wanted more and more of him. Daringly, she darted her own tongue into his mouth and he sucked on it gently, deepening the kiss. His big hands were gentle and eager as he rubbed her back in long, slow strokes.
Neither of them noticed when Selena left, quietly closing the door behind her. They were too wrapped up in each other and Allara had forgotten everything except this new pleasure of kissing her husband mouth-to-mouth.
She had always been hot-blooded—or so her Aunt claimed after catching her touching her forbidden areas. The Songs of others and the Songs of instruments seemed to affect her more than most people at the Song House. Or maybe others were just better than Allara was at hiding the way the music touched them and made them feel.
Now, her hot blood made her body feel flushed all over with need—the same need she felt when her new husband used his Song to caress her. But what was it, exactly, that she needed?
Allara didn’t know.
She wondered if her long-ago ancestress had been subject to any of these strange problems Allara herself was facing. Had she found the evil one who carried her away devastatingly attractive? Had his Song and his scent made her body react?
Is that why she never came home? Allara wondered. In the stories of her family, the ancestress who had been abducted had never been allowed to go back to her people and her Song was lost forever. But maybe she had stayed of her own volition, stayed with the Kindred who had taken her.
The thought of her ancestress brought back the memory of her mission. What was wrong with her? Why was she kissing the big Kindred when she ought to have been plotting to kill him?
Abruptly, she pulled away.
“You okay, baby?” Brand’s deep, rumbling voice was hoarse with desire.
“I…I should not have acted that way. I am sorry—the music and the Songs of so many instruments excited me,” Allara confessed, feeling her cheeks get hot with shame. What would he think of her if he knew her true purpose here, she wondered for the first time? How much would he hate her if he knew the mission she had been born to fulfill?
“Are you shy all of a sudden?” He brushed her hot cheek lightly with his fingertips, sending a shiver down her spine.
Allara looked up at him in despair. Why did her new husband have to be so handsome? Why did every part of him have to call to every part of her—from his scent to his Song, to his kind, gentle gestures—if only he hadn’t been her enemy, how happy their life could have been together!
“Women do not…act so among the Q’ess,” she said in a low voice. “It is my blood—it is too hot. I am too sensitive to the feelings caused by Songs and…other things.”
“There’s nothing wrong with getting excited when you kiss your husband,” he rumbled softly. “We’re married, Allara—Joined in the eyes of the Goddess and the law. It’s all right for us to want each other—to want to touch and kiss and caress.”
Allara wished she could tell him that it wasn’t right—not for her, anyway—not in light of her mission. But then it occurred to her that he did have a point about one thing—they were legally married. And by Q’ess tradition, once a woman was married, she must obey her husband in all things. So if her husband wanted to kiss mouth-to-mouth and do…other things, why, there was nothing she could do about it.
I must obey, she told herself. I must do my best to make my husband happy.
Even if she planned to kill him as soon as he had taken her.
Allara pushed the thought out of her mind and looked up at the big Kindred.
“Husband,” she said, “May we go home now?”
“Of course.” He smiled at her. “I have a special Last Meal planned that I hope you’re really going to like.”
He rose smoothly—graceful despite his immense size—and reached for her hand. But Allara held out her arms to him.
“Will you take me home the way you brought me here?” she asked shyly.
His face broke into a grin.
“You want me to carry you again, baby?”
“Unless…I am too heavy?” Allara looked at him hopefully.
He laughed.
“You’re light as a feather, sweetheart. I told you, I could carry you all day.”
Leaning down he swept her into his arms and cuddled her close against his broad chest. Allara sighed in contentment and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in his intoxicating scent. Her mission was on hold for now and there was nothing she could do about it.
Nothing but obey her husband in all things and try to make him happy.
Nineteen
Brand hummed to himself, occasionally breaking into snatches of song, as he finished putting away the dishes. As he had hoped, the Last Meal he had planned had been a rousing success. He had fixed Allara another favorite recipe of his mother’s—t’gar stew—with fresh bread and had finished with a delicious chocolate mousse for dessert.
Allara had especially liked the mousse and she couldn’t seem to get over the idea of him cooking for her.
“You must let me do the cooking soon,” she’d protested. “It is my place as a woman and a wife! It is my purpose in life.”
“We can share the cooking and cleaning if you want, baby,” Brand had told her. “But there’s no way that’s the focus and purpose of your life.”
“No?” She had looked at him uncertainly. “What else would you like me to be doing, husband?”
“You’re going to have a career in music,” Brand told her. “I mean, with talent like yours? It would be a crime against the Goddess to waste it!”