Bondmate

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 J.J. Lore

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-822-9

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Allyson Young for all your support and wisdom. Without you, Bondmate would never have made it to publication.

  BONDMATE

  Planet Alpha

  J.J. Lore

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Mateen of the Albin watched the human refugee camp roil around him, disliking the chaos, the stench, the din of many competing languages rising up in a bellow he longed to silence with a roar. His bondmate, Bynton, stood on his left, ready to defend or attack as the situation warranted. In this maddeningly unregulated environment, it seemed either might be required at any moment.

  A small human, a child with matted dark hair and clad in filthy layers, scampered in front of him. He suppressed yet more irritation. For one of his race, progeny were celebrated and treasured above all, and to see a near infant unprotected and neglected in this dangerous place heated his blood. Not for the first time, he doubted their mission.

  “Mat, should we go into the mass of them, to better evaluate?” Byn jerked his chin at the largest gathering of humans surrounding a kiosk that seemed to be distributing some foodstuffs. It was difficult to determine, as the huddle of shabbily dressed people surrounding it obscured the structure as they reached out and grabbed.

  Mateen adjusted his cloak, making sure the hood covered his head and horns effectively. The last thing they wanted to do was cause a panic in this crowded environment. He could sense the mood among the refugees was desperate, close to panic, and the arrival of two large and healthy Alphans in their midst might start a stampede. Byn, with his empathetic talent, had to be nearly vibrating with the latent despair clouding the air.

  “Yes, we follow the plan.” Mateen knew the only way to achieve their objective was to mingle with this tattered band of humans. Confronting the reality of this sad gathering, pushed into a fenced camp filled with inadequate housing modules and poor sanitation by their collapsing government, gave him pause. He and Byn had easily breached the fence in the early morning hours and had circled the structures while the inhabitants were huddled inside sleeping or dreading the day to come. “Although I have my doubts we’ll find anything likely here. Most of these people seem malnourished and of the wrong demographic.”

  “We’ll find her.” Byn’s assurance made Mateen grin despite his misgivings.

  “As always, I depend upon your intuition.”

  They eased into the huddles of people talking, sharing food, or just standing and staring at the fences, likely wondering how long they’d survive in this cold and muddy spot. Mateen had seen enough endgames to know most of these people would be dead inside of a year unless a miracle occurred. Interference with another world was forbidden, so the leaders of Alpha remained neutral. He couldn’t save them, couldn’t salvage any of the doomed children he saw clutched in a caregiver’s arms or peeking out from behind an adult’s legs, and their inevitable fate made what should be an exciting quest feel like a morbid curse.

  Few of the humans paid them much heed, too caught up in their own struggle for survival to notice two formidable men in artfully shredded cloaks stepping among them. The scents assailed him once he was among the throng: burning food, rotting garbage, spoiled dairy, and the varied odors of people ranging from harsh tobacco and perfume to rank unwashed. Mateen worried for a moment if her scent might be obscured, or demons take them, too overripe for them to overlook. Personal cleanliness was paramount among his kind, and the thought of touching or copulating with a woman who smelled as awful as those who surrounded them turned his stomach for a moment.

  “She won’t be like this,” Bynton said, his uncanny ability to sense Mateen’s worries yet again on display. It was one of the many reasons the younger man was his bondmate, one as comforting as all the rest. He’d sensed a connection the moment they’d met, five years before, when Byn, then a new recruit, had challenged him to spar. Instant ease, instant connection. He only hoped they’d find the same with the woman they sought. “She might be dirty, but a good soak and scrub will cure it.”

  “You’re anxious for her.”

  Byn nodded agreement as he scanned the crowd around them. Few of the humans reached their height, so keeping watch was an easier task than he’d expected. “She’s here. Our future bondmate should not be in a place like this. It isn’t right.”

  “It’s not the right place for any of them.”

  Mateen sensed several likely females, but as he observed each in turn, nothing elicited any more interest than curiosity and pity within him. Byn also evaluated, and dismissed, a tall woman with a frizz of auburn hair, and a pair of blondes shrouded in cloaks, their faces drawn and defeated. Perhaps they were wrong; the tiny tingle of awareness that had drawn them here seemed to have been drowned out by the mass of people and their competing emanations.

  Raised voices drew their attention, and they drifted towards the commotion. It seemed there was a disagreement between a squat man with folds of loose skin cascading from his face, indicating he’d lost much weight, and a younger, more belligerent male, over the contents of a folded basket. Each had a hold of one handle and was tugging against the other, the container unlikely to retain its integrity much longer. With a shout, the younger man swung his free hand and struck the other on his face, and the violent move set off an instant fight response in Mateen’s blood. His lips curled back and his muscles clenched in preparation to attack, and only with supreme will did he prevent himself from intervening. Byn shifted his shoulders under the fabric of his cape, clearly his bondmate’s instinctive urge to battle as strong as his own.

  The squat man cried out and stumbled after the blow, wrenching against the basket hard enough to rip it in half, spilling at least a dozen dull grey cubes onto the muddy ground. Hot boxes, tiny personal heaters invaluable in an inhospitable place like this. The crowd gasped and as one ducked to scramble for them, every human in the immediate area suddenly doubled over to grab for a little warmth for the coming night. All humans but one.

  She stood about five meters from them, slim and straight, her hair bound up in a dark cowl, battered clothes covering her from neck to ankles. Wide brown eyes stared at them as a full mouth fell open. All Mateen’s muscles, previously primed for war, tensed in a different, equally primal way as he recognized her. He’d never seen her before, but he knew. Bynton stiffened next to him and flexed his arms as if to gather her in. The movement must have spooked the young woman. Ignoring the rummaging people, she whirled and bolted off, quickly moving out of sight between two small buildings.

  Communication was unnecessary. Byn sprang to the left, springing over the leaning humans as he made for the far side of the structure as Mateen leaped directly after her, clearing a few piled-up shipping containers with ease.

  Within two breaths he was in the narrow alley, running over the uneven ground littered with trash, ducking underneath dirty clothing hanging from sagging lines. He heard her before he saw her, her quick footfalls and ragged breathing echoing in the narrow space. There was a crash and a high-pitched cry, and he strained his legs to gain speed, fearful
she’d fallen and injured herself. Ripping aside a fluttering grey blanket in front of him, he slid to a halt, amazed by the sight in front of him.

  Bynton held the woman against his body, his arms coiled around her shoulders and waist as she struggled. Her slim hands slid against his bondmate’s armor, seeking purchase to push away or claw. She kicked at his legs and thrashed her head from side to side, all while hissing out a demand to be freed. Byn was unresponsive; his only apparent ability was to continue to restrain her. As Mateen approached at a more sensible pace, the woman noticed him and redoubled her efforts to escape, only now she was silent, her wide eyes melting with fear and desperation. She obviously saw two looming males with nefarious intent, instead of the saviors they hoped to be.

  “Byn, ease your hold,” he ordered the younger man in a low voice. “She’s fearful.”

  “She’ll run.” Byn tightened his arms in direct counterpoint. She looked impossibly small enclosed within the big man’s grasp, emitting a soft gasp that made his nerves twitch. Mateen fought an unexpected and powerful urge to touch her as well, pull her against his body.

  Mateen glanced around them. It seemed they were in a junction between several buildings, and hanks of fabric enclosed the space. No one would be able to observe them in the next moments. It was vital they confirm she was who they sought and not draw any attention to themselves.

  “She won’t run. Will you?” This last he addressed to the young woman, catching her gaze with his own to gauge her temper. With a quick shake of her head she agreed, still pushing against Bynton’s immobile chest as he slowly loosened his hold on her. With a stumble she regained her footing, and Mateen couldn’t stop his automatic grasp to support her. She drew back with a pant.

  “We don’t mean to hurt you,” Bynton said even as he reached for her again. She glanced between them and shook her head. Mateen wanted her to talk, needed to hear her voice.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, the polite and simple request seeming very out of place in this dirty little alleyway.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Hello, No.” Bynton smiled at her and took a step her way. She drew in a breath and backed up, her worn boots clattering into a pile of empty resin food containers. “We’d like to talk with you.”

  No swallowed and licked her lips once. Mateen watched the movement of her tongue, and a strange heat flickered along his skin. His efforts at detachment and devotion to strategy faded away, and it was all he could do not to ask her to lick her plump flesh again. It was there. He felt it like a blast of sonic waves vibrating through every neuron. Connection. She looked at him, and her features tightened. With a sudden movement she whirled and dashed past a curtain of hanging trousers.

  “Blast it!” Instinct ruled, and both he and Byn thundered after her. Weaving around obstacles, they were soon upon her, and this time Mateen was close enough to capture her, whirling her slight form up in his arms with little effort. The unique sensation of such a slender body writhing against his distracted him for a moment. Byn’s sudden movement ahead alerted him, and he looked up to see they’d emerged into another gathering place, this one filled with what seemed to be several dozen human refugees all staring at the three newcomers.

  “Help!” No shrieked, and increased her efforts to break free from his grasp. Completely illogically, he wished he wasn’t wearing armor. In fact he wished he wasn’t wearing anything and this woman was also naked and squirming against him. His staff thickened at the thought. He growled and shook his head to clear it. This was no time to indulge in his burgeoning libido.

  “Put her down!” an anonymous voice shouted from the assemblage, and a low murmur of agreement rumbled their way. Several males shouldered their way forward. This might be a wretched last stand for these humans, but they were willing to fight to protect one of their own.

  “Bynton, evade and escape.”

  His bondmate acknowledged the order with a slight nod of his head as Mateen replayed the route they’d followed. It would take several minutes of hard running to reach the breach in the fence, but the woman didn’t weigh much, so it could be done, as long as no weapons came into play. With a quick flex of his arms, he secured No over his shoulder and ducked back down the alley, balancing the possibility they might be cut off, with the certainty he knew the route.

  He didn’t have to check that Byn was following, secure that the younger man was easily providing coverage as they ran. He pushed past the hanging clothes, heedless of what damage he might be doing. The woman continued to struggle, kicking her legs so hard against him he had to clasp his free arm around them. He knew his jarring pace had to be driving the breath from her body, but there was no other way to transport someone so uncooperative.

  Without pausing, he continued to run, soon emerging into the area they’d just left, still crowded with people. Now he had to slow. There were simply too many obstacles to race at his full stride. The woman noticed a new audience and gasped for help as she slapped at his back. He heard Byn try to reassure her, but she screamed loudly, her whole body stiffening. This situation was deteriorating.

  The crowd of desperate people drew closer, and Mateen knew without looking that others would be filing in behind them. The woman coughed and turned in his grasp, nearly twisting her way loose, and he clamped his hand firmly across her backside. She froze, and he tried not to notice all the soft, curving flesh under his fingers.

  Suddenly there was a shout from the crowd, this time more authoritative, and people shuffled back to reveal two people in body armor, stun weapons at the ready. Camp security. Mateen had factored in their arrival, but only for a worst case scenario. They could try to talk their way out if it, but he’d lost patience with the whole enterprise.

  “Bynton, if you would?” He tilted his head toward the authorities, and with a cold grin, the younger man strode forward and struck without warning. A few hits and kicks later, both officials were rolling in the mud and moaning, Bynton was clearly suppressing his instinct to finish them off, and the crowd drew back, caution overcoming any urge to assist the young woman still quiet on his shoulder. He allowed himself a slight caress of her buttocks, enjoying the way his fingers slid along the crease between them and the resulting shocked intake of air from his reluctant passenger.

  “Don’t deter us any longer,” Byn shouted out, his voice thick with bloodlust. A multitude of feet shuffled away, and Mateen and Byn strode through the outskirts of the camp, coming to the rent they’d made in the solid fence within a few minutes. Once they were safely on the other side, Byn bolted it closed with some solder locks and then gestured toward the woman.

  “I’ll carry her now, so we can make good time.”

  “My legs are functional,” Mateen said as he slid his burden to her feet. As soon as she touched the ground she tried to run, but they were ready and trapped her easily between them. She pushed at them both and screamed, her voice cracking with the effort. Her continued struggles were only going to increase the stress hormones in her body, so he pulled the sleep tab from a pocket on his thigh and pressed it to her neck, her only visible pulse point. She shuddered, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in an awkward tumble right into Byn’s waiting arms.

  “Are you sure?”

  Mateen watched his companion. His own feelings towards this woman were mixed. There had been that sudden bolt of recognition deep in his bones. She definitely aroused him, but that might have been true for any appropriate female, so he needed the reassurance from Byn. If he had doubts, they’d leave her here, re-open the fence, and move on to the next camp to continue their search.

  “She’s the one we seek. The one we’ve waited for.” The younger man’s quiet certainty eased some of Mateen’s misgivings, and he followed Byn as he walked toward the tumble of scree concealing their hover. They’d succeeded in the first part of their mission, but the more stressful and chancy elements were yet to come.

  Chapter Two

  It hurt. It all hurt and spun
around, and Avanelle Rein decided to give up for a while. Her sense of defeat didn’t last long. It never did, and she let herself feel again, the catalog of pain longer than usual. Her empty stomach ached, her feet, clad in worn-away boots, hurt, her hands burned from the harsh cleansers she used, and her neck and back throbbed. At least she was warm, and the novelty of that sensation woke her up a little. Low voices rumbled in her ears, and she winced and blinked her eyes.

  What—where? In a terrifying instant she knew she wasn’t in the settlement. It was too warm, quiet, and clean-smelling to be the camp. Then the fogginess in her brain lifted, and she remembered the big men in the dark capes chasing her, grabbing her. It had been like a nightmare, but was obviously real.

  Blinking her eyes open, she saw a white expanse followed by black. The white was smooth under her cheek: a sheet. A clean sheet, something she hadn’t seen in months. The shadow was a darkened room beyond the large bed. A shape moved in the grey gloom, and she drew back.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you.” That deep voice again, telling pretty lies.

  “Too late,” she croaked, unable to remain silent as good sense would dictate.

  “Mat, I told you we were too rough.”

  The light brightened, and she flinched as her eyes adjusted, jumping when she felt hands at her clothing. Adrenaline flooded her body, and she struck back, flailing at the assault even as she pushed with her feet to slide further away. Strong hands gripped her wrists and thighs, and she was pressed down on the soft surface. Two faces swam into focus, the big men, no longer enveloped in meters of fabric. They were wearing sleek leather tunics and pants, black as fear. Golden skin, golden eyes, square jaws and tight mouths, they resembled each other closely. Dark hair fell around their shoulders, and when they moved closer, she noticed glossy black curves among the strands. Horns. Devil horns growing from their skulls.