Claimed Read online

  Brides of the Kindred

  Book 1: Claimed

  by

  Evangeline Anderson

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Evangeline Anderson on Smashwords

  Brides of the Kindred

  Book 1: Claimed

  Copyright © 2011 by Evangeline Anderson

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Prologue

  Dusk was falling on Idlewild Avenue. Rows of identical townhouses, lit softly from within, lined the street which was overshadowed by huge old oak trees. A light evening shower had just passed and now the atmosphere was heavy with moisture. Tendrils of steam rose from the asphalt and the sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the air.

  In number eleven at the end of the row a slender female figure moved in front of a large picture window—one of the selling points of the otherwise unremarkable houses. She was walking back and forth, placing objects on a table, or perhaps taking them away—maybe cleaning up after dinner. She moved with ease and grace as she did the mundane chore, completely unaware that she was being watched.

  Across the road from the lighted window and the slender figure, two pairs of eyes looked on avidly as she moved. One set of eyes was a pale, piercing blue that was almost white and the other set was a warm amber-gold that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the face of a tiger.

  Neither pair of eyes was human.

  “Mine.” The low rumbling growl came from the owner of the amber eyes. He was tall, six foot seven at least, with shoulders so broad he would have to turn sidewise to go through most doorways, but he moved silently, with a feral grace that belied his muscular physique. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin and matched the thick black hair on his head.

  “Not yet, Baird,” the one beside him cautioned. He was as tall as his friend and just as muscular but he had short, spiky blond hair that complimented his pale blue eyes.

  “Can’t wait much longer.” Long, strong fingers curled into a fist as though the amber-eyed male could grasp the slender figure in his hand and hold her through sheer force of will. “Been dreaming about her every night, Sylvan. I ache for her.”

  “What does she look like?” There was genuine curiosity in the question. Though Baird had never seen her outside his dreams, Sylvan had no doubt he could describe his chosen female to the last detail.

  “So fuckin’ beautiful it hurts to look at her. Yellow hair like yours but longer—more golden. And her eyes…” Baird shook his head. “Like jewels. A pale grey that’s almost silver.”

  “You find these human women appealing then?”

  “Only her—she’s the only one I can see.” The amber eyes stared hungrily across the road. “I need her soon. Need to be with her. In her.”

  “You’re sure she’s the one?” Sylvan stared doubtfully at the woman silhouetted in the window. She was humming softly to herself but despite the distance and the pane of glass between them he could hear her perfectly and knew Baird could too. As attuned as his half brother was to this human female, he could probably hear her heartbeat even from across the street.

  “I know she’s the one.” There wasn’t a shred of doubt in the deep, rumbling voice. “Didn’t I tell you we’ve been dream-sharing? And her scent…” He inhaled deeply and his dark gold eyes were suddenly half-lidded with desire. “It’s her all right and she’s ripe for bonding. I want her.”

  “I know you do, but Baird…” The other male shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “You haven’t been back that long—only three days and it’s a miracle you escaped alive. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to wait a while? To take some time to recover?”

  “Waited long enough,” was the rumbling reply. “Six months in that hell hole and the only thing keeping me alive and sane were the dreams I had of her. I won’t wait any longer—she’s mine, whether she knows it yet or not.”

  “You’ll scare her,” his half-brother objected. “Human women are frightened enough of us as it is.”

  “I won’t hurt her. Just need to take her—bond her.” Unconsciously, he took a step toward the lighted window but his half-brother put a restraining hand on his broad shoulder.

  “Wait.” The other male’s voice was soothing. “Just wait until they serve the papers. One more night and she’s yours but you can’t have her now—not without violating the contract.”

  A low, frustrated growl was his answer as the thick muscles of Baird’s upper arms bunched with tension.

  “Come on.” The one called Sylvan tugged his half brother gently away from the lighted window. “If you stay here you’ll do something you regret. Remember, just one more night.”

  The other male stood like a rock for a moment despite his brother’s tugging. Then, reluctantly, he allowed himself to be led away. He cast one last possessive glance over his shoulder at the figure in the window.

  “Mine,” he repeated with unshakable certainty. “Mine whether you know it or not, Lilenta. And tomorrow I claim you.”

  Chapter One

  “Bad dreams again last night?”

  Olivia Waterhouse jerked at the sound of her twin sister’s voice and then went back to staring at the kitchen table. “Uh, not so much,” she lied and tried to smile.

  “C’mon, Liv, give. It’s me, your womb mate—remember?” Sophia sat down across from her and patted her hand gently. No one could ever decide if the Waterhouse twins were fraternal or identical. Liv had honey blonde hair with grey eyes and Sophia had a rich, chestnut mane with pale green eyes but their facial features were exactly the same. They had the same build too, both were five-seven and slender with hourglass curves. More than just twins, they were also best friends, which was why it made Liv uncomfortable to lie to her sister. But she couldn’t help it—the things she’d seen last night didn’t bear repeating.

  “Really,” she said, not meeting her sister’s eyes. “I’m fine. I just had a restless night—that’s all.”

  The truth was the dreams she’d been having for the past half year about the muscular stranger with glowing, amber-gold eyes had become progressively more disturbing. He was her nighttime visitor every time she closed her eyes. Liv had even named him—inside her head she called him “the dark man.”

  For the longest time she’d dreamed of him someplace filled with shadows—someplace where despair was an almost palpable thing. Sometimes he was chained to the wall, his head bowed as if in exhaustion. Other times were worse. Liv had seen him hooked to some kind of machine, wires embedded in his dusky tan skin like malignant snakes feeding off him. On an inverted dome, as big as an IMAX screen above his head, images flashed—pictures of strange worlds she never could have imagined. One seemed to be all ice and snow, another a lush tropical jungle where the vegetation was mostly blue instead of green. And yet another seemed to be a world that was mostly a clear, golden ocean with tiny rocky islands dotted here and there.

  When she dreamed of the pictures of other worlds flashing across the enormous screen, Liv always got the idea that they were somehow drawn from the memories of the dark man. And there was pain—so much pain, both physical and emotional. He was hurting and she was powerless to help him. She didn’t even know him but somehow his agony affected her deeply. She woke up with tears in her eyes most mornings, her heart clenched like a fist in her chest, his n
ame—a name she could never quite recall—trembling on her lips.

  Liv tried to tell herself her dreams were just that—only dreams. Lots of people had reoccurring dreams. Why her brain should choose to show her the same thing night after night was a mystery but it was also no big deal. And she only felt for the mysterious dark man because that was the kind of person she was. She’d just finished nursing school a few weeks ago and was taking some time off before she started her new job in the pediatric unit at Tampa General. She could be tough when she had to but by nature she was a nurturing person. Otherwise she wouldn’t care how this man, this dream stranger, was hurting. Wouldn’t care about the pain she saw in his unusual amber eyes.

  Then, two or three nights ago, the dreams had changed. When she finally let herself sleep, she saw the man as usual but he was free. Unchained and out of the shadowy place where his only emotions had been despair and agony.

  The change in her depressing dream should have elated Liv but she found herself frightened instead. Because in her new dreams the huge man with black hair and golden eyes was looking for someone—searching tirelessly. And somehow she knew that the person he was searching for was her.

  Then last night, he’d found her. Liv still remembered sitting bolt upright in bed at four in the morning, her hand pressed between her breasts as if to still her pounding heart. The scene in the dream had showed the mysterious dark man staring right into her eyes and he’s spoken only one word.

  “Mine.”

  “What?” Sophia looked at her in concern and Liv realized she’d quoted her dream aloud.

  “Nothing. What’s for breakfast?” It was a Saturday morning—the day officially decreed as off the diet and anything goes. Liv tried to curb herself the rest of the week—her curvy figure was already a lot more hippy than she liked—but on Saturday she let herself off the leash.

  “How about pancakes? Kat’s coming over and bringing some blueberries from that organic farmer’s market on Dunn. Sound good?”

  “Mmm.” Liv nodded, trying to look enthusiastic and failing miserably if the expression on her twin’s face was any indication.

  “Come on, Liv, blueberry pancakes are your favorite.” Sophia frowned as she moved around the warm yellow and cream kitchen, getting out the eggs and flour and sugar and pulling down a frying pan from the hanging rack above the sink.

  “Yummy. Can’t wait.” Liv gave her a weak smile and stifled a yawn. “Seriously, Sophie, I’m just tired. I stayed up a little too late reading.”

  Sophia shot her a skeptical look. “Right. And that’s why you look like one of my first graders who’s just been sent to the principal’s office.” She taught at an affluent private school in South Tampa that catered to the wealthy and gifted children of the city and she absolutely loved her job. Since it was summer, however, she had three months off to pursue her other love—art.

  Liv knew Sophia was itching to go paint and was probably only hanging around the kitchen making blueberry pancakes because she was worried about her twin. She opened her mouth to protest that she was fine again when a rat-a-tat-tat sounded at their front door.

  “Coming!” Sophia beat her to the door and opened it to the beaming face of Katrina O’Connor, their mutual friend since high school. As Sophia ushered Kat inside, Liv shook herself mentally. It was time she stopped letting these silly dreams affect her so much. She was Olivia Waterhouse and she wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Despite being compassionate Liv was no pushover. She had worked her way through nursing school and always stood up for herself, even to the crankiest doctors who could verbally eviscerate anyone with a sarcastic word or two. She went car shopping and to the mechanic by herself and never got screwed over. And most importantly, she never took no for an answer—when she really wanted something, she went for it. So why was she letting a stupid dream put a crimp in her personal style?

  Time to get over it, girl, she lectured herself sternly. It’s just a dream and he’s not real. Let it go and enjoy your pancakes. It’s a beautiful Saturday—anything could happen. But rather than cheering her up, the thought sent a shiver down her spine. That’s right anything could happen…anything at all.

  “What’s your deal, Liv? You look like you saw a ghost.” Kat’s cheery voice broke her morbid train of thought and Liv looked up and tried to smile.

  “Hey, Kat-woman. Heard you were bringing some blueberries.”

  “Did better than that.” Kat put a large recycled cloth shopping bag on the round kitchen table and started pulling things out of it, like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat. “Eggs, butter, ham, chives…” She stopped to push a wisp of auburn hair behind her ear before continuing. “Some fresh shitake mushrooms, goat cheese—”

  “Whoa—whoa!” Liv was startled into laughing. “What the hell kind of pancakes are we making here, anyway?”

  “Not pancakes—quiche. I saw this new recipe last night on Food Network—”

  Liv and Sophia both groaned aloud at this, cutting her off. Kat was a paralegal at Linden and James downtown but she had always had grand aspirations when it came to cooking. Unfortunately, she didn’t like to follow a recipe so most of her culinary creations landed in the trash—a fact that didn’t discourage her in the least when it came to trying something new. Especially if she was working in someone else’s kitchen and didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess afterwards.

  “Tell me something, Kat,” Sophia demanded. “Exactly how much of that stuff in the bag does the recipe call for?”

  “And how much is your own addition?” Liv finished her twin’s thought effortlessly.

  “Come on, you guys.” Kat pouted unconvincingly. “This one is going to be good, I can tell. And just because it doesn’t actually call for sardines and black olives doesn’t mean they won’t be good in there.”

  “Black olives?” Sophia made a face.

  “And sardines? Yuck! Are you making a quiche or an everything pizza?” Liv crossed her arms over her chest.

  Kat noticed the gesture and grinned. “Ooo, nice nighty, Liv. Did we have a nocturnal visitor last night?”

  Liv opened her mouth but Sophia beat her to it. “No one besides her dream man—whoever he is.”

  “I didn’t dream about him last night,” Liv lied defensively. “And I wore this because I happen to like it—it’s comfortable.” In contrast to Sophie’s Sesame Street pjs and Kat’s sensible t-shirt and shorts, she had on her lacy black baby doll nighty. It was the one her ex fiancé, Mitch had given her and it had a short black robe and panties that matched.

  Liv wasn’t wearing the set because she missed the jerk—she’d really dodged a bullet when she gave him back his ring and told him to hit the road. It was more a case of not letting something so nice go to waste. Mitch may have been a cheating bastard but he had good taste in underwear—underwear for her, anyway. He’d worn tighty-whities himself. Liv had always struggled not to laugh when he strutted around the house in them, thinking he looked so hot.

  “She claims she stayed up late reading a book—that’s why the dark circles and eye luggage.” Sophia sounded skeptical.

  “Well you look like hell,” Kat said frankly. “It must have been some book. Was it a horror novel or what?”

  “Something like that,” Liv muttered sulkily. She was in no mood to put up with her friend’s teasing.

  “Well don’t get bent out of shape, doll.” Kat smiled at her as she continued pulling ingredients out of her shopping bag. Liv hoped the strawberries and mangos were for a fruit salad and not the sardine and black olive quiche. “I just thought with that sexy outfit maybe you’d finally decided to get back on the dating train. You and Mitch hit splitsville over six months ago now.”

  “You’re the last one to talk about dating.” Sophia was whisking something in a bowl—no doubt she’d decided to make pancake batter after all as a back up to the disastrous quiche. “You’re even worse with men than me—and I suck at the social scene,” she added, tasting the ba
tter and reaching for a bottle of vanilla extract.

  “Exactly—because most men today don’t appreciate the pleasures of a plus sized woman.” Kat gestured at her own lush figure with a small pineapple she’d pulled out of the seemingly bottomless bag. “Which is why I have to live vicariously through you two skinny-minnies. A size eight looks good in that naughty little nighty—a size eighteen, not so much.”

  It was true Kat was a size eighteen but she had it all in the right places, Liv thought. She had often wished that her breasts were as full as Kat’s but then, Kat was full to running over all over the place, including her mouth. She was thinking of going back to school to become a lawyer instead of just a paralegal because getting paid to argue was her idea of a perfect job. Usually her quick wit and naughty sense of humor cracked Liv up but this morning she so wasn’t in the mood.

  “Change the subject. Preferably away from my hot jammies and the fact that I don’t have a man to wear them for,” she said, getting up from the table and going to the fridge for a glass of juice. Actually she’d tried dating again after she’d dumped Mitch but somehow it didn’t feel right. Mainly because none of the men she went out with were tall and dark with glowing amber eyes…Stop that! she scolded herself, pulling open the fridge door which was covered in colorful magnets and reaching for the carton of OJ. Stop thinking about him—he’s not even real!

  She tried concentrating on her favorite fridge magnet instead, the one with two California rolls in bed side by side. The caption underneath read, Wake up, little sushi!

  “Okay, sourpuss, try this subject on for size,” Kat snapped, folding the empty shopping bag and stowing it away in her barn-sized purse. “You remember Jillian Holms that took home-ec with us in high school?”