Bridging the Distance: A Kindred Tales Novel (Brides of the Kindred) Page 11

  Something wasn’t right with them and the way they were working inside his big body. But if what the Countess had said about the big Kindred imprinting on a single mistress was true, maybe Torn could be put back into some kind of balance simply with a touch.

  Maybe.

  “He needs to imprint,” she said to Bound, who was still staring with longing and pain at his brother, raging in the cage. “He needs a female’s touch—I’d bet my life on it.”

  Which is exactly what you’re about to do, whispered a grim little voice in her head.

  “Are you sure, My Lady?” Bound looked at her hopefully.

  “Not one hundred percent, no,” Lorelei admitted. “But we’re about to find out.” Darting forward before she could lose her nerve, she reached for the huge Kindred who was still reaching through the bars of his cage with his free arm.

  She had been meaning to just touch his arm but the Dark Twin was too fast for her. With a snarl, his huge hand grasped her wrist in a vise-like grip and squeezed.

  For a moment Lorelei felt the small bones of her wrist grinding together and she was certain the big Kindred would pulp her arm as easily as a man squeezes the juice out of an orange. She was dimly aware of Bound shouting and the Countess wringing her hands but they didn’t concern her now. Her focus of attention must be the massive Kindred in the cage.

  Pushing down the pain and panic that threatened to engulf her, Lorelei looked into the black-ringed emerald eyes and spoke clearly and slowly.

  “Torn,” she said in a soft but carrying voice. “Look at me. I call you by your name. I claim you. You’re mine.”

  The relentless, grinding pressure on her wrist suddenly eased and the green eyes went wide. Then the black shadows gathered around them began to dissipate, leaving the big Kindred’s face clear. A line of black moved down his shoulder and the length of his muscular arm to suffuse the hand which was holding Lorelei.

  The nanites, she thought distantly. They’re coming.

  The black reached his fingertips and she felt a slight tingle as they tasted her through his skin. Then they rushed back up his arm, their work done.

  “Mistress,” the prisoner whispered hoarsely. He dropped heavily to his knees, his hand still lightly gripping her wrist. “Mistress, I am yours.”

  Lorelei felt a rush of relief. Thank goodness she wasn’t going to die or lose her hand and arm after all! Her guess had been right and her gamble had paid off.

  She looked at the big Kindred, still gripping her wrist with a look of mute devotion on his lovely, wild face.

  “It’s all right, Torn,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke the muscular forearm with her free hand. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m going to take you home.”

  She looked at Bound who was still in some kind of shock and then at the Countess du’Montrive who was staring in open-mouthed wonder.

  “Wrap him up,” she said, smiling a little. “I’ll take him.”

  * * * * *

  For so long Torn had known nothing but rage—nothing but fury. A red mist clouded his vision and everyone around him was the enemy. Inside him, the tiny voices buzzed in his brain, insisting that everyone must die—that he must kill and kill and kill until none were left, until all of them were gone.

  The voices tormented him—were a constant, buzzing torture because they didn’t belong. They wanted to take him over—to remake him just the way his right arm had been remade—reshaped into a weapon…

  “You will lose yourself,” the Captain of the V’radors had buzzed, his voice coming from the silver grating in his throat—his mouth had been modified beyond the capacity for speech. His eyes were nothing but two staring, blinking lights and all his limbs were mechanized as well. “You will lose yourself and become perfect in the process.”

  “You’re one ugly son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Torn spat at him, fighting the plasti-steel straps that held him down. But it was useless—they were too strong to break, especially the one around his new arm.

  “Consider yourself lucky that you have been chosen to be a love-slave as well as a protector,” the Captain said. “Or you would have had more modifications.” He sighed, a strange, hollow sound coming from his throat. “Females find too many body-mods unattractive for some reason. So we left your pretty face…” He reached out a metal claw to caress Torn’s cheek. “Oh yes, such a pretty one…You’ll be the prettiest of us all.”

  Torn yanked his head to the side to avoid the metallic caress.

  “Get away from me, you sick bastard! I’m not one of you, even if you did cut off my arm and replace it with a fucking prosthetic!”

  “That ‘fucking prosthetic’ as you call it, can punch through solid plasti-steel or stop a moving vehicle in its tracks,” the V’rador buzzed. “Be grateful for it, Kindred. It will help you protect your Mistress once your conditioning is complete and the Thought-eaters have had their way with you.”

  As he spoke, the thick, black, oily liquid began oozing its way through the tubing that was thrust in the vein in Torn’s left arm.

  “The Mind-biters will take your past and leave room only for your future. You will remember nothing when they are done.”

  “No!” Torn swore, his voice hoarse with determination even as the nanites found their way into his bloodstream and began to invade his body. The V’radors had many names for them but there was only one thing Torn called them—fucking parasites. “No, I won’t forget!” he shouted. “You can’t take my memories from me! My past—my brother!”

  “It will be eaten. All of it eaten,” the V’rador Captain intoned. “The Memory-seekers will find and destroy everything that is not needed.”

  “No,” Torn had insisted. “No!”

  But even then he had felt the nanites at work in him, already crowding into his brain like unwelcome guests, jostling eagerly like patrons at a buffet—eager to eat him—eager to change him into something the V’radors could sell…

  As long as he could, Torn fought them—fought with all his might to think on his own, to keep his own free will. But the voices—the nanites—would never give up. He clung to the only thing he had left—his Twin Bond—to try and keep his sanity. But they even ate away at that.

  What twin? You have no twin—you have no brother, they whispered and buzzed in his brain. Thoughts and memories were taken from him, nibbled away bit by bit as though by hungry insects. Each day he remembered less and less, each night he felt the bond grown weaker.

  Until at last, he couldn’t even remember his brother’s name or face or the fact that he had a brother at all. There was nothing left but the red rage and the need to kill.

  He wanted to die…wanted to kill…wanted to burn the whole universe to ashes if only it meant an end to the constant buzzing, the constant gnawing inside his brain—a brain that was not wholly his anymore.

  And then she came.

  He didn’t recognize her at first but when he touched her the buzzing abruptly stopped. For the first time in months, ever since the V’radors had injected him with the thrice-damned nanites, there was silence in his mind. A blessed peace—a calm so unusual that at first Torn didn’t know what to do. He was no longer used to being alone in his own head—to hearing only his own internal voice.

  “Torn, look at me,” the female said. “I call you by your name. I claim you. You’re mine.”

  He felt something inside him shift—something so huge he knew it would change his life forever. It was as though his heart had been on the wrong side of his body all of his life and someone had suddenly put it back into place—the right place—at last.

  Then the nanites were back but instead of buzzing and gnawing, they hummed in perfect harmony.

  Her, they sang—a song so sweet, so seductive that Torn could not ignore or deny it. His vision cleared and he looked at the tiny female whose wrist he held in his hand. Her—it’s her! She claims us! We are hers.

  An Elite, whispered a thought in his brain—one of the few uneaten mem
ories he had left. And the nanites sang, Mistress!

  “Mistress,” he whispered aloud and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to serve her—to be always by her side and never be parted from her. “Mistress,” he said again, falling to his knees before her. “I am yours.”

  And he meant it with every fiber of his being—both the artificial AI part and the original, organic part of his brain. For the first time since the damn nanites had been injected, he felt them working in sync with him instead of nibbling and gnawing away at his consciousness, trying to erode his personality. For the first time he felt at peace.

  “It’s all right, Torn,” the Elite murmured, calling him by a name which seemed like it should mean something. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m going to take you home.”

  You are my home, he thought but did not say. He was too overcome to speak again. He let his eyes talk for him, tracking her every movement, never wanting to leave her lovely full-figured form. Gods, her curves were so lush! And she had claimed him—he was hers. They were together now and they would never be parted.

  Together forever.

  He knew it was true because the nanites sang so sweetly and because his own heart told him so.

  Together forever, Mistress. Forever, he swore. I’ll never leave your side. I promise.

  Chapter Ten

  Leading the huge Dark Twin from the Fren and Chulk all the way back to where they had parked the shuttle was a little like having a tiger on a leash, Lorelei thought as she kept his big hand clasped firmly in her much smaller one. Torn was more deadly weapon than man but he followed her tamely and obeyed every order she gave him.

  They got some blank stares and Lorelei was aware of what a strange picture the three of them must make. She was still wearing the Steampunk-looking Gentlewoman outfit with the blue remains of the exploded desert drying stiffly in her hair. It was also stuck in the corners of her eyes and the insides of her ears and basically everywhere she hadn’t been able to really scrub with the ineffective napkins she’d had to use. To her right, the huge, dark twin, walked tamely beside her, and Bound, dressed in the traditional Femalian slave-mate outfit trailed behind them with a worried look on his face.

  She felt bad for the Light Twin. Torn had yet to acknowledge his brother in any way except to growl or snarl when Bound got too close. Lorelei could see the hurt in Bound’s blue eyes when that happened and her heart ached for the big Kindred who only wanted to reconnect with his twin. But there seemed to be nothing they could do at the moment except go back to the Kindred Mother Ship.

  Another reason people were probably staring was that Torn still had his metallic right arm strapped to his side. Though she had given Lorelei the key to this final restraint, the Countess du’Montrive had absolutely refused to let it be removed while he was still anywhere near her club.

  “No, no, my dear Gentlewoman Daniels,” she had exclaimed when Lorelei asked about it. “On this point, the V’radors were being very firm—they were telling me that this arm of his is a deadly weapon. On no account must it be freed unless you are very, very certain that the Kindred is completely under your control. Why, that arm is being able to punch through solid plasti-steel! No, no—you are not to be unlocking it here, no matter how much you are agreeing to pay.”

  Secretly, Lorelei agreed with the Countess’s assessment of the arm situation. Torn was huge even by Kindred standards and obviously immensely strong and dangerous. She just hoped he had imprinted on her securely so he wouldn’t give them trouble on their way back to the Kindred Mother Ship.

  Then hopefully, once they made it back, the surgeon Bound had told her about could remove the nanites and the AI interface which was giving the big Kindred so much trouble.

  But what if he can’t? whispered a little voice in her head. What if the nanites are permanent? Isn’t that one of the reasons they were outlawed on Earth, along with sentient AIs? Because once they make camp inside you, there’s no getting the little buggers out again? What if that happens and you have a huge Kindred imprinted on you for the rest of your life? What will you do?

  And not just one huge Kindred either. She remembered Kat’s words about how Twin Kindred came in pairs and absolutely could not be separated.

  To be honest, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t mind being bonded to Bound. The Light Twin was warm and sweet and considerate and sexy and despite the way the two of them kept protesting that they needed to keep things professional, there was definitely chemistry between them. Lorelei still felt a shiver of pleasure when she remembered how hot it had been to let the big Kindred suck her nipples and how sexy she had felt jerking him off.

  But what about the Dark Twin? There was no denying that Torn was hot—even with his cheeks dark with stubble and his hair long and wild around his face, the pure, masculine beauty of his square jaw and gorgeous green eyes couldn’t be hidden. But he was frightening too—and the thought of getting naked with him was downright terrifying.

  Lorelei knew that despite his immense strength and size, Bound could be trusted to be gentle with her—the big Kindred would never hurt her in any way. But as for Torn, well…she could be sure of nothing with the Dark Twin. He seemed devoted to her but she wasn’t sure about the alien technology that had been implanted in him. Nanites had been a new thing on Earth when she was studying them but they had been completely unpredictable—uncontrollable. How much did the V’rader nanites differ from what she had studied? How much control did they really give her over the killing machine walking calmly by her side?

  Lorelei had no idea—which scared her to death.

  Besides, she told herself uneasily. I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl! And these Kindred are huge. I don’t care what Kat said about “bonding fruit,” there’s no way two of them could fit inside me at once. I doubt even one of them could!

  Better not to find out, she told herself. The best they could hope for was a safe, quick trip back to the Mother Ship where everything could be fixed.

  She hoped.

  * * * * *

  “Brother? Torn? Are you in there? Can you hear me?” Bound leaned over the figure seated on the vast, Twin Kindred-sized bed and snapped his fingers lightly. Lorelei was in the fresher, taking a shower to get the last of the dried blue exploding dessert off herself and she had left the apparently quiescent Torn to wait for her in the bed chamber.

  Bound had gone to get changed back into his regular uniform and had removed the thick black eye makeup before he called the Mother Ship and asked for immediate transport back. His role for now was simply to pilot the shuttle back home so that Yipper, the Tolleg surgeon, could examine Torn and hopefully fix him. But there had been a snag—Commander Sylvan had told him conditions weren’t favorable for folding space at the moment.

  “I’m sorry, Commander Bound,” he had said formally. “But the Earth’s sun is shooting out some far-reaching solar flares which interfere with folding. We should be able to get to you within a solar hour or two. In the meantime, can you stay put where you are?”

  “We’re outside the Femalian orbit in mostly empty space,” Bound had told him. “There have been reports of pirates in this area in the past but all seems clear now. I think we’ll be all right.”

  “Keep a sharp look out,” Sylvan commanded. “We’ll contact you as soon as the fold is ready to go. Mother Ship out.”

  With a sigh, Bound had put the autopilot back on and wandered to the back of the ship. Lorelei was still in the shower and Torn was sitting motionless on the bed, where she had left him, staring into space.

  Bound knew he ought to leave his twin alone—at least until they got back to the Mother Ship—but he simply felt drawn to Torn, unable to stay away. Their bond felt like a rotten, ragged piece of fabric—a bit of silk that was frayed almost to the breaking point but it was still there. He could feel it inside him and if he could feel it, didn’t that mean that Torn could too?

  “Torn,” he tried again. “You know me—we’ve been tog
ether all our lives. We’re brothers—twins.”

  At last Torn’s eyes turned up towards his, brilliant green and completely hostile.

  “I don’t have a brother. I don’t have anyone but the Mistress. Fuck off,” he growled.

  Bound felt like his heart would burst.

  “You know that’s not true,” he said quietly. “Your name is Torn-Deep and I am Bound-Tight—we were born and raised on Twin Moons together. We have never even been apart a day in our lives until the V’radors took you.”

  For a moment, he almost thought that he might be getting through to his twin. Torn’s green eyes widened…then narrowed.

  “No,” he said again, more forcefully this time. “No, I don’t know you! Leave me the fuck alone!”

  Bound knew he ought to back off but he had seen—or thought he’d seen—a tiny spark of recognition in his brother’s eyes before the last denial.

  “I love you, Brother,” he said. Kneeling beside the bed, he reached for his brother thinking if only he could touch him…if only they could make some kind of contact it might make a difference, might restore their bond…

  But even as he enfolded his twin in a hug, Torn’s free hand shot out and punched him in the face.

  “Leave me the fuck alone!” Torn roared, rising to his full height to tower menacingly over Bound, who still knelt, stunned, on the floor. “I don’t know you! I don’t know you!”

  And then he punched again…and again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lorelei heard the deep male voice raised in anger even over the sound of the shower.

  “Leave me the fuck alone! I don’t know you!” Torn was shouting and then there were other sounds—sounds like a boxing match was taking place, right next door in the bedroom.

  Oh my God, I never should have left them alone! I knew I shouldn’t have!

  She had meant to just hop in and hop out again but the hot water had felt so good and soothing after the stressful situation she’d just been through. Plus, it had taken forever to scrub all of the weird blue alien dessert out of her hair.