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.