Wounds of Engagement

by Adrianna Dane

Suddenly, she stilled. What if he needed to use the bathroom? The cabin was small and she was certain there was only one bathroom. The cabin was in the woods, and he was a guy. And guys ... well ... they could make do in a pinch. A lot better than women could. She guessed he'd knock if he really needed to get to the bathroom. It was something she just wasn't going to worry about right now.

  What she did wonder about as she ran the soapy lather over her breasts was what he wore to sleep in. In her mind she pictured him naked. He didn't seem the type of man to worry about convention. She pictured him divesting himself of his clothing and moonlight gleaming on his flesh. He'd have a fine, hard body. Nothing like Todd. They'd be as different as night and day. Todd had been such a sluggard. Getting him to do anything would have taken an Act of Congress. He couldn't even use the energy to get himself a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator. God, she so did not miss that man.

  Benedikt Venus was a whole other matter. Her hand traveled of its own accord down her ribs and across her flat belly. Pressing the slippery soap against her labia lips she rubbed back and forth. Within seconds it was wedged between her swollen lips, teasing at her clit. Allowing it to slide from her grip, she slid her long fingers through the curls covering her mound and nudged them between her lips, imagining Benedikt's cock locked against her, rubbing and then sliding inside her pussy. She shuddered with pleasure at the images flitting through her mind. He was too close. Definitely too close for comfort tonight. And she'd definitely not get any sleep if she didn't give herself some relief.

  Her middle finger penetrated her vagina. She swirled the thumb of her other hand over her clit. She'd seen the bulge pressing against the zipper of his worn jeans. It certainly was nothing to sneeze at. She bet it was hot and so damn hard. And long. She added another finger, and then a third, sliding them in and out. No, he'd be bigger, a lot bigger. Nothing like that tiny dick of Todd's.

  Benedikt would know how to satisfy a woman. Without him ever having touched her, she knew he'd know exactly what made a woman happy, just how to stroke her, how to use his mouth to drive her wild with wanting.

  Her climax took her fast and hard. She bit her lip, drawing blood, to keep from crying out as she collapsed against the shower wall. God, she wanted Benedikt Venus. She wanted him bad.

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  CHAPTER 5

  Benedikt rolled over for the hundredth time, unable to fall asleep. It had nothing to do with the lumpiness of the bedroll he'd laid out in front of the stone fireplace. And everything to do with the woman asleep in his bed. He'd heard her wedge the chair against the door and was thankful she'd done so. When he'd heard the shower, it had almost driven him crazy thinking of her naked beneath the water. He'd had to get out of the cabin ... it was too close.

  Knowing she was secure inside, he'd gone around the back to the shed. He found several of the small motion sensors he'd brought with him from Argadia and placed them at various points around the perimeter of the cabin. He wasn't taking any chances. He doubted Earl would be up for a visit tonight, but one never knew. Benedikt was a light sleeper and he'd know immediately if someone came sniffing around. Then he strode off into the woods to relieve himself and headed back to the cabin to bed down for the night. Although he doubted he was going to get much sleep tonight anyway.

  He'd fucked his share of women on Argadia. But most of the time it had been when he was an Enforcer and not one bit of emotion was involved in the act. He'd been taught how to fake emotion, how to sexually arouse, and had used the women, found out the information he needed and then either walked away ... or killed them. No conscience, no regret. But this was different. And he couldn't allow himself to follow through with what he wanted to do to her. With her. For her.

  He reached beneath the blanket and stroked his stiff khout. She'd feel like silk surrounding him. Ever since he'd met her he found himself dreaming about her on more than one occasion. He'd tried to block her memory from his mind, but then every night he'd go back to the bar. He'd go there just to watch her. Observe her graceful moves as she expertly mixed drink after drink. Waited for her smile, saw it light up her pretty eyes. Watched as she listened to some guy's sad story, observed the sympathy in her expression as she empathized. He never shared his own history. No one needed to know what kind of monster he was.

  He was from an alien culture. How the hell could she empathize with that? He hoped she never had to know what war did to a man. What ghosts always stayed with you after the fight was done. What happened to a male who fought for the wrong side, even if he was forcibly inducted and had no memories to weigh down his duty.

  Then there was the hate of friends you grew up with. People whose lives the Enforcers had destroyed without compunction. How could she ever understand that he wasn't just an alien, but a man without a home, without a family? Someone who could never offer a woman like Natasha Paris the type of life she deserved.

  Benedikt shoved the blanket aside and surged to his feet. He looked at the door to the bedroom. His back itched and he knew what he needed. But that particular implement was behind the closed door to the bedroom and there was nothing he could do about it.

  The skin on his back throbbed and he wanted to yell with the rage that was beginning to simmer inside of him. He needed to do something about it, to release the tension coiling in his belly. If he didn't, he'd end up tearing this place apart, and scaring the woman he just wanted to protect. Sex couldn't fix this. Only pain that would rip out the rage, force it to the surface so it couldn't fester. Only pain could tender the price of escape.

  He stalked toward the back door and stepped outside into the cold night air. It actually felt good against the raging inferno firing his blood. At least after a self-administered whipping he could sleep. The demons were held at bay for a short time.

  This was something Natasha could never understand. His need for self-chastisement. His offering to Guardian for the pain he had caused his people. He looked around the porch and then spotted what he was looking for. A coil of rope. He picked it up and went back inside to cut a measure that would get the job done. Then he knotted it at intervals along the length. He could wait and just let the emotions surge and whirlpool inside him. But that was like handling a volatile explosive just waiting to make a misstep.

  He walked back into the living room and gazed out the picture window. It wasn't the peaceful scenery he saw, it was the ravaged faces of the men and women he'd put to death over the years in the name of the Argadian Tribunal. All of them people who hadn't deserved to die.

  His hands clenched on the knotted rope he held in his fisted hands as the memories surged inside his head, screams drowning out the present. He didn't deserve to live, not after what he'd done. But the new government had refused to listen to the roar of the wronged Argadians wanting the blood of the ex-Enforcers. The president and a council of elders had all agreed that the Nanus process had been the root of the terror in the Enforcers, not the men and women who had been forced to undergo the procedure.

  Benedikt didn't know how the others were surviving, but he was hanging on by an edge. If he hadn't been introduced to the whip, he probably wouldn't be here now. He steadied his breathing, thought of the pleasure and pain of the strikes against his body. The sensations that would drive through him. How it brought him closer to Guardian, as close as he probably would ever get.

  He shed his clothes and then turned on the CD player and lowered the volume. Just enough so he could hear the soothing voice of Sidra—the sister he had failed. The ritual of preparation was something he needed as much as the beating itself. Turning back to the window, he dropped to his knees. He readied the rope, turning it over in his hands. It was strong enough to get the job done. At least for tonight.

  The first lash always stole his breath as the initial blush of pain bloomed through him. But it was the last that gained him the climax and balance he sought. The peace he needed. Why he climaxed after flaying himself this way, he never understood. What he d
id recognize was that when it was over he could sleep without the nightmares. And that's what he needed more than anything.

  It would take away the need for Natasha. Blur the faces of his past. Or at least make it manageable.

  Sidra's hauntingly musical voice filled the dark room, as he struck again and again. The cadence almost sending him into another dimension, his breathing magnified to his ears, labored yet rhythmic. The burning pain began to throb and pulse. His khout hardened, a stiff rod that swayed with each motion of his arm. His balls were heavy and he reached down and cupped them as he struck again.

  He was close, so close, as the pain and pleasure merged into one sensation. He stroked his erection and struck his back again and again. He tried not to cry out as he came. As his semen spurted, coating his fingers, dripping onto the scarred plank floor, and his body shuddered with pain and need, mingling into an emotion he could never quite define, purging himself of need and memory. An edge that made it all tolerable.

  "What have you done, Benedikt?"

  Shock rippled through him. He hadn't heard the door open, having been so sunken into the ritual of his self-flagellation. Her voice caused him to stiffen. Why wasn't she asleep? He didn't want her to see him this way. Not like this.

  And then her slender arms were wrapped around him, supporting him.

  "Go back to bed, Natasha. Just-just leave me alone. I'll be fine."

  She helped him ease back onto the floor, her arms supporting him. She took the rope from his hand and tossed it to the side.

  She knelt there, holding him. “Whatever it is, let me help you."

  And then he saw her gaze drop to his glistening khout, the remnants of his orgasm quite visible in the moonlight. Her soft hand stroked over his shoulder. And then she looked into his eyes and he saw something reflected within their depths that shouldn't be there. Not for him.

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  CHAPTER 6

  Natasha had awoken when she heard the faint strains of music. She'd come out to find out where it was coming from. She'd been horrified when she'd seen the marks on Benedikt's back and the knotted rope lying next to him.

  War did things to men and women. She knew that all too well. She'd spent years trying to forget her own past. Those first years with Todd she'd had her share of nightmares. She didn't know what caused Benedikt Venus to do this to himself, and he might never tell her. But the expression in his eyes told her that he thought what she saw would disgust her and he was embarrassed to be found in such a compromising situation.

  How little they really knew of each other. And yet, still, she knew she'd fallen in love with him. She'd fought the emotion for weeks and had buried it as deeply as possible. But every night she waited for him to come to the bar. Every night, just seeing him somehow gave her the strength to go back to that bar and work long enough to someday free herself from the stink of this town.

  Oh, she never really thought she had a chance with a man like Benedikt, but just seeing him every night let her at least dream that something better was possible. That there might be a man she could love out there someplace.

  "I was a mail order bride,” she blurted out, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. “I never loved Todd. My country was in the midst of a civil war and there were some days when I had to beg for food just to survive. I was given a chance for something I thought would be better. I sold my body to survive, Benedikt. I ripped my heart out and I kept on moving."

  His eyes did that strange flickery thing she'd seen them do on other occasions. The colors altered, and then changed again. The dark turned blacker still. His complexion was pale in the moonlight.

  He turned away and wouldn't look at her. He kept staring into the darkness, as though he wasn't really there with her. She thought maybe he hadn't even been listening to what she said.

  "I was a soldier. I killed people."

  His admission didn't really surprise her.

  She was afraid to say anything. His words didn't seem to be directed at her. It was as though he gave them up to the night and she was merely there to bear witness. She stroked her hand over his poorly beaten back. How tortured he must be to do this to himself. To feel he deserved it.

  Except then she remembered the glistening cum on his cock and she had to wonder just how mixed up things were inside his mind. How much more scarred was he on the inside than what she saw on the outside?

  Nothing was ever as straightforward as it seemed...

  Suddenly he turned his head to look at her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “I came here to try to heal. To see if I could make the nightmares go away. I thought maybe time and distance would blur the memories."

  "It hasn't helped."

  He shook his head. “But I've found a way to appease the rage."

  "Like this?” she asked as she stroked his back.

  He nodded. “A woman who enjoys pain with her pleasure taught me to use it. Most nights it helps."

  At the mention of a woman, Natasha felt the foreign sensation of jealousy overtake her. She didn't want to think of Benedikt with another woman. She wanted to be that woman. She forced the thought away.

  "How long can you go on this way? Where is your family, Benedikt? Where's home?"

  He turned toward the window and he tilted his head toward the sky. “I have no home. Not anymore. Not after what I've done."

  The look on his face was so heartbreaking. Even in profile it looked ravaged, and with the shadows of the night it was even more stark. She didn't think she could stand it. She leaned forward and tightened her embrace. “Oh, Benedikt, I wish I could take your pain away. I wish I could help you. I know what it's like to live through war. I wasn't a soldier, but I know how terrible the cost is."

  Suddenly he turned and cupped her face. She dropped her arms to her side and just stared at him.

  He leaned forward and his lips just brushed hers, barely touching. She pressed closer, eager to deepen the kiss, emotions she'd kept buried surging to the surface. She'd held her feelings in check for so long. She knew this man was hurting and she wanted to ease his pain, to give him something good and special to help heal him.

  He stroked the back of his hand over her swollen cheek. “You have pain. He could have killed you when he struck you like that."

  "But he didn't. I'm still alive thanks to you. I don't know what the war did to you, but I've watched you for these last weeks and I know you're a good person."

  "I wish I thought so.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers again as though he couldn't help himself.

  "I want you to kiss me properly. What are you afraid of?” she asked him.

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You won't. Believe me."

  "I'm not the man you think I am."

  She reached up to put her hands on his broad shoulders. “Then who are you, Benedikt Venus? As I said, I've watched you, but you don't let anyone know you, do you?"

  She felt one of his warm hands cup her breast through the T-shirt she wore and sucked in a breath.

  "What if I told you I wasn't human, Natasha? Would you believe me?"

  She stilled. Was he trying to tell her he was some kind of alien or something? “Exactly what are you saying?” Or was he mentally ill? And that's why he kept to himself. Maybe he suffered from schizophrenia after what he'd been through?

  And then she remembered how his eyes did strange things and she thought it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. Had that been all it was, or was there more to him than she thought?

  "You don't believe me.” His expression said he had expected as much.

  "Well, it is a little difficult to accept.” She really did want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had always seemed so sane.

  "I come from another galaxy. The name of my planet is Argadia. I am—I was an Argadian Enforcer in the elite forces of the Tribunal who ruled the planet. A rebellion broke out, which turned to war. I served men who destroyed our people and o
ther civilizations to gain power and wealth. It's complicated, but I killed on behalf of the people I served. They took my memories and made me into a killing machine. When they lost the war, I was de-programmed and my memories returned to me. But the horrors of what I did, and my conscience, returned with the emotions that had been suppressed. The nightmares just get worse and worse."

  "But you look human. You speak our language and you don't have much of an accent.” Although she had to admit she never could quite pinpoint his accent. She had spent a great deal of time trying to get rid of her own, reciting and studying every day, so she hadn't really thought much about it.

  "Yes, there are many similarities. I studied your language in the de-programming facility and perfected your speech. We watch your movies, read your books. They are considered luxuries on Argadia. The new president on our planet is fond of Earth science fiction television shows. My sister's tafai—"

  "What's a tafai?” It all seemed so bizarre. But in another way, because of the way he spoke so matter-of-factly about it, he made it seem real for her.

  "A tafai is like a wife on earth, a lifemate. A taman would be our word for husband."

  She was intrigued by this seemingly whole new culture he spoke of. And then something made her reach for his cock. She curled her fingers around the rock hard appendage. “And what about this?” she whispered. “Is it called a cock on your planet?"

  She heard him groan. “No. It is my khout. You're playing with fire, Natasha. I want to make love to you, but I don't want to hurt you."

  Suddenly, she pulled away from him. Leaning up, she yanked off the T-shirt. “I want you, too. I've wanted you for a long time. Will you make love to me, Benedikt? It's been such a long time. Show me what it's like to be made love to by an Argadian. I think I want to learn."

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  CHAPTER 7

  Natasha Paris was an amazing woman. He knew that at least a part of her thought he'd lost his mind. Yet in another way she still trusted him and she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She was brave and strong. All things he had hoped for in the female he would have liked to make his tafai one day. Yet she was also a woman who was not afraid to venture into the unknown, going by what she had just revealed to him. Could he do any less?