The Hand of Vengeance

by Renee Rose

“Watch out for the—”

  Her foot skidded as she tried, too late, to pull back. She glanced back at him then hurled herself forward, off the edge.

  His stomach dropped to his boots. “Dr. Simmons!” He raced forward to peer down. Blue water winked below, but far below—at least one hundred feet.

  His eyes swept the area for movement, anything. There. His heart began to beat again. Her head broke the surface, and she swam toward the shore. Before he had a chance to second guess the decision, he leaped from the cliff, following her plunge.

  Chapter Two

  She’d learned to swim in the recreation pools on Earth, but she’d never had to use the skill outdoors. The viscosity of the water here was different, or maybe it was the way the slightly heavier gravity affected her. Either way, her arms and legs had never kicked and scooped so hard in her life. Somehow, she found her way to the side and crawled out on the bank.

  Her legs wobbled when she tried to stand, but she forced herself to move forward, into cover. She looked up at the cliff edge, but didn’t see her rebel warrior. Where had he gone? She doubted he’d be crazy enough to follow her into the pool, but she scanned the water to be sure. No sign of him.

  If she wasn’t so freaked out, she’d admire the spectacular nature all around her. As an Earthling, she’d seen pictures of untouched beauty like this—from her own planet before all the natural landscape had been polluted, and from Planetary Geographic, but in person it seemed almost unreal.

  She headed through a copse of giant trees growing along the bank, their thick branches twisted and gnarled together. Farther in, she met a wall of stone. Great. She’d jumped into a canyon and now she had no way out. She followed the wall. It had to lead somewhere. The canyon had to end at some point.

  An opening in the rocks appeared, and she hesitated, torn between the instinct to keep moving and the fear that she might need to find a place to sleep for the night. She entered the crack in the stone but soon came to a dead end.

  She spun around to retreat and screamed. Her knees buckled as she slammed into the barrel chest of the enormous tattooed rebel. Of course it would have to be him. The most terrifying one of them all. The warrior who looked like he could crack every bone in her body without breaking a sweat.

  He didn’t speak. A dagger gleamed in his hand, and he drew his arm back to throw it at her.

  She screamed again, slamming against the cliff wall in an attempt to dodge him, but he hadn’t aimed for her. His blade hit its mark with the distinct sound of metal puncturing flesh. The dead body of some wildcat dropped at their feet.

  The realization it had been right above her head, probably preparing to pounce, made her sway on her feet. “Wh-what was that?”

  He didn’t answer, just left the enormous cat and picked her up by the waist as if she weighed nothing.

  “What are you doing? Put me down.” She kicked and twisted to free herself, but he ignored her.

  He carried her by the waist, upright, out of the little cave. Settling down on a boulder, he tipped her over his knees. It took her two long seconds to understand his intent and, when she did, she was too stunned to move. Until his huge palm crashed down on her upturned ass and she found a new reason to kick and scream.

  A spanking. Dear God, she was being given a spanking over wet leggings. His palm came down on her defenseless backside again and again with enough stinging force to cause genuine alarm. She tightened her buttocks and wriggled, but his arm around her waist was like a steel band, pinning her in place.

  She’d heard Jesel’s culture was so primitive they still employed corporal punishment, but it had never occurred to her she would be the subject of such tyranny. Never in her life. And it stung a lot more than she’d imagined. It seemed the rebel warrior planned to spank the living daylights out of her. Her bottom blazed, and she knew from the way pain receptors worked, the sting would only increase in the next few minutes.

  “Ow! What are you doing? Stop it this instant!”

  He still didn’t say a word. The big Neanderthal let his hand do the talking, slapping her wet bottom over and over again with stinging blows. She attempted to stay quiet, but sounds came out of her mouth despite her intention. Whimpers. Oofs. Little cries.

  Her G-string and thin skin-tight leggings did nothing to protect her from his heavy palm, which rained down with a steady beat, first on one cheek then the other. In fact, they probably made it worse, the wet fabric increasing the sting.

  When he moved to the backs of her thighs, she bucked and wailed. “Please,” she pleaded, like a complete ninny. “Please stop. No more. Please, no more.”

  She had now lost all dignity, thoroughly humiliated by this giant oaf of a man. To make things worse, her body seemed to think this was foreplay, because her sex swelled between her legs, hot and tingling. What in the hell was wrong with her? This was not sexy. Not. Sexy.

  Abruptly, he lifted her from her prostrate position and plopped her down on his lap, facing away from him, one arm still secured around her waist. His clothes were soaked as well; clearly, he’d followed her from the bluff.

  Her butt blazed, the flesh stingy and swollen. Her clit pulsed in rhythm with her ass. If her clothing hadn’t already been soaked, she probably would have left a wet spot from her damn arousal on his thigh. Thank the Universal God he’d sat her facing away from him, so he wouldn’t see her attempt to get her emotions in check. Tears had built just beneath the surface, but she wasn’t sure if they were from the humiliation of the situation, sexual frustration, or the actual pain of it.

  And...her traitorous pussy still pulsed with need.

  Damn. It had been a long time since she’d been touched by a man. Her five-year birth control shot was wearing off—she’d be due another one when she returned to Earth next month, so her hormones were probably rising. That’s all it was. Because having her bottom spanked like a naughty child did not turn her on. At all.

  Static sounded from the warrior’s old-fashioned comms unit, making her jump and twist to look over her shoulder at him.

  He touched a button and spoke into it. “The hand of vengeance strikes.”

  “Come in, Vengeance.” The voice on the other end sounded breathless.

  “The package has been retrieved, but we require extraction.”

  “Uh, that’s a negative. We are currently under fire....” Laser fire sounded and the voice yelled, “Ten o’clock, ten o’clock!” A terrible crackle emitted from the device and then no sound whatsoever.

  “Vengeance to Package Transfer Team. Come in, Transfer Team.”

  No answer.

  The warrior cursed and tore the comms unit from his ear, threw it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Our only chance of extraction just died. We don’t want the Republicans to track us.”

  The Republicans. That was what the rebels called Treedle’s men. Well, he may not, but I do. She looked up through the trees toward the sky, as if one of Treedle’s airships might happen to be passing by. She needed to get away from this rebel who was clearly a maniac. Who jumps off a hundred foot cliff in pursuit of one ordinary female doctor?

  “What do the rebels want with me?”

  Once more, he met her question with silence. He stood, lifting her to her feet in one fluid motion. “Let’s move.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to try to find a way out of here without getting ourselves killed.” Grasping her hand, he stalked forward, through the trees. Not in the let’s stroll through the woods together sort of way. More like, I’m in charge of you, honey, and if you give me any more trouble, I won’t hesitate to spank your ass again.

  Damn if the thought didn’t make her knees go weak. Literally. She stumbled, and he pulled her upright, glancing back. She flushed, something fluttering in her belly. Her traitorous body became suddenly aware of him in a new way: as a sculpted mass of masculine virility and power. Her skin flushed an
d prickled.

  It must be the atmosphere on this planet because she hadn’t felt anything sexual for any male—or female, for that matter—in years. Maybe not even since puberty. She’d been too busy in med school, and after she’d passed the boards, she’d worked insane hours on planets in every galaxy. There hadn’t been any time to date or get romantic with anyone, even if there’d been someone attractive to her.

  She watched the muscles of his back ripple with movement, the broad shoulders leading into giant biceps. He even had ripped forearms. And those hands...she tore her gaze away from his huge hands, willing herself to stop thinking about the fact that they had just paddled her poor, blazing bottom. Her cheeks throbbed in response. She reached back to rub one with her free hand and caught the corner of the rebel’s mouth lifting in a smirk.

  Damn his overbearing misogynistic arrogance.

  They walked on a narrow animal path through dense foliage. The strip of land between the river and the purple canyon wall was choked with trees and undergrowth, making it difficult to navigate. They walked for over an hour, until her wet shoes had rubbed the skin raw on her feet and she began to limp. He glanced at her impatiently. “What is it, Doctor?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you tired?”

  “No.” She might have sounded a tad defensive.

  He looked down her body, arriving at the offending shoes. “Your feet hurt.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sir just came out. Okay, he intimidated her. Especially after that spanking he’d delivered. He cocked a brow, which had the effect of turning her insides to liquid.

  “Okay, Doctor.” He looked annoyed as he pulled her toward the cliff wall. He pointed to a little clearing. “You gather wood and start a small fire. I’ll try to find us something to eat.” He tossed her a small metal cylinder.

  She caught it in one hand and turned the little device over. “What’s this?”

  He frowned. “A lighter. To start a fire. Please tell me you know how to start a fire?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure I do,” she lied.

  His lips flattened. Yep, he knew she was full of crap. “I won’t go far. Holler if you need me.”

  “I don’t even know your name. Is it Vengeance?”

  He stopped and turned, his chiseled profile as beautiful as the rest of his body. “Blade.”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Lara. Lara Simmons. I’m the doctor whose butt you thought you had a right to spank.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked, and it made her belly flutter again. But. as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, and the blank mask returned. “You ran,” he said, as if that excused his action. “You put yourself into enormous danger jumping off that cliff, and now we have no way out.”

  “Right, and all your friends are dead now, so excuse me if I don’t think sticking with them would’ve been my best move.”

  “I would have protected you.”

  She meant to reject his sentiment, but something in his stance or the serious way he spoke the words made her believe him. He did seem to be the sort of man who could protect her, even from explosions or laser fire. And damn if that didn’t make her nipples tighten.

  “My job is to deliver you to headquarters safely. As you said before, you’re no good to us dead.”

  “What do you want with me?” she tried again.

  He pointed at the clearing. “A small fire. Nothing too big or it will be seen. Understand?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned away, picking up sticks and twigs from the ground. Building a fire couldn’t be that hard, could it? She waited until she no longer heard his footsteps before she turned around and stared at where he’d stood. Her fingers trembled, which never happened. What the hell was wrong with her? One bottom-warming by a huge, gorgeous warrior and she fell to pieces. This wasn’t like her.

  She crouched down and arranged the sticks in a pile. Not too big, he’d said. But maybe she wanted it to be seen. She needed to get away from the rebels and back to her medical station where she could treat her patients. She had no reason to trust this man and every reason to keep running. Straightening, she worked to gather as much dry wood as possible. An all-out bonfire was what the situation called for. That would bring help.

  ~~*~~

  He heard the craft first. Then he saw the flames.

  “Doctor!” He dropped the field deer he’d shot and slung across his shoulders and ran at top speed. The laser fire began before he took three strides. “Get down,” he yelled over the sizzle of the weapons.

  A bomb dropped right in front of him, sending boulders tumbling from the cliff wall. He surged left to avoid the rubble, hopping over the rocks. He found Lara standing on top of a boulder, looking up and waving both arms to signal the craft.

  “Get the fuck down!”

  Her body flew through the air as a bomb hit behind her.

  He closed the distance between them and hauled her to her feet, shoving her forward. “Run, Doctor. Go!”

  They ran downstream, as laser fire fell all around them, leaving trees and bushes in flames, blasting rocks. Seeing a crevice in the rock face, he yanked her inside it, pulling her past him and shielding her body with his own as another explosion struck just outside. Rocks tumbled down, and he prayed they wouldn’t be trapped within.

  He held her pinned against the wall, his chest heaving with the exertion. Her little form trembled. It wasn’t the moment to notice how soft and curvy she felt against the hard edges of his body. It certainly wasn’t the moment to inhale her scent—the distinctly female musk that caused an instant reaction in his body. He eased back so she wouldn’t feel the bulge of his cock hardening in his combat pants.

  The laser fire moved down river then back up, which was a good sign. It meant they were firing at random, just to cover the territory. The Republicans didn’t know where to find them. He waited until it stopped altogether and then another twenty minutes longer.

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand. “We have to put more distance between us and the site of your fire.” He tugged her out.

  She dug her heels in, resisting.

  “Dr. Simmons. Come the fuck on.” He pulled her forward. “They might come back. They weren’t here to save you, in case you hadn’t noticed. Republicans have only one mode: seek and destroy anyone found outside their slave camps. Women, children, elders. Entire villages. They don’t give a shit. They are not your rescue squad. Do not ever try to attract their attention again. Got it?”

  He glanced at the sky. They only had a couple hours of daylight left. Jesel had only one sun, like Earth, and it made a full rotation every eighteen hours.

  After a kilometer or so, the doctor veered off from the trail toward the water.

  He stopped. “Where are you going?”

  “I need a drink.”

  “Do not drink that water. It’s polluted with toxins from Treedle’s diamond mines.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her hands on her hips. Her lack of trust was getting old, not that he could really blame her. He had kidnapped her, after all. But she wouldn’t make it out of this canyon alive without his help.

  “I will find us something to eat and drink when we make camp. Right now, we need to keep moving.” Remembering why they’d stopped the first time, he asked, “How are your feet?”

  She blew a few blond strands of hair out of her face. “Blistered.”

  He stalked toward her. She flinched when he reached for her, which didn’t come as a surprise. He was used to people being afraid of him. He scooped her up into a cradle hold and tossed her in the air to better adjust her weight.

  She gasped and her arms came around his neck, out of perceived necessity he would guess. “Y-you don’t have to carry me.”

  “It’s faster this way,” he muttered, focusing straight ahead. He really couldn’t look down at her lovely face only centimeters from his or he’d lose all focus. It was bad enough to feel how light and
soft she felt in his arms and to inhale her scent again.

  He walked another two kilometers before he stopped and dropped her onto her feet. He still needed to deal with her disobedience, and it was already dusk.

  Shrugging out of his jacket, which had finally dried, he spread it over a fallen log. It was one thing to spank her little ass. It was another to cause her unnecessary scrapes and bruises. He caught the doctor’s wrist and tugged her forward.

  She looked from his face to the log in confusion.

  “Bend over.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Now, Doctor.” He didn’t mean to sound so terrifying, but he had no practice in soothing skittish females. He’d spent the last seventeen years perfecting his job as a death machine, to exact vengeance for the crimes of the Republicans.

  She licked her dry lips, and he kicked himself for not finding her a source of fluids first. They’d been out here at least six hours now without food or water. Well, he’d get her discipline over with and then tend to their needs.

  He watched her, waiting for the moment when she realized she had no choice but to obey. It didn’t take long. She stumbled toward the log, her jaw set. Resting her hands on the bark, she gingerly leaned over.

  “Hands behind your back.” He took a loop of rope from his belt.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Why?” She paled when she saw the rope, and pushed back from the log and bolted.

  He caught her up around the waist and carried her back. “I’m going to tie your wrists behind your back and whip you.” He didn’t know if his explanation would calm her or frighten her more.

  She glanced up at his face warily. The uncertainty in her big blue eyes tore him through the gut. He didn’t want her afraid. Chastised, yes. Not terrified for her life. “Why—” she stopped, her tongue working. “Why tie my hands?”

  “So you don’t reach back and try to cover. Your hands are your instruments, Doctor. I can’t risk damaging a finger with my belt. Put your wrists behind your back.” He waited. He preferred her to assume the position voluntarily. It built trust between them, for one thing. For another, it told him she accepted his punishment and acknowledged her misdeed.