by Pearl Foxx
Enver brought a hand up to her hair and smoothed it back from her for head, running his fingers against her scalp. Soon, she was breathing calm.
"I see it. I see it, and it scares the fuck out of me. If you knew me better, you would never say these things."
"I know you. I see you. Maybe not the you that you think you are, but I see the real you."
Enver shook his head. "You don't know anything about me."
“I know everything I need to. I know you're kind. I know you put yourself in danger just to keep other people from being hurt. I know you care more about what's right than what’s easy. And I know that for some reason you won't let yourself find even the tiniest amount of joy in your life. You're punishing yourself or something. I don't know what it is you think means you don’t deserve to be happy, but I don't care. It doesn't matter, because no single thing can change what I do know."
She leaned up and took his face in her hands for a moment before pressing her lips against his.
Enver remained still. He shouldn’t encourage this. He shouldn’t let himself indulge in weakness again, but her soft touch melted his resolve. He opened his mouth and took her lip between his, sucking on it and reveling in the taste of her.
He gripped the back of her head and pulled her tighter against him. When Imogen straddled his waist, settling her weight on his lap so his hardening length pushed up against her core, Enver moaned.
Soon her hands roamed over his body, running across the muscles of his chest and exploring the planes of his back. His muscles bunched, tightening with the electricity that passed through her touch. His body hummed with passion, and their kiss heated until he lifted her by the hips, rolling her over and pushing her back on his bed, so he could position himself between her legs.
Imogen’s skirts rose. Enver ran his hand up her leg, under the fabric, so he could grip her soft thighs.
She lifted up against him, pressing her need against his aching cock. “Yes,” she hissed, undulating beneath him.
He dipped down to her neck, kissing and chewing on the sensitive area just above her collar bone. Her skin tasted salty and warm. He pushed the hem of her shirt up, so he could reach her breast with his hand. Supple and soft, he gripped her hard, pulling a moan from her lips, as she threw her head back and arced up into his touch.
Enver’s patience cracked, and he shoved up her shirt, whisking it off over her head before lowering his lips to her hard pink nipples. He sucked deep, pulling them into his mouth so he could taste as much of her as possible. He trembled, his body between her legs with nothing but his pants and her hiked up skirt between them.
He moved to the other breast, flicking his tongue across her nipple until it was hard as rock before pulling it between his lips and giving it a gentle nip.
Imogen gripped his hair, pulling his face closer, and lifted her hips up against him, grinding her core against his chest.
He kneeled, admiring the deliciously wanton woman beneath him. He couldn’t imagine her living in a place like the compound, where her desires and fire were squashed. He only thanked the stars that they hadn’t been able to stamp it out completely. After pulling her skirt down her legs, leaving a trail of kisses along her thighs as he went, he kissed first the bottom of one foot, and then the other.
“Stop it,” Imogen squealed, jerking her feet away.
She laughed, and the smile shining from her eyes was so bright and clear it took Enver’s breath away. The ache in his chest he carried around vanished. She offered him something he’d never had before. Happiness.
He flicked open the button on his pants and shoved them down and off his feet.
The bed shifted as he crawled onto it, slowly lowering his nose to the back of Imogen’s knee and inhaling deeply.
She shivered and made to move away, but Enver placed a strong metal hand on her hip, holding her in place with a tight grip. He moved his way up, smelling every delectable inch of her inner thigh. When he reached her core, he found her wet, her legs shaking.
One kiss against her lower lips sent convulsions up her body until she placed the heels of her hands against her eyes with a loud exhale.
He peppered kisses up her stomach, under her breasts, over her nipples, along the center of her chest until he was positioned above her. With his knees, he opened her legs and she wrapped them around his hips, lifting her need up to meet his aching cock.
He rocked forward, sinking himself into her in one strong thrust. Her heat encompassed him, sending tremors up his spine. Fuck she felt good. The warmth of her pussy held him tight, pulling him deeper and deeper until he pushed up against her deepest point, making them both cry out at the perfection of the union.
He pulled back, trying to take it slow, to show her with his body how precious she was, but the fire blazing under his skin would not be calmed. He ached with want, so when her nails dragged along his back, she looked at him with mirrored fire, and begged please, he couldn’t hold back. His hips thrust into her so deep her bones pressed against him, and she reached up to hold herself secure against the wall.
Again and again he slammed forward to meet her rising hips.
She clawed at him, gasping for breath between desperate cries for more. He kissed her, stifling her moans and pinning her to the bed as he drove them both to new highs. His body buzzed, and his skin threatened to burst open as he rushed toward their mutual release.
With a scream, Imogen clenched down on his cock with strong pulsing muscles that stole the last of his restraint. He moved inside her slowly, as the last aftershocks of his orgasm flashed through him.
Chapter 17
Imogen
Early evening approached without Imogen's approval. She sat up in Enver's bed and stretched, feeling the burn of well used muscles. She gazed down at the sleeping man beside her and couldn't resist running a hand down his smooth chest.
She was lucky. Lucky to have been banished from her home.
What a strange thought to have. She never would have imagined thinking such a thing, let alone believe it so completely. But it was true, if she had gotten everything she’d said she wanted—living in the compound as Hiram's wife—she would've never had the opportunity to experience this moment.
She relished her time with Enver, but more than that she had come to understand who she really was. Still a pang of sadness churned in her gut whenever she thought of her past. The baby she would not have and the life that would not get to live still haunted her. The things taken from her could never be restored, but a new life here in the deadlands full of creativity and promise—and a man like Enver—soothed her pain.
As she watched him sleep, Enver's eyes fluttered open and his face beamed up at her. Despite the scars on his chest and the unruly hair, he appeared so young and free in that moment. She kissed him sweetly, placing a hand on his face and running her thumb along his prominent cheekbone.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said kissing him again.
"Good morning, or is it night? I lost track." He sat up with a groan and fell back on one of his arms. "I think I must have cracked one of my ribs." He said.
"I probably didn't help that much, did I?"
"Oh, you helped. You helped more than you know." His eyes began to shutter as the darkness passed over his face.
"Don't do that," Imogen said.
Enver stared at her with a sorrow so deep she recognized it instantly. It was loss, the loss of who he thought he was and something he could never get back.
"You can tell me."
Enver looked away his posture slumping. "If I did you wouldn't stay another minute with me, let alone another night, and right now, more than anything, I just want you to stay with me."
"I thought we’d been over this," she teased and stood up stretching her arms above her head. It felt good to stand naked, free, and unrestrained. She crossed his small room and opened his drawers like they belong to her. After pulling out a pair of pants and shirt, she slipped them on.
"
That's disappointing," Enver quirked a smile.
"Someone has to check on the patients, and I'm going to get a wrap for your ribs. Don't worry. I'll be right back."
Enver struggled again to sit up further. “I should do rounds.”
"Oh no, lie back down, for once let someone else take care of you," she scolded.
He chuckled, then lay down in defeat and closed his eyes again.
Imogen snuck out of the room quietly and walked down the now familiar hall. At the entrance to her room, she stopped for a moment. The old habit of needing to pull on her skirts and modest shirt tugged at her mind, but she pushed them away.
That was compound thinking and not who she was anymore. If she was going to embrace this new life, she would have to embrace this new version of herself.
Downstairs, in the Ward, she checked all of the patient logs, administered medication as needed, and finally slipped into the kitchen to find Amanda already there whisking powdered eggs with water.
"Oh, thank you. I was just about to do that.”
Amanda turned with a smile, and her eyes widened as she took in Imogen's appearance.
“Trying out a fashion change? You look good."
"Oh," Imogen stuttered running her hands down her thighs. "It's comfortable I guess."
Amanda laughed, as Imogen blushed. "That looks good on you too. I take it Enver's all right?"
Imogen's blush deepened, and she nodded. "If you have things in hand here, I'm gonna…"
"Go, don't worry about us. Everything here is fine, no emergencies. Mason will be back soon to take me to someplace he knows up in Sky City. Will you tell Enver thank you for me if I don't get a chance to say anything myself?"
"Of course." Imogen hesitated and then reached for the young woman pulling her into a hug. “I'm so glad things are working out for you."
Amanda squeezed her back. "You too. You both deserve it."
Imogen released her hold on the young woman and hurried to grab an Ace bandage before returning to Enver.
Upstairs, she found him sitting up in bed with a book in his hands. When she closed the door, he set the book on his lap and patted the space next to him, a grim expression on his face.
She hadn't seen this expression since her mother set her down to tell her she was being taken to be a breeder. It had been the last time her mother ever spoke to her.
A sense of dread spread through Imogen's chest. Would this be the last time she spoke to Enver? She wanted to clutch her shirt at the thought. Anxiety wormed its way in between her ribs wrapping around her heart and squeezing until she could barely breathe, but she fixed a smile on her face and held up the Ace bandage.
"No time for your shenanigans right now," she said. "Sit up so I can wrap your injury."
Enver scooted to the edge of the bed without a word, his legs dangling over the side and a strip of sheet covering his lap. His frame was a form of camouflage. Dressed, one would never guess the stack of muscles running down his chest or the chords of his legs.
She studied him, soaking him in, praying to the earth that this wouldn't be the last chance she had to touch him.
She approached without a word and avoided his eyes. Whatever was on his mind weighed heavy between them, a great cloud of doom threatening to smother them.
Imogen climbed up on the bed and kneeled behind him. She placed her hands on his back, and a shiver ran down his spine pulling his flesh up into bumps.
She unrolled the wrap tightly around his chest. His skin was smooth and soft, a surprise considering how gruff of a man he could be. She reached her arms around his middle, pulling the bandage tight enough to feel the resistance from his bones. As she wound the fabric around him, she stretched it tight to make sure it was secure enough for him to heal quickly, his bones held in the proper position.
Enver leaned back against her body she wrapped her arms around his torso. Her head her chin nestled against his shoulder. “You have to tell me whatever’s laying on you so heavily,” she said.
His body stiffened as he pulled slightly away.
She tightened her hold on him placing a gentle kiss against his neck. “It’s weighing on you. Anyone could see that. Don’t ask me not to care about that.”
Enver relaxed ever so subtly, only enough that someone as in tune with his body as Imogen would recognize.
“There are some things that just don’t have words. The things I’ve done, had to do.” He dropped his head and the seconds ticked by.
Imogen held him, rocking slightly, hoping he could feel the reassurance and acceptance she poured into him. He had accepted her and never judged her for her past. She wanted to do the same.
He reached up and wrapped his hand around hers, giving it a squeeze. His chest rose and fell with heaviness in the quiet room, but she held on.
“In the Gaul desert, I was a part of the first cyborg only strategic unit.” His voice was low, distant. “I was trained for combat but most of my experience was as a medic, so it made sense to have me on the team. The terrain was rough and all attempts at air strikes or missiles had been shot down or taken out by atmospheric EMPs. By staying on the ground and being custom fit with cybernetics to resist their tech we were told it was manifest destiny. The cyborgs would end the war.”
We were together for thirteen days. Thirteen days in the blistering sun, ruins of abandoned cities, and disappearing rations. After the first week, I think we all understood we’d been sent on a suicide mission. That the goal wasn’t for us to go in, disarm the enemy camp at the border of the contested lands, and come home. The goal was for us to die out there with the enemy. The army didn’t care as long as we got the job done.”
Imogen squeezed him for a moment as he paused. She could picture him out there, hot and desperate. The inevitableness of his death wove through his voice as he spoke and she longed to take the pain of it away.
“When we ran out of food, we hunted. Soon, it wasn’t so much about even getting to the objective as much as staying alive. The first cyborg unit wasn’t something that would be lauded like they’d told us. We were disposable, replaceable, just parts in a larger machine. When our first man died, we radioed so his body could be retrieved. We were told to take whatever cybernetics we could find use for and leave him. We were ordered to scavenge our own. And we did. We took his eyes and I retrofit them for someone else so we’d have someone on the team with night vision, and we took anything else we needed. We didn’t even bury him.”
He dropped his hand and fingered his dog tags, the light blue of his connection coming on line in the dim room.
“We were supposed to be an elite unit for the American Corp. These were my brothers. And when they fell we ripped them apart for spare parts. By the time we reached the camp, we were barely functioning, all of us starving and dehydrated. But we made it. I told myself what we’d done was worth it because of the mission. And then the fighting started.”
His shoulders shook but Imogen stayed quiet, giving him all the time and space he needed to get the words out. She didn’t hear anything that would warrant the self-blame he carried around. If anything, she was surprised he didn’t sound angrier about what they had been put through.
“We were no match for them. The European Consolidated Force had six times as many men stationed at the camp than we’d been told. Half our team was down before we even got into camp. I tried to keep them alive, but one by one, if the injury didn’t kill them, the damage to their cybernetics created a feedback loop of pain I couldn’t control. There wasn’t anything I could do. I was up to my ass in blood and I couldn’t make it better.
“When our ordinance specialist set off the IED’s he’d created from the dead’s cybernetics, everything seemed to happen at once. My men were screaming. So I took out my weapon and I shot each one of them in the head. I killed my team because I couldn’t fix them.”
“Enver…” Imogen exhaled pulling him against her chest and kissing his shoulder. “You ended their pain.”
“I was sent there to keep them alive. By the end, we’d destroyed the camp, but everyone on my team was either injured beyond what I could heal even as a trauma medic or had malfunctioned so severely there was no way to disconnect their neural connection. I tried detaching arms, legs, even part of a spine, but everything I did just made it worse. In the end the entire unit was dead either by the enemy or my hands.
“When I came home, they pinned a medal on me, gave me a month’s severance and dropped me off in Cyn City. No official report was ever filed as far as I know and no one collected our dead. They’re probably still out there, buried under the spreading sand of the desert.”
Imogen’s chest burnt with empathy for all he had faced and tears built up in her eyes. Her arms pressed against the heat of his skin, words unable to come to her lips. Her thoughts soared, what could she possibly say to make his pain go away?
“I can still see their faces.” The muscles in his body tightened, “Faces twisted in sickening ways, shrieking pleas. Some begged for release, but there were those who wanted to live, wanted to keep fighting… I shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t say that.” She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I can’t imagine what my life would be if you hadn’t been here, hadn’t taken me in.”
He took in a unsteady inhale, holding it before letting it go.
“Why didn’t tell anyone what happened? Make them answer for what they did to you?” It came out a whisper, a bitter after thought.
He stared down at his own hands, the metal a sharp reminder of the sins they had committed. Closing them tight, he scowled. “What good would it do? I was a cyborg fresh from war, left derelict here in Cyn City. I was good as dead to those fucking assholes. I’m no politician. Hell, even now I can barely talk about it without…” His voice caught in his throat.
Imogen let go, sliding around him. Her hand cupped either side of Enver’s jaw. She searched the pain-filled pools before her, curious how deep the wounds of his heart had cut into his soul.
