The Hand of Vengeance

by Renee Rose

  She stepped behind him to shield herself from the dog.

  The corner of Blade’s mouth had kicked up. “Wild animals aren’t your thing, are they, Doctor?”

  She blew out a breath. “We don’t have many of them left on Earth.”

  The dog finished eating and wagged his tail again. Blade pointed out the door. “Go on,” he said. “Out.”

  The dog lowered his head and slinked toward the door, looking back a few times.

  “You can shut the hatch, if you want. He won’t go far.”

  “Are we keeping him?” She wasn’t sure what she thought of that plan.

  “Yes.” Blade spoke from under the dash again, where he’d returned to his work. He’d removed his shirt before resuming his position, giving her full view of his washboard abdominals and the chiseled chest muscles above them.

  There was something so sexy about a man who fixed things. Well, also about a man who fought off wild animals. And protected foolish women from enemy attack. And started fires by rubbing twigs. Yes, Blade oozed masculine prowess of the most basic kind.

  Earth men no longer knew how to do any of the things he’d done. Spending all their time indoors, they sat and worked with robotics and machines. Smaller, and pastier, and wimpy, they wouldn’t last two hours in a Jeselian canyon. Maybe that’s why she’d never had an interest in dating. No man could ever pull her focus away from her work.

  But this man...he affected her on some deep, primal level. Her rational brain played little part in the attraction. It was more like her body had been wired to respond to an alpha male, and now that she’d finally met one, every cell was waking up, sending messages of arousal and submission zinging along her neural pathways. Her body responded with heat, moisture, and weakness. Surrender. Pliancy. If the Neanderthal under the dash ordered her to her knees to suck his cock at that moment, she had no doubt she’d do it. And damn if that idea didn’t wind her crank even tighter.

  She paced the length of the control deck, trying to clear her scrambled thoughts.

  Blade hoisted himself out from under the dash and hit several buttons on it. The screens lit up. “Get the dog,” he said without turning.

  “Me?”

  He ignored her and crossed the room, opening the hatch. “Come, boy.”

  The canine trotted in, lowering his head and allowing Blade to scratch his ears.

  She took a step forward, and the dog growled.

  Blade cuffed it lightly. “I said no. She’s with me. You will protect her with your life.” He put his palm under the dog’s snout to lift it while he gestured in her direction. “Protect. Her.”

  The dog had lowered its head again.

  “Doctor, come here, please.”

  She drew in a shaky breath and stepped to his side.

  “Hold out your hand, palm down.”

  She did as he instructed, and the dog sniffed her.

  “Protect her.”

  The dog actually licked her fingers. The same damn dog that had wanted to eat her when it showed up less than an hour before.

  Blade touched her back. “Okay?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking to the dog or her.

  “I won’t let him hurt you. Stick close to me, and it will be fine.”

  There was a theme to their time together. She nodded her agreement.

  “Okay. Buckle up. I’m going to try to get this thing off the ground.”

  As it turned out, there was no trying necessary. The hovercraft lifted into the air, wobbled, and soared into the air.

  Blade’s fingers moved on the dash, punching in coordinates, adjusting altitude and speed. Was there nothing the man couldn’t do well?

  The canine whined when their world tipped and swooped, but it seemed to trust Blade. She had no choice but to do the same.

  They’d flown for forty-five minutes when the comms unit lit up.

  “Ship number 80953, identify yourself.”

  “The hand of vengeance strikes.”

  “And justice will be served.” The voice over the comms unit held a note of glee, as if Blade’s transmission came as a victory.

  “I have the package in hand. Rendezvous at Bravo Six. Repeat, Rendezvous at Bravo Six.”

  “Copy that, Vengeance. Welcome back.”

  For some ridiculous reason, the dispatcher’s familiarity with Blade sent a spike of jealousy ripping through her gut. Not because the voice was female, but because they seemed to share a camraderie, which she hadn’t even thought Blade capable of. Or maybe it was the realization that once she, aka “the package,” was delivered, he’d be through with her. Because bringing her in had been nothing more than a job to him, and he’d succeeded at it, like he succeeded at everything.

  She watched as he landed the craft in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. She peered out the windows. “Where are we?”

  “Just a rendezvous point. This craft doesn’t have cloaking abilities, so we’ll need to get into headquarters on one that does.” He flicked a button, and the hatch slid open. The dog bolted outside, sniffing and marking his territory.

  A knot of worry tightened in her gut. She resisted the urge to twist her fingers together. “So...what happens now?”

  His gaze held sympathy, which she hated. Did she sound that scared? “No one will hurt you. I told you already, you’re needed for a surgery. When it’s done, you’ll be free to go. You have my word.”

  She ought to be relieved by his statement, but, stupidly, all she felt was loss. She’d be parting ways with this man, and every cell in her body screamed it was wrong. They had unfinished business. Of the mating kind. Well, that was stupid. Just because her hormones had finally kicked in at the ripe old age of thirty-two, didn’t mean she needed to act on them. It wouldn’t be wise, for sure.

  An electrostatic energy filled the craft, and she heard the faint hum of a cloaked ship arriving. The air shimmered in front of them then the outline of a small Nudercraft appeared.

  “Let’s go.” Blade stood and unbuckled her harness. He took her hand in his and led her out.

  A young man and a boy not more than fourteen years old walked toward them.

  “Vengeance,” the young rebel soldier exclaimed. A wide grin split his face. The boy looked even more enthusiastic, hero worship shining in his gaze.

  Blade gave them each a man-hug, clapping them on the back. He whistled to the canine, who trotted over as if he’d always been Blade’s trusted pet.

  “I knew you’d make it,” the boy said.

  “Did anyone else return?”

  The young man sobered and shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Blade closed his eyes for a moment and looked grim. “I didn’t think so.”

  The young man’s gaze shifted to her. “But you brought the package.”

  “Leeman, Alyx, this is Doctor Lara Simmons. She’s been through a lot, so take good care of her.”

  She’d been walking alongside the men, but she stopped in her tracks at his words. “Where are you going?”

  “You’ll be all right. You have my word.”

  It was foolish, but her nose burned and she had to suck in a deep breath to push back the wedge of emotion that threatened to release.

  “Tell Bailey I’ll report for debriefing by nightfall.” He’d already dismissed her and spoke now to his young soldier.

  Her throat closed.

  He turned to the boy. “Alyx, I want you to be the doctor’s shadow. Protect her. Serve her. Make sure she has everything she needs. If she says jump, what do you say?”

  “How high, sir,” Alyx exclaimed.

  “That’s right.”

  Blade looked at her. For the first time, she saw discomfort on his face. He hesitated then offered her his hand. “Doctor.”

  It was childish, but she lifted her nose in the air and ignored the proffered palm, stalking away to the Nudercraft. She sensed Blade’s eyes on her back but didn’t turn, simply climbed in the open hatch and took a seat, buckling herself in.
When she finally had the courage to look over, all she saw was Blade’s back as he and the dog walked back to the hovercraft and stepped inside. Their eyes met through the windshield, but she couldn’t read anything in his expression—not hurt or anger or irritation. Why would he care, anyway? Just because she sat there trembling like a leaf didn’t mean he felt anything at all about their parting.

  She said nothing on the short flight into headquarters. When they arrived, she forgot everything because a young woman met them at the hatch, breathless. “Dr. Simmons, a transport ship just arrived with three hundred wounded. Can you help?”

  She surged to her feet, the familiar zing of adrenaline already pumping through her veins. “Take me to them.”

  Chapter Four

  Blade walked through the rows of bloodied and injured Jeselians illuminated by the light of torch flame. There had been a time when each senseless act of violence on the part of Treedle’s army, every innocent’s death, every needless bombing like the one that caused all these injuries fueled his inner rage. He’d used it to stoke the indomitable fire that had made him a legend and leader among the rebels.

  But, now, with the possibility of a new, peaceful Jesel so close, with the final battle of the revolution planned, he no longer wanted to be that man. Or was it something about being around the civilized little doctor that had changed him?

  He’d been trying to forget her for the past thirty hours, since they’d parted without so much as a handshake. She hated him for what he’d done. He didn’t regret it—he’d disciplined her in order to keep her safe. He’d known it wasn’t done on Earth and that physical punishment would shock her, and he’d done it anyway. Even so, her rebuff had wounded him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He’d barricaded his heart years ago, when he watched his sister, Tarin, die at their slave-master’s hand. He’d shut off all emotions but rage, denied all urges but the quest for justice and retribution.

  Now, all he could seem to think about was Lara Simmons, the one doctor capable of restoring the health of Sheel Black, lynchpin to the revolution. Except he wasn’t musing on her talent with the scalpel, which was said to be excellent. No, he was thinking about the intelligence behind her cornflower blue eyes, her steadfast courage and pluck despite being so very far out of her comfort zone, and, dammit, yes, the way her body felt pressed against his own. The way her pussy had plumped and opened like an exotic flower to his touch, her bewilderment at what had transpired between them. Somehow, his time with her had left him tangled up in her threads. Every thought led him back to her.

  She was the reason he was winding through the canvas medic tents instead of asleep in his own. He had to know how she fared—to make sure her needs had been met, although he knew for certain Bailey would have already done so, if Alyx had failed. He dropped a hand to Dog, who trotted by his side, ever faithful.

  He heard her quiet voice before he saw her. She was giving orders to Alyx, who she had playing nurse, in the same capable and efficient way she’d handled the surgery they’d barged in on. A natural leader, her confidence and intelligence shone through.

  Bailey stood beside her. “Dr. Simmons, we are infinitely grateful for your service to the wounded, but I must insist you get some rest. You’ve been working for two Jeselian days without sleep.”

  “I cannot sleep when there are still critical wounds that have to be tended. I’ve lost too many lives already—and many of them could have been saved.” Her voice held a note of desperation. If she hadn’t slept the night before, she must be keyed up and half-sick with exhaustion.

  “You are no good to them if you cannot see or think straight. We need you at your best, Doctor, for a critical patient.”

  Lara rounded on Bailey, and Blade saw fire flash in her eyes. “Commander Bailey, I appreciate that you have some secret plan to use my skills, but I am a doctor. I do not discriminate when saving lives, except by prioritizing those in most critical need. And, right now, there are still at least thirty-five trauma patients whose lives are dangling by a thread, so if you’ll excuse me...”

  He’d heard enough. Lara would keep working until she dropped dead on the dirt floor, if he didn’t stop her. He swooped in and tossed her light frame over his shoulder. “I’ll see that the good doctor makes it to her bed, Commander.”

  “What the—?” Lara pounded her little fists on his back and kicked her legs. “Let me down, you big oaf!”

  Dog trotted behind.

  “Stop licking my face, you mongrel!”

  He chuckled that his new pet understood his feelings for the doctor, despite the fact she fought him.

  He ignored her antics, striding inside the main building, where he guessed they’d given her one of the few, coveted indoor bedrooms. He swung open the door and carried her inside then dropped her to her feet.

  “Out.” He looked at Dog and pointed at the door. Dog gave him a forlorn look, but dutifully trotted out. “Stay.” He snapped and pointed to the floor outside the door. Dog lay down. “Good boy.” He went back in and shut the door behind them.

  Lara stood glaring with her hands on her hips, her face flushed an enchanting shade of pink.

  His cock twitched. He loved her feisty. “Now, are you going to go to bed quietly, or do you need me to help you?”

  He didn’t expect acquiescence of any kind from her. She’d been running on adrenaline for almost two planet rotations, which he knew from personal experience made it impossible to settle down, much less sleep.

  Her lip curled as she regarded him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Even so, a blush crept up her neck. She opened her mouth then closed it again. He suspected she wanted to ask how he intended to help her, but had thought better of it.

  She moved for the door, but he stepped to block her path.

  “You have until the count of three to get yourself in that bed. One...two...three.”

  Lara hadn’t moved. She gaped at him.

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he reached for her waist and lifted her into the air. “I kind of figured things would go this way.”

  “Wait.” She kicked her legs and gripped his wrists. “Put me down.”

  He plopped down on the cot and angled her over his knees with her torso resting on the narrow bed. Someone must have provided her with a change of clothes because the leggings were different, and, when he peeled them down, the scrap of fabric she’d worn as panties had been replaced with a lacey purple pair.

  He smiled at the sight and pulled them down, as well, caging Lara’s flailing hand when she reached back to catch them. He clapped his palm down on one cheek hard then rubbed away the sting. He repeated the action on the other side. “This isn’t punishment, Doctor. It’s tension release. You’re too wound up to sleep.” He smacked her again.

  “Damn straight I’m too—”

  He picked up both the speed and intensity of the slaps, which made her gasp and choke on her words.

  “The sooner you relax into this, the sooner it will be over.”

  “You can’t march into my clinic, throw me over your shoulder and—ow! God, that hurts! Stop it!”

  She twisted to the side enough to reach back with her other hand to cover herself. He grabbed it and pinned it to her other wrist against her lower back.

  “Naughty, naughty, Doctor. You are hardly cooperating.” He kept up with the spanking, slapping one side then the other, aiming for the lower half of her cheeks. He was enjoying himself—too much, he knew, but he could hardly help it. He loved taming her, it seemed.

  With her panties down, he had full view of her little pussy. Dew glistened at her entrance, begging his touch.

  His cock went rock hard, his heart beating erratically. The fact that Dr. Lara Simmons grew aroused by his spankings did something to him. As if she was the greatest conquest of all—of a battle he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to fight. She represented something so unattainable, so far removed from his existence, and yet she responded to him this way. He stopped spanking an
d ran his palm over her beautiful buttocks.

  She opened her thighs.

  He stopped breathing. “Is that an invitation, Doctor?”

  She went still. They both remained motionless, tension crackling in the small room. She didn’t answer.

  ~~*~~

  Blade released her wrists and wound his fingers into her hair, gripping the roots to pull her head up. It didn’t hurt but had the effect of proving his easy dominance over her. “I asked you a question.” His voice was low and gravelly, but not flinty hard. No, it carried a deep, rich warmth that entered through her ears and slithered all the way down to her curling toes.

  “Yes.” It came out as no more than a whisper, but Blade heard it. His fingers slid between her thighs, rubbing up her slit. God, she’d never been so wet. Never in her entire life. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he stroked, the stinging of the slaps he’d landed seeming to increase with the pleasure.

  He shifted and angled one hand underneath her, the pad of his finger directly over the swollen button of her clitoris.

  She wriggled against it, wanting more, but his other palm slapped down on her ass, sending sparks of pain mingling with the pleasure. She let out a little cry. He spanked her slowly while he worked her over with his other hand. She bucked and moaned, need and desire winding up like a tight coil. She lifted her ass to meet his hand, wanting more of the spanking—the solid slaps somehow grounding her, prolonging her time to orgasm, even as they drove her closer to it.

  “Oh, God,” she gasped.

  She wrangled her hand under her hips and covered his fingers with her own, urging him to bring her to completion.

  He chuckled but spanked harder, catching her on the back of her thigh.

  She arched like a plank, her bottom squeezing together.

  He removed his fingers from her pussy and pushed hers against her mons. One of her fingers slid in, guided by her natural lubricant. Holy hell, in her entire thirty-two years, she’d never finger-fucked herself. Sure, she’d rubbed her clit, but this was so...dirty… Her mind scrambled.