The Hand of Vengeance

by Renee Rose

  When she became aware of her heartbeat and her breath and her brain returned to her body, she found herself tucked up against Blade’s enormous body. He lay on his back, holding her curled against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his sculpted chest. She ran her fingernails across the soft, curling hairs there.

  She had truly been fucked six ways to Sunday. Her hair must be a disaster, her body was limp, and the sheets were damp with bodily fluids.

  “I’m sorry,” Blade said. His chest rumbled beneath her hand as he spoke.

  She blinked, trying to understand. “For what?”

  “Doing all those things to you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Why?” she asked, leaning up on one elbow, incredulous.

  He shrugged. “I mean, if you are.”

  She dropped her head back to his shoulder, too exhausted to keep it up. “Did I earn the right to operate?”

  He smiled a slow smile, lightly tracing her areola. “Yeah. I guess so. If you have to.”

  “I have to.”

  ~~*~~

  He spent the night with his little doctor. He thought about leaving several times—he figured she might prefer it, especially considering his dog lying outside her door announced his presence to all who passed. But his body revolted every time he tried to ease away from the soft, sleeping form of his lover.

  He stroked her hair back from her face, thinking how angelic she looked sleeping. And young. She projected a much more mature image when she was awake. In repose, she appeared so innocent. The stress usually present in her face had disappeared, leaving only a peaceful look. Or was that a well-fucked satisfaction?

  His ego would like to think so.

  It was Jeselian tradition to consummate marriage by taking a bride in every orifice. It was not tradition to ravish a woman that way while still courting, but it seemed he’d done exactly that. Not that he’d even courted her. He’d simply carried her to her room and had his way with her.

  He doubted the sweet doctor had ever had her ass taken before last night, and the fact that she’d given herself that way humbled him. He hadn’t intended to take her so roughly and in so many ways. Hell, he hadn’t intended to take her at all. But once his lips had claimed hers, all self-control crumbled. His lust for her had carried him away, and he’d forgotten everything—including how much his foot throbbed. It was the reason he’d apologized when he finally had slaked his thirst.

  Universal God, he hoped he hadn’t hurt her. He leaned up on one elbow to inspect her body for bruises in the daylight. He’d brought a washcloth to clean them both up the night before and had given a cursory check then, but the lights had been off. Not finding any marks, he dropped back to the pillow and palmed one of her breasts, flicking her nipple with his thumb.

  Her eyes flickered open.

  He held his breath. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Embarrassment? Awkwardness? The stiff formality they’d shared in the canyon?

  The corners of her mouth lifted in a sleepy smile.

  He had no idea a simple expression could fill him with such warmth. He grasped her nape and pulled her toward him, meeting her lips in a demanding kiss.

  She melted into him, soft and pliant, her lips yielding to his tongue, her thighs parting to allow his thicker leg to nudge between them.

  He kissed harder, his erection already pulsing. Cupping her ass, he pulled her hips in. The scent of her arousal filled the tiny room as she rubbed her pussy against his thigh.

  She reached for his cock, taking it in her fist with a firmness that set him on fire. Three pumps had him desperate for her. When she guided him between her legs, he practically pounced, rolling her from her side to her back and positioning himself directly over her with his cock quivering at her entrance.

  “Woman, you drive me mad,” he growled. “I need you again.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  His eyes rolled back in his head as he slid inside her. The position sucked for his foot, but his need for her outweighed any concern he had for his own comfort. He rocked his hips in rhythm with her and lifted his foot into the air, taking weight on his knee.

  Lara froze. “Your foot,” she gasped.

  He pushed into her, hard. “Come for me, Lara, and I’ll let you fix me.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I can’t come in the morning.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh yeah, says who?”

  “I’m too relaxed. I mean, it feels nice, but I won’t come.”

  “I’ll take that as a challenge.” He pushed up to his hands and knees and crawled down between her thighs. Parting her labia with two fingers, he licked a slow line along her slit, swirling around the hardened nubbin of her clit. She jerked and let out a little moan. He sucked the little bud and her thighs tensed, clapping closed around his ears.

  “Ooh...mmm.”

  He slid two fingers inside her, stroking her inner wall, searching for the elusive bundle of nerves tied in with the clit. He found the tissue that stiffened under his fingers and teased it.

  Her ass shot off the bed, back bowed. His beautiful doctor screamed around the knuckles she’d shoved between her teeth. Her heels lengthened out, her legs tight and straight as her pussy gushed, walls quivering around his fingers, tightening and releasing.

  He waited until she’d finished her glorious climax, drinking in the exquisite sight of her in the throes of ecstasy. Easing his fingers out of her, he smiled. “My work is done.”

  Chapter Seven

  Blade lay on the operating table wearing loose-fitting hospital pants, with one pant leg pushed up to his thigh to reveal his horribly misshapen foot. Lara would need to re-break many of the metatarsals and, because she had a limited amount of bone glue, she’d be using the old-fashioned method of titanium plates and screws where she could. She buckled his leg to a platform that held it at the right height for her to work.

  As if his dog knew he was about to undergo a trauma, he whined outside the closed door.

  “No,” Blade said, his voice deep with authority. “Lie down.”

  Of course, they couldn’t see the dog, but she had no doubt in her mind that the dog promptly dropped to the floor.

  She pulled on her surgical gloves. “Clean the skin of the foot, please,” she instructed Alyx. Although he’d not had any medical training, she’d put him to work immediately, and he’d learned fast out in the field. They had no antiseptic, but Alyx picked up a bottle of homemade grain alcohol which he poured onto a cotton swab. He cleaned the skin on his foot with as light a touch as possible, watching his superior’s face for any sign of discomfort. Of course, he remained stoic, as ever.

  Looking over at Dasha, she nodded. Dasha walked to Blade’s side and gazed down at him.

  His body jerked as if he’d been punched. He threw his head to the side, looking away from her. “Get the fuck away from me. You’re not getting into my head, Varu.“

  Her eyes met Dasha’s over her patient then she looked back down at him. “Blade, you said I could operate.”

  “I didn’t say I’d let her put me under.”

  Lara spread her hands. “You know I don’t have anesthesia. I don’t even have local anesthesia or any kind of pain blockers. So I can’t cut your foot open to reset your bones if you’re awake.”

  He flexed the muscles in his arms and chest, pushing himself upright. “I don’t need meds.”

  With anyone else, she might have laughed, but, with Blade, she actually believed it. She’d never seen a man walking around on a broken foot the way he had. The pain must be excruciating, and yet he’d gone on as if nothing had happened.

  She touched his thigh. “Yes, but you won’t be able to hold still. Even if you can take the pain, your foot will jerk, and your discomfort is going to distract me.”

  “I will keep my foot still.”

  “Dammit, Blade.” Tears burned her eyes. The thought of cutting someone open while he was awake nauseated her. She couldn’t do it.

  “Hey.�
�� His face softened, and he reached for her hand. “Why the tears?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “Why do you have to be so damn...unyielding?”

  He traced tiny circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. She hadn’t experienced such gentleness from him before, and it surprised her. He studied her, and she allowed her full frustration to show.

  “Leave us,” he commanded without looking away from her. As if it was his operating room, not hers.

  Her staff looked at her for approval. She sighed and nodded, and they exited the operating room, leaving her alone with her stubborn warrior.

  He tugged her closer to the table where he lay. Without releasing her hand, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her to sit beside him—an impressive move for someone fully reclined. “What is it that bothers you more, the actual surgery without hypnosis or losing this contest of wills with me?”

  Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Both,” she muttered.

  He leaned up on one elbow and kissed her upper arm, again showing tenderness she hadn’t known he was capable of. “Please don’t make me do this.” Had he actually said please? To her?

  “I was under the impression no one could make you do anything.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  He closed his eyes. “That’s why I can’t do it. I simply can’t. I need you to understand.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  He didn’t answer, but something pleading in his look unnerved her. She didn’t like seeing her big, strong hero begging. She wasn’t sure if his hang-up was more about trust or control. He seemed like the type who didn’t trust many, and that fit Alyx’s assessment that he didn’t like to be touched. But it also might be about ceding control to anyone else. After all, it was her operating room, and he was still giving orders like he ran the place. In her experience, the authoritative types were the worst patients. President Black had been an exception to that rule, but Blade was proving to be the worst she’d ever had.

  “Fine,” she snapped, her stomach twisting. “Let’s get on with it, then.” She opened the door and called Alyx, Dasha, and Janey, her nurse, back in the room.

  “We’ll do it with the patient fully alert.”

  Janey looked at him dubiously. “Shouldn’t we strap him down? Or put a piece of leather between his teeth?”

  Sheesh. Such ancient methods had not been used in five hundred years on Earth. Apparently, here on Jesel, they were still known.

  “No straps, no leather.”

  Why wasn’t she surprised at Blade’s pronouncement?

  Janey held out the tray of sterilized instruments, and Lara picked up the scalpel. She kept her fingers from trembling, but her eyes smarted with tears again as she made the first cut. True to his word, Blade did not jerk. He did not even make a sound, although she saw all his muscles tighten and heard his breath stop.

  She opened a flap of flesh and settled onto her stool to reconstruct the bones. She tapped an orthopedic chisel to re-break the first metatarsal. It had been broken in four places.

  Blade’s breath left in a whoosh and then he gulped it in and held it again.

  A wave of heat rushed through her—her own body reacted as if the surgery was happening to her. She couldn’t make it stop sympathizing with his plight. Her stomach ached. A tear streaked down her face.

  She aligned the first two fragments and applied a fast-drying bone glue, holding the bones in place until they set. She repeated the action on the next break.

  Blade made no sounds—no grunts or groans. But the intense labor of his breath unnerved her. Every time he sucked in a breath, fresh tears streaked her face. And, dammit, despite her years of practice and her particular pride in never getting rattled, her fingers began to shake. She could make a serious mistake if she didn’t pull it together.

  She sniffed and stood up, turning away from the staff to hide her loss of control. What the hell was wrong with her? Her patient was the one suffering, not her. Get a little distance, Lara. Empathy is not your friend right now.

  When she turned back, Blade’s black gaze burned a hole through her. He looked anguished. She wiped her cheek on her shoulder because her hands were covered in his blood then sat back down on her stool to work on the next break.

  She couldn’t distract herself, though. Painfully aware of every twitch or tightening Blade made, her own distress only grew until the tears streamed down her face, unchecked.

  “Damn it all,” Blade growled, glaring at her. He lifted an imperial hand and beckoned Dasha to his side. “Do it. But any funny business and I’ll yank your tongue right out of your skull, Varu. Got it?”

  Dasha gave her serene smile and touched his shoulder. “No funny business, you have my word. My friend cares about you, rebel, so I must care, too.”

  Blade didn’t have a chance to answer before his eyes slid closed and the tension left his body. He slumped back on the table, his head rolling to the side.

  Lara exhaled. Janey held a handkerchief to her face and she blew her nose. She drew several breaths, still embarrassed at her meltdown. “Well, this should be easier now,” she said to no one in particular.

  She returned to work. A calmness settled over her, and she fell into the familiar zone of stillness and concentration for surgery. Her fingers moved deftly and surely again, the way they should.

  “He only did that for you, you know,” Dasha said. “He couldn’t stand your suffering.”

  “My suffering?” She made a derisive sound, but a tingle traveled up her spine. She didn’t miss the fact that he could stand the most intense physical suffering, but in the end it was her tears he couldn’t abide. It almost made her want to weep anew. He must care about her, too. To deflect the emotion, she snorted. “Only the most insane of men wants to have his foot operated on while awake.”

  Dasha didn’t comment, and her words hung in the air, spiraling around Lara as she worked. Her rebel couldn’t be commanded, not by anyone, as far as she could tell. But he’d done something that went against his very fiber. For her.

  ~~*~~

  Blade walked through the camp, the hard cast distorting his normal gait. His foot throbbed still, but was nothing compared to before. The cast helped immensely, and he was sure when it came off, he’d be amazed at how his genius doctor had repaired his foot. She’d looked happy when he’d awakened from surgery, her normal confidence returned.

  Actually, she’d looked downright radiant. So it made giving up control for a short while worth it. And his mind didn’t seem changed, although he still didn’t trust the Varu. She could implant any thought, any direction into his mind with her powers. It was hard to believe anyone trusted even being around her. Not that she seemed malicious.

  He hadn’t seen Lara much since the surgery. He longed to touch her again, to feel the softness of her skin, see the way her eyes rolled back in pleasure when he caressed her. It was as if, now that he’d had her, rather than slaking his thirst, it only made it stronger. He found himself drawn into the building, looking for her.

  Alyx was inside, pushing a mop. He dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job.”

  Alyx snorted, probably thinking he was being facetious.

  “I mean it. Cleaning floors is important work in a medical building. But what I meant is that you’re following my orders and taking care of the doctor. I appreciate that.”

  The boy’s chest lifted. “I’m learning a lot about medicine. Maybe I can be a doctor someday.” He said it wistfully, as if he didn’t really believe it. Slaves weren’t raised to believe they could do much of anything.

  “If you want to, you will,” he said firmly. “After we win back our planet, anything will be possible.”

  The boy brightened. “Well, then, I’m going to study surgery, like Dr. Simmons.”

  He nodded in approval. “Good lad. Now, where is our favorite doctor, anyway?”

  Alyx jerked his thumb toward the sleeping quarters. “In the show
er, I think. She was covered in blood.”

  His cock hardened thinking of Lara Simmons naked and wet. He strode down the hall, well aware Alyx was watching him. Well, was it wrong to show a boy to go after what he wanted when he wanted it?

  He checked the door handle. Unbelievably, it was unlocked. Slipping inside, he stripped off his clothes. The room was steamy and warm. Lara hummed softly. He slid the shower curtain open.

  Lara stood in the spray, her head tilted back, eyes closed. Her peach-tipped breasts were lifted and separated with the graceful arch of her upper-back. His gaze traveled down her flat belly to ogle her trim little mons and, below it, the slender shapely legs. He drank in the sight of her as if it, alone, might nourish him.

  Her lids opened then flew wide.

  He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” he murmured. It would damage his ego if Alyx thought she didn’t want him in here. Of course, there was a good chance she didn’t.

  He eased his hand away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She blinked, still looking confused.

  He stepped all the way in, trusting the cast on his foot was as waterproof as she’d promised. He gave her the full view of his rather eager manhood. “May I help?”

  Her blush charmed him and, when she stepped back, as if to make room for him, he claimed the victory.

  He picked up her wrists and pinned her back against the shower wall, the spray of water catching him across the shoulders. He twirled his tongue over her nipple, licking it into a stiff point before sucking, hard then lifted his head to look at her face. Her flush wasn’t of the innocent kind this time—she had pure passion written on her face.

  “More.”

  He smiled. Bending to her neglected nipple, he nipped it with his teeth. She jerked in surprise. He laved it with his tongue, then flicked it with the tip.

  He spun her around. “Hands against the wall; stick your ass out.” His voice sounded rough and growly.