Authors: Stephanie Snow
Chapter Thirteen
"Yes, you understood me correctly, General." Seated at his private desk off the control deck, Melmanon spoke into the comm screen with firm tones. "I will not be accepting any future assignments."
The yellow skin of General Was's face sagged in shock, then waggled as he spoke swiftly. "But, Commander Melmanon, this is so unexpected! This campaign has been so successful! You're a young man. Why would you retire now?"
The perplexed question almost made Melmanon smile. Indeed, most warriors had to be forced to resign a post as a commander, considering the incredible honor and privilege it entailed. "My reasons are simple, General. I am bored. There are no wars left worth fighting."
Anxious wrinkles creased the General's forehead, "Well, of course, I see your point. However, your…ah…special circumstances are, shall we say, difficult to negotiate."
Melmanon knew what he meant right away. Retiring commanders were afforded any concession available. Commanders and generals were the two highest ranks of the war tribe. When they retired of their own free will, it allowed those younger and stronger to take their place. As a custom, they were given a living, usually on any planet they chose. Retired commanders oversaw the conquered planets, ruling small independent military forces that kept the planets in line.
That would be no problem; they had already discussed his taking the position of emissary to this planet, since it was his final battlefield. But more complicated was the matter of a bride.
Until they left active duty, which began at fifteen and ended in death, warriors were restrained from bonding or reproducing. As a retiring commander, it was his right to have a bride or career wife. But he was one of the last of his kind.
"General, I know that there are few of my kind left. Any woman tied to me through a bond would never bear a child, and would never be a credit to the tribe." The General nodded cautiously at his words. "That is why I request no bride be procured. It would be unfair to deprive the war tribe of any offspring she may be able to produce."
General Was appeared clearly pleased by his words. "Oh, Melmanon, you are truly the greatest commander of your time. How perfectly you understand my dilemma. Is there anything, anything at all, that will ease the disappointment of this loss?"
Melmanon repressed a growl of satisfaction. "Yes, actually, I have something in mind that will ease it quite a bit…
"
* * * * *
Word of his resignation spread quickly. Melmanon called his officers together for a formal announcement. Theron, as usual, talked the most.
"Do you know who they have in mind to take your place?" The second-incommand quivered with excitement. The general consensus was he didn't know how unlikely it was he would be promoted.
"No, Theron. I am not aware if they have selected anyone. They will have one month to decide, then you will know." He acknowledged the communication officer. "Yes, Drand?"
"Where will you be going?"
"I will be taking my post on this planet. As my final battle, it is a fitting choice." Several murmurs of agreement rippled the room.
"When will your bride arrive?"
Melmanon let his eyes blaze as he met the gaze of Theron, the idiot. The hush that washed over the other officers told him they also knew how inappropriate the question had been. "Thank you, Theron, for bringing up an important point. The tribe will not send anyone because there are so few of my kind left. It would be unjust to ask that a fertile woman be wasted on my bond." Though shocked faces met his, he also saw several nodding heads, agreeing with the wisdom of his words.
"And so, I have asked and been granted permission to bond with Charity." Puzzled expressions raced across the faces of his officers as they turned to one another.
"Charity" -- he paused for effect -- "is my torture slave."
After a moment of total and complete silence, Theron broke the tension. "Melmanon, I'm speechless."
* * * * *
Satisfied all the questions had been answered, including several less than tactful inquiries about his rumored sexual perversions, Melmanon slipped into his room. The hour was late, and Charity lay asleep across the bed. It had been almost six hours since he'd left her. Though he knew he needed to talk to her, tell her about the change in his feelings, he couldn't resist doing something he had dreamed about.
Cupping her warm, flushed cheek in his palm, he said softly, "Kiss me, Charity," leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers for the first time, capturing the gasp that parted her lips. He took advantage of her open mouth to taste her, careful not to
nip her with his sharp teeth.
She remained passive, accepting his caress, but after a moment, her small pink tongue touched his, tentatively and quickly.
Lust surged into his bloodstream as the proof of her passion. He had feared her desire would disappear in the face of his brutality. His other hand pulled her against him while he continued to lick and rub his lips against hers. A low growl built in his chest as she responded with gradually bolder parries of her tongue. When she sucked his lower lip and nipped it gently with her teeth, he groaned deep and pulled away slowly.
He drank in the sight of her face flushed softly with desire and her mouth gleaming wetly. He stripped his clothes away, pressed her back on the bed, and removed everything but her soft-soled shoes and cape. Settled between her thighs, he used the skills he had learned over the past weeks to bring her to the edge of orgasm with his tongue and lips.
When she gasped and shivered from the need for climax, he loomed over her and lowered his head to her breasts, lapping gently at her nipples. Both hardened to red berries. He sucked gently, bringing soft sighs and hums of pleasure from her throat.
While she enjoyed his attention to her breasts, he slid one finger deep into her pussy and began thrusting slowly. Beneath him, she writhed and arched, pushing her nipple harder into his mouth and grinding her hips against his palm. Mere minutes under the lash of his tongue and the rhythm of his hand had
her climaxing, her head thrown
back, her hands clenched in his hair.
Loath to leave her, he continued to stroke gently with both hand and mouth as she drifted down from her physical high. Finally, he relinquished his hold on her and lay on his back at her side. He pulled her into the curve of his arm then drew the cloak up to cover her nakedness. Determined to abstain from seeking his own pleasure, Melmanon sighed deeply.
While he tried to ignore the painfully hard erection that rose from his body in crimson glory, he was startled to feel her hand cup the head of his shaft. Speech became impossible as she took a place between his spread legs and lowered her mouth to his cock.
As the wet cavern of her lips met his tip, she looked up the length of his body and met his gaze. At the sight of her -- mouth spread wide over his shaft, her eyes clear and green --Melmanon's orgasm began. The furious sucking on his cock only made it more intense as he roared his satisfaction.
When the last spasms shook his body, she continued to milk him with hand and mouth, drawing out the moment into minutes of extended pleasure. By the time he sat up and pushed her away, he was completely drained.
Without a word, he pulled her back to his side and tucked her close under his arm. The weight of her hand on his abdomen and her breath fanning his side soothed him. Within moments, he slept.
Curled close and tight to his side, Charity could not sleep. She waited for the deep, even breathing signaling his total descent into slumber. To make her mind carefully blank was an exercise of will, and as soon as she was certain he wasn't aware, she sank back into her own thoughts.
Her own behavior was a mystery. When he'd come back, she'd been resolute in her determination not to respond to anything he might do. Charity thought she'd been prepared, whether he hurt or pleasured her. But he'd unwittingly disarmed her with his kiss. Never before had there been such a tender communion between them.
She'd heard about the power of a kiss, but this was the first time it had happened to her. It should have been the happiest moment of her life, to discover the one person in the world who touched her heart. In Melmanon's arms tonight, part of her had become his forever.
Where her face pressed to his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart and realized something else. Despite his hold on her, both physically and emotionally, she wouldn't change her course. Escape or die trying. This unexpected connection between them couldn't change anything.
In her mind's eye, she forced the memories of her life to surface. Her family, the camping trips and birthday parties, her sister and the niece who would never be born. Because they came. Melmanon and his army.
Images of the mutilated corpses of her people burned her mind like acid, but she willed them into focus. They were real; they had lived and died, and deserved better than betrayal from her.
With the heavy thought of her uncertain future crowding her, Charity drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man who held her body, owned her life, and to whom -- quite unexpectedly -- she'd given her heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Days passed quickly as Melmanon readied the ship for its next commander. Because he was to take a post on the same planet, arrangements had been made for all of his belongings to be transported here. Not much, really, considering the length of his life. Trinkets and tokens from long-ago battles, and a few from his childhood.
Now, only two days before the new commander arrived, he received the official document for the bond ceremony. It was to be performed the same night as the ceremony to transfer his title of commander. That night, they would also leave the ship for the home he had ordered prepared for them in the city. All was in order.
Except, despite the approaching deadline for his successor to arrive, Melmanon continued to put off talking to Charity. In fact, since he had beaten her, scarcely ten words had been spoken between them. He had been in such a rush to give her freedom from slavery, to make her his wife. When he tried to plan what to say, he realized this bonding, too, was no choice for her.
At the desk that would be his for only a few days more, he wondered when he had lost his hard edge. The routine exercises with his crew were as bloody and merciless as always. It was only his relationship with Charity that was affected. He'd begun to accept he must be in love with her to worry so about her feelings and her reaction to his proposal.
They needed to talk. It wasn't what she would say that worried him. He knew her thoughts, feelings, and emotions. If he discovered she didn't care for him, that she didn't want him -- regardless of what she said-- he didn't know what he would do. He'd like to think his harsh treatment of her would never happen again, but he knew his own rage too well. There was a chance it could resurge if provoked.
Based on her behavior of late, he tried to analyze how she might feel. Outwardly, she'd shown little besides trying hard to please him. But privately, she was conflicted, and he knew she had unresolved feelings for him. Although she appreciated his kindness and marveled at how well he treated her, she didn't really believe it had much to do with her. If she only knew!
That was the crux of the matter. The things he needed to tell her every day went unsaid. He tried to show her, giving her pleasure and ensuring she never felt a moment of pain. Her thoughts, however, told him the message wasn't coming through.
* * * * *
Charity examined the new clothes Melmanon had brought for her that morning. After leaving them with no explanation save, "Put them on," she had been bewildered, but delighted. The dress was beautiful. Unlike the deep red leather of her pants and top, or the honey-brown color of her cape and boots, it was made of cloth. Silky and impossibly fine, it was green, like rolling grass. It fit tightly through the bodice, then flared at her hips and pooled in soft waves around her feet.
Instead of her boots, soft flats of green leather barely covered her toes. Over this, she had a new cloak of fur-lined leather in a deep, forest green color with fur so white, it nearly blinded her.
In the mirror of the lavatory, Charity brushed her hair carefully, styling the loose curls to twist about her shoulders. The collar and cuffs were not particularly attractive with the dress, but she pushed the thought away, determined to be happy with the gifts.
Her brows knit as she considered his recent behavior. Though still savagely dominating in bed, he had not hurt her since that day. They still coupled fiercely, but she felt only the minor discomfort of overused muscles when he was done with her.
Also, he kissed her. That in itself was perhaps not so strange, but it was done so carefully, so well, as if he truly cared for her.
Grimacing slightly at her foolish thoughts, Charity reminded herself that if he treated her well, it would not last. It would be stupid to become complacent. She must continue to look
for opportunities to escape.
* * * * *
So many people! Charity's suspicions were correct. Melmanon had come for her earlier, pausing only to change his own clothes to ones as equally fine as her own. He brought her to a large hall she had never seen before, full of people in fancy clothes and uniforms. There was obviously to be some sort of ceremony. From what she could tell, it involved her master.
There was a lot of talking and milling around. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, rather than dragging her by the arm. Several of the officers she had seen before many times. Ones she didn't know looked strangely at her. She wondered if something was wrong with her appearance.
It wasn't until after the ceremony where her master and another officer exchanged some kind of shield that she became worried. The officer gave an official-looking document to Melmanon, who signed it. The unknown officer pointed at her. She clutched Melmanon's arm and tried not to panic. He turned to her then took her hands in his.
It took a moment to realize he was taking the cuffs from her wrists, and the collar from her neck. He set them aside and reached for a set of copper bands. One was slipped over each of her wrists. With a snick, they became one, until she couldn't see a seam at all. There was clapping and cheering, and they headed for the door.
Charity was still staring at the copper at her wrists when they got into a transport and took off. Melmanon was silent in the seat beside her. She gathered the courage to ask, "Master? What are these for?" Her arms raised only slightly to indicate the rings.
"You're not a torture slave anymore, Charity." His voice was both quiet and strangely subdued. He met her eyes. "I've bonded you. You are my wife."
Charity was stunned. Wife? But…
"Charity." Her name was a caress.
His massive hands wrapped around her own. "I…care about you. I want to be with you." She stared at him in amazement as he continued. "That day, when you saw your own people, I was so jealous. I wanted you to be happy to see me, to be filled with joy for me."
She gaped, her mouth slightly open as she listened.
"I know. How could you be happy to be a slave? I knew, after I beat you, it was because I wanted you to feel owned. As long as you were my slave, you would always wonder, worry about me hurting you." Even now, he appeared frightening, though his words belied his appearance. She thought maybe he knew it too, because he pulled her into his lap, bringing their gazes almost level.
"Charity, I know I didn't ask, but I didn't know how. If you hadn't agreed to bond with me, you would still have been my torture slave. Neither of us would have wanted that. You must believe me, I will treat you well, and you will be a citizen of the tribe, treated with respect and acceptance."
She was silent, her mind in turmoil. When she didn't speak, he went on. "I have already gotten the materials necessary to teach you our language, and you will learn it as quickly as I have mastered yours. I've even taken my post here, so you will not have to leave your planet."
At these words, unwilling images of her earlier plans to run and live with her people again sprang to mind. Although she tried to clear them, he saw. Cold silence filled the courier, and when he spoke, it was a menacing rumble.
"So that is what you hide from me. I had hoped it was something else." His hands tightened around her waist until she made a small sound of distress. "Escape or die? Not terribly original, Charity."
Looking directly into the fiery coals of his eyes, she summoned her nerve. "I would rather die than live in fear." Despite her bravado, her trembling fingers gave her away.
"So you'd rather I ended it? How about right now?" Melmanon's anger burned brightly in the face of her rejection, and he brought one hand to her throat, squeezing hard. "Well, Charity? Shall I help you with your plan?" When she remained silent, he applied steady pressure, until she involuntarily r
aised her hands to pull at his.
Beneath the wounded pride and frothing rage, he heard an internal voice telling him to stop. He remembered the last time he had allowed his hurt feelings to rule him and the pain she had suffered for it. Her body had healed, but he wondered why he thought he could heal her heart as well. When he suddenly released his grip, she gasped and coughed lightly, cupping her throat in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Charity." Her eyes flared wide and she stared at him. "I understand why you fear me, even why you want to run away." This time, his hands were gentle as he pulled her against his chest, sighing deeply when her head rested below his chin.
"All I ask of you is a chance. A chance to prove I can be trusted." He waited for her answer in silence. He heard her thoughts, but had no clear idea of what she would say. His behavior was hardly reassuring. When she spoke, her voice was raspy and low, and he winced at the proof of his brutality.
"I don't think I really have a choice. I'm beginning to see that even if I could get away from you, you would be able to find me. I would just be living in a different kind of fear each day." There was undeniable bitterness in her tone.
"I won't deny it, Charity. I cannot let you go." There was finality in his words.
"Then I will stay. I have no other choice." There was a poignant despair in her voice, and he tried to think of some way to make her happy.
"I will allow you to see your own people." Her head snapped back at him, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He rushed to add, "I only ask you understand one thing. They may resent you. I will be the law here. Unlike you, they are workers, only a little better than slaves in their own land."
His warning went unheard. That happiness he so envied was back, her heart
pounding in anticipation.
He took a ragged breath. "Can you tell me what you're feeling? In your own words."
"Mas -- I mean, Melmanon -- I don't pretend to understand why you've done this, but I know that you have given me much when any other would have given me nothing." Her hand circled one of the copper bands, and she looked earnestly into his burning eyes. "I won't lie. You still frighten me. I wonder when the day will come that I don't consider you to be a demon. But I believe you when you say you will try to prove yourself. And I can do no less than to try, too. I will never forget that whatever I have, whatever I do, it is only because you have let me live and given me more than…" Charity broke off, her face streaked with tears.
Melmanon said nothing at first, only thumbed away her tears. He paused there, with his hand framing her face. Not for the first time, the differences between them were striking. She was like a child, small and delicate, and so pale compared to him. When her gaze lifted to his, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, trying to tell her what he couldn't yet say with words.
As he pulled away, her lips clung for a moment, then her arms came up to his neck and she pulled him to her. With her face buried in his neck, her words were muffled but he heard the thought as well.
"I'm glad I'm not a slave anymore."
As the transport pulled to a stop outside their new home, he looked down into the face of the woman he loved, who had shown him what his life had been missing. For whom he would try to change everything about himself.
"I love you, Charity."