He stayed with me. I had half expected him to turn me over. Feared it, when that other doctor took hold of my arm. But he never let go of me. Never left me. His voice, deep and quiet in my ear, telling me I would be all right, and that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. Through the pale haze, my body numbed by who knows what kind of chemicals, I felt his hand on me, almost constantly. An anchor. Not ashamed at all to say that I clung to that, to stop my descent.

Still feel pretty messed up. My thoughts start out clear. Get messy by the time they get to my mouth. I can’t stop giggling, and my eyes hurt. He’s giving me another shot. Gentle, he’s so gentle. Sleep.

Stay with her until she’s asleep. No nightmares this time, nice to see her just sleep. Too doped up to curl into the corner, the way she usually sleeps. Maybe that was because of the nightmares too. Maybe she’s just used to being afraid. Dog wants to curl up with her again. Have to give him credit for loyalty. He was brought into this to hunt her down afterall. Alsatian. Smart dogs. Feed him too, I guess. Try and keep him off the bed, so he won’t wake her up.

Sit up front, in front of the terminal, taking the slip of paper the surgeon gave me out of my pocket. Just a string of numbers. Didn’t think it was going to be so easy as to have a name and an address on it. Type it in, and get comfortable, I’ll be here awhile. Slaving isn’t as popular as it once was. Hasn’t gone away completely, but it’s a lot harder to get information about it that it used to be. Especially among those with money. That chip said money, all over it. Money. And power.

Anise Jayne doesn’t exist on any database, anywhere, except as a child dying at the age of six. When she was sold. It takes money and power to make that kind of disappearance happen these days. Whoever it is, Anise killed him. Wouldn’t mind finding out about that either. But he’s dead. I want to know who he would have passed her onto. Would have been someone he knew. Someone he trusted.

Which means business, military, or intelligence. Some sort of structure. Family would sell you out in a heartbeat, especially over a will, if that’s how she was passed on. The new guy wanted her for a “guard dog”, whatever the hell that meant. How’d the doc put it, “feral”? An animal. Not something you’d want running around loose somewhere where someone would see what you’ve got. So privacy then.

The mercs had been told just enough to hunt her, but not enough to really know what she was, or know how dangerous she was. Said she’d been loose only a week or so. Track news of a killing of business, military or intell, a little over two weeks ago, in the area she was captured. She wouldn’t have got far.

Brightman. Colonel. Yep, military. Didn’t go into specifics. Said he was killed in a hunting accident. In the middle of the night. A wild animal got him. I’ll bet she did. Ripped his throat out. A little hard to explain cutting his heart out as the act of a wild animal. That was the tabloids take on it. Sure, it could have been exaggerated, for the sake of sensationalism. Somehow I get the feeling this story was played down, if anything. She’d ripped out people’s throats before. I think for this guy, she’d likely get a little more inventive.

So. Who would he have left her to? Come back to what he intended to use her for. A guard dog. Brightman was killed on wooded acreage. Maybe she was to stay on. Who was tied in to Brightman? Everything goes quiet after this. Worked hard to silence everything about the story. The mercs got sent out to bring her back. So obviously someone still thinks they own her. That’s changed. Maybe they’ll need some convincing.

Dog nudges my hand. She’s awake. I forget she’s lived much of her life blind. Not being able to see isn’t going to stop her getting around. I’m more worried about her falling. She’s exploring along one wall, her head tilted to the side, using her ears and nose to find her way around. Bathroom. Catch her before she gets there. She says hello before I touch her, already knows I’m there. Smell, sound, or just knows because it’s me, I can’t tell. Love the sound of her voice though. Some of the giggliness is still there, but mostly, it’s her sexy deep voice. Makes me wish she only sounded cute again. I could deal with cute.

Her hand reaches out, smiling, as her fingertips graze along my arm, slipping across to my lower back. Seem to go right through my shirt, burning a trail into my skin. Across my spine, before she’s slipped past me, into the bathroom. Go to follow her, before she asks me to give her a minute. Stand outside, fidgeting, feeling like I’ve never spoken to a girl before. Ask her if she’s all right. She’s fine. Her eyes hurt. I’m going to have to tell her.

I automatically close my eyes, thinking she might have turned the light on. Of course, she hasn’t. Why would she. Even before, she’d have no reason to. Sure as hell doesn’t now. She’s standing at the sink, her hand moving up to the tiny scar at the back of her neck. All that’s left of her surgery. Healed it with laser. Still serious enough to leave a scar, just not a big one. Can’t be so much seen as felt. Still healing inside, but healed completely on the surface. My hand on her back, to let her know I’m there. Of course she already knows, but that’s not the point. Maybe I just wanted to touch her.

A damp cloth in her other hand, her face wet. Without a word, undress her, sit her down on a ledge beside the shower. Run hot water in the sink.She had washed me once. A kindness I was going to repay. Would have preferred it if I could be naked in the shower beside her, but she can’t get those bandages on her eyes wet, so this will have to do.

She stays still for me, standing when I asked her to, her foot resting on the ledge. A soft giggle, as I washed her. Yea, this is killing me. A warm cloth over curls, down past silky folds, trying to keep my breathing even. I’m not fooling anybody. Definitely not fooling her. Her hand rests on mine, as I try to move on, to wash somewhere else. She’s killing me.

She sits back down, resting on the very edge of the ledge. She’s not dropped my hand, letting go only when she’s sitting down, her knees making room for me between them. That soft giggle from her. But deeper. No, definitely not just cute anymore. Her eyes are bandaged. Doesn’t matter. I know that, in her head, she’s watching me.

I’m already on my knees in front of her, the rest is easy. A small gasp, as I nuzzle through her warm damp curls. Flick my tongue over her clitoris, before burying myself in her. Lost in her, her small hands stroking the stubble at the back of my head. Take her stiffening clitoris, pulling on it with my tongue, pressing it hard. Release, blow gently, a flick of tongue, and do it again. Her growls turning to moans, the scent of her sweet sexiness filling the small room.

Slip two fingers just over the opening, feel her quiver and gasp, An inch in, pressing the ridged upperside, causing her to spread her thighs a little wider for me. Slide all the way back, pulling her clitoris with my tongue, feeling the twitch at the base, deep inside her. Press up hard into it, making her cry out. Release, almost withdraw, before plunging back inside her, pressing deeply again at her g-spot. Let my thumb slide over her clitoris, pressing deeply at every inward stroke.

Sit back, on my heels, holding onto her hip for balance, and picture the slow pace of making love to her. The way she likes it. It takes longer. But she comes harder, deeper. I wish I could see her eyes. I could close my eyes and picture her, but then I’d have to close my eyes, and right now, bandages or not, all I can do is watch her. Head rested back, lips slightly parted, her every intake a gasp. That deep cry, as she lets it out, in time with the pressure on her clitoris, inside and out.

Speed, just a little at the end, knowing she’s ready to come, soaking wet. Press harder. That deep tell tale flutter, pulsating out, in waves.

“Come for me, baby, yea, that’s it, come for me.”

Like I needed to ask, her hips buck into my hand, the sound of her cries amplified in the small room, the scent of her filling my nose. Feeling my own explosion, as she sprays me, soaking my hand, my wrist. Resting. Wishing I was inside her, the deep comfort of being inside her, with her arms around me, her thighs holding close to my sides, heart racing. Settle for leaving my hand where it is, and burying my face in her belly, her hands stroking the back of my head.

“I’m being mean again.”

The giggliness is all but gone, just the slightest playfulness left in it. Her voice deep, a woman’s voice again. When she plays, she plays for keeps.

“For last night.”

It’s all I can manage, my own voice shaky. She’s lazily stroking the back of my head, over stubble, playing with my ears. I don’t want her to stop, but I don’t want to hurt her either. Wash her again. Help her get dressed. Clean myself up, my own come growing cold against my skin.

She’s standing by the door, looking at me. I know she can’t see me, but that doesn’t mean anything with her. I know she’s looking at me.

“Tell me what’s wrong with my eyes, Riddick. They hurt less today, but I need to know what’s wrong.”

No anger, just curiosity. How do I tell her I’ve just condemned her to live in the dark forever? That I may well have made more of an animal out of her than her years of slavery did? It was so clear at the time. Didn’t know what else to do, her eyes were destroyed by what her captivity had done to her.

This ship has a med scanner. One of the specifications I asked for specifically. Help her to lie back, and let the scanner do it’s job. Make sure she’s all right, before I tell her what I’ve done to her. She waits patiently. Doesn’t re-ask the question, doesn’t get impatient. Her eyes are fine. They will have to stay bandaged for another day. Tomorrow. Tomorrow the bandages can come off. The scar at the base of her neck is almost completely healed. She waits. Might as well be out with it.

“Your eyes are shined, Anise. You’ll have to stay out of the daylight forever now, there was nothing the doc could do, the damage was irreversible……I’m sorry.”

She slips her hand in mine. I wait. For anger. For tears. It wasn’t like she got asked.

“Thank you, Riddick.”

It’s all she says, her hand squeezes mine. Her smile bright enough to light up the whole room. I’d ask her what she was thanking me for, but right now it’s enough just to see her smile.

© 27 Jan 2006, 16:55

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