The Price of Freedom (8 page)

Today she didn't, and Jess looked at Bragan questioningly. Had she somehow guessed what they were going to do? Would they be greeted by guards instead of Bethany that morning?

By the time she came back with the second cart, Jess was getting restless.

"Go and knock on the door," he told Bragan. "Find out why she hasn't let us out. I'll stay here on the pallet looking sick."

Bragan nodded, and made his way over to the door. He knocked, softly at first, and then harder.

"Bethany?" he called out. "Are you there? Are you going to let us out to eat?"

A second later the door opened and Jess smothered a gasp of surprise at the sight of her. She looked horrible…Her face was drawn and white with stress. Her hands shook, and she seemed unable to look directly at either of them.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked without thinking, his voice sounding stronger than it had in weeks. She jumped, startled. Jess cursed silently; she wasn't used to hearing him talk that way.

"My father was sick during the last cycle," she said. She held her hands tightly together, as if to keep them from shaking.

It was obvious that something was very wrong.

"I didn't get much sleep," she continued.

"I see," Bragan said. "What kind of illness is it? Have you called the station medic?"

"No," she said quickly. "I think he had too much
bakrah
. I don't have time to talk about it right now; I need to get the last cart."

She turned and moved away from them quickly. Bragan and Jess exchanged glances.

"I wonder what's going on?" Bragan asked. "I doubt the station's medic could help, anyway. The man has almost no training. They're fools to trust him with their health."

"What, you haven't volunteered to help them?" Jess asked with dark humor.

"They wouldn't let me touch them," Bragan said with a laugh. "I'm good enough for my fellow slaves, but I guess they consider my techniques unclean or something. Ignorant fools."

"I suppose they get what's coming to them," Jess said.

"Does any woman really deserve to die in childbirth?" Bragan asked, some of the humor fading from his voice. "You asked how I earned my alcohol. Sometimes I
do
help them. Their fool of a medic has called me several times to try and salvage his mistakes. He usually waits too long, though. I've seen a lot of young Pilgrim girls die since I've come here."

Jess didn't reply; there was nothing he could say. Bragan's pain spoke for itself.

"After tonight you won't have to do that anymore," Jess said finally. "We'll escape or we'll die. Either way it will be over."

"Thank the Goddess for that," Bragan said. "I'm ready for it to be over."

* * * * *

It took every bit of strength Bethany had to keep moving. She had worked only half way through the cycle, but she felt exhausted. The guards had just changed shifts, and she still had no idea how she was going to get rid of her father's body, let alone what she would say about his disappearance. They wouldn't believe he was sick forever… Perhaps she could say he got drunk and decided to take one of the ships out. If she managed to launch one of the smaller transports and set it on a course to impact an asteroid, they would think it was an accident. No body, no questions. He certainly had enough of a drinking history to justify such a foolish thing.

Of course, she had no idea how to launch a transport, let alone program it to collide with an asteroid. She didn't even know that she could get to one. They were usually guarded.

She weighed her options as she worked, ignoring the curious looks Jess shot her way. Finally she realized she only had one choice. She would have to confess to killing her father. Someone was going to pay for his death, and Moriah had a child.

A sense of peace came over her. She was going to die soon, but at least she wouldn't die without a purpose. Moriah was a good girl. She loved her child, and with Bose out of the way she might even be able to make another love match.

Bethany dropped her cleaning rag, stood up in the center of the room and stretched. Jess stared at her from his pallet, obviously confused by her sudden change in demeanor. She laughed out loud, feeling happier and more free than she had in years.

"How are you feeling, Jess?" she asked, walking over to him. She knelt beside him, reaching out to touch his forehead with one hand. He looked so confused by her actions that she just had to laugh again.

Life was so strange…

"Do you think you'll be able to rejoin the men after this cycle?" she asked softly. "I know you thought you'd have a couple more days, but I think time may have run out for you."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean I won't be back," she said. "Not after this cycle. You'll need to rejoin the men or you may end up joining me. And I don't think you want that to happen."

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting up abruptly. She sat back on her heels.

"I thought you might be in better shape than you were pretending," she said, appraising him carefully.

"I didn't want to say anything, because I figured this was as close to a vacation as you'll ever get. I'm not stupid; I know you've been playing games. But I'm glad you're strong enough to go back to work. I don't want to see you killed, Jess."

He looked so startled, so confused, that she couldn't help but laugh again. She would really miss his company, she realized. Caring for him was one small part of her life that was pleasant. She looked forward to seeing him, although she hadn't allowed herself to trust him. Now she didn't have anything to fear.

Without pausing to think about it, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. She could feel his quick inhalation of breath. Then he groaned and his arms were winding around her. He pulled her to one side, rolling her under his body. His hips pressed urgently against her; every part of his body was hard and ready.

She was ready for him, too.

He opened her mouth with his, plunging his tongue into her even as he pinned her body to the pallet.

The floor was hard beneath the thin blankets but she didn't care. So what if she had bruises later? Later she would be dead. This was the last chance she'd ever have to feel a man's touch. And what a man.

She'd ached for him for weeks. He'd ached for her, too. Once she'd realized he wanted her, she had felt that desire in his eyes. He was always watching her, his gaze intense and penetrating. Burning.

Now she would feel his penetration in other ways.

He was moving frantically against her, and she squirmed. She felt wild, like an animal. She wanted to rip off his clothes and take him. She wanted to grunt and sweat and bite him. Who was she? She'd never felt like this before, but she knew in her heart that it was right. Before she died she wanted to feel him everywhere. Especially deep inside.

Jess rucked her skirt up around her waist, tearing at her undergarment with desperate hands. She reveled in the power. This man, this slave she had nursed back to health, wanted her and he was going to take her. She shivered as the cool air hit her heated skin. This was completely different than anything she could have imagined—so urgent, so incredibly intense—as if a fire burned out of control through her body.

This was going to be good.

Acting on instinct, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He groaned.

"Damn, I can't believe this," he muttered. Then he took her lips again.

She twisted against him, seeking something she didn’t even fully understand. Everything was happening so fast. She could smell him, feel his hard muscles under her fingers. She wanted to dig her nails into him, raking them down his back and mark him as hers.

Why not?

With a laugh, she did it. He groaned, then he lifting his hips, reaching down between their bodies. At first she fought him; she didn't want him to stop touching her for even a second. Then his fingers found the spot between her legs and she exploded.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before in her entire life. One second she was twisting against him, yearning for something she couldn't explain. Everything in her body was tight and tense. Then she shattered, convulsed. He smothered her scream with his mouth the instant it hit her, wrapping himself around her like a shield. At that moment she was completely safe.

She came back to herself to find him kissing her gently. One of his fingers trailed along her cheek, then dropped along the line of her chin. Little tingles followed it and she gave a sleepy smile.

"That was incredible," she said softly. "I've never felt anything like it before."

"We've just started," he whispered. "I have other things to show you."

She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her again. To her surprise, he lifted himself away, scooting down her body. What was he doing?

A second later she realized. He was kissing her, but this time between her legs. It was amazing. First his lips touched her softly and she shivered as his warm breath brushed across her most sensitive spot.

She'd never dreamed of anything like this, something so wonderful and exciting. Then his tongue touched her clit and she stiffened. It was soft, wet, slick. He probed the folds of her labia, then flicked his tongue back and forth across something that made her want to scream. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent. The tension was building inside her again. She wanted to stay relaxed, to continue basking in the afterglow of her pleasure, but each time his tongue flickered and stabbed, she couldn't help but twitch in response. At first the twitches felt good. Then she grew frustrated. She wanted more than that light, teasing tongue.

He'd pressed her hard before and she needed something hard now, too.

"Please," she whimpered. He gave a low, throaty laugh. She felt the vibration of it through his mouth; it twisted deep down inside her.

He pulled away from her and she whimpered as if in pain. How dare he do this to her? He couldn't stop now. She was so close to…whatever it was, she was very close. It had been so incredible before.

She wanted to feel those incredible explosions again, and she wanted to feel them
now.

Still, the weight of his body as he lowered himself back over her was good. She twisted against him, enjoying the rough sensation of her clothing against her nipples. His legs were bare against hers, at least between her thighs. To her shock and delight, she realized he'd lowered his trousers. He was naked down there. He was going to come into her.

She felt the head of his penis against her wet lips. It was wide, larger than her husband's had been.

For a moment she tensed. Avram had hurt her so many times…would this lovely sensation turn painful before it ended? Jess murmured something in her ear. She couldn’t understand what he said, but she understood the tone. It was soft and soothing. He was stretching her now, slowly lowering himself into her body. He might be larger than Avram, but something here was very different. Avram had felt dry and painful as he pushed into her; she was wet and slick for Jess. He was stretching her, yes. But it was a smooth, delicious stretch. She could feel him inching in, and willed her muscles to relax as he penetrated her. With aching slowness he filled her. She shivered, and as she did so, she could feel her stretched muscles tightening around him within her body. He stilled, groaning.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "If you only knew how good that feels…"

She tightened her muscles again, reveling in the sensation of power it gave her. He gave a little gasp, his breath coming heavily.

He was all the way inside her now. His body had come to rest, cradled between her legs. He lay still for a moment, then whispered, "Open your eyes."

She did as he asked. There he was, midnight blue eyes gazing into hers. Oh, she liked looking at him. He was mesmerizing, every line of his face perfect. For one excruciating moment she allowed herself to wonder what it might have been like if he had been one of her people. What if their parents had arranged a marriage between them? They could have had this all the time.

She could feel tears welling up at the thought, and then she closed her eyes. She could feel moisture running down her face, little rivers of grief over what might have been. Instead, she was going to die. He would work for a few more months or years in the mine, and he would die too.

They would never see each other again after this cycle. The pain was too great.

She felt something soft and warm against her face. He was kissing the tears away. Slowly, his hips started pumping in and out of her body. Without thinking, she found herself lifting her pelvis in answer to his motions, unconsciously mimicking his movements. That tension was still inside her, and now it leapt to angry life. She wanted this; she wanted him. For the first time in her life, she understood what the restless ache she sometimes felt in her body was supposed to be for.

Mating.

Again and again their bodies met. Thrust after thrust, grinding and coming together with a power that would have seemed violent to anyone watching. But the violence felt good to her. The urgency, the tension. She wanted to pull him down into her womb, to take him prisoner and keep him there. She wanted to own him, mark him, make him
hers.

Impossibly, he was moving faster, and that hard part of him, his penis, she thought in satisfaction, was rubbing her in a way that was almost intolerable. She tilted her hips, creating a slightly different angle, and then she exploded for the second time.

Every muscle in her body went tense. Her legs clutched him, making it all but impossible for him to move. She squeezed him so hard he gasped. At first she thought he was in pain, that she'd hurt him. Then he was convulsing over her and she could feel his seed entering her body in hot streams. Again and again he shot into her. It was so satisfying, so amazing. Such a beautiful way to say goodbye to life.

They lay there on the floor, trying to recover for several minutes. Finally she noticed how hard the floor was beneath her. She would have bruises from this, she realized. He had marked her in more ways than one, she thought with a little smile. He kissed her gently on the mouth, then lifted himself just enough to pull her skirts down. His pants were still down around his knees but he didn't seem to care.