The rebels mate, p.8
The Rebel's Mate, page 8
“You think so?”
“You sat there like a champ and let me find that tracker. There’s a lot of men who need to be strapped down for that sort of thing.”
“It didn’t hurt,” Lyra said, a little shy under the glow of his praise. “You numbed me up.”
“Still, it takes a strong person to sit there and let someone cut them open.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “For not making me chase you all over the ship, knock you out, and then remove it.”
“I’m not that much of a drama queen.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he laughed. “If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s make a scene.”
Lyra pulled the blanket tight around her. “Speaking of making a scene, you better not have ripped my clothes when you pulled them off me. It’s not like I have a whole lot of spares.”
“I’ll get you some more when we get to Vlertigon-4,” he promised. “Something nice. You’ve earned them.”
She couldn’t help but smile again. He was glowing with approval and it was a nice change. She was sure a significant part of his excitement was due to ditching the tracker, but he really did seem pleased with her. For the first time he wasn’t acting as though she were little more than an ungrateful liability, and for the first time she saw him with eyes unfettered by alien technology. He was devastatingly attractive and kind, and he did the right thing even when it would be easy not to do it. An impulse she couldn’t resist made her lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. Not a friendly peck, but a proper, warm kiss in which her mouth lingered on his for a long moment before he drew away slowly, a somewhat bemused look in his eye.
“What have I unleashed?” He winked at her and patted the knee of her undamaged leg. “You’re a sweetheart.”
It wasn’t the response Lyra wanted, but the memory of his earlier rejection was still strong and she wasn’t going to risk that again, no matter how much her body lubricated itself for him.
“Thanks,” she said. “I look forward to our further strictly platonic adventures.”
Rake guffawed. “Easy, girl,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her mouth, one that carried with it the promise of much more. His kiss was powerful, his lips not content to caress hers but demanding more. Their tongues met, tentatively at first and then with a swirling sensual demand that made Lyra’s head spin with breathless need. He kissed the way he did everything else, with a thorough recklessness that took all sense of normality and cast it aside.
She felt quite dizzy when he broke the kiss, looked deep into her eyes, and smiled. “Is that far enough away from platonic for you?”
“Uh…” Lyra didn’t have words. He’d shut that part of her brain down as effectively a Vonyak device. She stared at him with lust tempered with no small amount of confusion. It was as if he were a completely different person. She didn’t know where the arrogant, rough brute of a man had gone. Actually, she did. He’d been ejected out into space along with the Vonyak tracker. How many other ways had that thing colored her view of reality? And if she didn’t know who Rake was, did she know who she was either?
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m… I don’t know…”
“You’ve been through a lot,” he said. “You need to rest. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” Lyra said quickly. “I don’t want to sit in a room by myself and close my eyes and let my thoughts get to me.”
“Okay,” Rake agreed. “Well, all I’m going to be doing is waiting by the controls to see if the Vonyak show up. If they don’t in the next day or so, we’ll go onto Vlertigon-4 as planned. I think we’ll make it. Might have to coast the last few million miles, but I think we’ll make it.” He grinned at her. Lyra couldn’t help notice that there was a new lightness about him, a playfulness even.
“And if they do find us again?”
“We’ll deal with that if it happens. Come on,” he said, sliding his arms underneath her body. “You can come watch the stars with me.” He swung her up against his torso and carried her through the ship.
“I can walk,” she said, amused at his gallant act.
“You can hop,” he said. “But you don’t have to. I’ve got you.”
He sat down in the pilot’s seat and settled her down on his lap. Lyra smiled and snuggled into him, allowing herself to enjoy his company and his body.
“This is nice,” she said. “Why didn’t we do this before?”
“Well, I’m guessing it had something to do with a Vonyak device turning you into a harpy,” Rake said, his arms stretched around her as he tapped at the controls.
“I was never that bad.”
“If I hadn’t gotten that thing out of you, I would have beaten your backside off eventually,” he drawled casually.
She frowned at the side of his face visible while he was working. “You wouldn’t have done that to me,” she said. “You like me too much.”
“You’ve grown on me,” he admitted. “Though I always did have a soft spot for young women in revealing bodysuits.”
Lyra giggled. “I picked a good outfit to meet you in then.”
“You were stunning,” he admitted. “But then you opened your mouth.”
“Hey!” She slapped his chest lightly.
“Lyra, the first words out of your mouth more or less were that you would never be with me.”
“I might have spoken too soon.” She let her hips squirm against his lap in a slow grind.
“Quit it,” he growled playfully. “I’m trying to pilot this ship, you shameless little hussy.”
Lyra rolled her eyes at him. “Then I guess you better give me something to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Maybe you could teach me how some of these controls work,” she suggested as if the idea had just occurred to her for the very first time. “It would probably be a good idea if I could fly this ship too, you know.”
“What a good idea,” Rake said, playing along as if he hadn’t spanked her for her refusal to learn the controls earlier.
“So what do you call this? A spice shap?”
“A spaceship,” Rake corrected her. “You’re not going to take this seriously, are you?”
“I’ve been drugged, cut open, and dragged halfway across the universe,” Lyra said. “Do you think I’m in a position to be taking things seriously? If I took this seriously I’d have a mental breakdown.”
“Well, we don’t want that,” Rake said. “Maybe you can just watch me and pick it up that way.”
She watched for a while, but found being on Rake’s lap while he worked the controls more soothing than fascinating. The tension of the chase had faded, but the wound of surgery was still real, as was the adjustment her mind was making to an unaltered state. All that left her quite exhausted and dozing with her head on his shoulder as he scanned the monitors and instruments for any sign that the Vonyak had found them.
After a while, he nudged her back into full consciousness. “So what do you think? Are you ready to fly this ship yet?” He winked at her. Lyra shook her head. She suddenly wasn’t feeling terribly well.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I think I should get some rest. Maybe I should go to bed.”
“Are you alright? You’re sweating.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “Lyra. You’re burning up.”
“It couldn’t be a reaction to the surgery, could it?”
“I don’t think so,” Rake frowned at her, his eyes narrowing as the seconds ticked by. “Have you been eating the Vonyak rations?”
“No…” Lyra let her voice trail off in a way that strongly indicated she wasn’t telling the truth.
“Lyra,” he sighed. “How much have you eaten?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It was tasty.”
“Our bodies can’t process a lot of the Vonyak rations. I told you that.”
“I know, but I didn’t listen.”
“No, you didn’t, did you.” He sighed. “Lyra…”
She looked up at him under her lashes. “Are you going to… am I in trouble?”
“This is going to be its own consequence,” he informed her. “We need to clear some of that out of your system. You’re going to be sick until it is out of your system.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the problem with Vonyak food is that it doesn’t process properly. Your gut can’t deal with what you’ve been putting into it. The Vonyak rations will gum you up like super glue. You’re going to need some help getting things moving again. I’m going to give you an enema.”
An enema. Lyra took a second to register what he meant. “What? No!”
“Not really up for discussion on this one,” he said. “You’re going to be very sick unless this happens. We’re going to sick bay.”
“We don’t have to do this,” Lyra said as he stood up, clasping her in his arms. “I’ll probably be better with just a little hot tea or something.”
“There’s no way around this,” Rake said as he carried her into the sick bay and put her down on the bed. “I’m sorry we have to do this so soon after your last trip here, but you could be very, very ill if we don’t treat this right away.”
“But…”
“No buts,” he said, becoming stern. “Lie on your side and pull your knees up toward your belly.”
“Rake…”
“On your side. Knees up.” He gave the order firmly enough for Lyra to remember why she quite often didn’t like him. He expected her to do the most embarrassing, vulnerable things just because he said so.
“I’m…”
He sighed, took hold of her arm, and rolled her onto her undamaged side. Her bottom was already bare thanks to the fact that she’d taken her pants off earlier so there was no protection at all as he began swatting her cheeks with hard, crisp swats that made her yowl and squirm.
“What are you doing?!”
“Spanking you first,” he said, landing another slap to her cheeks. “Seeing as you clearly aren’t going to let me save your life without one.”
“I just feel a bit sick,” she complained. “I’m not dying.”
“Hate to tell you this, Lyra, but you need a digestive system to, you know, live. When was the last time you went to the bathroom?”
“None of your business!”
He smacked her bottom hard. “Tell me.”
“Maybe… a couple of days ago?”
“Maybe a couple of days ago,” he repeated. “Maybe a day or two more than that, as well?”
“Maybe,” she admitted. Her face was so hot, she was sure they could have cooked rations on it. Talking to Rake about her toileting habits was not her idea of a good time.
“Toxins are building up in your body,” he said. “That’s what’s causing the fever. It’s only going to get higher and worse. Your liver and kidneys are going to shut down. There aren’t going to be enough painkillers on this ship to mask the agony you feel as you die from organ failure if I don’t do this now.”
When he put it that way, it did sound serious. “Okay,” she said. “You should have told me that first instead of wasting time smacking me.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you,” Rake said, turning away to go through the medical supplies. “This is a quick and easy fix if I get the right solution into you. Assume the position please, young lady.”
Lyra did as she was told, hating every second of it. The cloying sense of nausea seemed much more ominous now and all she wanted was for the procedure to be over. Easier to call it a procedure than an enema, even in her mind.
“Okay,” Rake said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m ready. Just try to relax, okay?”
She nodded and shut her eyes. With her eyes shut she could maybe pretend that what was happening wasn’t actually happening. That plan lasted about as long as it took for Rake to part her bottom cheeks and dab cool lubricant against her anus.
“Oh, my god,” Lyra groaned.
“It’s okay,” Rake soothed. “You’re doing fine.”
She felt something long and hard nuzzling at the lubricated aperture and let out a little hiss of surprise. Slowly but surely, the end of the enema nozzle began to sink inside her body, taking her in a place she’d never been taken before. Rake seemed almost practiced in the art of giving an enema; she felt it in the sureness of his touch and the way the nozzle moved inside her with little resistance.
“Take it out,” she whimpered softly.
“Soon,” he said. “Just try to relax.”
He might as well have told her to get up from the bed and try to fly. It was impossible to relax with her bottom full of hard plastic being propelled by the hand of a strong man. It seemed to take an eternity for him to be satisfied that it was in the right position.
“There,” he said, patting her bottom gently. “That’s perfect.”
Lyra let out a little groan of pure mortification.
“You’re going to feel a lot better soon,” he promised as a trickle of warm liquid began to seep inside her bottom.
Lyra doubted it. She would never live this one down. It was one thing to be spanked by Rake, something else entirely for him to oversee the cleaning of her bowels. She was completely undone by the process that left her feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever in her life. Hot tears prickled behind her lashes. She tried to keep them in, but they seeped out and ran down her cheeks.
He saw her distress immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt? Look at me, Lyra.”
“I can’t look at you,” she said, keeping her eyes deliberately shut. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s just… awful.”
The solution was still trickling, she could feel it as a queer pressure running through her innards. It didn’t hurt necessarily, but it wasn’t comfortable.
She could feel Rake close behind her, one hand on her hip, the other making a small adjustment to the nozzle, sliding it just a little deeper. His presence was both soothing and reassuring, and a source of mortification.
“Do you have to be here for this?”
“Yes,” he said. There seemed to be a slight tone of amusement in his voice. “It’s not going to be too much longer now. I know this isn’t pleasant.”
“That’s an understatement,” Lyra muttered. Her stomach was cramping and her bottom was full and she wanted to hide except there was nowhere to hide. She was stuck there on the cool medical bed until such time Rake saw fit to release her from her anal shackle. That plastic nozzle held her in place as surely as manacles would have. There was no escaping the way it made her bottom stretch around it, or how full she felt as the solution seeped from it inside her. There was equally no escaping the fact that it was her own fault that she was in this position. Rake had warned her, but she had not heeded his warning. She had not listened to a word he’d said since they first met, not really. She had fought him every inch of every step along the way, and she had suffered for it. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she realized just how wrong she had been.
“Shhh,” Rake said, mistaking the source of her tears for a reaction to the enema. “It’s going to be over soon. Just a few minutes longer.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed.
“You’re sorry?” He seemed surprised to hear her say those words.
“I’ve been so stupid. Everything I’ve done has been stupid.”
“Easy,” he said as she started to sob. “I did kidnap you; it’s not as if you didn’t have some reason not to listen to me.”
“I’ve been a prisoner my entire adult life,” Lyra sniffed, finally opening her eyes to look at him. “I don’t even know what it’s like to be free. I don’t know anything about anything.”
“You know not to eat Vonyak food again,” he said with a gentle smile. “And you’re not my prisoner. You’re my partner in crime.”
“Do partners in crime give one another enemas?”
“They do if they have to,” he winked and patted her bottom lightly. “Okay I think you’re more or less full.” His hand slid around to her tummy and massaged lightly, low against her abdomen, easing some of the cramps away. “You’ll feel better soon; once the toxins are out of your system you’ll bounce right back.”
Bouncing back seemed out of the question at the moment. Lyra felt like a bloated balloon there on the table, her stomach gurgling and churning away. Matters were made even more difficult when Rake began to slowly twist the nozzle and withdraw it little by little.
“Don’t take it out,” she pleaded. “I’m too full,”
“You’ll be okay,” he said, pausing with the nozzle halfway out of her bottom. “You can go to the bathroom when I take this out.”
“How am I supposed to get there with my leg?”
“I’ll carry you there.”
Lyra figured her dignity was already so severely compromised that it didn’t really matter. She submitted as Rake scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom while she did her best to hold the churning waters in. It seemed like an eternity before he placed her on the toilet seat, and once he did, Lyra issued a stern warning of her own.
“You have to evacuate this room,” she warned him. “Now.”
He gave her one of those sexy little half grins that were so out of place given the situation and left her to it.
* * *
Emerging from the bathroom post-purge was difficult, not because she felt sick, but because she knew there were no more defenses where Rake was concerned. He’d seen her at her most vulnerable, performed an enema and removed a tracker. He’d seen her come within minutes of their first meeting and he’d seen her cry from remorse at having disobeyed him. It seemed like their whole association was just her either breaking down or leaking fluids or sometimes both.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she said.
“I made you this,” he said, handing her a length of hard plastic pipe with a round plastic top. “You can use it as a cane.”
“Better than you using it as a cane, I guess,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. It was going to take some time to get over this.
