Page 46 of Surrender
If she were being honest, when she’d imagined how he might react to the news of her betrayal, she had believed he would be harder on her. She’d imagined more shouting. She’d imagined the worst kind of violence, the very kind he’d promised never to visit upon her.
He’d been enraged, but he hadn’t broken his promise. He hadn’t truly harmed her.
She considered the situation further. She’d lied to protect her mother and herself. Given the atrocities that happened in the refugee camps, it very well was a life-or-death situation. While she still felt guilty for deceiving Merokk, it was her opinion that the circumstances surrounding her dishonesty were quite extenuating.
If he spanked her now, or gave her a thrashing with the strap, she would be devastated. The very prospect seemed unjust. She drew in a shaky breath and realized her hands were trembling.
“What is wrong, little one?” He grasped her lightly by her arms, concern flickering in his dark eyes.
“I-I was just wondering something,” she replied, her throat dry.
“What is it?”
“Am I to be punished? For lying?” She barely got the words out. She stood frozen, aside from her shaking hands, as she awaited his answer. Surely the answer would be no—he’d shown her much compassion today—but she needed to know for certain.
“Fiona, I would cut off my hand before I punished you for this particular lie,” he said in a gentle tone. “While I wish you had eventually come to me with the truth, I understand your hesitation, and I also understand that you had no choice in posing as Betsy in the first place.” He cupped her face and pressed a soothing kiss to her forehead.
“Do you forgive me, then?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Yes.” He continued holding her face, allowing his thumbs to trail over her cheeks in a soft caress. “I forgave you the moment you told me your real name, when you told me you did it to protect your mother.”
Relief flooded her and she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Come,” he said, as he swept her up in his arms. “I want to take care of you.”
She leaned into his chest and reveled in the safety of his embrace. She loved when he carried her and emitted a soft sigh of contentment. The wide chasm that had opened between them when he’d learned of her deceit was starting to close, with each gentle word or sweet caress.
As he carried her upstairs, he kept pressing kisses to her forehead, nuzzling his face against hers, allowing his warm breaths to caress her cheeks. It was bliss. It was healing. It was love.
She skimmed her hands over his biceps, tracing his bulging muscles, feeling safe in the arms of the alien warrior who’d promised to protect her.
He carried her into their bedroom and immediately placed her on the bed. Stomach down, to her surprise. She tried to turn over, but he stilled her movements with a deep noise in his throat. Her breath hitched as he slowly lifted her dress up, revealing her panty-clad bottom.
A displeased growl left him when he drew her underwear down. She froze at the feel of his fingers tracing the sore line that crossed her bottom. Ever so gently, he caressed her cheeks, rubbing out the sting left by the strap. Her heart raced. Was he sorry? Was he trying to apologize?
After a small eternity, he stood up and she heard his footsteps heading for the bathroom. She stayed in place, feeling rather lightheaded in the aftermath of his sweet attentions. When he returned, he resumed rubbing her cheeks, but this time he massaged a thick layer of healing salve into her flesh, and the last vestiges of soreness faded.
“How does this feel, little one? Are you still in any pain?” he asked, a note of concern threading his deep voice.
“It feels much better, thank you,” she replied, peering over her shoulder at him. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
His eyes met hers in a moment suspended in time, and after a brief pause, he helped her sit up and face him. His eyes flickered with warmth and longing and… regret. There was no mistaking the shimmer of remorse in his dark gaze.
He cupped her face in one hand and leaned closer. “I will see that changes are made in the refugee camps,” he said, and his words shocked her. “I will ensure the camps are safer, particularly for those suffering illnesses like your mother.” He drew in a deep breath. “I promise.”
She’d thought he meant to apologize for that single blow with the strap, but she supposed this was his way of apologizing—with his actions. He was showing her how sorry he was, not just for the strap, but for all the hardships that had resulted in her difficult decision to assume Betsy Carson’s identity in the first place.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as disbelief coursed through her. She’d never expected to make any sort of difference for the humans in the refugee camps, she’d only wished to survive and to keep her mother safe. The import of Merokk’s promise penetrated her consciousness and her heart buoyed on the wings of hope.
“It is the least I can do.” His expression grew contemplative. “At first, I resented having to remain on Earth, but I am starting to believe this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” He stroked her cheek, then threaded his fingers through her hair.
Her gaze dropped to his lips and her breaths became unsteady. He started leaning even closer, and anticipation hummed through her. He kissed her slowly at first, reverently, as he held her face in his hands.
She whimpered against his mouth when he deepened the kiss. Waves of undulating pleasure rocked her center and she found herself squirming on the bed, delighting in the heat that was steadily quaking in her core.
She felt Merokk shifting position slightly, though he didn’t break the kiss. But a second later, she heard a ripping noise as he tore off her dress. Her panties, which were still tangled around her knees, came next. Then her bra. She felt the whoosh of torn fabric being tossed away from the bed, and she was left completely naked, quivering with need and very much hoping her husband did something about his own clothes soon.
Withdrawing from her lips, he shot her a primal look, his dark eyes smoldering with lust and possession. His muscles tensed and his nostrils flared. Months ago, such a look would’ve made her nervous, perhaps even scared. It was the look that said, “I’m going to be rough with you now, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because I own you.”
