Topic: That First Impression

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:42 EST

(( Takes place the evening after Safe Haven, and contains material of an adult nature.))

Two years. It had been two years since Mahon had seen his son. Two years since the boy had been born and sent away to the village to be raised by his grandfather. Two years too many. "It should be your mother who's here," Mahon whispered to the boy as he tucked a blanket around him. Though he might be a stranger to him now, he hoped in time he would become a worthy father and that one day soon, the boy's mother would join them. It made his heart ache that she wasn't here with them, his eyes burning with tears he refused to shed. He'd been little more than a boy himself when he'd been taken captive and enslaved by Marka's women. He'd dedicated his life since then to overthrowing her and freeing the slaves and those who opposed her rule. Though they'd had a small victory, he would never rest until Marka was dead, the slaves were free, and his son was reunited at last with his mother.

He sank down onto a chair beside the crib where his son was sleeping, reaching into the crib to touch the small boy's cheek and hair with surprisingly gentle fingers. Though his hands were rough and callused, his touch could still be gentle and tender, when he needed it to be. "I hear your grandfather calls you Aedan. It's a good name. A strong name. Your mother and I didn't have time to name you after you were born. It was all we could do to get you to safety. Someday, perhaps, you'll understand. What's important now is that you're alive and you're free, and I promise you, I swear to you, you will never have to suffer what I've suffered. What your mother suffers. Never. I swear it on my life. You will be free if I have to kill Marka myself."

The little boy shifted in his sleep, rolling over toward the big man with the gentle hands who was so familiar. Little fingers gripped Mahon's hand with innocent trust ....a world away from the distrust his parents had shared when a certain woman now close to them both had engineered their first meeting ...

Ten years, Mahon had been in the hidden valley. Ten years of back-breaking labor that might have killed a weaker man, yet it only seemed to have made him larger, stronger. He worked the fields with other men who had been captured for that purpose, many of them still young when they were first brought by force into the domain of these Amazon women. He'd had his share of punishments, yes, but there were a few among the women who seemed to truly care for the well-being of the men who labored beneath them. Marka ruled the valley with an iron fist; just a few days ago, she had had her own daughter publicly whipped for failing to shoot an escaping prisoner. Yet Gia, Marka's own sister, was the medic of the valley, and it was she who made certain both men and women were well fed, their injuries cared for, their needs provided.

It was Gia who came for him as he worked the fields, careful not to seem anything but authoritative. "Mahon," she ordered. "Come with me."

It was ironic, in a way. He had always wanted to be a farmer, to carry on the traditions passed down from grandfather to father to son, but this wasn't farming. This was slave labor. How many times had he tried to escape" How many times had he been punished and threatened with death? And yet, he still lived - in good part, thanks to Gia and her skills with healing. He had witnessed the public whipping of Marka's own daughter and felt for the girl, wondering how the other women could allow such a thing to happen, secretly plotting against her, inciting the slaves to rebellion. When the time was right, they would be free, but not yet. Surprised by Gia's visit, he had no way of knowing what it was that she wanted. Men were not taken away from work on a whim, and he knew better than to ask what it was she wanted where others might hear.

She waited as he was unchained from the others in the field, rolling her eyes at the guard who insisted upon accompanying them. "I really don't think this one is stupid enough to try and kill the only person here who has actively tried to prevent him from dying himself, do you?" she said sternly to the guard, who had the decency to look at her feet as she was scolded. "We won't be alone long. Nemone will see to him." Reassured, the guard turned back to the men in the field, and Gia gestured for Mahon to follow her, toward the hill where the women made their own shelter within the rock.

The big man arched his brows at the mention of that name - a name he and all the men in the valley knew well. Nemone - the Captain of the Guard - but not only that; she was also Gia's daughter. Gia, Marka's sister. There were no two women he could think of who could be more different. "What am I being accused of now?" he asked, though he knew he should just keep his mouth shut, he couldn't help himself. The hell with obedience. What had obedience ever gotten him"

"If you keep your mouth shut, nothing," Gia informed him as they passed into the hill. "I would advise you not to make too much eye contact in these passageways, or we won't reach our destination without you being flogged on the way." She didn't look at him as she spoke, but there was no need. There was a gentle tone in Gia's voice when she spoke to the men that offended her sister greatly.

Gia was, perhaps, the only woman in the valley he respected, and that was because she had earned his respect. Not trust, mind you. There were none who didn't share the slaves' shackles that he trusted, but she had shown him and the other men kindness and for that, she had earned his respect. He grunted a reply, but said nothing, casting his eyes downward as he had learned to do during the last ten years of enslavement, as much as it galled him.

"Good lad." On they walked, with Gia nodding to the occasional woman they passed, until finally they came to a halt several levels up within the hill. She opened the door in front of her, gesturing for him to go in. "Feel free to make use of the bathroom," she informed him. "And do try not to kill her when she arrives. If you slit her throat, I will kill you myself when the guard bring you to me for healing." It was a gentle threat, but one she was more than capable of carrying out.

He was smart enough to know this was no ordinary summons. If it were, he would not be offered the use of a bathing room - one where fresh clothing was left for him, with the presumption that he would scrub the dirt and grime and sweat from his body. There could only be one reason he'd been brought here, and he wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or enraged. No, he wouldn't kill her precious daughter, but he wasn't going to rut with her either. "Why me?" he asked, the only question that really mattered right now.

Carefully making sure that the door was shut to behind her for a moment, Gia looked him directly in the eye. "You need a shield," she told him simply. "You speak too often and too openly. It was time she took a mate, and I've chosen you for her. I don't care if you mate with her or not, but you will spend every night she sends for you in this room, and you will make it appear as though you are hers. Otherwise Marka will have you killed, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it."

That got his brows arching again beneath the dirt and grime that shadowed an otherwise ruggedly handsome face, half-hidden behind a ragged beard and long, tangled hair. He was no prize, he knew - but the years in the valley had made a man of him and had honed the once soft body of his youth into that of a man worthy of calling himself a warrior. "And you do this for me why?" he pressed further, lowering his voice for her ears alone. Why should she care whether he lived or he died"

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:43 EST

For just a moment, Gia's expression softened, sadness touching her eyes as she looked at the bear of a man she had chosen to be her own daughter's mate. "Because once a very special man did the same for me," she told him quietly. "He taught me a different way to rebel. And now he lives, with our son, in the village where he was born. Perhaps, someday, we will be able to send you home, too."

"And your daughter" What of her?" he whispered back, knowing he couldn't keep her here much longer or risk suspicion. He was obviously surprised by her reply, but it would take time for him to absorb and understand and believe it. If he understood what she was telling him, she was giving him a chance at freedom. Not today, perhaps, but someday. Someday could not come soon enough, though he could not abandon his people, his men - the men who had come to rely on him to lead them and to one day free them.

"Is her father's child," was all Gia would say, one brow raised as though challenging him to misunderstand. "Like I said ....try not to kill her. And do not set foot outside this room without an escort. Men alone in the hill do not live longer than it takes to sight them." She nodded to him, and slipped from the room, evidently trusting him enough that she made no attempt to lock him in at all.

He grunted again, only partly in acknowledgment, mostly to himself. The warning went without saying. He knew better than to try and escape without making the proper preparations, but still ....She had a mate and a son who were free. That thought alone gave him hope, though he would not turn his back on his friends and leave them behind for all the world. Whatever came of his visit with her daughter, he was at least going to take advantage of the bath and the food and the respite, however brief, from the hardship of the fields. He stripped the tattered and filthy clothing from his body and immersed himself in the bath, closing his eyes to savor the moment before he went about the difficult task of scrubbing himself clean.

He was alone for almost an hour before the Captain of the Guard returned to her quarters, entering without much care for his modesty, whether he was decent or not. She closed and locked the door behind her, shedding her jacket as she moved across the main living space. "Do you want to get this over and done with now, or are you just going to grunt at me until your cock starts to do the thinking for you?"

Not the shy type, he didn't care much for his own modesty either. If he was going to whore himself to her, he was at least going to enjoy it and whatever perks came with it before he was returned to the shackles that awaited him. "Mmm, you do know how to woo a man. With a tongue like that, it's no wonder you're still a virgin."

Nemone snorted with laughter, sitting to tug her boots off roughly. "Whoever told you I'm a virgin was lying," she informed him. "Just because I haven't taken a mate doesn't mean I'm not broken in." She flickered a glance in his direction, blinking in surprise. "She didn't tell me you were the big one."

"That makes two of us," he muttered, mostly to himself, narrowing his eyes at her as she seemed to size him up. "I have a name," he reminded her, not particularly liking being referred like a piece of meat or a prize horse. He'd had a family once, too, though he wasn't sure if they still lived - a mother and father who'd loved him. A family and friends who had never come for him and had likely forgotten all about him by now. The thought of that pierced his heart, but he said nothing of it, letting her think what she wanted.

"And no one told it to me," she pointed out, throwing her boots against the far wall. She sighed, leaning back against the cushioned couch for a long moment as she worked the ache from her back. "I daresay you already know, but I'm Nemone. And you are?"

"Mahon," he replied, unsure why he was telling her. Mahon was all that she'd get out of him. No family name, no talk of his family or of his past. Only what she needed to know. He slid beneath the water for a moment to soak his head, pushing his long hair away from his face as he surfaced. His hair had been short when he'd arrived here as a fresh-faced boy ten years ago, but that boy was no more.

"Mahon," she repeated thoughtfully as he ducked under the water, rising to her feet to remove her weapons. It said a lot for Gia's trust in both of them that she had allowed her daughter to return to her quarters armed. "I've seen you around. You talk too much, get yourself into trouble needlessly. You do know you're watched constantly, right?"

"Needlessly, is it?" he echoed with a snort. "What would you know of it' Who you live here in your ivory tower, surrounded by your women. Have you ever gone to sleep hungry' Have you ever wondered if you'd survive the night' Have you ever collapsed, wishing you'd die from exhaustion because you didn't have the will or the strength to go on' Have you ever been torn from your family, left to wonder if you'd ever see them again? I talk too much, you say. No, Captain, I talk too little. It is voices like mine that will defeat Marka one day. And then, you should ask yourself ....where will you be? What side will you be on' The side of justice or cruelty?"

She crouched by the edge of the bath, eying him with distrust and dislike. "Voices will never defeat Marka," she told him coldly. "Actions will. But in order to carry out those actions, we have to survive long enough to put our plans in place. So yes. Needlessly." She didn't give him a chance to answer back, moving on. "You're right, I don't know what it's like for the men, not really. But when I was eight years old, my mother gave birth to a son. And I have never seen him, nor have I ever seen my father since that day. You are not the only ones who suffer under Marka's rule. Remember what she did to her daughter."

"I remember everything," he assured her, not flinching from her gaze. He had learned long ago never to flinch, never to show any weakness, no matter how much you were suffering. "I have a sister. I haven't seen her in ten years," he told her before he realized what he was saying. Maybe he really did talk too much. He hadn't meant to tell her that, or to tell her anything, short of his name. "Our plans," he echoed, not having missed that part. "You could be executed for such talk," he warned, testing her ....or was she testing him"

"Could I?" Like him, she wasn't giving anything away, holding his gaze a while longer before straightening up, turning away as she peeled her clothing from her body. It had been a long, sweaty sort of day, and even the presence of a man in her bath wasn't going to stop her from partaking herself.

"No," he replied, meeting her gaze head on. Captain of the Guard or not, he wasn't going to let her intimidate her. "No, she would likely make an example of you. She'd make you suffer and make sure the others understood what would happen if they did the same," he said, though she must have already known this. His gaze followed her as she turned away and peeled the clothes away from her body. Whatever he was, he was still a man and a man who hadn't been with a woman in a very long time.

"Good boy," she praised him, albeit with a good deal of sarcasm in her tone. "You're not half as dumb as you look, are you?" She stepped down into the bath with a low groan of pleasure, stretching out her long limbs before relaxing into the hot water. For all her display of relaxation, however, she was still tensed; he might have been her mother's choice for her, but Nemone wasn't so sure she'd be able to overpower him if it came to a fight.

He was momentarily distracted by the feminine form that was stepping into the bath to join him, his body betraying him even as she insulted him. It wouldn't be difficult to strangle her or to get his hands on one of her blades, but it was unlikely he'd get very far. He thought he could take her hostage and use her to bargain his way free, but knowing Marka, she'd have her own niece killed before budging an inch. "Your mother seems to think I have some worth or she wouldn't have brought me here," he pointed out, reminding her that he hadn't chosen to be here, but that her own mother had picked him out for her.

"She's not known to be wrong," Nemone conceded, pulling the pins from her hair to let the red tangle fall over the stone that lined the spring. She had her eyes closed, but unbeknownst to him, this was purely to keep herself from admiring the view he presented - she was no virgin, and he was definitely good to look at. It had been a while since she'd actually wanted to mount a man. "What's your worth?"

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:44 EST

"Maybe you should ask her that. As far as Marka is concerned, all I'm good for is working in the field and siring a child. That's all any of us are good for. And when we're no longer able to do either of those things, what do you think happens to us then?" He knew he wasn't really answering her question, but there was a well of bitterness and rage inside him at the injustice of it all. Maybe the world had burned because once because of men, but that hadn't been his world, and he didn't think he should be punished for it.

"What do I think?" She opened one eye to look at him, wondering if he had actually tied together the fact of her being the Captain of the Guard, and what it was the guard did on a daily basis. "I don't think. How else do you gain rank in this place?" Yes, she was deliberately winding him up, but he seemed pretty determined to be bitter at her, so why not"

"Maybe that's your problem, Captain," he replied, as coolly and casually as though they were discussing the weather. If she wanted to wind him up, she was going to have to pick a different subject. "I think all the time, even when I'm sleeping. Once you stop thinking, you might as well be dead." If he was misunderstanding her or making assumptions, she was free to speak her mind.

"Oh, please, do tell me what my problems are," she muttered, grinding her teeth at his assumptions. "I'm sure I'll benefit from your lifetime of insight and intelligent action far more than I have from my own experiences."

"I am not here to tell you what your problems are. I believe I'm here to get you knocked up." He deliberately stretched out in the bath, almost daring her not to notice him. If she was going to taunt him, well, two could play at that game.

She snorted derisively. "Not going to happen," she informed him. "I don't want a baby." But there was a tense, brittle undertone of fear in that statement, and he must have known what it meant. Here in the valley, if your baby was male, he was killed and the father along with him. Nemone knew herself well enough to know that she would never be able to cope with a loss like that.

"That makes two of us then," he said. If he ever had a child - and that chances of that seemed slim to none - it was going to be when he was free. A free child born to a free man and woman. And it was going to be for the right reasons, not because Marka demanded it. He thought on that a moment before pressing further. "What happens if you're barren" If you can't have a child?"

"In Marka's world, I'll work until I'm too old to work any more, and then I'll be given a merciful death," she informed him with little emotion. That had been one of her duties on that day - to end the life of a woman who had helped to raise her, purely because she was getting too old to subdue a man without harm to herself. Nemone had pulled the trigger herself, refusing to allow anyone else to take that life. As that memory rose up, she abruptly sat up right in the water, her expression sternly blank as she reached for a cloth and soap chips to clean herself.

"What do you think happens when Marka gets old?" he probed further, wanting the Captain to think about that a moment. No doubt, Marka would like to grow old and die a natural death, but if he had his way, that wasn't going to happen. He had no way of knowing what she'd been forced to do earlier that day, and he assumed her blank expression was merely her distaste for him - and perhaps for all men. He was no more than a tool to be used and then thrown away when he was no longer useful. But Gia had hinted at something else. Was it possible she had raised her daughter to think differently than the woman who lead them' He wondered just how alone they where there and how much Gia trusted him with her daughter.

"Chaos," was Nemone's answer to that. Short and simple. "There are factions against her way, and until she has an heir she can trust, she's stuck. She has her personal guard, of course, but they'll fight each other to take power when she's too old to intimidate them. Add in the opposition, and the inevitable uprising from the men, and you have chaos." She smirked. "Ember's doing pretty well, from what I hear."

"A child who has known nothing but cruelty from her own mother is unlikely to become a trustworthy heir," Mahon pointed out, proving he was not just all brawn and no brain. "And her guard will fight over the scraps, but that could be many years from now." He paused a moment to consider before continuing. "Are we alone" Is there anyone listening?"

She paused in the act of scrubbing at her neck and shoulders, eying him for a moment. She was, as Gia had told him, her father's daughter, but she was also in a position of power in the valley. It was a delicate balance to maintain. But then, Gia would not have chosen him for her if she had not thought he could be trusted. "As alone as we're going to get," she told him. "There are patrols that walk the passages, but unless you raise your voice, no one will hear the words you're saying."

He grunted a reply. So, Gia either trusted him, or she was very, very foolish, but then what purpose would be served in harming her daughter" No, it was better to cooperate and see where all this was going. At the very least, it would give him some inside information, and at the very best, perhaps he could win them both to his side. Neither of them seemed very fond of Marka, but how far were they willing to go to get rid of her" "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

Nemone turned her eyes onto him, icy with warning. "Today, I watched my aunt have my sixteen-year-old cousin flogged for refusing to kill a man who only wanted to go home. I watched those personal guards of hers open up a child's back until she passed out, and beyond, for the sake of one woman and her obsessive hold on a power structure that does not work and will not continue once she loses that grip. I killed a woman who helped to raise me, because I would not allow anyone else to enjoy taking her life on Marka's orders. I miss my father every day." She paused for a long moment, holding his gaze. "If this were a trap, I'd be dead by now." Rising from the bath, she stepped out, reaching for a towel to dry herself as she turned away from him.

He only arched a brow, startled by her confession, but not terribly surprised by it. He'd seen too much these last ten years for much to surprise him anymore, but oddly, he found a strange feeling rising up inside him and realized it was pity, sympathy, perhaps even compassion. Perhaps they would never be friends, but there was a chance they could be allies. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he mused quietly, more to himself than to her. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss. Your mother said you are your father's child. Do you know what she meant by that?"

She smiled faintly, though the expression was hidden from him. "My father was from a village called Pax," she told him, her voice low. "The same village where he now lives with my brother. He taught me to respect men and women equally. But he also taught me to be patient. There's no point in shouting your opposition to Marka when you are in no position to do more than shout. It takes time to build a coherent rebellion."

"Pax," he echoed quietly. His own home village. It wasn't too hard to believe considering the place wasn't too far from here. Even so, it might as well be halfway around the world. He hadn't thought of Pax in a very long time and now that she'd mentioned it, he couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering if his parents still lived, his sister, his friends. He turned quiet and sullen, staring off into nothingness, hearing her but making no reply.

The sullen silence that was her reply did not endear him to her in any way. She knew he must be thinking of his own home, but she was not what you might call blessed with social graces. With bad grace, she dropped the towel and moved out of what passed for a bathroom in silence of her own, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:45 EST

A few minutes passed before he realized he was alone. So much for rutting in the tub, but whatever desire he'd been feeling when she'd first stripped out of her clothes had abandoned him as soon as she'd started talking about Marka. What was he supposed to do now" Go comfort her" She was a warrior, like he was. The Captain of the Guard. No, he had been brought here for a reason, and that reason wasn't to make a child. He climbed out of the bath at last, dripping water across the floor before he grabbed a towel for himself and wrapped it about his waist. He wasn't terribly modest when it came to his own body. Being a slave had taken every last scrap of modesty from him and forced him to become a man before he was out of boyhood.

Of course, he probably wasn't expecting the view he found when he left the bathing area. Having covered herself for convenience more than decency's sake, Nemone was stretching, trying to ease the ache in her back. Mahon earned himself a fascinating view of the Captain of the Guard bent double, forehead to her knees, her legs straight, just for walking in at the right moment.

He paused in the doorway, almost feeling like a voyeur, like he was seeing something he shouldn't be seeing. He had to admit she was attractive, and it wasn't just the fact that she was limber and physically fit. It was all that red hair, and the fact that if she'd only smile once in a while, she might actually be pretty. "Is that what you want?" he asked her calmly. "A coherent rebellion?"

She straightened abruptly - a little too abruptly, if the pained intake of breath was anything to go by - turning to look at him in surprise. It took a moment longer for her to consider her answer. "I could have a coherent uprising happen tomorrow," she told him. "Happen, and fail. Not enough of us in the right places, and no guarantee that the men would fight with us. We have to move slowly, be sure of the people we're trusting. All it takes is one traitor, and we're all dead."

"And you want me to organize the men," he said, drawing that conclusion. It made sense. It was why he was here. Not just because he needed them, but because they needed him. "It could take years to plan a proper rebellion. One that would stick. One that would succeed," he remarked, noting the pained breath like he would an injury from any of his men, but he made no comment about it just yet.

"In telling you this, I'm trusting you with my life," she told him quietly. "I have the patience to build in secret, to endure years of torment for the final payoff. Do you? Can you endure years of this, and live to end it?" It was a pertinent question. He spoke often and loudly; the only way Gia could possibly have engineered a reprieve is if she had convinced Marka that Nemone could seduce him. He needed to learn to hold his tongue if he was going to live to see the end of Marka's reign.

He bristled a little at her question, his back going ramrod straight, just a little defensive at the implied assumption that he couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough or be patient enough to go the course. "I have been enduring this life for the last ten years, Captain. I expect I can endure a few years more."

"Then you'll have to put up with me," she informed him, turning her back to return to her stretching, favoring her left side as she did so. If he was going to bristle at every other word out of her mouth, she saw no point in talking. Not yet, anyway.

"What is wrong with you? You're favoring your left side," he said with a nod toward her, water still dripping off him onto her floor, his hair a tangled mess at his back, covering the scars he bore that were proof his own punishment at the end of a whip. His body was riddled with scars, some deep, some not so deep - all of them marks he had earned in the valley for one thing or another.

Breathing out in one long, slow breath, Nemone straightened once again, careful not to turn her head but to turn completely to face him. "Two days ago, one of the men - Lorcan - saved my life," she told him. "One of the solar-trucks was being worked on, I don't know what happened. It went for a little ride without a driver. Lorcan all but ripped me out of my boots to get me out of the way. I've bruised or torn something in my lower back on that side, that's all."

There was that grunt again as he absorbed her explanation. "Lay down," he told her, without so much as a please. If she had pulled something, he might be able to help ease her pain. If something was broken or torn, then that might require more skill, but he had not survived in the valley without learning a thing or not about healing.

Her brows raised as she looked at him, wondering if he even realized just how vulnerable he was asking her to make herself. She had admitted to an injury that would make her easier to harm; did he think she was stupid enough to just lie down and let him do as he pleased" "Excuse me?"

"Stubborn woman. I'm not going to rut you. I want to look at your side," he told her, looking a little put out that she seemed to think the worst of him. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now," he reminded her, and assumed the same went for himself. "Really, you are not my type. You're too ..." He trailed off, unable to find something he could criticize. The trouble was she was exactly his type, and he knew it. Maybe she wouldn't have been ten years ago, but he had changed, and his taste in women had changed with him.

"Lying while wearing only a towel is not a good look," she pointed out with wry amusement. "And believe me, that wasn't my concern. You could kill me easily and present my body and my plans to Marka." Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him thoughtfully. "Trust is hard to come by in the valley."

He arched a brow before looking down at himself as if only just realizing that his body had betrayed him again. "Hmm," he murmured, neither confirming or denying. "It has a mind of its own, it seems," he remarked, with the tiniest hint of a smirk - the first she'd seen from him. "As for Marka, do you really think she would believe someone like me" She would have my head just for fun and be done with the both of us. No, I may be reckless, but I'm not stupid."

For him, a tiny smirk; for her, a snort of laughter, with a smile she made no attempt to hide, glancing down with him in amusement. "It's flattering," she assured him. "Most men in the valley are terrified of me." She considered him for a long moment. "Why did Gia choose you for me?" she asked him.

He wasn't entirely sure of the answer to that. He only knew what little Gia had told him, and he thought that was only part of the reason. Part of it had something to do with a rebellion, but part of it seemed to go deeper, to have something to do with her daughter, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He shrugged his bare, broad shoulders before answering. "Because of your father, I think. She said he taught her a different way to rebel. Do you know what she meant?"

Nemone sighed softly, nodding. "She used to argue openly with Marka constantly, always making her opinion known and felt, speaking passionately against her in public," she explained. "She was treading a very thin line when she got pregnant with me. If it hadn't been for my father teaching her the silent way to rebel, she'd be dead, and most of us with her, men and women."

He frowned thoughtfully as she tried to explain. "She thinks I speak against Marka too much. She thinks it will get me killed, and that if I appear to be mated to you, Marka will spare my life, so long as I do not speak too loudly. A quiet rebellion then."

"Marka believes that men's opinions can be swayed by the right woman," she told him. "Gia has probably convinced her that I can sway you. If that's true, this is your last chance." And what a chance it was. To pretend to be beneath the thumb of the Captain of the Guard, or to die horribly as an example to others who might ferment rebellion. It was not a choice.

To become an example - either for good or ill - or to become a tool. But no matter how much he wished to choose his own destiny, he was no fool, and he was not ready to die just yet - certainly not for Marka. "Are you going to let me look at your side?" he asked, not answering her question, or perhaps answering in a different way. If she wanted his trust, then she'd have to give him hers, too.

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:46 EST

Nemone considered him once again, noting the scars, the strength, the intelligence in his eyes. And she gave him the one thing that could end her for good - her trust. With a nod, she undid the buttons of the shirt she wore, slipping it from her shoulders to give him a better look at the reddened skin to the left of her lower spine. Whatever else Lorcan had done, he'd certainly hit her hard to get her out of the way.

He wasn't worried what the men thought of him or of the fact that he was the Captain's mate - even if that wasn't true. He would deal with the men in his own way. He would explain and quietly work to train them into an army of rebels. He would weed out the traitors and those he couldn't trust, and mold those who were loyal into a formidable army. He didn't bother averting his gaze when she removed her shirt. There was no point, and he got the feeling she was no more modest or shy with her body than he was. He ignored the ache in his loins and moved toward her, palms up to show her he did not intend to hurt her. He noted the reddened skin at her back, his fingers gently exploring to see if she had broken any bones or torn any ligaments. "My mother is a healer back home," he told her, his fingers surprisingly gentle, though callused. Is" Was" He wasn't sure anymore.

Holding her left arm out of his way, Nemone stiffened for just a moment when he laid his hands on her, proving that, for all her bluster, she was unaccustomed to being touched by a man. She was strong, despite her apparent smallness in comparison with him, the core muscles of her back dense enough that the bruising would soon fade. "She would enjoy meeting Gia, then," she said quietly, engaged in her own fight against her libido now. His interest might have been obvious, but no less so than her own now he had touched her, her skin flushing gently as her breath quickened.

She was no better at hiding her desire than he was, but whether it was just a carnal need or the desire for something more, he couldn't say. There was a loneliness inside him that he didn't dare admit, even to himself. Could it be the same way for her" He didn't know. All he knew was that she was having as hard a time hiding her body's baser desires as he was. "Nothing broken. Just bruised," he told her, reluctantly pulling his hand away. He was trying hard not to notice how soft her skin was or the fact that she smelled like, well, like a woman. It was all he could do just to keep his pulse from not racing and his breathing steady.

"Good." Whether it was loneliness or something more, there was less resistance in her. She knew better than he did how often he would have to stay in these rooms with her to keep up their pretense - why should it be a pretense at all" Turning to him, she grasped his jaw, pulling him down into a kiss that was hungry for more than just kisses, ignoring the ache in her side in favor of dealing with an ache that went deeper.

To say he was shocked by that kiss was an understatement. It wasn't so much that it was an earth-shaking, toe-curling kiss as it was that he hadn't expected it. Eventually, perhaps, but not yet. How long had it been since he'd kissed a woman or been kissed by a woman' Too long, he thought. Too long since he'd really wanted anyone, since he'd let anyone get this close, physically or otherwise. Despite the bruise on her side, he could not help but answer that kiss with equal fervor, ignoring his better judgment in favor of the hunger that was burning like a fever somewhere deep down inside.

There was no tenderness in that kiss, nothing that even hinted toward the softer feelings that, in an ideal world, they would perhaps have developed before ever reaching this point. But there was hunger, desire, loneliness, a desperate need to touch and be touched; to be aware, if only for a little while, that she was not completely alone in this imperfect world her family had created over the generations. Perhaps it was strange, to feel the formidable Captain of the Guard tremble as her arms wrapped about him, starving for affection, but perhaps not. She was a woman, before everything else.

His kiss was not gentle, like first kisses should be. It was not loving or tender, and yet, there was something tender about the way his fingers traced her cheek and the way his lips touched hers, if only for a moment. There was desperation in that kiss, a hunger and emptiness in the very depths of his soul. That was what ten years in the valley had done - it had nearly robbed him of all hope, of all humanity - and yet, there was something he found in her kiss that gave him renewed hope. Maybe it was just his imagination, but for the first time in ten years, he no longer felt so very alone. But the need was so great that the tenderness didn't last, and he was pulling her roughly toward him, that kiss turning desperate and hungry as his mouth ravaged hers.

She didn't resist him, rough or not, trusting him with her body as much as she had with her life when she had first spoken of the quiet rebellion being built among the women of the valley. As desperate as he was for some kind of relief that they could only give one another, her hands dragged over his damp skin, pulling the towel about his hips away as she breathed him in. Forget the painful ache in her side, this sudden frustration for more than bitter words and hopes for the future drove her onward to touch, allowing herself to offer him the protection of her possession in public in return for his possession where no one could see them.

He needed no encouragement, though he was relieved she seemed to want this - no, need it - as much as he did. He had never been one to force himself upon a woman no matter whether she was friend or enemy and he wasn't about to start now. She was taking a chance in letting him get so close, but if he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd have done it by now. Instead, he drove her backwards toward the closest flat surface that would suffice - floor, couch, wall, it didn't matter what. He was going to have her and he was going to have her now.

The wall was what hit her back and drove the breath from her lungs, but there was no fight from her. The valley did something strange to its people - denied the chance to learn one another, men and women took what they could get when the opportunity afforded them, and Nemone had never known gentle. She growled, biting on his lip as though to hurry him up, needing that release before she could think once again.

Without a towel to hide behind, his need was all too obvious and all too hard to ignore. If he could not have her, it would drive him to madness, and yet, he hesitated, if only for a moment, growling back at her as he pressed his body against hers. She bit his lip, and his body tensed, his breath mingling with hers. "Do you have protection?" he asked, struggling to maintain composure enough to pronounce each word.

He became privileged in the moment he hesitated, becoming the first man ever to hear her whimper in frustration, however quietly she did it. "I'm not stupid," she breathed impatiently back to him, her hands gripping him tight as she arched from the wall at her back. She refused to walk blindly into the certainty of having a child; though in this often backward world of theirs after the Destruction, there was no way to guarantee that she wouldn't conceive, there were concoctions that lowered the risk considerably.

That was all the answer he needed. She had stated she didn't want a child, after all, and neither did he. Not here, not now. He wouldn't even consider it. Not when there was a chance they might have a boy. But he didn't want to think about that now. He was nearly blind with desire, and just barely in control of his senses, the more primal and carnal needs of the body nullifying all common sense. His lips grazed her neck and he growled in frustration and impatience as he tore at the last bit of clothing left to her, his heart hammering in his chest.

Whether they hurt one another or not, they both had an itch that needed scratching, and neither one cared enough to be careful with each other as their partnership was consummated. Passion they had in spades; it was everything else that made passion worth it they were lacking in that first wild, almost violent coming together, leaving one another with bites and scratches that Nemone, at least, was rather pleased with herself for leaving behind. Even if he could snap her like a twig, she'd marked him even as he drove her to a point where she'd forgotten her own name. He was hers now, whether he liked it or not.

In that moment, he was blind to all reason, driven like some wild thing to scratch that itch, to ease the agony that was driving him made and ultimately find sweet release. He forgot in that moment that she had been hurt, nearly losing control of his senses, as he took her and claimed her for himself in one violent and passionate coupling that left them both reeling and gasping for breath. There was no doubt in his mind that she was his now, no matter what came after. He had claimed her and ruined her for other men, whether she liked it or not.

Nemone · Date: 2015-07-18 11:48 EST

It was only in those breathless moments afterward that Nemone realized what she'd done, what she'd allowed him to do. Despite her sympathy for the plight of the men of the valley, she was still a woman who had been raised to believe that she should be the one in control, and yet here she was, pinned to the wall, every muscle trembling with utter satisfaction at the fact that she had been taken by a man who was more of a bear than a human on first impressions. She stiffened as that realization came to her, betrayed by her own body as her hands skimmed his back and arms before falling away. He smelled too good, felt too good. She wanted him again, already. Oh god, she thought, letting her head fall back to look up at him as he loomed over her. What the hell just happened"

And what was he doing when she looked up at him' He was grinning like a damned fool back at her, smug and arrogant, knowing all too well what effect he'd had on her but only because she'd had the same effect on him. He took pride in knowing he had given her pleasure. She had enjoyed herself, and perhaps for the first time in her life, she had let someone else take control. Oh, but he wasn't done with her yet - not by a long shot. Before she could realize what had happened, before she could change her mind and throw him out, he swept her up in his arms to find her bed with the intention of taking her again, slowly this time so he could savor each and every moment.

Marka made a lot of noise about what it was to be a woman. Every day of Nemone's life, she'd heard about the power of women, the strength of women, the right of women to rule the world that had been destroyed by men. As Mahon lifted her off her feet, instinct wrapped her arms around his neck, and for the first time in her life, she realized that this was a different kind of being a woman. Something that went beyond power and strength and rights; something that drove right to the core. Men and women were supposed to live as equals. And as she was carried without much ceremony toward her own bed, in her own rooms, by a man who was only supposed to be there for his own protection, there wasn't much in her that wanted to fight off whatever he intended to do with her. Not much. But she still made an effort. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Only what you want me to do ..." he paused a moment before adding, "....Captain." Oh, he was smug and cocksure of himself, but this was just what she needed - what they both needed - a good rutting to release all the tension and anger and hostility bottled up inside them. And if that passion, that desire, that hunger turned to something else? Well, he'd worry about it then. There was no hesitation in him, no waiting for an argument, knowing deep inside that this was exactly what she wanted. And if she wanted to take charge, then maybe he'd let her do that, too, in time.

Her jaw set, though there was no way to mistake the hitch in her breath, nor the way her fingers tightened on his skin, however briefly. "I never said I wanted anything," she pointed out, and if he was paying attention, he'd see that little flash of fear. She really didn't know what he was intending to do, as inexperienced as a virgin when it came to anything beyond a quick rut to release a little pressure. She didn't know what it was to desire a person, rather than the act, and she didn't like the uncertainty. If he wasn't quick, fear would turn to anger at his cocksure smugness, and he would have a fight on his hands.

"Some things don't require words," he replied, though he sensed some fear in her and wondered at that, too. She was Captain of the Guard - perhaps third in rank only to Marka herself - and she was afraid ....of him' Perhaps she should be. He could snap her neck without much effort, but that wasn't what he wanted. Had she ever known any tenderness from anyone" Her mother, perhaps. Maybe even her father. It had been too many years since he'd heard a kind or gentle word from anyone, but he didn't want to think about that now. For some reason, it was important to him that he show her that this could be more than just a quick rut to cool the tension, though how he knew he wasn't sure.

All of this was as new to him as it was to her. He had only been a boy when he'd arrived here, but even so, he remembered the tenderness his parents had shared, though he thought himself a fool to ever think he could have that for himself. "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured her as he laid her down against the bed, realizing that if she never wanted to see him again, he would remember this night for the rest of his days.

Laid onto her back, her red hair spilling out over the covers beneath her head, she forced herself to relax at least a little as he offered her some reassurance, though even that confused her. "Why?" she asked him, a softer frown on her face. "I ....I would have thought you all wanted me dead." It was a galling thing to admit aloud, that she knew how hated she was just for holding a certain rank, for being trusted by her mother's sister. And yet he'd had so many opportunities to end her since she'd locked that door, and hadn't even tried. Hell, he seemed to want to be closer to her, rather than feel her heart stop beating at his hands. She didn't know what to make of it, and worse, she didn't know what to make of herself. She didn't want him to leave, she didn't want him to let go of her, but she didn't want the rough, painful coupling they had just shared repeated. She didn't know, and for her, that was almost as frightening as looking down the barrel of a gun.

"We want Marka dead," he corrected her. Marka was the one to blame for it all, at least, for now. She was the leader, the one who made the decisions, the one whose cruelty and tyranny knew no bounds. A day ago, he might have considered the Captain his enemy, but in only a day, it seemed everything he had known and had believed had changed. He lay down beside her, his body still aching with desire, but it was easier to bear now that they had taken the edge off with that violent coupling. "You mother seems to think I could be to you what your father was to her. I don't know what it is she sees in me or why I was chosen, but if you truly wish to defeat Marka, then I will do everything in my power to make it so."

Reassured by his willingness to talk, Nemone relaxed properly, twisting onto her side as he lay down beside her. "You're a leader, Mahon," she told him, using his name more easily than either of them might have thought was possible. "It comes naturally to you, and the men look to you. It makes you valuable to us, and it makes you dangerous to Marka. So we have to keep you alive to lead when the time comes." She sighed softly, brushing her hair back out of her face. "I have fifty I trust among the women, but they're not in the right places, and there just aren't enough of us. Fifty against five hundred isn't a fight, it's a fart in the wind."

He secretly wondered if that was all he was, if that was all this was about. Was this all just about using him to achieve their own means" And what if it was" There were things that were bigger than him, bigger than both of them. Freedom was one of them. The thought was like a dagger in his heart though - that she might only wish to use him - but then, they hardly knew each other. They were allies, no more. Not even friends. Certainly not lovers, not even after what they had just shared. But if he was to be to Nemone what her father had been to her mother, then perhaps there was hope for something more, someday, if they both lived.

"I have two hundred, easily," he replied. "But we will need more than just numbers. Many of them are sick and starving. Marka uses us, drains us, until there is nothing left but a husk. We are nothing more than drones to be put to work until we die. The lucky ones come here, but only for a time, and then they, too, are worked to the bone." He sighed, tossing a hand in the hand as if to dismiss the subject. "Bah, you know all this already."

"That's why we need women in the right places," she pointed out, rolling onto her back to look up at the rock-hewn ceiling above them. She was fighting down an urge to cover herself, wondering just what it was about this particular man that made her shy to be naked with him when they'd been about as close as a man and woman could get already. "Get enough in the guard, enough in the hill, and the men won't need to fight hard or for long. We'd be able to strike where the power is. Problem is being patient enough to move as slow as we need to. Slow enough not to get people killed pointlessly."

It was a smart plan, but one that they might not live to see come to fruition - or more accurately, that he might not live long enough to see - but since when did that matter" The only thing that mattered was freeing the slaves in the valley and restoring freedom and equality to both men and women. "It could take years," he told her, raising a hand to touch her breast, his fingers tracing and teasing the nub of her nipple. He wasn't sure why he was doing exactly except that he wanted to.

"It will," she agreed, but any other words were lost in the soft gasp that left her throat at his touch. Her skin flushed pink, encouraging that gentle touch even as she felt herself twist a little way toward him, her eyes finding his to share the way he'd begun to rouse her again with just a single ghost of a touch. She swallowed, surprised - even shocked - with herself, watching as her own hand rose to trace her knuckles just as gently against his bearded cheek.

He had been young and handsome once, but that was before he'd been taken from his family and brought to the valley. Still, he knew what he lacked in looks, he more than made up for in spirit. And though he spoke of starvation and hardship, he was strong and well-muscled. There had been a time when he'd nearly starved to death, but the women had learned that men who starved weren't much good in the fields. Mahon watched her face for a moment while his fingers stroked her breast, learning from her reactions what she found pleasant, even as she learned herself. He moved closer, his face hovering close to hers. "I will have my freedom one day, and you will be mine." He didn't wait for an answer, capturing her lips with his, reigniting the fire of passion between them.

This kiss was different, for all the passion that rose as he captured her lips and she willingly offered them to him. There wasn't any suggestion of the near violence that had resulted in bites and scratches as Nemone rolled to him, her hands rising to touch the scarred, muscled form that spoke to hers in a way she'd never experienced before. But it wasn't just the form; it was the man. The shared hopes, the shared strength, and perhaps the shared need to know that those hopes and strengths were shared and would come to pass. She didn't know how to touch him any more than he knew how to touch her, but she wasn't afraid to try, silencing her uncertainties as they traded kisses back and forth. You will be mine. As the words sank in, she almost wanted to laugh. Didn't he know she already was?

Mahon drew himself out of his thoughts of the past, as his son - their son, the child he had made with Nemone - peacefully slept, unaware of the storm that was brewing in his father's heart. The memories were bittersweet, reminding him of everything he loved in her, of everything he stood to lose if they failed. But they would not fail, because he had promised her and promised their son a different future, a different world - a world where men and women lived in peace and equality and freedom and yes, even love. He would keep that promise to her, no matter what. She would be his, she would survive, and woe unto anyone who tried to stop him.

((We can never resist a good backstory romance! This was fun ....more to come, before we finally get around to actually getting up to date with the Post-Apocalypse storyline!))