Hunted

"I have to go out tomorrow," Sasha whispered. "Early. I should be back by midday." He was already sliding back down, parting her legs again and she felt his breath on her thighs. Oh god. Thinking was becoming difficult.

If he was going out in the morning, it meant that he was going to do a job. And the only job it could possibly be was the one she had given them information on. If he went there, he would die. And she couldn't warn him without telling him why. Oh god.

She'd have to stop him. She was glad she had one more trick up her sleeve that would allow her to do that. He was by no means a good or decent man, but she wasn't going to kill him. And she wasn't going to ask herself why, either.

Sasha slid one finger inside her and his tongue onto her clitoris and Suzanne lost her train of thought completely. She slid her hands into his hair and ran her nails over his scalp, pulling him closer. He groaned in contentment and the vibrations from his voice caused Suzanne to come again.

"Please Sasha," she whispered, and he rose to his feet.

He unbuttoned his pants and leaned over her, and Suzanne raised her legs and locked them around his back. The head of his penis nudged against her opening, and Suzanne whined in anticipation. Sasha braced his forearms on the table on either side of Suzanne's head, and slid up and down for a moment, feeling a warm, inviting wetness drawing him towards her. She slid her arms along his sides until she reached his arse, and pulled a little. He bumped against her harder, stretched her opening slightly until she moaned in eagerness, then pulled back out to rest against her. She looked up at him, saw the look in his eyes and knew exactly what he wanted.

"Sasha..." she whispered softly, sliding her hand back across his hips and brushing her fingers across the length of his penis and down to her clitoris. She stroked for a moment, let her head fall backwards as she moaned in pleasure and he groaned in response. She looked back into his eyes as she whispered "I'm hot and I'm wet." She slid a finger inside herself and then pulled it back out to stroke along his penis again. "See? Don't you want to feel that?"

His mock resistance never did last long. Sasha cured the ache inside Suzanne with one forceful thrust which caused her to whine in pain-laced pleasure as he settled inside her. She slid her hands back to his arse and pulled, wanting him to move even harder. Every thrust was causing her to cry out in pain as he bumped her cervix, and she scratched her nails along his back until he had to hold her arms down. She came again, and her lust for pain lessened as her body calmed down again. Sasha slowed his movement inside her and she moaned in appreciation. He let her arms go and she slid them around him, one sliding into his hair and stroking through it.

"Aleksandar," she whispered, using his full Christian name for the first time. "I..." She stopped herself from saying something very stupid. "You're so beautiful."

He looked at her for a moment, wondered what she had meant to say, but she wouldn't look at him and so he couldn't tell. She slid her hand between his legs and squeezed his balls gently and he forgot all about what she had started to say.

The dinner was burned, but they ate it anyway. Suzanne was quiet during the meal, worrying about the night ahead. Sasha didn't notice; he was relaxed and he had a full belly and he was never much of a talker, anyway. Suzanne sneaked to the bathroom while they were cleaning the dishes, a sharp knife concealed in her shirt sleeve. She sat on the toilet with her left foot dangling over the bath, and felt along the arch of her foot for two small bumps. Grimacing, she slid the knife into the skin to the side of the left bump, and a small capsule plopped out of the wound, along with a ridiculous amount of blood. She ran her foot under the cold water and pressed tissue paper to the cut until the bleeding stopped, washing the capsule in the water as well. She hid the knife in the cistern of the toilet before padding down the stairs again.

Suzanne busied herself preparing a hot drink for both of them, breaking open the capsule and dumping the contents into Sasha's cup while his back was turned. They drank their tea and then plodded upstairs to bed, Suzanne's stomach in knots at the thought of what was about to happen. Sasha sank onto the bed, the sedative already taking its toll on him. He frowned; he knew that something was wrong but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Suzanne lifted his face towards her and stroked his cheek gently.

"I'm sorry Sasha," she whispered softly. "Please believe that I'm doing this to try to help you. I can't let them kill you." She wasn't sure if he could hear her, but she had to say something. She knew that he would be mad as hell when he woke up in the morning.

Suzanne didn't sleep. She sat up and watched Sasha sleep as she waited for her extraction team to arrive. The sound of an approaching engine signalled that she had to leave. She had slid on a pair of his pants as well as the shirt, but his boots were ridiculously large and so she had to go barefoot. She checked that Sasha was still sleeping soundly, then kissed him gently before creeping downstairs. She had to wipe tears from her eyes before she opened the door and met the familiar face of her handler waiting to meet her.

***

Sasha knew that something was wrong as soon as he woke up. His body was heavy and his head was groggy. He usually woke up instantly; a necessity in his line of work. And the other side of the bed was empty. And cold. And it was light. Shit! He laid back in the bed, trying to clear the fog in his head. She's gone.

What could have gone wrong? He never overslept, and he never woke up feeling like this. The dinner had been burned, yes, but it wasn't poisonous. She's gone.

He leaned his head over the edge of the bed and threw up, his body expelling the majority of last night's meal, and whatever was causing him to feel like this. She's gone.

Sasha grabbed his rifle and his handgun and ran downstairs, checking to make sure that yes, she really was gone. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to calm himself so that he could think. His first priority was to get to his earlier destination, and find out what had happened. Then he could worry about finding the girl. He jumped into his truck and sped off, anger burning through the throbbing in his head. He almost couldn't believe what he found.

Bodies. He'd expected bodies, but not the ones that lay on the ground in front of him. Someone had ambushed the Serb soldiers, and they lay dead in the mud, weapons strewn where they had dropped them. He spotted Boskovic and his commanding officer, and several others whose names eluded him, but they had all been stationed at the base from which he removed Suzanne. He left, not wanting to be a target for any snipers that might have been left behind, just in case.

The anger overtook his calm now as a hundred thoughts ran through Sasha's head at once. She'd lied to him. She'd told them what they wanted to hear and they had believed her, biding her time until she could escape. She'd kept him happy with sex and lured the soldiers into a trap that was meant for him, as well. A wave of emotion washed over him that felt dangerously close to pain and he viciously kicked the side of the truck in frustration. He was meant to be dead here, too!

But she'd drugged him. Stopped him from leaving the house on time. Why? What could she have possibly gained by him not turning up to do his job as he'd been ordered? He growled furiously as he realised that this now looked as if he'd been the one who'd set them up. The chances of him getting out of this alive were slim indeed.

It was past midday. If she'd left after he'd fallen asleep, she would have had hours to get away now. He'd never find her today. Deciding that his best chance for survival was to get away from the scene as quickly as possible, he got back into the truck and headed east as fast as the shitheap could manage. He ground his teeth in frustration as he tried to work out a plan of action. He wasn't going to stop until he found her, and he didn't care where he had to go to do it. And when he did, she was going to regret it.

***

Suzanne had to endure a physical and psych evaluation on her return to Operations, and had been recommended four months of leave to aid in her recovery. On closer inspection of the available information, Intelligence had discovered that Aleksandar Jovanovic had not been among those killed during the fire-fight. Still, they'd managed to take out the leader and a great number of the soldiers, and so the mission was classed as a partial success.

She wasn't sure how four months of sitting around and doing nothing was going to help her feel better, but she wasn't going to complain. She was just glad that they hadn't started questioning her about why Sasha hadn't been where he was supposed to be that morning. She had fallen into a carefully constructed routine designed with the intent to numb her brain, and she was walking around in a daze for the most part.

It had been ten weeks, but Sasha was still preying on Suzanne's mind. She was sure he was going to come after her, and a part of her was dreading that and what he would do. However, another small part of her ached at the thought that maybe he wouldn't bother coming to find her. She felt utterly confused whenever she thought about him; it made her flinch at the memory of her bruises but she also felt a twinge of longing. She dreamt about him while she slept and spent her days trying to push him out of her mind, with little success. She often found herself daydreaming, her body burning at the memory of his hands and mouth moving over her skin.

The torture didn't last much longer. Suzanne returned home tired after a day spent aimlessly wandering through the local shopping centre. She dropped her bags in the hallway and traipsed up the stairs and into her bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind her. She pulled her hair out of its pony tail and began unbuttoning her shirt, then froze as she heard the bedroom door close behind her.

Sasha stood leaning against the bedroom door, his arms casually folded and that characteristic look of brutal determination on his face. He looked a little tidier than usual, although he still wasn't clean shaven. The look in his eyes was difficult to fathom completely, but Suzanne didn't miss the smouldering anger within them. She felt her nether regions stir treacherously at the sight of him and took an involuntary step backwards, eyes darting about in search of any available weapons but finding nothing.

"Hello Sasha," she whispered softly, standing awkwardly still as she tried to figure out what he was going to do. He didn't reply. "What do you want?" she asked, suddenly conscious of the fact that her breasts were poking out of her half unbuttoned shirt.

Sasha snorted derisively as he pushed himself away from the door and stalked towards Suzanne. She raised her chin in defiance and refused to back away. He stopped in front of her, so close that his chest almost brushed against her breasts.

"You know why I'm here, my little slut," he growled softly in Serbian. He slid his hand to her cheek and gripped painfully. "You lied to me, and you set me up. And you're going to die." Suzanne slapped his hand away from her cheek, then landed another blow to his left eye. He caught her wrist before she could hit the other side of his face and bent it behind her back painfully. She whimpered, then kneed Sasha in the balls in an attempt to escape. He grunted, his grip relaxing on her arm as he bent over in pain.

"Let's get a couple of things straight Sasha," Suzanne said, kicking him again as it looked as if he might straighten up. "Yes, I lied to you. It was my job. As for setting you up? I did that too. But if I hadn't done things the way that I did, you would be dead right now, and you know it."

Sasha straightened slowly, then shoved Suzanne against the wall, pinning her down. "Am I supposed to be grateful?" he growled, his hand holding her jaw still.

"That I risked my own life to save yours?" Suzanne replied. Sasha raised an eyebrow at that, unimpressed. "Yes, you should be. You were supposed to turn up to do your job and get slaughtered with the rest of them, but I stopped you from going. My employers are not exactly forgiving, Sasha. If they find out what I did, they'll kill me."

Sasha was silent for a moment. He hadn't dared let himself think that perhaps Suzanne hadn't wanted him to get hurt. The thought niggled at him, but he pushed it aside coldly. "Don't worry," he replied, sliding his hand to her throat and starting to squeeze. "I'll save them the trouble."

"I understand that you're angry Sasha," Suzanne said. "That you feel as if I used you. But we didn't exactly have a traditional honest and loving relationship going on. I still didn't want them to hurt you, though. I need you to understand that I did what I did because it was the only way I could stop them from killing you. And that was all that was important to me."

He didn't believe her, he couldn't. He'd spent too long being as angry as hell over her making a fool of him, and he wasn't about to let her do it again. So he ignored the look of pain on her face and chose to think only about the fact that everything else she'd ever said to him had been a lie. He gradually tightened his grip on her neck until she started to squirm desperately.

Suzanne wasn't going to accept Sasha's punishment without a fight. She punched him in the stomach and he grunted in pain, his grip loosening on her throat enough so that she could push him away from her. She hit him again in the jaw, but he grabbed her arm and held her still, a backhander to her cheek causing her to stagger in pain.

Sasha was slightly surprised by Suzanne's return to her original more aggressive self. He wondered how much of her submissive behaviour had been an act to make him feel secure enough to trust her. It had certainly worked. He pulled her against him and slid his mouth to her ear.

"All that time you spent screaming for me," he whispered. "All the times you writhed around underneath me and moaned my name. Was doing your job really worth being a whore for me?" Suzanne frowned at Sasha's hard description of past events.

"That wasn't a part of my job," she whispered, and Sasha sneered. He didn't believe her. He wouldn't.

"Was doing your job really worth leaving?" he growled. Suzanne's breath caught in her throat. How was she supposed to answer that?

"I..." she started, taking a shaky breath. "I didn't want to leave like that. But I couldn't have stayed, Sasha. I mean, you couldn't have expected me to be happy sitting naked in a house all day just waiting for you to come home so that you could screw me?"

Sasha growled again in disgust, shoved Suzanne away from him and turned away. She staggered for a moment, but regained her balance without falling over. He still looked angry, but now there was something else there as well. He brought his hand up and rubbed his face, then raked it through his hair angrily before turning to face her again.

"I should have killed you when Cavoski told me to," he said quietly, his right hand sliding to his back. He produced his handgun, switched off the safety and held it pointed at the floor beside him.

"You don't mean that," Suzanne replied, her voice even. "And you know it." He was not going to kill her. Sasha snorted, walked towards her slowly.

"You think so?" he asked, raising the gun to her eye level. "Do you really think I'm not going to kill you, baby?"

Suzanne hoped not, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances. She grabbed his wrist with one hand and slammed her elbow down onto his forearm. He growled in pain, and she swung her elbow back up and slammed it into the side of his face. He dropped the gun, but it wasn't going to be enough for her to escape. He was still as tough as nails and he recovered in a split second.

The girl used the second that Sasha was recovering to make a run for the door. She managed to claw it open before he grabbed her by her shirt collar and shoved her forwards, slamming the door shut and her chest straight into it. He yanked her around to face him and slid his hand into her hair, pulling viciously.

"You're not getting away from me ever again," he growled, slapping her in the face as she continued to struggle. "I told you that you were mine, and I meant it!" Suzanne refused to stay still, kicking, hitting and scratching with every last remaining ounce of strength in her limbs.

"I do not belong to you!" she screamed. "You don't own me, Sasha! And you can't just make me do what you want!"

Sasha smiled nastily, slid his free hand to Suzanne's chin and held her eyes level with his. "Who are you trying to convince?" he asked softly, which renewed Suzanne's anger. She lashed out at him again, and they fought for several minutes. Sasha eventually slammed Suzanne back against the wall, his hips grinding into hers. He held her head tightly in his hands and kept her still as he kissed her, hard. There was absolutely nothing gentle in his actions; he was vicious and brutal, and Suzanne repaid him in kind. She continued to hit and scratch at him, and bit his lower lip until she tasted his blood filling her mouth. He grunted in pain, lifted his head away from her and punched her in the left eye, hard.

Suzanne was stunned for a moment from the force of Sasha's blow to her face, and she couldn't stop him as he pulled her away from the wall and threw her on to her bed. He followed immediately, straddling her legs and holding her arms above her head. He ripped open her shirt the rest of the way and yanked her bra aside, grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed harshly. Suzanne hissed in pain and started to struggle, but he had his weight on top of her and she couldn't get any leverage. Sasha was not impressed by her continued struggling, and bent down to catch her other nipple in his teeth. She groaned, arched against him as her body tried to decide whether it wanted him dead, or inside her.

He leaned to the side for a moment so that he could unzip Suzanne's trousers and drag them off her legs, but she was having none of it. She kicked at him, then wriggled away as best she could. She got one arm free and hit him in the face, then shoved at his chest, trying to get him off her completely. No chance. She was strong, but he was heavier. And he was far more used to this sort of thing than she was.

Suzanne was panicking. If she let him touch her she would melt, and she knew it. But she couldn't get him off her, no matter how much she hurt him. He was determined to do what he wanted to do, regardless of her opinion of the situation. He succeeded in getting rid of her trousers -- and her underwear -- and slid back on top of her, forcing his legs between hers.

They continued their fight, Sasha alternating randomly between stroking her and hitting, kissing and biting. Suzanne fought him tooth and nail for as long as she could, but eventually found herself kissing him back, no less brutally than him. She groaned in anger as she felt his hand slide over her stomach and down into her pubic hair. He slid his fingers inside her, and found her wet.

"You see?" he growled, bringing his hand up to Suzanne's face and wiping the moisture onto her mouth. "You always did enjoy me being in charge. What's the point of being alone with no one around to fuck you until you scream? You'll always be my little whore. Won't you?"

Suzanne closed her eyes, angry hot tears falling down her cheeks. She relaxed her body for a moment, trying to regain some of her strength. If he wanted an answer then it would be a long time coming.