Chapter 20

Jane seated me in her sports car's passenger seat and said, "Come on, Olivier, yes, like this, slowly."

We were able to board the little rescue boat and depart the cruise ship thanks to Jane. I was holding my injured leg, looking at the clotted blood surrounding the cut, when she pushed me in the back and angrily screamed something. Suddenly, the car door opened, and I was startled to see my husband dressed in wet clothing. I shivered to feel the pain in my leg. Both his shirt and pants were drenched with water. He started the car, and we got going.

"Why does it always have to be my car? Do you know how much the dry cleaning costs?" Jane moaned angrily.

"Jane," my exhausted husband replied quietly. "Shut the fuck up. Please."

It went silent. Ranold dialed a number on the vehicle's computer and gave the coordinates. Then it went silence again.

"Why is he shivering?" He abruptly inquired while briefly looking away from the road to place his palm on my forehead.

Jane replied, "I don't know."

Ranold turned to face me once more before removing the shawl when he noticed the knife in my leg. Suddenly, the car swerved to the left and entered the opposing lane.

"Ranold, oh my goodness!" Jane let out a stern cry.

My husband didn't respond. The car moved back into the right lane. He gave me another glance before reaching for the knife and immediately taking it out. I let out a loud eagle-like scream that ended in whimpers. Ranold reached into the glove box and pulled out a tiny bottle of bourbon.

"Ranold!" Jane yelled angrily as he took a few swallows then pouring the rest on my cut.

I passed out from the intense pain.

***

I opened my eyes in a tiny room. I immediately sat up in bed, experiencing nothing but an odd sense of relief, as if all that had happened earlier had merely been a bad dream. This, however, was untrue. I observed a woman stitching my husband's face wound while wearing a bright torch on her head. When she finished the last stitch, he hissed.

"You know the bourbon isn't a good anesthetic," she added as she was packing her belongings.

"No one expected you to take merely one ampule," my husband replied.

She remarked, "I had no idea you wouldn't be alone. He's awake, by the way."

Ranold glanced at me as he rose from the chair. I quickly turned to my side, squeezing the cushion beneath my head, and looked away. I guess I was worried? A bout what? A bout him?

"The sedative effect will endure for over twenty hours. Enjoy," she replied, leaving the two of us in the tiny space.

The door silently closed, making me quiver a little. My husband lay on the bed behind me and turned out the light while I was barely breathing. When I felt his warm touch on my shoulder, I let a tear fall down my cheek and clenched the pillow once more.

"If there is anything I can do for you..." he began as I turned my head to him.

"Teach me how to defend myself. I want to know how to fight back. I'd like to learn how to defend myself. I want to..."

He looked me in the eyes and gently responded, "I will."

For the first time, I spoke the word "okay" in a very low voice while swiveling around to face him and hugging my hot naked body against him.

When I felt his arms gently hug me, I was a little shaking and clutching my chest in my fists. I felt, in some way, better. For the first time in a day, I stopped shaking, and I sighed with relief. He was surrounded by such nice calm. The moment I felt his hand run down my back, I simply closed my eyes and moved closer to him. I let out a sigh. He gently patted my back while moving his hand again up and down. I felt calm.

I raised my head as he continued. When our eyes met, I experienced a kaleidoscope of feelings. He gently kissed me squarely on the lips after slightly lowering his head. He touched my lower back, and I shivered a little. He drew my leg to himself, picking it up, and gave it a gentle touch from my knee to my groin. He then raised it slightly and appeared between my legs, giving my bandaged skin a few soft kisses. His heated fingertips were slipping under the T-shirt, and I felt chills on my waist. I called out his name, barely audible, but he didn't hear me. He was busy kissing my stomach, and I was busy biting my lips in response to the heat of his breath on my skin.

I didn't come to my senses till I was startled by his subtle movements and faintly groaning after an excellent blowjob. He was slowly fondling me while I was shaking on the bed. I could feel my entire body submitting to him, welcoming him. His hands were all over my body. He was stroking my neck, shoulders, chest, waist, and legs. I felt him all about me, as though I were completely immersed and subsumed in him. I couldn't put into words how I felt. I had just... I guess I was just thrilled to see him. I wished he would touch me. I wished he'd given me a hug. To forget what happened. To forget about everything. Just because his hands, kisses, and fondling were so pleasant, so soothing, so native.

He pressed his lips on mine and said, "Olivier."

As I kissed him, I started crying. I could feel him inside within me and wanted more. I wished he could completely erase all the painful memories. I want him to satisfy me with himself. I wished he were nearby. I moaned once more as I tightened our hands together, feeling him deep inside of me.

I softly pleaded with him, "Please. Please..."

That evening, I failed to complete the phrase. I didn't remember exactly what I was pleading for. It was something of significant importance. Something from the depths of the soul. Something that I couldn't explain. And something that was never taken from that tiny motel room.

***

"Wow! You've gone through a lot," Ethan replied when I told him the tale of how we went to the country with my mother and sister to recover from the illness, and how I fell from the old farm horse when I asked our neighbor to ride it for a short while.

I sighed, "Yeah," not really believing I'm that good at telling stories.

"Nilan wondered about you," Ethan added. "He'll believe you're ignoring him, so you'd best write him or do something."

"What?" I unlocked my phone after remembering that I hadn't checked my messenger in a while to see that Nilan had left a large number of messages. "Shit..."

"Mhm," Ethan agreed as he ate his ice cream. "By the way, we're going to the festival from the university, as you may have heard. Are you coming? A trade fair would be held. I'll be selling the cakes. Want to participate?"

"Oh, if it's okay with you," I said in a humble manner.

"Sure, why not? Nilan will also be joining us. I made arrangements," Ethan grinned.

"Brian, too?" I jolted a question.

"He is, indeed, among those who favor open relationships. I don't like it, you know."

"Oh well, I see."

It seems to be a little bit of a relief to get back to the routine. I was relieved to be able to pick up my books and studies once more and resume trying to live a regular life. The resumption to the regular schedule seems to be somewhat relived. I was relieved to be able to start reading and studying once more and attempting to lead a regular life. The ring and the man waiting for me on the motorcycle at the campus were the only remnants of my new existence. That time, I sat confidently behind him since I knew we were heading to a place where I could finally learn how to protect myself. And for that, I was ready.

It appeared to be a storage facility. We arrived at one of the dilapidated structures and walked inside. There was a ring, some punching bags, a few men, and lots of room for lifting and working out. Along with mats, there was some other training gear.

"Ranold, bro man, what's up?" A familiar voice caught my attention, and I then unexpectedly spotted a Black man.

My husband greeted him with a "Hello, Wendall" before turning to face me. "Wendall will show you how to defend yourself. He'll be your father-by-swearing. He is a tough guy, so work hard."

As a joke, Wendall hit my husband in the stomach.

My husband snickered, "Ouch. I still have the injury. Don't be so quick to punch me."

In response, he gave him a shoulder punch.

Wendell grinned and said, "Well. How much time has passed?

Ranold proudly replied, "Third. After Chicago."

"Oh Chicago."

"Yes, Chicago."

"I guess I failed, then."

They both turned to face me as my husband smiled and said, "Exactly."

I was baffled. But they had a weird smile on their faces, as if there were something wrong with me.

Wendall gave me the gloves and said, "Come on, buddy, I'll let you know if you beat me in the ring."

"Wendall, please take it easy. He is my husband. And unlike me," Ranold remarked.

As expected, I lost my first fight. But the following visit was a little... A little... Frustrating. The next day, we walked to an open field and met Anastasia. It's crucial for me to explain how we met.

The sun was out in full force and it was lunchtime. Ranold removed his helm as we came to a stop beneath the tree. A sports bike was coming at us quickly after I had first noticed the dust clouds from a distance. The bike halted in front of us, causing me to step back as the sand and dust made me cough. A young slender woman stood up from the motorcycle. She removed her helmet, revealing her shoulders beneath a fall of beautiful brown hair. She slowly moved forward my husband and was about to kiss him when he stopped her by placing his thumb on her lips.

"I'm with my husband, Anastasia," he said.

She said in a soft voice, "Oh, sorry. I didn't notice."

She turned to face me while caressing my husband's shoulder and snuggling up to him in her form-fitting leather costume. For the first time, I felt an unexpected jealousy. The only one I felt that way with was Anastasia; I didn't feel that way with Jane or the other omegas. As if there were a threat.

"This is Anastasia, Olivier. This is Olivier, Anastasia," Ranold said.

I immediately cursed Anastasia when she grinned and remarked, "Oh, Olivier, what a nice name."

Ranold said, "She'll teach you how to shoot."

"The way you taught me?" She bit her bottom lip as she slid her finger down my husband's chest.

"No!" I yelled out of the blue, a little offended, and covered my lips with my hand as I began to blush.

"What a sweet little pup!" Anastasia raised her eyebrows and smiled endearingly.

Ranold remarked, staring at the woman, "Anastasia, this is my husband."

She didn't avert her gaze from his, and for a split second I caught some sparking between them.

Finally, she touched his chest and uttered, "Well. Well..."

I got shivers on my back as Anastasia turned to face me.

She grabbed a rifle from her sports bag and said, "Let's go, I'll show you the master class," before leading the way to the field.

She was proficient at it, of course. She was a skilled assassin who was adept with practically all weapons. I twice lost her. The most intriguing part of the story, however, was the day after when I finally learned that our PE teacher had abruptly taken a flight to another state and a replacement was on the way. Who do you suppose it was? Yes, a stunning brunette with a long ponytail and glasses, dressed in a long, tight skirt and a low-cut white shirt. Miss Anastasia Hamilton was her name.