Maybe some cheesy parallel LCB title like Hate can wither

It had been two weeks already, and they weren't getting any closer of leaving that Emperor-forsaken planet. Surviving in the wilderness and avoiding the Exodites was hard enough, but on top of that he had to travel alongside... her.

The former guardsman cursed his luck. He wasn't sure that is decision to leave the guard for the service of a Rogue Trader had seemed like a good idea at the time, especially after 6 years in the trenches of Hanninls Secundus, but at least the guard had simple procedures regarding xenos. And a wealthy stock of Promethium.

His Excellency had brought the xeno witch along because of her «invaluable insight that will certainly prove useful during the negotiation with the alien». And he had been tasked to respond to her needs during the journey and act as her bodyguard. The witch seemed to pour nothing but scorn upon him, which suited the soldier fine. She had expressed interest in a handful of stewards during the transition, none of them to be ever seen again. The Rogue Trader had laughed and dismissed his concerns, The negotiations with the Eldars had gone awry really quick, even by His Excellency's standards. He had apparently insulted one of their gods, some «World Spirit», and had resorted to orbital strike at the first sign of alarm. The diplomatic exchange had become a mess of explosions and automatic fire. Everyone had scattered and left the landing ground shortly afterwards, pursued by the Exodite warriors. The guardsman hoped the buffoon had survived, if only because there would probably be no rescue parties otherwise.

And there he was, cut from the rest of the expedition, with a filthy alien in tow. But he had been ordered to protect her, and protect her he would, even if he had to drag her by her hair into the rescue shuttle. If there was one thing that guardsmen were good at, it was obeying orders. And die holding the line, but he wasn't keen on this one right now. At least the planet was pleasant. Rollings hills and omnipresent forests. He hadn't seen a world so alive in his entire life. It was a bit intimidating for someone used to hives and devastated battlefields, so he had left the Eldar take the lead. She apparently knew her way.

«Get over there, mon-keigh» said the xeno, crouched behind a rock a few paces on his left. He sat next to her; she shifted, visibly disgusted by such proximity. «There is a pair of harangaithaan down the road», she said after a long pause, as if he was a fool for forcing her to clarify. The witch spoke a surprisingly good and usually very formal low-gothic, despite her thick alien accent. Her regular use of eldar words was annoying, though. Couldn't say dino riders instead. He looked at the next curve of the road, disappearing into the forest like some giant mouth. «Need me to take them out?», he asked, while unslinging his hellrifle. «No, I pointed it to you so you could take a nap undisturbed. They will be on us in a few minutes. Make yourself useful for once, Ceiba-ny-shak» Whatever that last word meant, it was probably not very nice. He shrugged and carefully took aim. «Don't miss, mon-keigh. Or we're both dead» «How about you shut up and let me do my thing, M'lady?» The first rider appeared ahead of them. He fired.

And the rider's upper body disappeared in a flash. The dinosaur roared and amazingly, instead of charging at them turned around and made for the other rider. Curiously, the second dinosaur was completely docile and made no move even as it's rider desperately tried to move it away. The rider's attempts became more desperate by the moment as the riderless lizard approached closer, looking at the rider as if it were a particularly tasty meal. The rider managed to wheel his mount around and prepared to thrust his spear at the approaching lizard. He pointed it towards the creature and then -

His mount turned around completely looking the other way. His strike went astray and before he had time to register what had happened, the lizard had tossed him from his saddle and decapitated him in a single fluid motion. That wasn't even the strangest thing.

The next moment, the newly riderless lizard on the path squatted and the other lizard stood over her. Realization dawned on the guardsman. They were rutting! The damn things had gotten free of their riders and were mating.

"What's the matter mon-keigh? Sad that you cannot join them?" The witch had crept up behind him, silent as a shadow and was staring at the scene with a sneer as if it was something of a joke.

He was too surprised to say anything as she stepped down from the rock they were hiding behind and began moving towards the extraction point. This was definitely not what he had been taught at boot camp.

He shrugged and followed her. Better to follow the witch and than to stand about there and get eaten by those overgrown lizards once they were done rutting. He ran back after her. They were making for the extraction point. An hour more of walking and he could safely be out of this world and away from the witch. She was walking at a leisurely pace and he was struggling to keep up with her. The undergrowth was a damn nightmare with branches and roots constantly hitting him in the shins, his face, or nearly tripping him.

After nearly an hour of stumbling across the undergrowth he saw the first signs of the extraction point. They were not encouraging. Heavy plumes of smoke were emerging above the jungle canopy. He could smell the reek of promethium, a thick cloying smell that could be tasted as much as it could be smelt.

He walked into the clearing and swore loudly. The extraction Valkyrie had crashed or had been shot down. It didn't matter. There were half a dozen bodies in the clearing, all of them wearing the carapace armor that the rogue trader was fond of making his bodyguars wear. They were all headless. One of the bodies was clad in a more ornate form of the carapace armor and wearing a stupidly expensive grox skin jacket that was a hideous green in color. It's hands still grasped the extraction beacon. It seemed like the Rogue trader had not been able to get off planet after all.

Instead of despairing, Guardsman Lahamann found himself thinking with a cold calculated precision. His bootcamp training was taking over.

He began rifling the bodies for any spare power packs they might have. And knives. Powerpacks and knives. Maybe any salvageable rations and extra clothes. The sleeping pallets were still salvageable. The rogue trader wouldn't need his obnoxious jacket anymore and it was probably thick enough to protect him from the branches scarring his arms. Maybe the witch could help him carry a few of these supplies. Dammit, Where was she?

He found a large Knapsack and started shoving the powerpacks and rolled up pallets inside. The day was closing and it would soon it would be pitch dark. Lahamann didn't want to know what horrors crawled out of the jungle at night, and he didn't want to find out just yet. His diligent scavenging was rewarded when he found the stash of Munitorum rations left in one of the tents. This food would last him a long time. All he had to do was find a relatively clear source of water and he could hold up on this planet for - For how long exactly. His tunnel vision was wearing off, and with it came the dawning realization that he was stuck in a hostile xeno planet, his ride back home was in smoldering ruins around him, his employer had received a space wolf crew cut from some dinosaur riding aliens and the only thing on this planet that was not actively trying to kill him was another one of those alien witches. And she had left him alone. Where in the blasted warp was she?

He sat down on a log and began to hyperventilate. He was cursing the day he signed up for his current job. Maybe life in the guard wasn't as bad as he thought it was. Hindsight really was a bitch.

He woke up from his reverie as he felt the sharp end of a knife against his throat. He felt his skin get pierced and a sharp pain rolled up in his neck.

"What are you still doing, sitting there you dumb mon-keigh? Do you want to get eaten by the harangaithaan's mounts?"

The bitch was watching him the entire time!

"now listen to me and get up. You do exactly what I say or otherwise you die."

He got up and edged by her, he slowly started walking forward, and away from the clearing. Just to speed him she pricked the side of his neck with her knife. It stung like hell and he picked up his pace. Then she withdrew her knife and while pushing him forward she slowly licked the freely bleeding wound. He nearly froze but a prick in his buttocks told him to keep moving.

He was moving as fast as he dared while the witch kept lapping up his blood. She had increased her pace, both in walking and lapping up his blood. He felt her tongue against his skin, long and warm, and it's touch was almost gentle. Inspite of himself he felt his nethers begin to stiffen. A small voice at the back of his mind was praying to the emperor for forgiveness for his thoughts, which were very unbecoming for a loyal subject to the golden throne. He wondered how her tongue tasted, and what it would be like wrapped around his fun bits. He was positively beginning to enjoy her desperate tongue caresses when she stopped.

They had reached the treeline without his noticing. She had been driving him, in more ways than one, where she wanted him to go. As they stood there under the eaves of the forest, she Suddenly slammed him into the ground without warning.

Lahamann felt his breath knocked away as she sat on his solar plexus, driving the air out of his lungs. She put both her booted feet by his ears and undid his helmet before grabbing his head and putting her serrated blade in front of his eyes.

"Well, mon-keigh, you are as slow as you are stupid. I long to strip you naked and draw my sustenance from your soul-spring but unfortunately I am in need of your more mundane talents. So listen to me carefully or you can feel my kiss again, and it won't be as desirable as it was the first time."

She stopped and slowly twirled her knife in her left hand. It was a cruel blade that would leave as many cuts going in as going out. He wondered why it didn't hurt so much the first time. As he remembered that, his pain sprung up again.

"You are going to hunt, cook, and draw water for me, and provide me with amusement like the good pet you seem to be. Any attempt to run away will result in the most unfortunate of punishments." Her eyes glittered as she said that last word. "The Asrai won't be too kind to your kind mon'keigh, so any attempt to escape is futile."

"I am glad I made your position clear, human. Now if you would want to negotiate," A dangerous glint had entered into her eyes. She was looking at him like a cat does at a juicy rat between it's paws. "I am always available. I am a fair mistress, as my slaves tell me." She got up for a moment, before sitting further back, right above Lahamann's crotch.before putting the her left boot on his face.

"So human, do we have an agreement?" She asked in a playful voice that brooked no argument, forcing him to squirm as he tried to breathe in air. He gasped out his assent as she removed the boot of her heel from his mouth. He watched as she dangled it above his face, forcing him to watch her toned calves, sheathed in sleek black leather and watch his drool drip down on his face from her boot heel. The way she moved her entire body during this time was extremely sensuous and coupled with the fact that her rump was on his crotch, meant he was hard as bone.

"Oh my," She started in a high sing-song voice, "I had no idea my deal was this much to your liking." She shifted her weight backwards ever so slightly, just so that her weight was on his testicles. The sensation - an ecstatic mixture of pain and pleasure - was maddening. At that moment all Lahamann wanted to do was rut with that terrifyingly beautiful creature until the two of them were a sticky mess. She got in a single fluid bouncing motion and, before he could grab her, placed her right foot gently placed on his collarbone and her left foot equally gently on his manhood.

"Now pet, behave nicely, and you I might just allow you to keep your plaything." The voice had a tone of mock seriousness, like a child addressing her pet puppy. And with that, she sprung away from him and grabbing the a sleeping pallet and some rations from the knapsack in a single, fluid motion, threw the rest to him. Lahamann made no move to follow her. His hands were already down his trousers.

Lahamann woke up the next day, feeling tired stiff and sore. The night in the jungle was far more colder than he had anticipated, and the witch had taken the Rogue trader's jacket away. His entire body was stiff and sore, and the wounds on his neck were taking a long time to clot. He wondered if the witch's blade had done something nasty to his wound. Serrated blades left gruesome wounds. He knew that. But this one was barely a nick in his throat. It should have clotted the night before. He got up and moved to grab the knapsack. Using a knife he managed to open up the one of the ration cans.

One of the best things about serving abroad a rogue trader's crew was the quality of food. It tasted as if the saints had made it for him. Of course it might just be that his tongue had tasted standard guardsman rations long enough that anything with salt in it to tasted good. Or maybe he was too exhausted and confused about what had happened in the last 48 hours. He just needed to do something simple and eating was the perfect activity. For a few moments, he relished the taste of the artificial grox steak. It tasted like promethium, but so did everything else now. As he finished eating, the beginnings of a plan began forming into his mind.

He tossed the empty can away, grabbed the largest knife that he had salvaged, and lopped off a thick and low hanging branch before walking into the jungle. He remembered his agreement from the night before and while he wanted to negotiate the particulars of his side of the bargain, he knew the witch was not lying.

Lilyth spent the entire night in a particularly fitful dream when she was in her own manse in the small corner of the webway she called home. She was enjoying the most fascinating game of pit wrestling with her new pet. She liked his ears. They suited her bewildered pet well. Most of her slaves were didn't have ears that pleasing so she simply removed them. Unlike other wyches, she insisted on doing that on her own.

It was good practice. It kept her arms steady and she enjoyed the artistic contours the blood made as it sprayed out from the sides of their head. Seeing that brought her gentle side out, and she would allow her branders to bandage them - sometimes. She woke up half expecting the the touch of the meatbag on her thighs, before remembering where she was. Ah yes, on this backwater wilderness of a planet where her barbaric kin lived. It was an amusing experience visiting this world, for a quick raid to grab the occasional child. Surviving here would be another matter whatsoever.

Already she could feel the drug withdrawal dull her senses and make her feel downright terrible. This was not good. While she was on the exodite world, her soul would not be eaten by the great enemy, hidden as it was by the world soul of the exodites. On the other hand, just because she simply didn't need to torture to survive, didn't necessarily meant that she should. She was an artist, and like all great artists, she strove to improve herself. Maybe she could torment her new pet just a little. Nothing physical of course. He needed to hunt and carry the camp around. Just torment him by playing with his mind and his loins. Yes, that would be a welcome distraction from this pristine and boring world.

Sunset found her squatting in the grass, waiting for her pet to arrive with the day's meal. She wasn't disappointed. The lumbering oaf had managed to snag an entire juvenile wildkine and was dragging it's carcass back to their makeshift camp. She watched for a moment as he stood over the body and the fading light illuminated his profile. His muscles shining with sweat, his short dark hair, tousled and unkempt, his face hidden as he wiped the sweat from his brow. A fine specimen of his kind, so rudely vital and so offensively straight backed. Maybe once she was gone from this backwater, she would keep him as a favored pet. For now, she was bored and he would provide her with distraction.

She saw the human drag half the carcass of a wildkine with him. He had set collecting wood and using the remnants of the crashed gunship to create a small makeshift oven. He sat down by a log and began skinning the beast. She watched him with feigned disinterest. While she could not be bothered to even think about helping him, watching her pet work was distracting her from the increasingly severe effects of her drug withdrawal.

Come morning, she would feel worse and might not be able to play with her pet. It was not a good thought to think. She sought to distract herself by watching her pet work. His eyes were furrowed in concentration as he used a big knife to cut the flanks of the carcass. Once the creature had been stripped to the bone, he lit a fire and spitroasted some of the smaller pieces of flesh. The others he put into a makeshift oven made from the an empty barrel and smoked from the embers. It was all very dull work and watching it made Lilyth bored.

She purred softly as he brought the spitroasted meat over and offered her the smaller chunk. True, she might have not done much physical activity, but her pet was getting restless. She might have to torment him a little more to make him coy. But that would come later. At this moment she relished the taste of the roasted meat. The barbaric circumstances just heightened her sense of adventure and drama. She noticed that the human had managed to gather some alcohol from the campsite and was quite drunk. Good, that would mean that she could play with him and he would stay passive - or sluggish. She sat behind him and made him rest his head in her lap. With tender care, the opposite of what she had done last night she slowly stroked his face and chest and slowly began tracing her fingers towards his trousers. She slipped her hand inside and began massaging his organ, feeling it's girth slowly stiffen in her hand. She felt his arousal and withdrew hand, smiling at him before heading to her own bed.

Lahamann got up the next morning rather later than he usually did. His head felt like there was an armored offensive moving on it's surface. Getting up nearly made him retch. He was facing the oldest demon of mankind - the hangover. As a rule Lahamann didn't drink while he was on duty. Made the next day too terrible. Of course, he didn't get stranded on alien planets with groxshit insane alien witches who tormented him as a rule either. Moping around bemoaning his luck wasn't going to help him. Emperor knows what ideas the witch might have if she saw him crying like a five year old. He would have to grab himself by the ballsack and lift himself up, as his drill sergeant back at boot camp said.

First things first, he needed to drink water. That would get rid of the bile at the back of his throat and slake his thirst. By the Emperor and Sanguinius, he would give up drinking. It was too bad of a habit and would get him killed one day. Luckily, his sober mind had filled two canteens with water when he had gone hunting, and the witch had left one of them for him. That was kind of her, he thought. As his thought turned to her, his manhood began stiffening again. The damn bitch had gotten under his skin in two days. Anger and a hangover made a bad combination, and in his fury he sat down feeling hot, horny and extremely angry.

The rattling in his brain was increasing and it was as if the entire victory parade at Hanninis Secundus was passing right between his ears. This was bad. He grabbed the canteen and drained it in a matter of moments. The cool water splashing down on his face and down his throat revived him. The throbbing seemed to be getting lower. He was sure he would not throw up again, maybe. All in all, the day was getting better. His dinner was still in his stomach. His thirst was slaked and the witch wasn't giving him a daemonette's handjob. The bitch had a capacity for torment that would make a commissar blush.

And yet a part of him was looking forward to meeting her again. If the ecclisiarchy priest was beside him, Lahamann would hear an earful and receive a bruise or two for confessing. The rational part of his mind knew she was an alien witch that he had been assigned to protect until his employer had grown a head shorter, but animal instincts of his mind differed. Objectively speaking she was attractive in a way that would make a hive spire princess look like a drill sergeant in a dress. And the outfit- if he could call it that- she wore left very little to the imagination while showing nothing he wanted to see.

He had fought Slaaneshi cultists before. A lot of them were attractive in a similar sort of way but they had something grossly wrong and tainted about them, like their beauty was unnatural and marred by chaos. And then there was this witch. All those cultist men and women he had killed paled before her. Their beauty was pale in comparison to the witch's own. She was flawless in every sense of the world. There was something alien and forbidding about her ethereal beauty that was frightening as much as it was attractive. From the way she way walked, with a disturbing grace that the most solemn of Sororitas couldn't mimic, to the way her eyes flitted from being beautiful to utterly terrifying in a heartbeat.

Maybe that was the wrong way of looking at it. They were stuck on this planet, and it looked like the exodites wanted her dead as much as they wanted him dead. Otherwise she would have run back to them by now. It was only logical. They needed each other and needed to watch over each other's backs. And he wouldn't be able to do that if she was constantly tormenting him in increasingly bizarre ways. Yes, that seemed like the most logical thing to do. Coming clean and asking her nicely would be the most quaint thing he had ever done, but so was being stuck on a planet where his only ally and companion was a sadistic and beautiful eldar witch.

The food there would last for a couple of more days and he could always smoke the other half of that ox like beast. Yes. That would be a good way to start the day. Something simple like skinning the carcass of an alien beast. Lahamann hoped the thing was not poisonous. Who knows what the exodite eldar were capable of? Luckily enough, the cut had been clean and the hellgun had cauterized the corpse. He cut out the meat that was beginning to rot and dragged it back to the former extraction point. The sun was beginning to set before he was done flaying the corpse and spitroasting the flanks again. It was a hard day's work and the fine toothsome smell was making his mouth water. For a moment, all he looked forward to in life was tearing down the hunks of meat with his teeth and swallow the still hot and slightly charred meat. Maybe being stuck on this planet wasn't so bad after all. The food was certainly better, and his palate could detect tastes other than wood shavings and promethieum.

Lazily he began cleaning the beast's fur like he had read in the survival guidebook in his knapsack. He had won it in cards from that insane catachan a lifetime ago, and kept it because he still dreamed about going on adventures on lush alien planets and rescuing beautiful princesses. In a twisted way, his dreams had come true. It was as if some cosmic god had favored him with a joke that was particularly nasty for him.

His companion had come out of the woods again and had slowly slid over and sat beside him while he was philosophizing and cleaning the fur. It would make a pretty good blanket a few days. He could feel her intense stare at the back of his head. He turned around and looked her in the eyes, determined not to be bullied by those beautiful, blue, almond shaped eyes.

He didn't expect to see her like this. Where her movements had been disturbingly quick they were now very slow. He had always seen her walk with the grace of a dancer, and now it was eerie seeing her stagger like she was drunk. She swore something in her language as she managed to drag herself and lean on him for support. Her skin was icily cold. Was she feverish?

This was not good. She needed to be warmed up before she caught the cold. She needed to eat something hot too. Lahamann got up to grab the roasting meat, and she lunged at him. By the emperor, she was as weak as a kitten now. He forced her to sit on the log, and draped the animal skins over her. That would keep her warm. He offered her the bigger piece of meat that had been roasting in the fire. She snatched it out of his hands before devouring it in a manner that was rather unladylike. He offered up another canteen of water and amsec and she finished them both with surprising speed.

She glared at him with a mixture of contempt, hostility and ... despair? What was wrong with her? She was a vicious tormentor for two days straight and now suddenly she was this weak helpless kitten that needed his help to stand upright. Maybe she was on stimms.

Realization dawned on him. He had used stimms on missions before, when stealth was not an option. The rush of adrenaline and feeling of invulnerability were awesome and the corresponding lows were terrible. If she had been overdoing stimms, it would explain her erratic behavior.

Luckily, babysitting recovering junkies was something he had a lot of practice in. He would take care of her until her body processed the withdrawal and then talk to her. It was sad to see that poor, helpless creature and compare it to the bewitchingly beautiful and terrifying witch that had tormented him for the last couple of days. They were stuck on this planet together and he wasn't going to lose his only companion. Alien witch that she might be.

The next few weeks were busy for both of them. Lahamann knew that the withdrawal symptoms were a bitch and turned even the most reasonable of men into raving cultists. Whatever this woman was, she wasn't reasonable by any measure of comprehension.

He found that out when he got up after she had fallen asleep. He noticed that she was bleeding. Was she attacked by someone? Were they stalking them even now? Then he saw her hair. Unbound, her locks came down to her feet. It was a sleek black curtain soaked in blood. He turned her over and saw the culprit. Embedded in her hair were vicious hooks that were made for cutting flesh. Her falling asleep on them was making her bleed. She must have spent the night in agony.

He had gathered enough supplies to last them for nearly a year, and he really didn't want to explore while a mad witch with hooks in her hair was suffering from withdrawal. So he spent the rest of the day removing the hooks from her hair. Another thing bootcamp hadn't trained him for. His sister would be much better at this than her.

In the end he cut away the locks that had entwined in those hooks. There were dozens of them, and he was glad to be rid of the wicked things. Exactly what sort of girl wore murderhooks in her hair? It wasn't a question worth considering.

He had to make sure she didn't cut herself with her edgy armor. They didn't have infinite medical supplies. Stripping her naked was perhaps the most nerve wracking thing he had done. He got rid of her gauntlets first, carefully making sure that the edges wouldn't stab his fingers. She had painted her nails blue, the same blue as her eyes. Then he removed her boots. She was wearing knee high socks underneath them, he noted, their black contrasting beautifully with the alabaster of her thighs. Despite his noble intentions, he felt his loins stiffening. After all she was as weak as a kitten and had tormented him long enough when she was on her drug induced highs.

Maybe raping her would be just desserts. After all she wasn't human, despite the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he surely deserved some form of compensation. The rational part of his mind was warning him of the sins of temptation, and sounding like dusty old company priest.

Memories of the old man had a remarkable effect of dampening his erection. The old Father was just that kind of man. Taking a deep breath and looking squarely at her face, he made to remove her breastplate. He needed to bandage her and clean her back to make sure that she didn't catch any kind of infection. So he managed to undo her armor, with his fingers suddenly becoming numb as they touched her skin. Her body was not as cold as last night. In fact it felt rather warm and inviting. He barely managed to undo her armor before he glanced at the half naked body.

He was erect again, and doubted even the old father would be if he were here. The witch's breasts were perfectly round hemispheres, like alabaster mounds. her areolas were slightly pink, and her nipples a darker shade of the same color. Just seeing her lie nearly naked before him made him want to remove what remained of her clothes and take her as she lay.

He grabbed his knife and strapped it to his boot and grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol. Might as well make it a picnic. Lahamann saw her stir. She was beginning to wake. Good, that would make it easier.

Lilyth felt weak, her nightmares where she was sold to haemonoculus Margoz and used for his pleasure were frightening her. Her body was reacting terribly to the absence her personal cocktail of drugs in her bloodstream. Without the constant high, her life felt like it was constantly crashing down. She was afraid of waking up and going to sleep. When she woke, she could barely manage to crawl a little way before the pain in her back made her fall nearly faint. When she looked at the sky, the clouds looked like the faces of her slaves

Without her drugs to sharpen and alter her senses, she could see their faces clearly. She remembered the face of the young boy who had a beautiful voice. He couldn't simply be allowed to lose such a voice to puberty, so she had snipped off the offending organ with his comically round ears. She now saw the full horror and despair in those big brown eyes and saw their light slowly dim as he spent years in a cage she used to entertain her guests. The full horror of what that miserable creature went through hit her like a tidal wave and she bowled over, too overcome by sorrow to cry. Just a mind numbing sense of horror. She was seeing these visions every time she opened her eyes, and she was afraid they were driving her mad. She tried to reason that she needed to do that, otherwise she would die, but the visions did not stop. She wondered if they ever would.

She was aware of a pair of eyes looking at her as she woke up from her latest nightmare. She had been abandoned to the humans after a raid had not gone as well and they were going to burn her alive after having their way with her. She stirred softly and opened her eyes. The human was staring at her with lust in his eyes. She could see him staring at her entire, before realizing that she was not wearing her armor anymore. Had he stripped her while she was sleeping?

With a flash that was too fast for a human, he brought his knife to her throat. He leaned in, rubbing his body against her and bringing his mouth very close to her ears. She could feel his stubble scratch her shoulder, and heard him inhale, taking in the scent of her hair.

"Listen to me very carefully. I want you to turn around and lay on your back. If you are good enough, I might not even hurt you - much." That last word was uncomfortably distant from the others. To emphasize his point he brought the knife very close to her eyes.

Shivering uncontrollably Lilyth did as she was told, keenly aware that the human was caressing her thighs.

She braced herself for what was going to happen next, and only hoped he wasn't too rough. She slowly stole a glance at him as she felt his hand on her buttocks, probing in an exploratory manner. She breathed deeply, steeling her mind for what was going to happen next. She had seen the cruel grin on the human's face, and knew what it meant. What happened next shocked her. The human got up and she heard a bottle being opened and the human gulping something. The next thing she felt was a searing pain on her back as the human dropped some infernal liquid on her body. He was really going to burn her. Her nightmares had come true.

The next thing she felt was rough hands on her back moving with surprising gentleness as he massaged her with dexterous fingers. For the next few moments, her pain racked body enjoyed the sensations as the human cleaned her back all the way down to her waist before she felt strips of cloth pressed against her skin.

With a not quite so unpleasant shock, she realized what the human was doing and readily turned around as a hand grabbed her shoulder. The human was focused on staring at her belly as he finished wrapping up the bandages starting with those on her chest. He then steadily moved downward as he began tying the others together. She was vaguely aware he was humming a tune while he was doing this.

Lilyth tried to focus on on the tune. It seemed simple enough, the beats were evenly spaced and even with her senses in disarray she picked up quite easily. Once he was done, he helped her sit down on a log.

"not quite a field hospital, but it will do. I am sorry about your hair, but the hooks had to go"

Her hands went up to the back of her head as she tousled her hair. The human had cut off the hooks and kept her hair intact. She was vaguely aware that the human was looking at her with a mixture of desire and - pity. For the first time in forever, she smiled in a way that was not a threat, a genuine heartwarming smile.

The next few days were progressively getting better for her. The human told her that her wounds might have been infected and the fever was giving her nightmares and hallucinations. It would seem her body was slowly but steadily adapting to the absence of the drugs, but the hooks and the infection from their was the cause of most of her nightmares.

She was recovering day by day. The human seemed to be using all the stock of alcohol in cleaning and dressing the wounds on her back, and while she didn't like the sharp pangs of pain, they were more than compensated for with the human's rough but gentle touch along her back. Her nightmares were now a distant memory now that her body was fighting the infection and as she felt the withdrawal symptoms recede, she felt her mind was sharply focused on her environment for the first time in her life.

She woke up one day to stare at the clouds, and for the first time, she could appreciate their shapes and colors without the maddening nightmares that they brought. She lay there, on the ground in her expanding collection of furs watching the different shapes go by for hours, comparing them to the leaves of the trees around her, or the pieces of smoked meat that she had now developed a taste for.

It was only as the sun was setting that she realized that she didn't hadn't had any visions of madness or nightmares in over a day. The reddening sky was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, and she wanted to share it with the human who had helped her see it.

Suddenly she realized that she hadn't seen the human since last evening. He should have returned by now. Panic seized her. She had forgotten where she was during these last few weeks. This was a hostile world in every sense of the word. The Asrai did not love her kind, and the entire world was attuned to them. They might have found her human and captured him. She shuddered to think what they might have been doing to him.

Lahamann was done filling up his amsec bottles with water. Treating her for these few days, he had nearly finished the stock. It was alcohol well spent though. For starters, he wasn't suffering from hangovers anymore. And watching her heal meant that his first aid skills were not rusty. Amsec was a handy disinfectant, no matter what the bleeding hearts of the brass said. Also, those empty bottles meant that he could always store more water from the stream. Stupidly optimistic was a good way to describe his current mental state. He was still stuck on a hostile world and using medical supplies on a xeno witch.

The sun was beginning to go over the horizon when he returned back to the extraction point. A large collection of furs and the xeno woman's presence had turned the place into a more comfortable home than his quarters on the rogue trader's ship. To be completely honest, the latter's presence was far more comforting than the former. Sure the sleeping pallets paled in comparison to magnificent furs he now slept in, but her presence made all the difference.

He had come very close to raping her. He didn't lie to himself. He knew that if he hadn't seen the wounds on her back, he would have raped her. It was the moment of truth for him, and he knew he had succeeded when he felt horrified by the wounds instead of feeling aroused at the shape and feeling of her buttocks.

Everything that happened after was as a mechanical reaction. To steady his fingers as he cleaned her back, he had begun to hum the cadences he still remembered from boot camp. In the days that followed, he had noticed the xeno humming the tune from time to time. It was a coarse cadence, a farewell to the dead, but her voice made it sound more beautiful than an ecclisiarchial choir singing the saint's lament. He could listen to her sing that cadence all day. She was just that kind of girl. He had seen that she was a completely different person off her drugs and stimms.

She was there, looking over in his direction intently. When she recognized him, her shoulders slumped a little. Lahamann wondered if she had sighed when she had seen him. She moved forward a little and jumped off the log she was standing on before walking in his direction.

He had to admit, she was a striking figure even though she was covered in thick furs. She had regained her poise and her bearing, and now walked with a grace that would make a hive princess look like a whore. Even in her bandages and a collection of furs that served as her cloak, she was still the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life.

He raised a hand in greeting and walked too her side, just a trifle too quick - he noticed. waved a hand in return, and beckoned him to sit on a the log she had been standing on. This was his favorite part of the day. The two of them talked about what they had seen. To be fair, it was mostly her talking while he listened. He could listen to her talk about her stubbed toe all day, and lose himself in that melodious voice.

He was broken out of his reverie when she looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and an amused smile on her lips.

"I am sorry, I lost track of what you were saying"

"Because you were admiring me, yes?" She said in a mock questioning voice. Was he really that easy to read?

"Let me tell you what, you can keep admiring me. I don't mind that. Just tell me your name."

"Nahum Lahamann, ma'am"

She laughed, a beautiful sound. He wondered if this is what angels sounded like.

"So prompt, so respectful. I suppose you still remain my bodyguard." She sighed.

He wanted to answer her but she placed a forefinger on his lips. "Very well, bodyguard Nahum Lahamann, fetch the last of your spirits and tell me all about your life."

And so, sitting in a clearing on an alien world, Nahum Lahamann told the story of his life to a woman he had met less than a month ago, and would gladly remain with for the rest of his life.