Free Assignment - Mara Tirana by Edward S. Aarons

head back so her face was upturned to his. Adam saw the lust on the man’s cruel, strong face. Medjan kissed her brutally, and he knew she was hurt by his embrace. He trembled. He did not want to watch the girl’s degradation, knowing it was because of him, knowing at last the full price she had to pay for his safety.
    But he did not dare move or make a sound in the hayloft. He was crippled and helpless against the other’s strength and weapons. It would be suicide. It would be worse than useless—
    Lissa still did not resist when Medjan fumbled at her clothing. For a moment the sound of his breathing rasped through the close air of the bam. Lissa stood limply, hands at her sides. The man muttered something, then suddenly straightened in frustration. The sunlight caught his pale eyes under his thick, angry brows. He shoved her aside and she tripped, stumbling, and caught herself.
    “Agh! Not like this! Must I have you like this?”
    “It is not the time, Medjan,” she said quietly.
    “When is the time, then? You promise and promise—” 
    “I never promised anything, Medjan.”
    “With your eyes, with your manner, when you want something that only I, I, Petar Medjan, can get for you—oh, then you are sweet and pliant and presumably willing!” the man shouted. “You will be sorry for all this, Lissa! I am not a boy, to be played with, as you play with me!”
    She was silent. Adam could see the rapid, uncertain lift of her breasts as she breathed. For a moment, the uniformed man and the girl stared at each other, the one angry and bull-like, uncertain about his next move—and the girl quietly waiting, trying to defeat him by not resisting. Then Medjan made an impatient sound and abruptly threw her to the floor of the bam. They were out of Adam’s narrow range of vision now; but he could hear the sounds Medjan made, the grunting, the slap of his hand on flesh, the girl’s stifled whimper, the rhythmic gasps of the big man, the sobs of satisfaction from him, the groan of pain from the girl.
    Adam gritted his teeth. A thin chill of sweat covered him. The hay in which he sprawled thrust needle probes against his neck and legs. There was a curious wet warmth on his injured leg, and a new alarm overcame his disgust and frantic helplessness. At the same moment, he heard the soft sound of something dropping through the chinks in the rough planks of the hayloft. He wanted to turn his head to look at his leg, but he didn’t dare move. It was bleeding again, and the blood was dripping through the planks to the floor below the hayloft. Even as he realized this, he heard a soft spattering of drops, a sudden increase of the flow. He held his breath.
    Under him, it was all over. The act had been like that of an animal, quick and implacable, a movement of inflamed lust guttering out now in the man’s sigh, in the girl’s whimper. Adam heard Lissa reach for her clothing again. The man stood up. Adam could see him now. His face looked swollen and replete, and yet dissatisfied.
    “Well, Lissa,” he said thickly. “I gave you medicine and antibiotics, but you are not grateful at all, are you?”
    “I was. Believe me, I was.”
    “You did not show it. I do not apologize for this.”
    “I expect none,” she whispered. “Are you finished with me now?”
    “I only want to warn you that there will be trouble in the neighborhood soon, and it would be best if you stayed here.”
    “Trouble?”
    “There’s something up in the whole area around here. A lot of official excitement. There’s talk of a dragnet through the mountains.”
    “Why? What happened?”
    “It’s official business, Lissa.” The man grinned. He had a steel tooth in his mouth that flashed in the sunlight. He patted her cheek possessively. Adam could not see the girl’s face. She stood before the big man in her torn clothing as if she had been broken. “Stay here with your parents for a day or two. I’ll be back. It would be best if no one remembers