*

Suzanne was running for her life through muddy fields and dense forest, attempting to evade the sniper who was on her tail. She'd been grounded by one of their anti aircraft missiles, and her parachute was kind enough to tangle itself into a chestnut tree, of all things. The spiky shells of the nuts had pierced the fabric of the chute and stuck as if they were deliberately trying to hinder her escape, and so she had to hurry to cut herself down. From her vantage point in the tree she couldn't miss the convoy of vehicles that was attempting to negotiate the rough terrain to intercept her.

As she made her way through the trees the convoy had been her most pressing concern, right up until the point that Suzanne felt herself being pelted with the bark of another chestnut tree. The bullet had lodged itself into the unfortunate tree at about the height of her knee, and had missed hitting her by only a few centimetres. From the direction that the tree had been hit, Suzanne realised that it could not have been a member of the convoy who had fired upon her. She was being flanked by a sniper.

She reached the top of a small hill within the woods and cried out in shock as she realised that the ground dropped out from under her feet for several metres, and she didn't have any hope of stopping in time. She fell through the air and landed back on the forest floor with a thud. Winded, she tried to roll over and get back to her feet, but she was dragged backwards and flipped onto her back again. Caught. Shit.

Sasha was glowing with the thrill of the chase, but he kept his expression brutal. The woman was still trying to get away, and aimed a kick at his shin while attempting to punch him in the face. She was impressive; she connected both of her strikes before he was able to evade. Not a problem; she was fast but she couldn't hit as hard as his bones were used to. He grabbed her wrists and held her still, growled in her ear for her to lie still. She either didn't understand him or she was ignoring him. It didn't matter either way, he still needed her to stop. He slapped her hard, and then backhanded her as well, but she only redoubled her efforts to escape. She was screaming what he could only assume were insults as she continued to kick.

"Get off me you murdering bastard!" the woman screamed as she tried to free herself from his grip. Her face had turned an angry red from the force of the blow that he had inflicted on her, but she seemed determined not to let him see that he had hurt her. Angered by her refusal to cooperate, Sasha screamed "Shut up!" at her in Serbian. She stopped screaming, but wrestled her arms free and rolled on top of him so that she could put her weight behind her fist as she smacked it into his jaw.

Suzanne groaned softly as the sniper continued his assault on her, grinding into her while holding her down and whispering into her ear. He was saying that he was going to fuck her and that he was looking forward to hearing her scream as he came inside her. He hissed that she was going to blow him until he collapsed and that she would be begging him for more by the end of the day. She tried to hold back a moan of fear as Sasha slid his hand back up to hold her head still, and then bent down and kissed her. She felt her body go rigid against him as he continued his assault on her mouth.

His warm lips felt scorching against her freezing skin, causing a bolt of electricity to burst through her veins. As he hunted for a way inside her mouth, Suzanne struggled to drag air into her protesting lungs and she suddenly found herself swathed in his scent. The analytical part of her brain noticed faint traces of soap, gun oil and sweat before she felt him begin to nibble. His tongue bathed her chapped lips in yet more heat as they danced across the trail left by his teeth. The heat of his mouth was trickling into her own body, and Suzanne shuddered as he leaned into her, deepening the kiss.

Bleep. The man finally came up for air and seemed to curse to himself as he grabbed his radio and silenced the sound before talking into it too rapidly for her to try to comprehend. Following this, he was up and dragging her to her feet in a matter of moments. Suzanne felt dazed, and fairly disgusted with herself for showing a reaction to her attacker. She scowled at him as he looked down at her. He had tied her wrists together behind her back and was about to lead her off to god knows where. He noticed the scowl and grabbed her by the chin.

It wasn't so much his words that scared her, but the burning arousal that was apparent in his eyes, his voice and his body. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to hear her scream for him. Her eyes hardened in defiance; they could do whatever they wanted to her, she wasn't going to beg. He smiled down at her nastily; as if he knew exactly how to wipe that look off her face. He inched his face downwards, allowing his mouth to caress hers once again. Electricity and warmth started to flow through her again, and she tried to twist her face away but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss and continued his torture until Suzanne couldn't hold back a tiny moan of arousal.

With the look of defiance erased from Suzanne's face, the sniper released her from his grip and then grabbed her by the arm, shoving her ahead of him. He had his pistol in his hand, a gentle reminder that trying to run away would be a bad idea. It took only a few minutes to reach their base camp, and then he was disappointed to be parted from his prize.

Suzanne was relieved to find that she was being taken away from the sniper and would be brought for an audience with the man in charge, who thankfully spoke English. Her mission so far had not gone to plan, and she needed to find a way back on target as quickly as possible. She wasn't sure exactly how she was going to manage that, until she was dragged in front of an older man who took far more care over his uniform than the rest of his soldiers. A Serbian officer whose face she recognised in a heartbeat.

The man in charge motioned to Sasha, and Sasha stopped in front of Suzanne, a rather mean-looking knife in hand. He was tall, she realised as his eyes met hers. The platform that she'd been standing on had raised her at least eight inches, but she was still no higher than him. He stared into her eyes, smiling cruelly. He let the knife play across her cheek as he gauged her reactions.

"Sasha is very talented in the ways of causing physical pain," the man in charge continued, and Suzanne wished that she could have suspected him of bluffing. "I strongly suggest that you cooperate with me, so that you can leave here with your body intact."

Sasha turned to the other man and spoke softly in a dialect that she couldn't understand. The other man laughed and turned back towards Suzanne. "He wants me to stop asking you to cooperate," he said. "He will be very disappointed to not have the opportunity to hear you scream for him."