Chapter 13 - Run
Harm ran. He ran hard and fast, speeding past trees and rocks through uneven ground. His muscles burned, his lungs threatened to burst and still he ran. It was the only way to get her out of his system. He was never an abusive man but his emotions had gotten the best of him and he hated himself for that. Any progress he hoped to have made was stymied right then and there when he knew this would take time. A lot of time. More time than he was willing to give.
He wasn't a patient man, never had been and that got the best of him. His Mac would have downright slugged him for such childish behavior. She would have beaten the shit out of him and not just delivered a well placed slap. His cheek still burned where her palm had cracked and it was likely that she left a mark. Good, he thought, knowing he deserved so much more for being such an asshole to her.
And so he pressed on, running impossibly harder until a root took hold of the tip of his sneaker and sent him barreling to the ground. He skidded across the grass and dirt nearly careening into a tree. The spot where she'd slapped him burned even more now as he rolled onto his back, his abdomen cursing from the rock that eventually stopped his fall. He flexed his legs, his hands and then pressed his midsection with tenatitive fingers. Nothing was broken but his pride, thank God but he knew ugly bruising and scratches would be abundant.
Harm stared at the canopy of trees above him. It was quiet, peaceful except for his racing thoughts and the occasional scurry of wildlife around him, the drips of rain from the leaves. Tears burned in his eyes and he let them flow, let himself cry until he couldn't anymore.
Why did this happen to them? To him? What the hell had he done so wrong in his life that his happiness with Mac only seemed to live in spurts. First it was their uncomplicated friendship that morphed into unrequited love. Then there was the time between other lovers and a failed engagement that ripped a hole so deep nothing seemed to fill it. They made strides,came back to each other and in one brilliant move he pledged himself to her for all time - and she to him.
It was right and it was good for the few short months until his ego took a hit and rational thought became a thing of the past. His obsessions would get him killed one day, he knew. He hurt her by omitting things. He hurt her even more by being so pety when Mac's legal prowess was far superior than his. He let her go, because he didn't really stop her, not until the stakes were too high and every mistake he made in the months leading to Paraguay nearly cost him everything.
It cost him her. It was still costing him more than he was willing to bear. How long did he expect to keep her captive anyway? It had been almost a week and nothing he did seemed to spark much of a memory.
Carefully, Harm stood and began limping back to the cabin. He was spent of tears but that electric rage still coursed through his veins. What he needed was something to hit - something to violently strike over and over until the feeling passed. He spotted the chopping block with the axe leaning next to the stump and a pile of logs just next to it. That had made him feel better earlier. Maybe it would fix him again?
Nazanin awoke from her nap to the sound of loud thuds outside of the cabin. It frightened her and she quietly made her way to the living room looking out the window to find Harm chopping wood. He positioned each large log vertically and then raised the axe slamming it down over and over to small pieces.
He was shirtless and she hid behind the shades in order not to be caught looking. He wasn't her husband and a good Muslim woman should not be looking at another. But, Nazanin could not pull her eyes away from him.
Harm's back was to her and she found it intriguing how those muscles would ripple and bunch along with the ones on his arms. Each movement was smooth like a choreographed dance chopping block after block with such precision. He seemed the type to be good at whatever he put his mind to and had the strength for more masculine activities.
So curious she was to not pull her eyes away although his naked torso made her blush. She'd never seen a shirtless man other than Farid and thought she never wanted to until now. Harm was an attractive man, beautiful was actually a better description - a little manic but very intriguing. The way he moved made Nazanin's thoughts wander elsewhere to other activities when his wonderful body would cover hers in a lover's dance. She blushed furiously and closed her eyes tightly but it didn't stop the desire from pooling in places she'd rather not think about.
A woman could get killed for such carnal thoughts and as penance she would need to spend much time in prayer riding herself of such desires. She was a married woman and Harm a stranger. And yet her eyes opened slowly and fixated on him and the calculated movement that turned chaotic and frantic seconds later.
Harm began to swing the axe wildly, slamming it into the wood in effort to take out what was left of his aggression. Each cut hit harder than the next until his arms simply gave out and he fell to the ground breathless and so exhausted that Mac was the farthest thing from his mind.
"Harm!" Nazanin did not know why but her legs moved her towards the door propelling her outward as she ran through the yard until she was at his side. Fear gripped her heart, a feeling she willed herself to forget and yet bubbled up without warning as she knelt next to him and saw the damage he'd inflicted on himself.
There was a gash on his forehead, one that was still bleeding, the crimson liquid falling over his right eye. His pants were torn on his thigh, mud and dirt and more blood was caked into the area. The t-shirt on the ground was filthy and it too was covered with mud and grime. And then another cut on his left cheek that followed the contour down to his jawline. His abs were taking on an angry red and purplish color.
He was a proper mess but what struck her the most was the one injury from the past. On his chest, just to the left was a circular scar and another down the center of his lower abdomen stopping right at his navel. The skin was darker, jagged, slightly patchy and split down the middle of his defined abs that Harm trained so hard to restore.
Nazanin pressed her hand to the area, her fingers curling over it and lightly touching the marred skin of an otherwise flawless body. She felt the breath suck out of her lungs, the pain of muscles that were once tied down to something hard and held down for possible punishment. She smelled blood, urine and burnt flesh along with the rusted metal of the ramshackle structure she was once held captive in. No. Not her but, someone who looked like her and seemed to be expecting. What an odd place for a pregnant woman to be, Nazanin thought and shivered at the concept of anyone wanting to hurt a body that carried new life.
A flash of something played in her mind, a snapshot of a bullet wound making him collapse to the ground. Then there was another and then the final blow through his chest. Her fingers traced the scar on his chest and followed the marks from a surgeon's knife that had saved him. How was he alive? "Hurt...You hurt."
Harm took her hand in his and pressed it flat against the entry wound where the bullet had slammed into his chest. He never felt that pain, his body was too busy going into shock from the other two bullets that sliced through his right flank and thigh. It hurt when it was healing, took his breath away too many times during the months of rehab that had almost broken his spirit. He would gladly suffer through all of that again just to save her. "I did it to save you. Save you Nazanin...Mac."
"Not Mac." She said softly shaking her head when he held her hand steadfast. Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull that she was not this Mac. 'What if you are.' Something inside of her said and when his fingers wrapped her hands, rough skin meeting her softer one the touch sent a shock of electricity through her being and she found herself drawn to his mouth of all things.
Harm had lovely lips, the type she would want to kiss. The kind that she had kissed a lifetime ago on a cool spring night. He was good at kissing, she knew that to be true. He was good at many other things too. "You loved me once." He said to her, using his hand to pull Mac down so that she was close enough to kiss. "Remember me."
"Harm." His name was breathed out in warning but even the walls she'd put up in defense couldn't stop whatever consumed them. Nazanin had been kissed before but not like this. The second Harm's lips touched hers it was like her whole being surrendered to him. He kissed her slowly, tentatively sweeping soft kisses without asking for more.
He was so gentle, so completely loving that it took her breath away. It felt so familiar to have him kiss her this way and she wanted more of it. She needed more of him which was why it was so easy to kiss him back, to let his tongue breach the seam of her mouth and tangle with hers. Nazanin moaned into his mouth, her lips pressed against his.
Oh, why was she kissing him back? Why was Allah not punishing her for breaking her marriage vows? She should be struck by lightning or stoned for what she felt for this stranger. And dammit, she had to admit it now, that feeling deep, deep down - she wanted him. As crazed as it all seemed, her body wanted his, had to be taken by him.
It was a powerful elixir, the taste of his mouth the feel of his skin. And when he rolled over so that she was on his back and he lay next to her, Nazanin's traitorous body sought out his, pulling him to her.
Instinctively, her body knew his, was familiar with a touch that made his breath catch. It wasn't an intimate touch, just a tracing of her finger alongside his jaw while he stared at her. And when he kissed her again she felt like a drowning woman in need of air but wanting to be kept under the waves.
He was slow with her, patient, gentle because Harm was terrified this moment would shatter. He ached for her to remember him, would have given his soul if he knew that barter would bring her back to him. Carefully he pulled back the scarf and her long, long hair spilled free, the edges softly curled and darker than he remembered. She didn't fight him when he kissed her again, when his tongue met her own or even when he trailed his lips down to her neck.
Harm breathed her in, that familiar smell that was uniquely Sarah MacKenzie - a scent that he'd become intimately familiar with from that night one Christmas Eve as he spent the night mapping out every inch of her skin with his lips. She was intoxicating as ever and Harm found himself falling into her depths and never wanting to crawl out.
God only knew how much he loved this woman - so much that he couldn't put his affections into words because there was nothing on Earth to describe it. "I love you. I've never stopped loving you, Sarah." He stated, his voice barely a whisper rough with passion. Fingers slipped beneath her sweater, the back of his hand meeting her soft skin.
It surprised him to find Nazanin raising her arms, an askance for him to rid her of the top which covered her. He pulled the sweater off, put it aside and his mouth continued its trail of fire to her throat, down her sternum, stopping at the top of her bra. He flicked the clasp at the front of her bra making her beautiful breasts spill free.
Harm's breath caught at the sight of her topless and it made him remember that same Christmas Eve when he'd first seen her like this. She sat in the center of her bed completely nude, her arms open, beckoning him to join her.
Mac's skin was so soft, it still was and he marveled at the goosebumps over her body as his hands touched her. "You're so beautiful."
He kissed her abdomen, moving upwards with licks and soft nibbles until his mouth latched on to one nipple. Her breath caught when his tongue swept, she buckled beneath him as he suckled harder.
Nazanin knew she should stop him, this was wrong, so wrong and it would be shameful to let him continue. What's worse - she was enjoying it - wanted more - needed him to fill her.
She felt the dampening between her thighs and cursed her body for being so willing for him. And yet, her hand came to the back of his head urging him to continue the gentle teasing that was setting her on fire.
"I know this is wrong but...Oh, it's so delightful…" She said in Farsi. "Please don't stop. Don't stop...oh."
"No." Harm pulled away from her in a flash, his body felt doused by freezing water as words that were not English registered in his head. He stared down at Mac - Nazanin, his eyes dark and stormy, a war of emotions flashing across his face. He was hard moments ago but even that deflated when she spoke to him again - more untilletibable words in Farsi. "No."
He couldn't do this - wouldn't be with her like this.
She wasn't Mac.
Nazanin was not Mac and his soul took another beating that left him much more bereft than ten minutes ago when his body had given up trying to smash his aggression on the logs. A hand found her sweater which he pressed to her chest in order to cover her nakedness. "I'm sorry...I am...But I can't do this."
Harm stood up quickly and helped her rise as well. He motioned towards the home and nodded for her to step inside while he took the axe like nothing had happened.
She followed his instructions like a good woman should while something inside told her to stop, to fight for him to be as stubborn as he seemed to be. Nazanin watched him through the window, saw when Harm stopped to look at her over his shoulder. That pain was back, the one in her heart that she couldn't understand - maybe she just missed Farid?
Maybe she was falling in love?
When she stepped away from the window the tears began to fall unchecked both from the shame of letting Harm kiss her and the belief that there was something missing. She needed to go. needed to break free which was why Nazanin unplugged the lamp from the corner and used it to smash through the window.
She cut her hand on the jagged glass, scrapped her thighs as she slid out and landed on the ground. Without so much as a glance back, Nazanin began to run.
Harm cursed the rain, the way the skies opened up yet again, the cold air that it brought. He was sitting on the porch swing avoiding Nazanin as if she were a plague brought into his home. He was wet and the chilly wind only made him shiver, his cowaress kept him outside.
What would ye say to her now? How could he explain himself? Why? How could she let him? A woman that was so vehement in going 'home' to Tehran was practically giving herself to him without reservation. Perhaps it was a ploy to find his weakness and then run from him?
Nevertheless, she kissed him back. Kissed him like Mac had in a sweat, teasing, passionate way that made him melt. He would have made love to her had she not spoken Farsi and cracked through the haze of desire. He would have taken her and hated himself for it.
The sound of breaking glass forced him to his feet, hurrying into the bedroom to find it empty. "No! Mac!"
He hurried out of the house, busting through the screened door as he ran out of the front and rounded the cabin. Despite all of the body aches, Harm was able to cover some ground enough to see her carrying through the muddy trails between the trees.
"Stop!"
Nazanin's legs burned from lack of use, in all of the years with Farid she'd never, ever run. Her feet slipped several times, aching from the twigs and rocks she'd stepped over. It was only pure adrenaline that kept her moving. Adrenaline and fear that Harm would catch her.
She knew he'd given chase and a man with his physique could easily catch her with little effort. So she didn't look back, kept moving forward through the darkening woods, praying, hoping another home would be nearby. She would throw herself on the mercy of the first stranger she found whatever came next meant she'd be free to go home to Tehran and Farid.
The rain began to beat down harder making it so hard for Harm to see. His longer legs allowed him to move faster until he spotted a figure moving through the woods. "Mac...Nazanin, please stop!"
She rounded a tree, hurried down an embankment that led to the river's edge wishing to drown rather than be his prisoner again. In her haste she didn't see the fallen limb until her forehead made hard contact. It threw her off her feet, made her fall backwards, her head hitting the muddy ground hard enough to make her blackout.