“I, Rania, take you, Hunter Lee, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
I repeat the words, and I mean them with all my soul. I will be all I can for Hunter for as long he will have me, through anything.
And then we have both said “I do,” and Hunter kisses me, a short but passionate kiss, and something clicks inside me. My fear abates, my fear that Hunter will not want me, my fear that this is all some kind of game, or trick.
I find myself weeping again, quiet tears, soft tears. Hunter brushes them away with his finger.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “It is just…much. So fast. Is it real?” I am whispering for some reason. The other men have left, and Hunter and I are alone, but my fears must be voiced, but not too loud lest they come true. “I am afraid this is not real. I am afraid that you will not love me until death parts us. I do not know what to do. I do not know what will happen to me.”
“It’s real,” Hunter says, pulling me down onto the narrow hospital cot with him. I lie next to him, cuddled into his arms. “I promise it’s real. It’s fast for me, too, but…I can’t let you go. I can’t…I won’t let you go back there, go back to being a whore. I love you. You belong with me.”
“I belong to you.”
Hunter frowns. “I hope you understand something, Rania. You are your own person. When you come home with me, you’ll be…free. You can do anything you want. You can learn. You’re smart. You don’t belong to me, like a dog or a car. I don’t own you, and I won’t try to control you.”
I nod. “But I am only yours. You will not…share me.”
Hunter’s eyes blaze. “Never! You’re mine.” He takes my face in his hands. “You’re not a whore anymore, Rania. Never again.”
“Then…what will I do, for food?”
Hunter frowns as if confused. “I will take care of you.”
“But…then…” I do not know how to say what I am thinking. I start over. “Nothing is free, Hunter. If I am not a whore, and you feed me and clothe me and give a home, then I must work to earn it. I cannot do nothing. You will be simply paying me in food, rather than with money.”
“Paying? Paying for what?”
“Sex.”
Hunter drags his hand through his hair. “Rania, listen. I don’t expect anything in that way. I’ll never demand or expect anything from you. I’ll take care of you, feed you and give you clothes and share my bed with you—or give you your own, if that’s what you want—because I love you. I’ll take care of you, and I will never ask you anything in return. You don’t owe me sex. You don’t have to obey me. You don’t…” He trails off, staring out the window at a big truck with soldiers in the back as it rumbles by. He seems to be searching for words to make me understand something. “Some things are free, Rania. My love for you is free. All you have to do is take it. Accept it. If you want to work, I’ll help you find a job. But not because you have to earn your keep. You’re my wife. What’s mine is yours now.”
I shake my head. “I have never…I do not—” I stand up and pace away, turn back and stand in front of him. He wraps his arms around my waist, gazing up at me. I try again, this time in Arabic, slowly so he can follow. “This is a new way to think. I have survived by doing what I must to earn food. I have never known anything else. I am a whore because it is the way I could get money for food. You say you will take care of me. I will have to learn how to let you do this. I do not know how. No one has ever taken care of me. I take care of me.”
Hunter’s gaze hardens. “You are not a whore anymore, Rania.” He pulls me closer and rests his head on my body just beneath my br**sts. I cannot help my fingers from tangling in his hair, and realize that now, I do not have to help it. “Everything is going to change for you now, Rania.”
I whisper my next words, because I am not sure if they are meant for him or for myself. “That is what I am afraid of.”
HUNTER
I can’t sleep. I’m feeling better, but the docs tell me I’m stuck in the hospital for observation for another few days. I just want to go home. I want to get Rania alone. I’m f**king married to her, but I can’t get a single hour of privacy with her, damn doctors coming and going all the time.
I’m not even sure if she wants me like that. She’s skittish still. Hesitant to touch me, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to. I’m basically alone in this part of the hospital, so she’s been bunking in the bed next to mine, the curtain between us drawn back. Not a lot of privacy, but then, we haven’t needed it.
It’s odd being back here, back among Americans, in the base. Rania is clearly unsure of herself here. She used the Sabah mask to get by, I think, but deep down, she’s still a scared little girl. Now, without Sabah’s fake confidence, she doesn’t know who to be. She’s been so alone for so long, and she doesn’t know anything different. She doesn’t even know what happiness is, I think.
I’ll have to teach her.
She’s asleep, curled on top of the blankets, wearing a pair of BDU pants and a T-shirt drawn from supply. Her feet are bare, the socks and boots I got for her set neatly at the foot of the bed. The hospital lights are dimmed, moonlight filtering in through the window. It’s air-conditioned in here, cold. I can see her skin prickling with goose bumps.
“Fuck it,” I whisper to myself.
I slip out of bed, dragging my blanket with me, and lie on the edge of the bed behind Rania. She rustles in her sleep but doesn’t move. I drape the blanket over both of us and wrap my arm over her waist, intimate but not sexual. I want to touch her, want to kiss her and slip my hand underneath her shirt.
Damn it.
That one night was such a f**king tease. I can’t get her voice out of my head, the insanely erotic way she writhed and moaned as she came, the hot silk of her skin…I’m teasing myself thinking about it. I’m getting hard, and I can’t help it. I should be sleeping. I should’ve stayed in my bed because this is just going to make things more difficult on me.
She twists in the bed, making a little noise in her throat as she does so. She’s facing me now, and her hands are clasped up between our chests, almost as if she’s praying in her sleep. I let my hand rest on her waist, and I just can’t help but let it slide down to her hip.