In Consequence

THIRTEEN


As Riddick labored away on the girl’s tense muscles, he tried to work out a way to get her to lighten up. He was beginning to doubt that she ever would. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Against all of his instincts, he decided to level with her. “Jack.”

Her shoulders tensed even more when he said her name. “What, Riddick?” She sounded calm and accepting, resigned. Riddick gritted his teeth. No, this compliance wasn’t what he wanted!

But… was it? It was submission, it was a way of showing deference. But it wasn’t her. It wasn’t the girl he came to claim. That girl fought. This strange new creature beneath his caramel, calloused hands wasn’t his irresistible little demon. Where was she? Where was his Jack?

“If I hadn’t put you in a collar, would you have come with me?” he asked, trying to keep his hope and—was it fear?—at bay. The silence twisted in the small gap between them, flowing up and down his arms and around her shoulders, caressing them both like a volatile, deadly lover.

Her silence was enough of an answer. He cursed under his breath. Had he lost her completely?

“I don’t know,” she said softly, interrupting his silent self-doubt. “You never came back. I got over you. I moved on, I built a life with Imam. Then… poof, there you were. And I was a prisoner.” She gave a wry, deprecating laugh and said, with a distinct lack of mirth, “Not exactly the hello I was expecting.”

“Do you really want me to let you go?”

There was silence for half-a-beat, enough time for him to feel her pulse skyrocket. Then: “Will you?” Hope in her voice.

“No.”

He could hear her grind her teeth in frustration. “Then what was the point of asking the stupid question?”

Aha, there was his girl. Feeling a bit better, Riddick continued needling her. “You just answered my question. The thing is, Jack, is that you’re a slave now. You can’t be set free.” A huge lie. It would be difficult, and he’d be sure to get caught, but it was possible.

He smothered a sigh. He knew that honesty would be the best policy with her, but to be honest would mean letting her in. But then, wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that what he wanted? A deep, almost intimate rapport with someone? With her?

Fuck. He hated people. He hated dealing with people. He hated dealing with anything remotely human. He killed humans, didn’t live with them, didn’t care about them. Was he becoming human?

The thought scared him more than he liked to admit.

~*~

“When I claimed you, I had it all planned out. Didn’t realize how much I wanted you to be you. Thought I’d make you my slave, you’d accept it, that would be the end of it. Damn it, stop accepting it.”

Jack wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly. “What? Stop accepting it? You just fucking cut me up. You want me to provoke you now?” She bit her tongue to keep from going on and on with what she thought of as a well-earned tirade. Did the man have any clue what he wanted?

His hands—wonderfully, and surprisingly, supple, sensitive hands—hadn’t stopped kneading her shoulders. They slid up to her neck, and she froze. Too vulnerable. He could wrap one hand around her throat and kill her without even trying.

“Relax, Jackie. Won’t hurt you.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled, repeated the procedure. Calm. Be calm. Damn it, why hadn’t she paid more attention to Imam when he tried to teach her how to meditate?

He began gently working the tension out of her neck muscles. It did feel good. Only her fear of him kept her from getting drowsy.

“You want me to give in to you. Accept my place. I did. Now you’re telling me to keep fighting you? Why, so you can cut me on the other side? That’s fucked up, Riddick, even for you.”

Was the bastard laughing?

“Oh, Jackie, that’s what I want. Keep being a bitch. I like that.”

Fucking bastard, he was laughing at her. She clenched her fists together. Jack’s brief, listless submission was quickly becoming a thing of the past. It was as though once he gave her permission to be herself, she took it and ran with it. Imam always said that if you gave someone an inch, they’d take a mile. Riddick had just given her the equivalent of ten miles. How much could she take from him?

She had an idea. It was a little out of context, but it was worth a shot. “I’ll make a deal.”

He stopped laughing. “Oh?”

Firmly not letting herself understand the implications and repercussions of her words, she went on, “I’ll have sex with you if you let me wear clothes.” I’ll be a whore if you give me some dignity.

Riddick’s reply was swift. “You’ll have sex with me regardless. Offer me something else.”

Her mind raced. What else did she have to offer? He rejected her submission. He rejected sex. She was quickly running out of very few options. “What do you want that I can give?” she asked, hoping for nothing too twisted.

“Be yourself. Just know your place. Do what I say. Don’t piss me off when I’m not in the mood to play word-war with you.”

What? She didn’t understand, and her overstrained temper was frayed and worn thin. “I don’t get it, Riddick. Just tell me what the fuck you want me to do!” She could hear her own voice getting shrill, and tried to force it back under firm control.

Riddick however, seemed to lose control, and fast. His voice rolled over her. She felt like she would be flattened.

“I want you to stay with me! Be with me! Why is that so fucking hard for you?” he began to shout, and his hands squeezed on the nape of her neck.

Fear made her reckless. She lunged away from him, and though he kept a firm hold on her, keeping her in one spot, she managed to turn her head enough to see his face. “Don’t you get it that I want to be with you, you idiot? Just stop treating me like I’m nothing! Start treating me like a fucking human being!”

She couldn’t believe she’d said it. She didn’t mean it. Where had the words come from? She wanted to go home. Want to be with Riddick? No. No way. She’d rather die first.

The funny thing was, she had a feeling that Riddick would die to keep her.

~*~

She wants to be with me.

“Get out,” he grunted hoarsely, shoving her off the bed. I need to think. “Get out!”

She looked as shocked at her words as he felt, and he wanted to drive it all, the whole emotional mess, away. Her face. Her words. Where had his power gone? His control over her? What the hell happened?

“She wants to be with me,” he breathed. Obviously his original plan wasn’t going to work. She pissed him off when she defied him. She pissed him off when she submitted to him. She pissed him off, period. He clearly got her worked up real easily, too. Not exactly a match made in heaven.

Riddick put his head in his hands. He needed to change his approach. Maybe if he lightened up… but then, would she really believe he was in charge? He wanted her willing, but with a spark. Not defiant, but not defeated. He wanted her whole. He wanted her, all of her, to be his.

He had her body in his possession. He owned her, for God’s sake. And even if she hated him, there was a part of her that wanted him like he wanted her. It wasn’t a physical desire, though that was definitely present. It was a desire to be with one another.

Human emotion wasn’t an area where he treaded often or willingly. But his girl was human. He had to try and drudge up what used to be a man from inside his own head to think of a solution to this mess. The animal wasn’t equipped to handle it without breaking her spirit, and that would just send him into a rage and he’d really damage her.

The man Riddick had been was still depraved and twisted, but he was at least capable of handling the myriad of complexities that laced the situation. Riddick thought he’d destroyed this man long ago, and had relished the thought. But no, there he dwelt, deep under the surface of his conscious mind. Riddick just had to dig.