Prophecy

“What the Hell was that?” he growled while shoving her into the dark grimy alley behind the bar.



“What the hell was what?” she seethed back.



“What were you doing throwing yourself at him like some common whore?”



“I was saving your ass,” she hissed.



“I can save my own ass. I don’t need your help.”



“No… you never do.”



They glared at each other. Finally she looked away and shook her head. “Why do you come back Richard?” she asked softly. “Why do you keep doing this?” She turned and looked at him. “What do you want from me? It’s not like I can ever live up to your expectations. I do what I have to to survive. I use what I have to survive. You of all people should understand that. I accept that from you, why can’t you accept that from me?”



“Because you’re better than that.”



“HA! Yeah right. I’m a fucking pure-as-snow princess. Please… step into my castle.” Her voice dripped of sarcasm. “What a fucking joke.”



He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “It’s not a joke,” he whispered as his acute senses separated her sweet musky scent from the tabac smoke that lingered from the bar. She closed her eyes and tried not to melt into him, tried not to let the memory of his naked flesh pressed against hers override her judgement.



“Don’t do this,” she whispered more to herself than to him.



She felt so safe in his arms. It was hard to think that these were the same arms that so easily snap men’s necks or slice through veins. When he held her like this, when he made love to her, it was hard to believe that he was the same monster that all the mercs where hunting, the same man whose face adorns all the most wanted posters.



His hand traced a line down her spine. Although barely pressing against her, she felt her entire body tingle.



“Don’t,” she breathed.



His answer was to grab handfuls of her buttocks and lift her off the ground until she was eye level with him. Her heart started to pound as she looked into his unnerving eyes. Those eyes where as unpredictable as he was. They say that a man’s eyes are a window to his soul. That, like most things, didn’t apply to Riddick. His eyes were unique for a man. They either reflected what they saw or like now, they absorbed everything into them. She hated looking into his eyes, especially when he held her close like this, when his strong muscular body was clearly making his intentions known. She could almost sense the pheromones overpowering her, could almost feel herself being drawn into the primal depths of his eyes. Once that side took over, once the primal urges began to consume her, he became almost impossible to resist.



Where she could almost sense his pheromones, he could actually smell her desires. It was one talent that he truly took pleasure in; a talent that served him very well. She could deny wanting him all she liked and she usually did but he knew better. Even in the acrid smelling bar, he had been able to distinguish her scent. From the moment she had first recognised him, her desire had been apparent. His lip curled again at the memory. He didn’t know exactly what it was about her that kept drawing him back. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever had but it was always her that haunted his dreams. Besides, he had never been one to fight his animal instincts and this attraction was as primal as it got.



Striding forward he pinned her up against the grime encrusted wall, his mesmerizing gaze holding her captive. With her soft, supple flesh pressed up against him it was impossible for him not to drown in her scent. He inhaled deeply and almost growled before grazing his teeth against her vulnerably exposed throat. She moaned and tilted her head back revealing more of her tender skin in a subconscious act of submission. He lifted her higher seeking out more of her flesh. She wrapped her legs around him and leaned back into the wall freeing his hands for more pleasurable pursuits.



His lips moved down her throat and across her heaving chest, leaving a trail of moisture behind them. She sighed and arched her back, grinding her hips against him. One of his hands was pressed firmly against her back while the other was making its way steadily up her silky thigh. “Richard,” she breathed in a vain attempt to distract him long enough to regain her equilibrium. Without lifting his lips off her skin he looked up into her smouldering eyes. “Don’t,” she pleaded.



He inhaled deeply and shook his head. “You don’t want me to stop.”



He was right, she didn’t but she nodded her head anyway. “Yeah I do.”



Straightening up he pinned her against the wall and looked deep into her eyes. He could feel her heart pounding against him. He could sense her struggling to keep her primal instincts in check. He knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her; she just hadn’t succumbed to it yet.



With his powerful body pressed up against her and the cold rough wall scraping her back, she was literally between a rock and a hard place. She knew that this entire charade was futile. It was only a matter of time before she would stop fighting him. No, not him, herself. The attraction was just too powerful. It was a volatile mix of chemistry mingled with the ultimate aphrodisiac, danger. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him; it was that she wanted him too much. That’s the part that scared her the most. Not who he was, what he was capable of, only that come sunrise, he would be gone again. That was the agony that she couldn’t take.



After what seemed an eternity he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips, like her skin, were supple and pliable. She moaned softly, one hand caressing the back of his neck, the other pulling him in closer. “No,” he growled between kisses, “you don’t.” She ran her hands along his hard strong arms and down his back under his top then grazed her nails along his skin back up to his shoulders.



“Tell me,” his breath warmed her ear.



“What?” she breathed as shivers ran through her.



He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “Tell me you want me.”



She shook her head, “No.”



“Tell me,” he demanded.



Her breath caught at the intensity of his stare yet she still defied him. “No,” she said more firmly.



The bright blue flash took less than a second to streak towards her, yet in that time he had seen the change in her eyes and felt her body begin to tense. In less than an instant he had turned, unsheathed a dagger and sent it hurtling through the air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the dagger and the beam passed each other and continued on the journeys towards their targets. The beam of light hit its target first, jolting into Riddick’s chest and slamming him hard against the wall. He fought the effects long enough to see his dagger hit its mark, lodging firmly in his assailants skull.



“Run,” he groaned before he slipped into unconsciousness.



Had she been able to run, she wouldn’t have. She would have stood her ground and tried desperately to keep the assailants from taking him, using her fists and feet and whatever else she could find as weapons. But as it turns out, that option was not available to her. Although the beam was aimed at Riddick, he still had a hold of her when it hit and some of the energy had passed into her. Even though it had dissipated, it was still strong enough to knock her off her feet and send her head spinning. She wouldn’t be moving of her own accord any time soon.



Stepping out of the shadows, the men lowered their weapons and moved in to secure their prize.



“Ok you’ve got him, where’s my money?”



“Didn’t your mother teach you patience?”



“My mother taught me not to trust anyone, especially not mercs.”



“Your mother was a wise woman,” he smirked. Turning to his crew he hurried them along. “Get Riddick on board quickly. We don’t want him waking up before he’s chained. I got a feeling the man’s gonna be pissed.” He knelt down in front of her crumpled form and brushed her hair from her face. Smirking he continued, “I know I would be.”



“On second thoughts, forget the money. I’ll just take the girl,” he drooled rubbing his hands together.



The merc straightened and considered the man before him. He was scruffy looking with long greasy hair tied back in a ponytail but apart from that he didn’t look the type to have a death wish.



“You want Riddick’s woman?” he asked surprised.



The informant nodded.



“Fine.” It was no skin off his nose and it would give Riddick focus on someone other than him if he escaped. “Take her.”



The soft beeping had been nothing more than background noise up until the point when one of his crew started to move towards him. “Why the hell is that thing beeping?”



“It’s picked up a DNA trail.”



“We’ve already got Riddick. Turn that damn thing off.”



“It’s not Riddick’s DNA it’s sniffing.”



“What?” He grabbed the scanner from his crewman and studied the reading. “This can’t be right,” he said as he moved the scanner closer to the woman who was just now beginning to stir. The beeping turned into a wail. “What the fuck?” he asked no one in particular then turned and exchanged perplexed looks with his crewman. Ever so slowly they both came to the same conclusion.



“It’s her!” they stated in unison.



“Change of plan people. We’re taking the woman too.”