Violet Eyed Angel

Chapter Two
(about a half-hour to an hour later, Riddick’s POV)

I was worried about Angel. When she’d closed her eyes and let me walk, I’d slipped behind a support beam, managing to keep hidden. I knew she would faint, collapse from blood loss, so I waited.

When she fell into blissful unconsciousness, I kissed her goodbye for the last time, a slow, tender kiss that I hoped she would remember in her dreams, if nowhere else. I was a damned good kisser, according to plenty of whores I knew. I trailed my fingers over her succulent body, up and down and up again, caressed her gorgeous face.

When I realized I couldn’t keep touching her like this, or I’d get stuck here, mesmerized by her sweet perfection, I jerked my hand back.

But, I wanted just one last little touch. So I traced her lips one last time, memorizing every luscious curve of her mouth, and then I shook myself from my reverie and left.

That was a while ago. Now was now. Now, she was in my sights again.

Now, I was watching her walk with the Holy Man and his boys, Johns, and the ship Captain, Caroline Fry. They were all searching for water, but they were also looking for me, and I was hiding from them.

But, though I should have been keeping a low profile, I couldn’t resist cutting off a small lock of Angel’s gorgeous hair when she wasn’t paying attention, to keep with me as a souvenir or something. It hadn’t occurred to me before. I’d been too zombified by her hot little body. But, just so that jackass motherfucker Johns never ever found out that I had the desire to fuck his lovely, angelic little sister, I cut off a lock of Fry’s hair, too.

I checked the scent, just to see, and sure enough, Fry wore perfume. Lavender oil. I hate perfume. It reminded me of my whore of a mother. I hate my mother, too. She abandoned me when I was born. The only thing I remember about her was the blue hair ribbon she’d worn as she gave birth to me, the satin hair ribbon that she tied around my wrist when, thinking I was stillborn, she’d left me in a trashcan, crying her twelve-year-old heart out. That ribbon, which was in my back pants pocket, still carried faint whiffs of her scent. But it was soaked with the smell of lavender, lilac, and chamomile oil. A whore’s scent.

After they left, I watched Angel look around for a minute. I knew she sensed me, she had to. My psychic scent- the smell she got when her mind powers gave her something that concerned me- was so familiar that no amount of shielding on my part, if I could have shielded myself, would have done any good.

I saw her look right at me, and the look on her face was so unbearably sad, I nearly called out to her. I hated seeing that look on her face. But I checked myself: What kind of fucking idiot was I, that ten minutes after I escape, I do something so fucking stupid that will obviously get me recaptured?

But, Angel tended to have that effect on a man. She tended to make men act pretty fucking stupid. She could even do that to me sometimes.

I watched her leave, and I left with her, going in the opposite direction, back towards camp. I had stuff I wanted to check out. I got taken again an hour later.
oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oo
“So, you finally found something worse than me.”

I’d been retaken, put back in chains, by the blue-eyed devil, but Angel had insisted on no bit, and no ankle chains. She wouldn’t let Johns lock me up till he agreed. So here I was, accused of murdering Zeke, the Australian man, chained and kept in the dark, without my fucking goggles.

But the monsters, the creatures, whatever they were, had killed Zeke and nearly killed Caroline, or so I’d heard.

“Here’s the deal: you work without chains, without bit, and without shivs. You do what I say, when I say it. Okay?”

I looked at him incredulously. Work for him, this bastard whelp of a motherfucker, without a weapon, and for what? He wasn’t gonna give me a chance to fuck his sister to my heart’s content, and he wasn’t gonna let me go free.

Besides, even if he had given me permission to fuck Angel’s pretty little brains out (I can dream, can’t I?) she wouldn’t have let me. So why would I work for Michael Gabriel Johns, the blue-eyed devil?

“For what? The glory of going back to the Slam? Fuck you.”

I saw Angel come up softly, cat-like, and stand a few feet behind Johns. She gave me a pleading look that said, Please do this. For me, please, do this. Concede to my brother’s desires.

No way in hell was I gonna do that, and I told her so with my look. She sighed and threw a silent tantrum, beating her fists against her thighs and pantomiming her frustrations to whatever God might be listening. Or watching, as it were. I could barely manage to keep from laughing, she was so funny.

But Johns stopped my appreciation of Angel by answer my previous question.

“Honestly, because Angie and I are tired of chasing you.”

“Are you saying you’d let me walk?”

Angel’s look of derision made it hard to keep a straight face. I knew she didn’t believe him, and she was his own flesh and blood. Why should I, his enemy, believe him, then? Huh?

“For all I know, you could’ve died in the crash.”

“Recommendation: do me. X me out right now. Don’t take the chance that’ll get shiv happy on your wanna be ass. Ghost me, motherfucker, because that’s what I will do to you.”

Johns pulled out his big gage weapon and I heard Angel, who is usually so careful about making noise and staying hidden, let out a soft moan. It wasn’t much, and it was very soft. It washed over my extremely acute senses, falling like silk on my ears, caressing my body like the most intimate of sweet touches.

Johns heard it too, and he growled in frustration. He knew Angel would, quite probably, kill him if he shot me right now, chained like I was. He aimed the gun a tad higher and fired, blowing the links of my cuffs.
“I want you to remember this moment, and think on how it could have gone and didn’t. Eh?”

Angel was slumped against the wall in the shadows, hiding from her brother. I felt like giving the poor girl a show. When Johns held out my goggles, I reached out slow, and fucking quick grabbed his gun and had it aimed at his Coratoid artery.

“Rid-” He began, employing Angel’s rarest nickname for me, but that just pissed me off. Nobody called me that but Angel. I was this close to pulling the trigger.

But that’s not what I wanted the lilac-eyed girl of my twisted dreams to see.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fuck you!” I shouted.

Johns merely asked, “Do we have a deal?”

I could sense Angel’s attention on me, her eyes wide and anxious. I could see the questions in her mind. What was I going to do? Would I kill her brother? Would I kill him for her, for what he’d done to her?

I might eventually, but not now. I lowered the gun and gave it back to him.

“I want you to remember this moment.” I said.

He left, walking right by Angel in her hiding place. He didn’t see her, obviously.

When he was gone, she slipped out and came to me. We just looked at each other, stared at each other for a few moments.

Then, placing her hands on my chest for balance, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed my lips. Just a little girl kiss, but it was a kiss nonetheless. And I enjoyed it, enjoyed the feel of her mouth against mine, enjoyed the sensation of her warm, sweet breath against my lips. She didn’t know it, but she was a good kisser for an innocent virgin of both experience and relationship. That made me smile.

“Don’t make him scare me like that again, you hear me? Don’t do it.”

She kissed me again, just the same as she had a second ago, and I marveled at how one tiny little kiss from an inexperienced little girl could set me on fire like I’ve never felt before. I’d never known such a wicked heat as this. It was gloriously twisted. It was fast, furious, like the pulsing of white-hot poison through my blood, and it was fucked in the best and worst ways. It was just a kiss, and any whore off the street could have done better, but this innocent little peck on the lips was lighting my fire.

I nearly moaned, the pleasure this kiss offered was so intense. What was it about her that did this to me? This was just a normal kiss, an innocent peck like a sister would offer. Or a first-date girlfriend. But this kiss nearly bowled me over.
I didn’t want to kiss her back, but I did, a little bit, and then she was gone, like the sweetest of whispers in the dark.

oo8oo8oo8oo

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