Harbinger

"Well," Preitha said with resignation, "it seems you're off the hook, my Lord." She was no mind reader, but neither was she a fool.

"I 'will' tell you what I know," Vader replied, clasping her hand with both of his and giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze. "You have my word on it."

She looked to the floor. "Yes, my Lord," she mumbled, unconvinced. Being so close to knowing about her mother was almost worse than knowing nothing at all. For the first time, she'd felt as if answers were within her grasp. Her father had made her promises, too; 'when you're older', 'when you've finished your studies', 'when you're ready'. Whatever he thought he was protecting her from... she didn't care. She simply wanted to 'know'.

Vader released her hand and took hold of her chin, tilting her head up to meet his masked gaze. "I have no desire to add to the lies and betrayal you've suffered, little one. You deserve answers, and you will have them…in time. I've given my word and I'll keep it, but you have to trust me."

She nodded and forced a smile. Why was he being so kind to her? Why would he care that she'd spent her entire life searching for answers? He was Lord Vader; known for being cruel, hard, and ruthless. But the man she'd come to know was different. He made her promises, gave her gifts, held her while she slept... this was not the man she'd expected, and yet...

A gloved finger came to rest on her lips, silencing her thoughts. "Don't disillusion yourself. I 'am' ruthless. I've done things you can't imagine. I don't want to frighten you. I have no intention of unleashing that cruelty upon you, but you must never forget who I am."

She nodded again, with more conviction. If he didn't keep his promise, after all, she'd be no worse off than she had been before, and hope was an intangible thing with a startlingly short memory. It never took long to renew itself after it had been stripped away.

"We should report to Tarkin," she said, glancing at the chronometer on the study wall. "I got the impression he's rather anxious to discuss strategy with you, my Lord."

Vader grunted. "That," he said bitterly, "or use the opportunity to rub in my face, yet again, the chain of command aboard this obnoxious device."

"It is curious," Preitha mused aloud, "that the Emperor has given Tarkin complete autonomy here."

He shook his head and waved the door open with one hand. "I'm experiencing déjà vu," he commented, leading her to the door. "Is this what your life is like, always being summoned?"

Preitha smiled, ignoring the obvious fact that Vader, too, had orders to follow. "I don't mind it. Some are meant to lead, others to follow."

"True," he conceded, "but I'm not convinced you `are' a follower."

"I'm going to start blushing if you keep this up," she ventured with a laugh.

"Well then, teaching you how to accept a compliment will have to be next on my agenda," he replied sternly. Despite the strict tone, she could tell he was smiling.

"I look forward to it, my Lord."

******

The longer Tarkin spoke, the less Preitha listened. She allowed her thoughts to wander away from the discussion of rebels and strategies - did the man ever speak of anything else? - and followed the current of her meandering consciousness. Any other time she would have found the discussion exhilarating, a chance to prove her skill at anticipating enemy strategy. Today, however, she was inexorably bored; she couldn't seem to think of anything other than Lord Vader, who stood next to Tarkin with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, exuding raw power in almost-visible waves. She found herself cursing the fact that they had been interrupted yet again in Vader's quarters.

The Sith Lord laughed within her mind, picking up on her thoughts. Patience, he told her. There will be time for you and I.

She looked down at the smooth black surface of the conference table to hide her face as she felt her cheeks redden. Thank the gods no one else in the room could read minds.

Indeed, you are lucky to be surrounded by Force-blind fools, he said, resting his hands casually on the chair in front of him.

The door slid open, disturbing their silent conversation and turning Preitha's attention back to the meeting.

"Our scout ships have reached Dantooine," the officer announced. "They found the remains of a rebel base, but they estimate that it has been deserted for some time. They are now conducting an extensive search of the surrounding systems."

"She lied. She lied to us!" Tarkin exclaimed angrily, standing.

"I told you she would never consciously betray the rebellion," Vader responded, allowing a hint of triumph to seep into his voice. He may have failed in his interrogation of the Princess, but at least there was comfort in the fact that the Grand Moff's methods had proven equally fruitless.

"Terminate her," Tarkin ordered. "Immediately!"

"Is that wise, sir?" Preitha asked. "What about the freighter that Commander Tagge spoke of?"

"We don't know much yet. We only have preliminary sightings of the vessel dropping out of hyperspace. Once it is in range we will capture it and see exactly who is on board, and why," he said.

"The Commander indicated that the ship may have come from Tatooine," she pressed.

"Possibly," his eyes narrowed. He already had to suffer Vader's questioning; now this one was challenging him as well?

"Until we know for certain, Grand Moff, Princess Leia is the best lead we have in finding the rebel base."

"We will wait for the ship to move within range of the tractor beam. The order to execute that harlot of a princess, however, stands."

More waiting? Preitha marveled at how Tarkin had ever won the Emperor's favor; he was, quite clearly, an idiot.

Not an idiot, Vader told her, but a fool.

Close enough, as far as she was concerned. Either failing was typically fatal within the ranks of the Empire and yet, this one had risen nearly to the top.

He's cunning, and hides his failures well.

Tarkin was speaking again, unaware that neither member of his audience was listening. "-to track them down, Lord Vader," he finished, brandishing an index finger in his customary fashion.

The intercom buzzed, cutting off the Sith Lord's reply.

"Yes?"

"We've captured a freighter entering the remains of the Alderaan system. Its' markings match those of a ship that blasted its' way out of Mos Eisley."

Vader cast a knowing look at Preitha. "They must be trying to return the stolen plans to the Princess," he said. "She may yet be of some use to us."

"To what end?" Tarkin challenged. "We have the ship; if the rebels are indeed trying to reach the princess we will soon have them as well."

"But they have proven unexpectedly resourceful thus far," Preitha countered. "We `should' use the Princess."

"As what?" the older man questioned. The Lieutenant was growing bold under Vader's care. It was most unbecoming.

"As bait," Vader supplied. Preitha was right; the man was an idiot.

"Bait?" Tarkin laughed. "I believe you are overestimating our rebel adversaries."

Preitha thought the Grand Moff sounded quite a bit like her father at the moment. Overestimation or not, they had managed to outsmart the Empire at every turn thus far.

"Careful," Vader said, voicing her thoughts, "you sound like your friend the Admiral."

"Fine," Tarkin scoffed. "Indulge yourself, Lord Vader. The Lieutenant will go check on our prisoner, and you will go investigate this ship."

"As you wish," Vader said, making no attempt to conceal his sarcasm.

"Very good then," Tarkin said. "You are dismissed."

******

Preitha found the Princess in the hallway of the detention ward, being led to the execution chamber. She was outwardly calm and gave no indication of worry over her current situation. She could have been strolling to the casino for a game of djarek, for all the casual observer could tell.

"Oh wonderful, Leia said, rolling her eyes when she noticed the Lieutenant. "Vader's pet kath hound come to see me off?"

"Merely ensuring that your execution goes smoothly, Princess," Preitha responded. If that was how the Princess wanted to play it, then she'd make her sweat a bit before delivering the news of her salvation.

"You were the runt of the litter, weren't you?" Leia continued, unfazed.

Preitha ignored the comment and waved ahead to the maintenance officer posted outside the chamber's door. He scrambled off to prepare a toxic cocktail, which would be fed into the vents of the chamber. According to the holovids she'd seen of this particular fashion of execution, the gas first burned off one’s skin before eroding the lungs and other organs from the inside out. The victim essentially decayed internally and externally, all at once, and all while still very much alive.

"If you have any messages you would like passed on to your family, Princess, I would consider delivering them for you. That is, if you have any family left, of course," the Lieutenant told her. “Do you have any family now? Or were they all destroyed along with Alderaan?”

"You bitch," Leia swore, her calm façade cracking at the mention of her destroyed homeworld. "You make me sick; you and everything you stand for!"

"I assure you the sentiment is mutual," Preitha answered with a smile. The door in front of them slid open, revealing a narrow hallway with two pathways in close proximity. One led to the gas chamber, the other to a viewing and control room. "Take her in," she ordered the 'troopers. "Princess, it has been a pleasure."

She walked into the control room and stood with her arms crossed, watching the holovid feed on the central monitor as the soldiers pushed Leia into the other room and left, sealing the door shut behind them. This wasn't wise, she told herself, playing such games of petty revenge. It was... cruel.

Preitha had never thought of herself as cruel before. She'd never reveled in any of the destruction caused by the Empire, merely regarding it with calm rationality. This prank she was playing on the Princess, it was unlike her.

"Lieutenant," the tech said, "I thought we had orders 'not' to carry out the execution?"

"You do," she replied. "You aren't going to terminate the captive, you're just going to humble her a bit."

"I... what should I do then?"

"Nothing. Just watch."

The Princess stood calmly in the center of the chamber at first, staring defiantly at nothing. After several minutes had passed, however, her gaze began to shift back and forth, surveying the room. Preitha saw her open her mouth and draw in a deep, ragged breath, then close her eyes for a few moments before opening them once more.

"Lieutenant?" the tech ventured.

"Wait!" she barked sharply, not looking away from the console.

Leia repeated the routine: looked around, took a breath, shut her eyes. Did her shoulders shudder this time? It was difficult to tell.

After the third time, though, Preitha was certain. The younger woman was trembling. Soon thereafter, she began to cry.

"Good," Preitha said. "Unlock the door now. I'll go inform the prisoner of her good fortune."

The trip to the chamber door was short, but she made certain to take her time. When the panel slid open she saw the princess huddled against the wall on her knees, sobbing softly. She looked so very young at that moment, all of her defiant sarcasm gone. Despite herself, Preitha felt a rush of regret at the cruel trick she'd just executed.

"Princess," she stated flatly.

The other woman raised her head to regard her, eyes wet and gleaming with tears.

"These soldiers will escort you back to your cell now."

"What?" Leia sniffed, wiping at her cheeks.

"Your execution has been postponed," Preitha explained.

"Why?" Leia asked, suspicion returning as she quickly recovered from her momentary collapse.

"Return the Princess to her accommodations," Preitha told the `troopers as she walked away; it was time to report back to Tarkin. Perhaps her deception was not so petty after all. If the passengers aboard the mysterious freighter were searching for the Princess, it didn't appear she was aware of it.

Vader was right. She would still be useful.

"Lieutenant Motti, please join us." Tarkin gestured to a chair before the now-familiar conference table. Her father was there, along with Commander Tagge. They were seated at evenly-spaced intervals around the table, with Tarkin in the center.

"Have you seen the Princess?" her father asked.

"Yes," Preitha replied, taking the seat directly to his right. "She is secure in her cell, puzzling over the postponement of her execution. If the rebels `have' come to rescue her, she seems to be ignorant of their plan."

"How do you know?" Tagge asked. He was a nervous man by nature and, like Vader, he doubted the all-encompassing power of the Death Star. If the rebels were smart enough to steal the schematics to the battle station chances were good, in his opinion, that they would be able to destroy it, too.

"It was quite obvious, Commander," she replied evasively. She doubted that any of the men would disapprove of her prank on the Princess, given their unabashed distaste for the petite woman, but the truth was that `she' did not approve of it and was, in fact, quite ashamed of what she'd done.

"And what of Vader?" her father asked, regarding her through narrowed eyes.

"What of him?" she countered, hoping that she did not sound as defensive as she felt at the mention of the Dark Lord.

"What does he know of our plans?"

"I would assume nothing. The topic never came up," she answered, "and since `I' don't know anything, that's all I can say on the matter."

"Well then, what `have' you discussed?" the Commander interjected. Pitting the girl against Vader had been foolish. He didn't like it.

"Nothing of consequence," she replied.

"You're lying," Tarkin stated flatly.

"Am I?" Now she was openly defensive, and her voice was taking on the acidic tone it assumed when she was angry.

"Don't tell me you would side with that…that `machine' over me," her father exclaimed, slamming a fist down onto the table with a resounding "crack". "He's hired muscle; a disillusioned idiot, clinging to a disillusioned religion. After all I've done for you, you would betray me for `him'?"

Commander Tagge blanched at the outburst, his skin paling to a sickly green pallor as his eyes darted from Motti to Preitha and back again.

"Where is my mother?" she asked abruptly, ignoring Motti's outburst.

The Admiral paused. Realization spread across his features. "Is that what he's promised you then? Information? You stupid girl."

"Are you going to tell me?" she pressed, ignoring the comment. "Or shall I go back to Chandrila and see what I can find there?"

Motti started, eyes widening in shock. He'd realized that Vader knew the truth, of course; the Sith Lord had not been at all subtle during their last confrontation, but how much had he told Preitha? And how in the Corellian hells had he known in the first place? It had all been taken care of eighteen years ago, every detail. The house blown to dust with a permacrete detonator, all records of her original parentage destroyed, every soldier who had been present that day killed with his own blaster. Motti himself was the only living person with any knowledge of what had happened.

But Vader knew. Beyond all possibilities, he knew. The Admiral wondered how far his enemy would go with information as damaging as that.

"You stupid girl," he repeated finally.

"It is of no consequence," Tarkin told him, his voice calm and measured, as always. "Her job was to distract Vader and keep him out of our affairs. She has done so."

"You have no idea what he's done, Wilhuff!" Motti hissed under his breath.

"Nor do I care. I'd advise you to stop and think about this for a moment, and bite your tongue before you say any more. In fact, I believe you have a report to finalize on the destruction of Alderaan, do you not?"

"Nearly completed," Motti said, but he had not turned away from his daughter. He was staring at her with quiet fury.

"Then go complete it," the Grand Moff ordered. "The Emperor is waiting for that information. I should not have to remind you of such things."

"You," the Admiral said, pointing a finger at Preitha as he rose to his feet, "I will deal with later." He stalked from the room with a pasty-faced Tagge in tow.

Preitha slowly let out her breath. She heard the measured footsteps that signaled Vader's approach soon after the angry slap of her father's boots had retreated. His timing, she thought, was either perfect or abhorrent. She could not decide which.

"Lord Vader, what news do you have?" Tarkin asked by way of greeting.

"The `troopers have found no one aboard the freighter, but I assure you they are here." Vader stood at the head of the table, thumbs hooked into his belt. Preitha found his presence to be calming. The cycle of his breathing soothed her, and relieved some of her anger.

"Who?"

"Rebels. Three of them, I believe. Do you remember General Kenobi?" the Sith Lord asked, and one hand clenched reflexively into a fist at the name.

"Kenobi? He has been missing since the end of the Clone Wars, why would he reveal himself now?" Tarkin asked, clearly surprised.

"He is here," Vader stated.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi? What makes you think so?" the older man was unconvinced. Preitha was not familiar with the name. Whomever it was seemed to stir a great deal of anger within the Sith Lord.

"A tremor in the Force. The last time I felt it was in the presence of my old master."

"Surely he must be dead by now," the Grand Moff argued, rising from his chair to pace the room.

"Don't underestimate the power of the Force."

"The Jedi are extinct; their fire has gone out of the Universe. You, my friend, are all that's left of their religion." Tarkin moved back to his seat to answer an incoming call. "Yes?"

"We have an emergency alert in Detention Block AA-23," the relay officer announced.

"The Princess?" Tarkin queried, casting a glance in Vader's direction. "Put all sections on alert."

"Obi-Wan is here," Vader insisted. "The Force is with him."

"If you're right, he must not be allowed to escape."

"Escape is not his plan. I must face him, alone." Vader turned and swept out of the room. His black cape billowed behind him as Preitha watched his retreat, puzzled and somewhat disappointed that he had not acknowledged her. She very much wished she knew who this "Kenobi" was.

An old enemy, and an even older friend, Vader pathed to her. This is something I must do. I will come for you when I am able.

"I don't like it," Tarkin said, more to himself than to Preitha. "They should not have gotten to the Detention Blocks, whoever they are. They should not have made it off their ship at all."

They sat in silence for some time, listening to the chatter of the `troopers as they searched the hallways; Tarkin had ordered that their communication be patched in so that he could monitor their progress. His face contorted when he heard that they had escaped the Detention Block.

"We think they may be splitting up, they may be on levels five and six now, sir," one soldier reported.

"The Princess?"

"Is with them, sir."

"I want them found. Now! I will hold each of you personally responsible for this failure!" Tarkin barked.

Preitha was growing restless. It was stupid for her to sit here and do nothing. "What would you have me do, Grand Moff?" she asked finally.

"Oh, you," he said. He seemed to have forgotten her presence entirely. "You are dismissed, I suppose," he waved one hand. "Go to your quarters and wait. And I do hope for your sake, Lieutenant, that your father's display of foolishness is not a family trait."

She was about to protest – rebels were running around the station and she was being sent to her room? – but Preitha thought better of it and quietly left. Tarkin did not acknowledge her retreat.

The hallways were crawling with stormtroopers, each marching with blaster rifles at the ready; some speaking swiftly and nervously into their helmets, others searching every nook and passageway of the station. Preitha hugged the wall closest to her to avoid them, thinking to herself that it was no wonder the rebels had managed to avoid detection, with so many soldiers crashing around like rabid dewbacks.

Once back in her small room she stretched out on her bed and closed her eyes. It was a standard issue bed, little more than an oversized cot, but she had slept on them all her life, and the stiff cottonweave material did not bother her. She was exhausted, she realized and so, with nothing better to do, she allowed herself to drift into sleep.

******

Preitha woke to the sound of her door sliding open. She sat upright, instantly alert.

Vader stood in the doorway.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, pushing her hair back from her face and rubbing her eyes.

"Not long," he told her.

"Come in, my Lord, please," she gestured to the sparse, uninviting space.

He stepped into the room, waving the door closed behind him. She sensed something different in his stance; he seemed agitated.

"A bit restless," he confessed, dropping his considerable bulk down beside her on the bed. He unhooked his cape and tossed it to the floor beside him.

"They escaped, didn't they?" She pulled her legs beneath her, watching him carefully.

"The ones that I allowed to escape did, yes." He had his hands resting loosely on his knees, fingers splayed. "But not before a homing device was hidden aboard their vessel; they will lead us directly to the rebel base."

"And the one you spoke of, Kenobi?"

“Dead by my hand,” he revealed.

“Just as you said he would be.”

“Indeed.”

He sighed.

“It was not as satisfying as you'd hoped?” she ventured.

“It was not, no,” he confirmed, reaching up to trace her cheek with one finger. “I'd waited so long for vengeance…” he sighed again. “Tell me, when you coupled with the ensign, Krael, why did you do it?”

She shook her head and blinked. Why in the hells was he asking her that? If he'd wanted to change the subject, there were other topics he could have chosen.

“You hate him,” Vader stated.

“Yes,” she conceded.

“Then why?”

“I… don't know, my Lord. Perhaps it was battle lust.” She shrugged and looked down at her hands, ashamed. “It was a mistake, either way.” So that was why Vader hadn't touched her.

“No,” he said, surprised. “You did not desire me, that's why.”

Oh. Is that what he thought? “And if I said that I do now?”

“Do you?” his fingers were threading through her hair, caressing the base of her skull languorously.

“You can read my thoughts, you already know the answer.”

“Ahh, but I want to hear you say it,” he replied.

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Yes, I desire you.”

“Good girl,” he said, bringing his other hand up to brush across her breasts.

Preitha's eyes remained closed, lips parted, and Vader cursed the restrictions of his mask; he wanted to kiss her, to feel her skin against his own. It was a shame he could not properly enjoy her here, but he refused to wait any longer, not when she was offering herself to him in such an innocent way. Dimming the lights with a touch of the Force, he unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it off her shoulders, running his fingertips down the soft flesh of her arms and sending delicious shivers racing up her spine.

His caresses were feathersoft, and her skin came alive everywhere he touched. His fingers were electric. He moved to the curve of her breasts again, brushing across her nipples. They hardened instantly at his touch. It was as if the light cloth of her undershirt weren't even there. His other hand drifted lower to run along her thigh; stroking her through the fabric of her uniform pants. Each time he came closer, but stopped just short of the growing heat between her legs. Her breath was coming in soft, shallow gasps. Preitha held onto his shoulder to remain upright.

“You're going to drive me mad,” she finally gasped.

“Am I?” he chuckled. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I plan to. I'm afraid the restrictions of my armor won't allow me to accomplish this entirely by the book, but I intend to do my best,” he explained.

“Earlier you said there was a place…”

“Yes, I have a meditation pod in my quarters.” He was tracing concentric circles over her right breast now, each one maddeningly slow, and each smaller than the last. “But we are en-route to the rebel base now. There isn't time. Would you prefer to wait?”

“No,” she said with a half-moan, clutching his shoulders tighter. “Gods, no more waiting.”

Again he chuckled. “I'm at your complete disposal, little one.”

At her disposal? Surely that was sarcasm; he had her half out of her mind with lust and he'd barely touched her. She would do anything he asked. If he told her to join the Rebellion, she would.

Vader laughed at her thoughts. “What would you have me do, my Lady?”

She blushed crimson at the term. She'd never been called a “lady” before. It was… nice. His right hand was still poised over her breast and she covered it with her own, pressing down. He took the hint and squeezed the flesh through the thin material of her sleeveless shirt, pinching her erect nipple and then pulling at the sensitive nub. She sighed and arched her back.

“You're a passionate one,” he murmured, turning his attention to her other breast and giving it the same treatment.

Vader used the Force to pull off her pants and shirt while easing her down on the bed. He drew back to observe her, his eyes sweeping over her naked form, drinking her in. His cock swelled, straining against his codpiece. She was so willing, so completely open to him. The way she responded to his touch was a powerful aphrodisiac. Preitha spread her legs apart and reached for his free hand, pushing it against her damp pubic curls.

He gently traced the length of her slit, running one finger through the soft chestnut locks. Her entire body trembled when he parted her folds and brushed against her clit; once, twice, before slipping a single finger inside her slick heat. She let out a long, low moan and rotated her hips, grinding against his hand.

“What would you have me do?” he asked again, pushing a second finger into her and pumping them at a slow, leisurely pace.

“More,” was all she could manage. She was writhing against his hand making soft, whimpering sounds. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard anything quite so sexy.

“Are you sure, little one?” he asked with a grin.

“Gods, yes, please,” she begged. She was fumbling clumsily with his armor, attempting to figure out where, and how, to remove it.

The smile widened and he reached down to snap off his codpiece and toss it aside. Instantly her fingers found his prick, closing eagerly over the hard, smooth flesh. Preitha fisted him gently. As her palm passed over the silken mushroom head she felt a drop of liquid seep out of the teardrop-shaped opening.

“Please,” she repeated. Her tongue snaked out and licked at her lips.

“As you wish,” he said, reaching down to cover her hand with his.

Together they guided him to her entrance. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her free arm up to wrap around his broad shoulder. He was careful not to rest all of his weight on her, she seemed so tiny.

They groaned in unison when he entered her, relishing the feeling of flesh inside flesh for the first time. She was soft, Vader thought to himself, as soft as he was hard; human in all the ways that he was not.

Preitha pushed her hips forward, trying to take more of him into her, but he held her still, taking his time, savouring the intimacy. When he was completely buried within her he froze. His eyes drifted shut as the sensations washed over him. Then he slowly withdrew until all but the head of his cock remained. After an eternity he repeated the process.

The third time he withdrew from her he increased his pace, allowing his prick to sink back into her in one swift, fluid motion. She let out a choked cry of surprise at the sudden fullness, her eyes flying open.

“Keep them open,” he rumbled. “I want to look at you.”

She obeyed, staring into the black expanse of his mask as he pulled back and then slid home once more. She noticed that the cycle of his breathing had increased slightly. One gloved hand came up to stroke her face and she mirrored the gesture with her own hand, tracing the lines of his mask, the curve of his helmet.

His pace increased in calculated, barely noticeable increments. Preitha came to realize that he was still completely in control, as much as she was not. She decided to test him, and the next time he pulled out of her she concentrated on squeezing the muscles of her channel around him.

Vader groaned and began to thrust harder, faster. Encouraged, she repeated the gesture. His breathing cycle sped up again.

“How clever of you, little one,” he said. She smiled at him sweetly. He increased his pace again, pounding against her. “Is this what you want?”

She moaned and bit her lip, careful to keep her eyes open as he'd instructed. He moved faster, and then faster still; leather smacked against flesh in a frenzied rhythm. Her pleasure began to build, crescendoing until it was a constant rumble within her abdomen. Preitha threw both arms around his neck, clutching him desperately. She was making low, keening sounds. Sounds somewhere between whimpers and gasps of pleasure.

Vader's control began to slip when he felt the first ripples of her climax tear through her. He had monitored her thoughts throughout their lovemaking session; now he opened himself up to her emotions, allowed her pleasure to wash over him. He gathered her in his arms and held her close against his chest, stroking her hair as his own orgasm overwhelmed him.

He eased her back down to the bed and rolled away from her onto his side, then pulled her back to rest against his chest. Preitha sighed softly, contented.

“I knew you would please me, little one,” he purred, passing a hand through her hair.

“Was it worth the wait?” she asked dreamily.

“It certainly was,” Vader replied.