Killer Instincts

~ This is the prelude to adult situations; consider yourself informed. Hugs to Alaira. ~

Chapter 6: Flawed

She watched him out of the corner of one half closed eye, doing her utmost to ensure it did not appear as though she was. Feigning indifference to his presence over the dragging days was proving to be increasingly difficult. She could feel those silvery eyes every time they fell upon her, and part of her couldn‘t help but wonder just what she had been thinking when she had run from him.

His eyes swept over her again, watching her foot tap against the edge of the console in time to the music filtering out of the com system. Had a real thing for music, this one. More often than not she had one form or another echoing through the corridors for her own pleasure, caring little for Riddick’s own. He preferred the peace and quiet, but for now he would allow her to believe it was her ship. She seemed more at peace when she was distracted. Peaceful was good. Peaceful meant she wasn’t tearing things apart, dismantling the only thing standing between them and the vacuum of space. He would have it soon enough. They would need to stop and haggle for more fuel soon. When they did, he would leave her there to find her own passage home. She’d done it once. He was certain she could do it again.

“Hey!”

“Huh?” Riddick’s head snapped up, looking her full in the eye now. He hated the way she barked at him. That was going to change too, when he’d taken over. The arch of her eyebrow, the gentle rising and falling of her breasts beneath that maddening corset of hers though... they swayed his resolve. It had been a long time since he’d taken a woman. Perhaps too long. It wasn’t as though they would reach a suitable planet for refuelling in the next couple of days at any rate. Anything to pass the time. She had more than proven she was interested on some level, her determination to deny this not withstanding.

“You’re staring. Knock it off.” She closed her eyes again, her upper lip rising a fraction in that way which said she had finished speaking to him again.

Riddick snorted, unimpressed. Forget abandoning her, remarks like that brought a nagging urge to slit her open and be done with it. “You sure this pack of yours didn’t leave you behind because of that mouth?” It was low, but he wasn’t feeling entirely charitable.

She growled at him, eyes opening again only enough to glare. “You don’t talk about my pack.”

“No?”

“No.” Her cold white eyes remained locked on him, daring him to defy her. “You’re not fit to even mention them.” Cat’s piercing gaze faltered, and she broke it with a sharp intake of breath. She bit down on her lower lip, chewing on it to retain her composure. Why did he have to push? Why couldn’t he just sit there like a good convict and keep his damned mouth shut? She was doing him a favour, allowing him to share her transport. The lack of gratitude was disgusting.

“They all dogs, or just you?” The corner of his mouth twitched in a ghost of a smirk. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head in a manner clearly stating he wasn’t worried in the least.

She knew she shouldn’t rise to his blatant attempt at coercing a reaction out of her. He was deliberately pushing her buttons. It didn‘t settle well with Cat at all that he knew just what button to push, either. Still, she could do nothing but respond; her nature would allow nothing less when confronted with such blatant disrespect for both herself and her surrogate family. “I am NOT a dog,” she growled back. Her head tilted slightly. A warning to quit while he was, in his own mind, ahead.

“Looked like a dog to me.”

“Then I’m afraid the strap on those goggles of yours must be just a little too tight.”

“You’re a crossbreed, right?”

Cat’s patience was failing her. He was doing it again. Making an attempt at playing ‘just who’s in charge here?’. “I most certainly am not,” she answered. “I happen to be royalty on my planet, Richard, and royalty on Venutia 21 is pure. I wouldn’t have inherited anything from Mother if I was impure.”

Riddick smirked, choosing to not hear the renewed use of his given name. “Royalty? Thought you were a Hunter.”

“Prototype, and yes, I am. What, you don’t think we used to be something else? We weren’t born this way, Mister Riddick, we were engineered over many years. I had a life, I had a home, and I had a family. Now all I have is my pack, and if you continue to insult them, I can promise you only one of us is going to be breathing when this ship next docks.”

“So, who were you, then?” he asked. He wasn’t particularly interested in details. It was information he was after. Information was power, and power was leverage. There were better ways of going about it. Kinder ways. He had neither the time nor the particular brand of savvy required for either. Cat wasn’t the sort of woman who left him with a whole lot of time to contemplate the best ways to manipulate her. When opportunities presented themselves, they had to be snatched up. This was one such opportunity, and he was not about to let it go.

“Why?” She was suspicious. Had every right to be. Cat had the distinct feeling he was playing her, and she wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Not a whole lot of entertainment on this bucket; maybe I‘m bored,” he shrugged. The attempt was made to convey to her that he didn’t care one way or the other if she told him or not. He could take her tale or leave it.

She knew it was a lie; a front to gain whatever it was that he wanted. And yet Cat conceded and allowed him that small victory. Talking about it sometimes made her feel better. It wasn’t likely she could feel much worse. “Long story short, my parents were the Sovereign and Lady Sovereign; the king and queen, so far as titles go I suppose. My brother, the Heir Successor, and I were raised to take their place. In case something happened to one, there would still be an heir prepared to take the chair when Father and Mother were gone.

“They came in the night. Soldiers. Faralon Eight was running experiments. Precursors to the Hunter program. They heard about our cosy little planet, heard what the females of the royal line were capable of, and they decided we were just what they needed. They needed somebody young, and the Heir Sovereign was just the ticket. I was young, I was female. The rest of my family… of my world… they were expendable.

“I spent the rest of my childhood, and my early adult life in a cage. My genetic makeup was altered beyond recognition; spliced and re-spliced to the point where even I don’t know what I am anymore. They couldn’t figure out where the elemental control came from, and were never able to copy it. Government suits never had a prayer of understanding something so simple. It was never within my body; its in my soul. You can’t gene splice that.” Cat shook her head, alabaster eyes watering slightly at the unwanted memories. “An entire dynasty spanning more generations than I can count, and I’m all that’s left. My planet is all but dead, because Mother and I aren‘t there to give it life anymore. Not that I could go back anyway. They wouldn‘t know me now, and Venutia 21 is all but a ghost world.

“In the end, five of us survived those initial experiments. The five of us, we’re family and I need to get back to them.”

“You just want to go home,” Riddick said, repeating the very thing she had told him over and over the day they had met.

“Yeah.”

“Flawed experiment looking for love, and running away from her real responsibilities. Makes sense now.”

That did it. Cat’s nostrils flared as she bared her teeth at Riddick, those bizarre eyes mere slits now as she fumed. “I am NOT running from my responsibilities!”

“You can bring life to your planet, but you aren’t going back there. You’re going to this conjured family instead. What would you call it?”

“The planet it dead! Dead is dead, Riddick. You of all people should understand that. Besides, I don’t see you rushing off to play on your own planet. Pot, meet kettle.”

Riddick shrugged again. This time it was truth when he implied he wasn’t bothered. “Hard to miss what you never knew. If you remember, you‘re turning your back on it.”

“This conversation is over,” Cat said firmly, twisting her swivel chair back toward the console. She stared blindly out into the black, loneliness of space until she heard Riddick rise and leave her. How could she have been so stupid? He’d led her right into that one, and the disgusting part was that she had totally seen it coming. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to believe that he would do such a thing. Perhaps she had momentarily forgotten exactly who he was.

It was several minutes, stewing in her own irritation and self pity before Cat heaved a resigned sigh and leaned forward in her chair. Locating the panel she would require, the black haired woman activated the ship’s computer. Long, slender fingers danced over the keys as she punched in the co-ordinates for the planet of her birth to activate a planetary report. Most Merc ships had them. Made for easier hunting, knowing the terrain you’d be on. She was prepared for the worst, knowing exactly what the report would tell her. Her people were dead, her planet was dead, and she might as well be for all she had ever done for either.

The cold, monotone voice of the onboard computer began to deliver the information on file, displaying a green tinted hologram of Venutia 21 as the presentation played out. It played for only a minute or two before a tear escaped Cat’s eye, slipping down over her pale cheek and falling onto her breast. Her breath caught in her throat as she sprang up from her seat, shock and fear mingling with intense pleasure. The young woman’s hand slammed down on a large red button, confirming a change in co-ordinates. “They’re surviving,” she muttered.

She found Riddick in the communal room, sitting on one of the cushioned benches as though he had been waiting for her when she finally left the bridge. “They survive,” she told him, her voice slow and dazed. “The planet, its been better, but its alive… my people started over; took what they were left with and started over. Its not the same, but its there, and my people are carrying on.”

“Ship changed course.”

Cat frowned slightly. If he wanted to start something over it, she was more than prepared now. He’d all but called her out as a coward, and now she had the chance to prove him wrong. She would not take ’no’ for an answer. The convict held no position of power here, and the ship’s destination was entirely none of his business. He was there because she allowed it, and nothing more. “Yes, it did. I want to see it. I want to see if what my forefathers built still stands.”

“So running away like a spoiled little girl not working for you anymore?”

“I thought it was gone,” she spat back defensively. “They told me it was nothing but a ghost world waiting to finally die, and I never heard any differently. It hurt to much to look for myself. I suppose I should be grateful for the push to finally do it, but considering that you were deliberately trying to hurt me, I’m not going to bother.”

Riddick shook his head slowly, devil-may-care smile locked upon his features. “Got me all wrong, Cat. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Then what was that back there?”

“Control.”

“Oh, really?”

It was a gamble, he knew, but Riddick liked the odds stacked high. “I don’t like being told what to do. Don’t much care for being talked down to, either. About time we figure out just who is in charge around here, Cat.”

A tingle ran the length of Cat’s body, gooseflesh breaking out along her arms. She hid them behind her back, pushing back the flood of images which sprang forth at the very idea of further confrontation. The beast within was excited by the prospect. “That’s easy, Richard. I am. You’re just along for the ride until I get bored with you.”

Even Cat was shocked by just how quickly Riddick snagged her upper arms in his strong grasp, dragging her down into his lap. “I don’t think you’ll be bored.”

“Let go,” Cat hissed. She didn’t mean it. Not entirely, at any rate. That animalistic nature she fought to keep under control awoke with a start, enticed by the possibilities of what exactly the convict had in mind. Nothing was going to happen, the rational side maintained. She simply would not allow it. The rational side didn’t meant it, either. Still, she refused to relinquish her position, and with teeth bared she lunged forward.

He held her back, keeping her arms back out behind her just enough to create a comfortable ‘no biting’ zone. He’d seen those needle sharp canines of hers, seen what they could do when she was angry, and Riddick had no intention of being bitten. His smile twisted into a smirk as she renewed her efforts to take a chunk out of him. Her teeth snapped together like a steel trap a mere two inches from his cheek, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of flinching. “That all you got?” he asked. His tone was bored. Unimpressed.

“Let go and I’ll show you what I’ve got,” she snarled, white eyes burning into him.

“Is than an offer?”

A low, furious roar escaped her throat, and she lurched backward, throwing Riddick’s carefully balanced hold on her off enough for her to pull free. Rather than retreating, however, Cat instantly leapt for the big man. Sharp nails slashed at his bronzed skin, making contact twice. The cuts burned, and the killer shot to his feet, growling back at the woman as one heavily muscled arm rose and swept her to the floor before she could do any more damage.

Riddick glanced at the slashes in the brief moment his reaction had awarded him. The one on his right shoulder was shallow, wouldn’t be a problem. It was the perfectly outlined trail of four of her claws travelling from the left shoulder to halfway down to his navel that was looking like it could be an issue. If he was lucky, it looked worse than it was. If he wasn’t lucky, he’d need to be locating a med kit pretty quickly.

Silver eyes fell upon Cat as she made another angry attack, but Riddick was done playing with her. Balling a hand up into a tight fist, he hit her hard across her lower jaw, sending her head rocking back on her neck. For a moment he thought perhaps he had snapped it when she crumpled to the cold floor like a marionette with its strings cut. He wasn’t sure where the relief came from when she growled, shaking her head as she climbed again to her hands and knees to refocus. She was trying to kill him, he shouldn’t be pleased that he hadn’t killed her first.

He thought back over the fight with the Mercs in the anchorage and frowned. Those had been half a dozen plus of the biggest Mercs Riddick had seen in some time, yet between them they had wiped them out, save for Amos whom he was certain would be opting for a serious career change. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had been right. If she’d honestly wanted him dead, would he already be? Was she taking it easy on him, even in her rage? The Furyan was less than pleased with this conclusion, demanding nothing but the best from any opponent. Perhaps his relief came knowing he could yet draw more of a fight out of her before he finished it. “You know you gotta do better than that, Girl,” he taunted.

And she did. Just not in the manner which Richard B. Riddick may have expected. Alabaster eyes rolled upward to keep track of him as she picked herself up. Blood pooled slightly on her lower lip where she had bitten it on impact. Licking it away slowly, Cat closed her eyes and smiled. “Its not nice to hit a lady,” she told him.

“You’re no lady.”

“No,” she agreed, eyelids rising again. “I’m not.” Cat spun around, kicking him hard and sending him reeling back onto the bench. She was on him in a heartbeat, straddling his hips as her nails dug into his shoulders. Teeth bared, she glared down at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. Leaning into him, her arms slid around his neck as she pressed her lips with firm caution against his. She wasn’t entirely certain why she did it, though she was pretty sure it was a very poor decision on her part. She also knew she would have regretted not kissing him just once before she slit his throat and put an end to this conflict once and for all.

Riddick hadn’t particularly seen this coming, yet he had never been one to turn down a beautiful woman. His hands grasped her hips, pulling her in as tight against him as the barriers of clothing would allow. Her kiss was repaid with one of his own, more demanding and certain. When she gasped in confusion, lips parting of their own accord, he took full advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth to seek out her own.

For a moment, she allowed herself to be swept away with the sheer hunger of it, but the moment swiftly passed. Little Miss Rational reared her ugly head yet again, reminding her that this would do nothing but satisfy the beast for a time. It would gain her nothing of value. The beast, however, had an entirely more convincing argument. Satisfaction was a hard won reward, so difficult to come by these days. A happy Cat was a calm Cat, and a calm Cat was required if she was going to get back to the rest of the pack. Besides, she so rarely took what she really wanted. Was it so wrong to give in to a force as powerful and demanding as her own?

Cat pulled away, breathing heavily. She didn’t release her hold on him, but she did smile somewhat lazily. It didn’t reach her eyes, which still burned with anger and lust all at once. “This is a mistake,” she told him, easing back away from him.

“I know it,” he confirmed, hooking an arm around her more securely to cut off an escape.

“I’m still going to rip your damned head off.”

“You’re welcome to try.” The hand he had settled on her back to keep her in place traced the line of skin above the top of her corset, sending shivers through her with every brush of his fingertips. The hand still on her hip moved higher, sliding steadily toward her breast. He silently cursed her corset, practical as it may have been for the life she led. Practical was a pain in the ass in certain situations; this being one of them. There was no doubt that it was going to have to go.

Without warning, he pushed her backward enough to lift her up and flip her over on the bench. He followed in the same fluid motion, now looming over her as he pinned her arms against the seat. She wasn’t comfortable, and that anger flashing in her eyes intensified. It made him smile. She could escape if she wanted to, they both knew it. Curiosity kept her from acting on the instinct to break loose, and Riddick was entirely willing to use this against her for his own gain. Cat wouldn’t put up an honest fight. It was written there in her eyes, cosy and right at home with the lust and rage which coursed through her.

“You don’t keep your secrets too well, Cat,” he told her, his voice low and even. He pressed closer, one knee on the bench beside her so that once again her escape route was cut off. Rocking backward a fraction, he brought both of her arms up, raising them over her head and taking both of her wrists in one hand. This kept her shoulders against the back of the bench, ensuring those fangs stayed well away from his flesh. “I see you watching. Making plans. Kill me or leave me on the nearest planet, right? Think I don’t know it?”

“Killing you is looking like the better option right now,” she hissed in return, squirming with little conviction under his weight.

Riddick laughed at her. His free hand moved slowly up and down the length of that damned corset. It was soft beneath his touch, though not so soft as the skin beneath it, he would wager. He couldn’t resist sliding his hand further upward, moving over the tops of her breasts to her long neck. “It would be so easy,” he said, almost thoughtful.

There was no question of what he meant. It wasn’t a threat, or a promise. Just a statement of fact. As desired, he held the upper hand, and he wanted to be certain she knew it. Cat said nothing. The situation was what it was, and confirming it for him would make no difference to the final outcome. She was unable to repress the sigh which escaped her when his hand began to move downward again, however, try as she might.

This was all he needed. Releasing her wrists, Riddick grasped the top of her corset, one hand on either side of the neat row of hooks securing it in place. One good pull bent the top five easily, loosening the garment and exposing more of her now rapidly moving chest. She seemed to be having difficulty in keeping her breaths calm and under control, and he liked that. He was wearing her down.

“You’re fixing that,” she growled, looking down at her damaged clothing. The wire hooks were salvageable, but at least one of the eyes had been pulled free entirely. Using her now free hand, Cat hit Riddick hard with the heel of it, snapping his head back and throwing his balance. She could have broken his nose. Hell, if she was honest, she had been sorely tempted. In the end, she wasn’t sure what exactly it was that she wanted, but despite her words it was not to seriously harm him. Not yet.

By the time Riddick had pulled himself back into perfect balance, his head cleared from the blow, she had nearly finished unfastening the remainder of the black wire hooks. He didn’t bother to question her. The woman was volatile, he knew that all too well, and questions would more than likely do nothing but give her the opportunity to change her mind. Encouraged, he pulled his partially shredded shirt over his head, discarding it without another thought. He couldn’t conceal a slight wince as the slashes on his chest pulled with the movement. Not that he was prepared to let them stop him.

“You might want to clean those,” Cat said, sitting up and leaving the corset behind on the cushion as she examined them with a far gentler touch than the one which had created the wounds. “I haven’t had my distemper shots.”

“Its not bad,” he replied, uncertain if this was actually true or not. The escaped convict, wayward Lord Marshal of the Necromongers, had but one goal now. He still lingered above her, though he no longer had her in the submissive position which had driven her to such anger. He noticed a softening in her eyes as she gingerly touched the bloody wounds, but said nothing about it. She would only deny it. Withdraw from him entirely and leave. Riddick was coming to know her well enough to know for certain this was true.

“It could be worse,” she agreed, fighting the animalistic urge to apply further pressure and see just how much it actually did hurt. Sometimes she was certain one of the creatures she had been spliced with had been pure evil. It wasn’t right to want to hurt somebody, especially knowing in your heart that wasn’t what you desired. “You had it coming,” she added, the hand not busy exploring his chest moving down to the waistband of his trousers.

“Maybe.” He neither assisted nor hindered when Cat’s long fingers unfastened the functional cargo trousers he wore, and he refrained from commenting as that hand then snaked underneath the fabric, roaming across the bare skin beneath.

Just as she had been gentle, she could also prove unpredictable. This Riddick discovered when her nails suddenly tightened on his hip, scratching without actually breaking the skin. “Sorry,” she said as she released him. Something in her eyes said she wasn’t. It was proven an instant later when she pushed him roughly away, rising as he once again was forced to find his balance. Cat moved closer, gliding across the cold floor like the animal she harboured within. She had the focus of a killer on the hunt. Riddick knew the expression all too well. She wanted something, and she meant to have it.

She moved past him, heading for the doorway. She paused just long enough to look back over her shoulder, a slow, dangerous smile daring him to follow. Riddick watched, torn. He wanted her. It had been a long while since he had wanted a woman so badly, but this one wasn’t like most of the women he met. She was a challenge. She was the personification of the phrase ‘femme fatale’. Someone like her could love you to death. Literally.