Keep What You Kill

I sense him watching me. I can feel his concealed eyes following my path through the throng of Necromongers. So I add a little extra sway to my hips, knowing the folds of my golden gown will flow around me, highlighting every sensual curve of my body. Diamonds adorn my throat, trailing down into the plunging neckline that perfectly frames the coffee and cream of my ample breasts. More diamonds are coiled through my elaborately coiffured hair, sparkling with every gliding step I make.

I have spent hours preparing for this momentous occasion, so I know my worth as a priceless jewel among the costume paste of Necromonger society. I can see the effect of my presence reflected in every eye as the crowd parts before me... except his. I can see the greedy desire filling the men and the envy seething in every woman as I glide across the floor.

With a detached air of superiority, I honor several groups with my presence, toying with them for a moment or two before continuing my turn about the vast hall for I know that motion is the key. In motion, I can display my grace and elegance to perfection. The mirror ahead beckons to me, not so I can study my reflection but rather to allow me to see his.

he is everything I admire in a man. Brute strength and handsome looks, and just enough intelligence to make him easy to manipulate.

Yes. He is still watching with that predatory glimmer of a smile licking at his hungry lips before his head moves imperceptibly to where my husband tries to hide in the shadows. Warmth suffuses me as I read his intentions with the skill of one used to manipulating others.

You keep what you kill is the Necromonger way, and all he has to do is sink his blade into Vaako... and I will be his. Wife to the Lord Marshall, and Queen of the Necromongers.

I can barely contain my pleasure as I dream of the position that will be mine before this night has ended.

***

He is watching her every move as she sashays across the floor like a queen holding court. Does she not know her place? I can see she has spent many hours preparing for this evening, styling her hair and bathing in expensive oils. All eyes are upon her as she flows through the crowd so smoothly you could believe she was an Elemental.

The men's eyes are filled with lust as they fumble their courteous greetings to her, unable to lift their eyes above the generous cleavage and exposed flesh on display. They are fools. They see her as a bright jewel and envy my ownership of her, unable to see beneath the beautiful shell to the rotten core. The women can see the truth. They seethe with jealousy and resentment, berating their fawning husbands in soft hisses as she passes by.

As I watch, she drifts towards the mirror but her eyes do not seek out her own reflection. Instead, she seeks to confirm what most already know, that the new Lord Marshall is watching her progress around the hall.

My thoughts turn to Riddick and I feel a tremor of want race through my body; a need that I cannot truly comprehend.

Admittedly, he is sleek and muscular, and as powerful and graceful as a great cat. For a male, he could also be considered handsome... perhaps beautiful even. Yes, he is beautiful to me, with his light, coffee-colored skin all smooth and astonishingly free of visible scars. I watch as his strong hands curl with surprising gentleness around the goblet of wine and, for a moment, I wonder if he would be a gentle or a brutal lover. That thought sends another shiver through me and I lick at suddenly dry lips, not understanding this desire that fills me whenever he is in my thoughts. Standing so close to him, his presence is almost overpowering, and I step further into the concealing shadows to hide from his view.

He is beauty and beast, with brutal strength concealing his quick intelligence from the unwary, and so they underestimate their enemy... to their cost.

My thoughts drift back but a few days. At every conquest, the old Lord Marshall would single out one dissenter and rip his soul from his body to subdue the rest. Yet, for all his vaulted powers drawn from the Underverse, he could not tear this man's soul from his body.

Are all Furyans like Riddick? I wonder. Are they all so agile, and so strong of mind and body? Or is he unique even among his kind? Certainly, my body finds him unique, for I have never felt such powerful desire for another -- male or female -- before him... not even for the simpering beauty parading her seeming perfection before him.

From my vantage point in the shadows across from the throne, I see a predatory smile creep over his handsome face as she catches his eye in the mirror, and then his head moves a fraction in my direction.

He knows I am here, I realize in shock. I had thought to keep my presence concealed from all, allowing me the opportunity to watch this man who has enthralled me since the moment I first set eyes upon him. Unable to see his shining eyes behind the goggles, I can only imagine the thoughts chasing through his clever mind.

You keep what you kill. It is the creed that I have lived by since becoming a Necromonger, and I wonder how long I will live now he has set his eyes upon my unwanted wife. Yet, I have no fear of death at his hand, realizing that I would welcome it rather than live to see him ensnared by that bitch, and lost to me forever.

I tip my head slightly to acknowledge him. Then I turn away, slipping through the hall doors and striding down the echoing hallways like a man on a mission. Except this mission is one of retreat from those shining eyes. I see my chambers ahead and sink back against the door as it closes behind me.

I can barely contain my despair as I imagine how my life will end this night.

***

I watch her every move, see every simpering gesture as she openly flirts with me in front of all these so-called elite of Necromonger society. Even with the overpowering stench of perfume saturating the hall, I catch a waft of her fragrance drifting on the air. She still smells beautiful to me. Looks beautiful too, all brightly packaged like an ornament... but the beauty ends there.

I've spent too many years in The Slam, learning to read the subtleties of body language, and to scent the danger in the air... and this woman is dangerous. Usually, I like dangerous but... I smile at that thought, knowing I have a far more dangerous interest than her. Still, she is fun to watch.

Her dress glimmers as she floats across the room, putting that meddling Elemental, Aereon, to shame, and I wonder how many hours she killed in her quest for perfection this evening. Her skin would be butter soft from hours spent bathing in perfumed oils... but another, very different scent catches at my senses and feeds the hunger in me. I sip from a goblet of wine as she turns her back on me. Then I see the mirror ahead of her and wait as she attempts to catch my eye... and succeeds, preening herself for her accomplishment.

My eyes flick to where the third side of this strange triangle tries to hide in the shadows as he watches me covertly, and I see him flinch. Probably doesn't realize I can see him better than I can see any other man in this room for the darkness is my friend. I can see every emotion that plays across his handsome face, from the twists of disgust aimed at his slut of a wife, to the lust aimed at me.

Reading the hunger in another man's eyes is something you learned fast in The Slam. If you didn't want to feed that hunger then you put him down fast... and hard. Made sure he didn't get any ideas of satisfying that hunger in your ass. And if you did want it?

Been a long time since I wanted to feel another man's skin against mine but he's intrigued me from the moment I first saw him.

I consider Vaako for a moment, appraising the tall, well-built frame bereft of the usual body armor yet still covered from neck to foot in cloth that clings to all the right contours and hollows, imagining his pale flesh in my hands. Despite his hard exterior, I've seen the gentleness lying beneath that caused him to falter in his Necromonger duty. Here is a man like me, torn between worlds. A man who has little ambition beyond serving the Necromonger cause. His wife believes him to be weak because of that lack of ambition, but she underestimates him.

I will not.

My smile widens as a moment of disquiet crosses his beautiful face, knowing he has misinterpreted my interest in him.

You keep what you kill. That is the way of all life, not just Necromonger philosophy, and I begin to wonder if I will need to kill Dame Vaako so I can keep her husband.

***

The vast hall began to empty the moment the new Lord Marshall grew bored with the gathering and strode away but I know I made an impression upon him. I saw it within the half-smile he aimed towards me as he passed by. When I turn to summon Vaako to my side, I find he has gone too, without a word or gesture, leaving me the ignominy of walking out alone.

Heading straight back to the stately chambers I share with my husband, I sneer when I find him already there, gulping down an intoxicating brew. He glances aside at me but, otherwise, ignores me. I feel the anger rising inside me, and taunting words form on my lips. Then I realize that this will be the last time we share in each other's unwanted company, and there are far better ways of tormenting him than with words.

My eyes appraise him. No matter my personal animosity towards him, he is still an impressive male. Clean of line and hard of muscle with a handsome face and alabaster skin. It is the man beneath that I abhor.

I chose him as my husband because I believed he would one day fulfill my destiny and become Lord Marshall, making me the greatest of the Necromongers for I would be the power behind the throne. For years, I groomed Vaako, manipulating events so the old Lord Marshall could not fail to notice him. Yet, at the moment of my glory, Vaako failed me.

Instead of striking down Riddick while the man was weak with grief for the girl and from the fight, Vaako knelt down before him, offering his allegiance. The others followed his lead, proclaiming Riddick Lord Marshall and now I have nothing. Riddick will make sweeping changes, and weak fools like Vaako will fall back into relative obscurity becoming just another commander among many.

At that moment, I knew Vaako's usefulness had ended, and so had our marriage. 'Until death do us part' is the Necromonger way, and it is a shame that he must die for he is a magnificent beast. However, the new Lord Marshall will need a strong consort in the days ahead, and I know no better consort for him than myself.

I let the diamond braids fall from my hair and the golden gown flow to the floor, revealing my beauty so I can have the pleasure of seeing his desire-filled eyes turn to anger as I reject him. Instead, he glances towards me with disdain before looking away to take another sip of the strong brew. Hiding my displeasure, I walk into my private chamber and close the door behind me, the meaning perfectly clear. He no longer has a right to my warm bed.

As I slide between the silken sheets, I think of the animal that is Riddick. The very thought of him fills me with lust. He will come to my bed this night, of that I am certain, and I will lick Vaako's blood from his fingers before I draw Riddick's flesh against mine in passion.

****

Damn that bitch, but at least I had the pleasure of seeing her almost shaking in anger at my casual disinterest. It's a small victory that I shall take to my grave; for I have no doubt he will come for me this night.

The soldier within me demands to fight back, knowing that we are equally matched so there is a chance that I could best him. Killing him would make me the Lord Marshall, but then I would have to accept my treacherous wife as consort.

Fool, I whisper in self-deprecation.

I gulp down another mouthful of the strong alcohol, feeling it burn all the way down my throat to my belly. My wife has little to do with my decision to stand unresisting as he sinks his blade into my body. In truth, I cannot kill him. He is the leader my people need, the one who will find the right path between our desires and our religion, until Underverse. No other has shown such a unique blend of strength, wisdom, and skill.

I curse myself aloud this time.

Admittedly, he is all of those things but it is my heart rather than my head that wishes him to live. I *want* him to live. I want him.

The door to my chambers opens and I watch as he slips into the room, his eyes still hidden behind goggles. A smile plays about his lips as he walks towards me without any fear. I wish I could see his eyes as I take the ceremonial dagger from my belt and kneel before him, bowing my head in supplication as I offer him the knife that will seal my fate.

He barks out a laugh and takes the knife from my hand. With inner nervousness, I wait for the sharp pain, wondering if he will thrust the knife through my skull, as he did with the old Lord Marshall.

"Don't move," he whispers in his deep, gravely voice.

I open my eyes and glance up as I hear his footsteps recede, watching in confusion as he walks to the room where my treacherous wife lies waiting for her new husband-to-be.

Does he not realize that he cannot keep her until he has killed me?

I am torn between his command to remain where I kneel and my desire to stop him from slipping into the semi-darkness of her room. The thought of her hands upon his flesh fills me with abhorrence. My confusion grows when he returns moments later. Then I notice the rich red blood dripping down the wicked blade but that makes no sense to me. He casts aside the knife and stalks towards me slowly, extinguishing the few remaining lights until only one remains, glowing softly in the corner of the room.

He takes the goggles off and drops them to the desktop, capturing me within the silver shine of his strange eyes. Shocked realization ripples through me as his hands slide down my face, holding me firm as he leans in to brush his lips against mine.

"You keep what you kill," he whispers, "and now you're mine."

***

I feel the shock ripple through him when he finally understands, replaced by a different tremor as I drop down before him and press forward into a deeper kiss. My fingers snarl in the long tail of his hair, holding him firm as I plunder his mouth.

The heat of my desire for him coils in my belly and I thrust my groin against his, welcoming the feel of the hardened mass that meets mine. My hands find the openings of his clothing and I rip the material apart, exposing the pale flesh beneath. My fingers walk the warm and silky flesh, finding the occasional ridge of scar tissue, confirming my impression that he is no ornamental soldier. He gasps into my open mouth as my fingers brush across the scars at his throat, the Necromonger scars.

I laugh. Didn't know the skin would be so sensitive there, but if it turns him on then I'm happy to... Yes, he writhes as my tongue licks across the scarred flesh. His body pliant as I draw him down to the cool floor. I know what I want and I sense no fear of domination in him as he lets me strip away the rest of his clothing and mine. His pale flesh glows with an ethereal quality as I stare down at him, his legs parting as he offers me everything.

Beautiful.

There's no lube here except for spit so I know it's gonna hurt but it doesn't stop him from wrapping his legs around my waist as I line up against his hole. He wants this too. Wants me... but then I already knew that. I read that desire off his face in the great hall, and in his eyes as he knelt down before me, expecting me to take his life.

The animal in me wants to plunge into his body, rutting hard and fast, taking what I want as I feed my hunger for possession of his body. His musk fills my senses, intoxicating me, yet I hold back. Had too much rough in my life already. Fighting and snarling for everything I wanted, and he's not resisting me. He wants this just as much as I do... and I want him to keep on wanting it, and me.

The spit eases my passage into his flesh but he still makes the smallest hiss, his face contorted with pleasure and pain as I thrust deeper and harder, rocking into him as I feel my senses explode. I bite lips swollen from brutal kisses and hear a moan of approval from him. The animal in me loses control as I take him hard, barely aware of the warm flood of his cum between us until after I have satified my lust.

Afterwards, we lie in silence on the cool, metal floor, staring up into the darkness. If I turn, I know I will see the curve of a well-satisfied smile on his face. He is mine now... and I'll kill anyone just to keep him with me forever... just as I killed her.

THE END