Author's note: Riddick's thoughts are italicized since this is Lysia's narrative.

Hotbritt5000: Actually they're the same atm lol I'm just going to have some sex scenes that won't be on the version.

Wonderlust: I'm so sorry! I didn't know that this site doesn't accept italicized font! I fixed the first chapter, separating their different thoughts with - I had no idea!

XAvengedxDegeneratex: Truth be told, I get instantly horny if I smell a man's skin, even if I don't like the guy. And you don't want to see me when I'm in a room full of men who I can smell lol

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Chapter 2

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By the time my body calms down, I notice two things. One, this bathroom doesn't have towels, which is bad considering that I'm lying in a puddle of my own fluid. Two, the smell of the man is gone completely. Thank God for that.

I start to get up, and my legs are still wobbly. I grab the counter and look at my reflection. My face is rosy, like I've just had a thorough fucking, which isn't far from true. I shriek when I see my hair, which is not only free from the rubber band I had it in, but is also soaking wet and smells like sex. Great. And I was having a good hair day before now.

Using the crappy paper towels in the dispenser on the wall, I manage to clean myself off and get dressed again. It's no easy feat when you have to clean your weapons as well as yourself. My tank top is splattered with my fluid, so I grab the bottle of air freshener and douse myself in it. I pray it covers the smell of sex on me.

The hallway is empty when I peek out, so I quickly grab the mop and clean the bathroom floor. When I'm done, I lean across the doorway, exhausted from my orgasm and all the cleaning.

"What are you doing?" my boss yells from behind me.

It's not easy to sneak up on me, since my senses are sharper than normal people, so it scares the hell out of me. In the midst of screaming my lungs out, I swing the mop around and smack my boss in the face with it.

"Jerry! God damn it! Don't sneak up on me like that!" I don't apologize. He deserved it. His face is dripping with my fluid, which is pretty humiliating, but I keep my cool. He frowns and with one swipe, cleans his face off with his large sleeve. He doesn't say a word; he just stares at me like I should bow at his feet for forgiveness. He should know better than to expect that of me.

I throw the mop down at his feet and stomp out into the bar. Since I'm now pissed off at the look Jerry gave me, I decide to give him a piece of my mind. On my way out, I knock over all the tables near me, and shove a few men out of their chairs. The men standing in the front doorway step out of my way. They know better than to bother me if they want to live.

When I reach the street, I grab my motorbike and race away as fast as my bike will take me. Driving gives me time to think, which in this case is a good thing. I realize that I'm not angry with Jerry. I'm angry that a man could control me like the one in the bar did. I didn't even see his face and I already want to kill him. No man will ever lord over me and reduce me to a puddle of desire without facing the consequences.

A tiny part of my brain is still sighing with content. 'Who cares if he made your need for sex so extreme you would've let him fuck you if he had walked in. It was good, and you know it,' one half of my brain said.

'Shut the hell up!' was the other half's reply.

I stop my bike and chain it to one of the pipes on a barred window. I slip into the shadows of a nearby alley and look around to see if I'm being followed. The men who follow me home get a slit throat and a dip in the nearby ocean. Thankfully it doesn't happen enough for people to notice. Not that anyone notices the disappearance of men like that, but it's still good to be safe from further investigations considering I don't even own the room I stay in.

Still safe in the shadows, I slink down like a cat and scurry over to where my rope ladder is. My building is a vacant three-story warehouse. Most people would say that it's in a bad neighbourhood, but since I'm part or most of the reason it's a bad neighbourhood, I could care less. My leather gloves are sitting under a broken pot, right where I left them, so I slip them on and start climbing the rope ladder.

I've been told that Furyans are agile, but I must've inherited some of my mother's balance because sometimes I have a habit of tripping or falling at the most inopportune moments. When I reach my window and climb in, it instantly turned into one of those moments. My senses are immediately alert, even though my head is still thinking about what I have available for dinner. My body tenses and moves into a defensive attack position, alerting me to everything around me.

A floorboard creaks. A ragged curtain blows in the wind. An old grandfather clock ticks. Heavy breathing in the shadows. And that fucking smell. God-damn-it, he followed me here! I crouch even lower, ready to strike, and flip out two daggers. Pistols work faster, but aren't quite as fun as daggers. It says something if you can beat your attacker with skill, rather than a fast finger. Pistols are my last resort.

A tenor voice starts laughing from the shadows. I can hear that he isn't very big. No muscles. Normal sized throat. This man doesn't kill with strength. He kills with fear. Coward. So why is he here?

"Such a fierce warrior you are. I wonder if you're this fierce in bed." I can feel his stare and his disgusting grin, even though his face is still hidden.

Ding ding! We have a winner!

He continues. "Why did you scale the building like some superhero? You can always use the stairs. They do work, you know."

I don't respond. I use the ladder to make people think the stairs don't work. After I get to my loft, I pull the ladder up. No visitors. It works pretty well, but he doesn't need to know that.

I'm still partially hidden behind some old kitchen counters, so I peek out further to see who is in my house. His smell. I'd forgot about it, so it hits me full-force. Juices dribbling, nipples hardening, skin tingling. Geez, is he going to kill me with a weapon, or passion?

'Passion! Passion!' yells half of my brain.

'Shut up! It's weapon or nothing!' the other half responds.

Sometimes I wonder if I battle the two sides of being a Furyan woman in my head. One side loves passion, and the other wants blood. Then there is the quieter side, which contains my common sense, and is from my mother. A three-sided brain. Most of the time they are all in a happy balance. This stupid smell is throwing them off!

I decide then and there that I will kill this mother-fucker and rid myself of this torment. Either that or let him fuck me. NO! There will be no fucking!

My inner battle is distracting me, so I don't notice someone approaching until I get a kick in the face and go flying. I recover quickly and roll away from the man. His smell isn't as strong as in the bar. Maybe it gets duller as you go.

I climb and jump onto the ceiling beams, slinking out of the man's sight. I move like a spider in the eaves, watching his movements, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"You're a right troublesome bitch, aren't you?" he says while he's scanning the eaves looking for me.

I growl low in my throat, sounding like a bear. You're gonna pay for that one, inky-squinky. His head whips around to where my growl came from, but I've already jumped away.

His smell gets stronger when I jump over to the back corner of the loft. I almost lose my footing, it hits me so badly. I feel a few drips of my feminine fluid fall away from my sweaty skin and land on the floor below me. My eyes get lazy with passion and my arms wobble. Shit, that smell! I can't bear it another second! This will end now!

I slither over to the man and drop down on him, sinking my dagger into his chest. He screams as he falls to the floor, taking me with him. Geez, he won't quit screaming. I can't let the neighbours know anyone is here, since my neighbours are all criminals like me. With a click of my tongue, I slit his throat and get up.

'Aww damn it. He got blood on my floor. At least he missed my rug. That would've left a stain.' I sift through his pockets and find a substantial amount of money and some drugs. I throw the money on my couch and put the drugs back in his leather pants. His only weapon is a very nice gun, so it joins the money on my couch. It's not like I'm a pickpocket, but I did just quit my job and I need the money. Besides, it's not helping him anymore. Waste not, want not.

His smell is still swirling in my head, but it's not very strong now. I look him over and find my earlier assessments to be correct. He's puny and tall. Not the kind of man I would expect to have such a powerful scent.

'I suppose we can't all be choosy. But I am glad that I didn't let him fuck me. He isn't a very attractive sort.' I suddenly recognize his face as one of the thugs that was outside the bar with Justin. That dirty little…. If Justin told this man where I live, I'll skin him. I'll give him a full circumcision, the twit. Justin doesn't really know where I live, he just knows the neighbourhood my building is in. But if this man was as attuned to my smell as I was to his, he probably followed my scent to my loft.

Oh well. He'll soon get a dunk in the river.