Return to Darkness

by cricket71

Riddick faces his worst nightmare after searching in vain for years. Jack is gone. He must contend with the loss and carry on with his own life, never expecting that he'll eventually chase a ghost. Updated July 2018

37. CH 37: Ice Cream and Morphing Reality

If you're new to reading this fic, this won't mean much to you. But if you were with it from the start then this is my attempt at an explanation for taking years to return to this story.

To say life threw me for a loop is an understatement, but I vowed (long, long ago) not to abandon this fic, so this is me trying to keep that promise. I'll be honest here. I don't feel like I have the writing muses whispering in my ear as I did in the past, but I hope to find a way to complete this story regardless. I had a couple of chapters written from years ago that were partially finished, so my final chapters of this may reflect a difference in my writing. Plus, this story was difficult to bring to a close. Anyway, I know it's been forever and I'm not really sure who might still be around from when I originally started posting, but here goes.

Disclaimer: They're still not mind, but I love taking them for a ride.

A bit of brief smut (F/M only).

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With the melting ice cream cone in one hand and the waistband of Riddick's pants clutched in the other, Jack led him much like a dog on a leash. He locked his legs in place, but only initially, more out of force of habit than anything else. Although accustomed to driving things, this time he had to be willing to take a ride - wherever it may lead. Why? Because she was definitely up to...something. He sure as hell didn't miss the glances she and Micah exchanged. The woman had been plotting. About what he didn't know, but based on her antics with the cone a thought flickered through his mind as to what might be turning in hers. He pushed it aside about as quickly as it formed. There was no way she was thinking of -. Nah, never.

Once in their room, she took one last long lick of the cone before offering it to him. "Want it?"

"It's your cone," he pointed out.

"You take it," she urged. Then smirking added, "I'm gonna be a bit too busy to finish it off."

Riddick merely cocked an eyebrow and took the cone, allowing her to maneuver him toward the plush leather chair in the corner. Keeping her eyes locked to his, Jack grasped the material of his black tank at the waist and pulled it free, her fingers brushing innocently along his ribs. He jerked involuntarily. Unfortunately for him, she noticed.

"Are you tick-."

"Try it, Princess," he gruffly warned her. "Just once. Try it an' see what happens."

The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, so tempted to call his bluff, but now wasn't the time. "Good for you I've got other plans."

Cone still in his hand, she brought it to her mouth and caught a stream of melting ice cream right before it hit his thumb, flicking her tongue along the digit The sensation unexpectedly made his gut clench. His grip flexed, cracking the cone, sending a rivulet of melted chocolate running between his thumb and index finger.

Smiling knowingly, Jack took the cone from his hand. "Why don't I get rid of this before you crush it to pieces. Stay put."

Quickly trashing it, she barely managed to catch his hand between hers before he could wipe it clean on his pants. "Using your clothes as a napkin? You should know better than that." She brought his hand up to her mouth and caught his eyes, making sure she had his full attention. "Especially when my method for cleaning you up works so much better."

She trapped the melted chocolate with her tongue, tracing the runaway line from his wrist all the way back to it's point of origin. Spying another drop on the tip of his thumb, she closed her lips over it and sucked oh so lightly before releasing. His nostrils noticeably flared, but to Jack he remained otherwise unaffected.

On the inside though, he was anything but calm. He was reminded just how aware he was of her touch, like when she had bandaged his injured hand, but it hadn't been like this. The second her pink tongue came in contact with his skin, it was like every nerve ending had become hypersensitive, pleasure on the edge of being painful. Anticipation was a true bitch.

Her fingers returned to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to chest. Without being asked, Riddick leaned slightly forward, arms extended for her to pull it off. Jack's hands were gliding over his pecs and down his ribs before the shirt hit the floor.

"God, I love touching you."

He was smooth caramel stretched taut over muscle, barely restraining the strength beneath the surface. Pressing a chaste kiss to his breastbone, she inhaled his distinctive scent, which threatened to distract her to the point of forgetting what she was about. Almost.

Fingers still languidly exploring on their own, she kissed her way over to first one nipple, then the other, teasing him with quick flicks of her tongue and tugging and scraping of teeth. She ate up every grunt, clenching of teeth and hiss of air that she wrenched out of him. Having power over a man, this man, was a heady feeling. She gloried in it.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. Several times, he raised a hand as if to touch her, but just as quickly abandoned the idea. She smiled to herself, happy to know she managed to shake his sense of control, at least by a little. And she'd yet to really begin.

Patience was definitely not a quality he embodied. He led, she usually followed, and that's the way it was. Not interfering with this maddeningly slow pace was grating against his baser instincts to strip her bare, throw her on the bed and fuck her senseless - what his animal was goading him to do. She was oblivious to the extent of the internal battle he waged, which began the moment her lips touched his chest.

And yet, he was determined to remain at her mercy. Something in him sensed this was important to her. She had explored him many times before, but not with the amount of reverence she was now demonstrating. Never with this kind of resolve to please him and take nothing for herself. It was oddly humbling. But each agonizing brush of her lips and teeth generated another layer of curling heat that was testing his limits.

Having no clear role as of yet, he repeatedly flexed then fisted his hands. Though when she rimmed his navel, they flew quickly to her head, threading through her tresses to provide him with a much needed anchor. His breathing now growing labored, he grunted and tensed reflexively when her hands dipped beneath the band of his pants. Ever so slowly, she pushed the fabric down and out of her way, smoothing her wicked hands over his boxer-covered ass.

When the fuck did she unclasp and unzip his pants without him noticing? Frankly, he was past caring. His Jack was now down on her knees before him, and that alone was enough of a fantasy come true. Yeah, he was fucked. He almost proved it when her mouth left his skin to finish removing his clothes and he about asked - no, begged her to keep going.

Jack tilted her head back and caught his silvery gaze as she gave the cargoes one last tug to make them fall in a soft rustle at his ankles She hooked her fingers over the elastic band of his boxers, the last barrier between them, and he held his breath. Much to his consternation, she didn't pull them down as he expected...wanted.

His cock, a mere inch from her cheek, strained against the fabric, but her hands stayed where they were and motionless. Instead, she leaned in and rubbed her cheek and up and down his trapped length, much like a cat, only he was the one who felt like purring. And then she began to mouth him through the fabric, robbing him of oxygen as his throat tightened uncontrollably. Her hot breath easily permeated the cotton, heat and the pressure of her lips, but that was all. He never hated himself more for not going commando at that moment, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from telling her to remove the offending fabric.

To say he was shocked by what she had initiated could only describe a hint of what he was feeling. Thankfully, he finally remembered how to breathe and sharply inhaled, his fingers pressing more deeply against her skull to regain some semblance of balance. Riddick shuddered. She couldn't possibly know how much she was affecting him, and not only physically. Although a simple act on her part, this was one of the most erotic things that had ever been done to him. Knowing what she had endured at the hands of Toombs' crew, he never thought she would offer herself like this. He never expected it would happen, and never would have asked. Yet here she was.

She had him so fucking turned on and coiled tight that he felt more like a boy about to get his first blowjob than the experienced man he was. Her hot breath and lips, coupled with the friction of the fabric, had caused him to soak the cotton fibers in pre-cum. And she had noticed. Casting a quick glance up, she caught his eyes and gave a broad lick to the head of his fabric-covered cock, and then closed her mouth over him.

"Shit!"

Swearing through clenched teeth, his head fell back. At some point, her hands moved to the backs of his thighs, but that didn't help balance him. One thing was for certain. If she didn't let him sit soon, his knees weren't going to hold out much longer.

And then came her teeth. "Jack! Holy fuck!" he cursed, shuddering and groaning as she ever so slightly grazed him. Panting, he grabbed the arm of the chair. "Gotta sit."

"Let's get these off first." Jack finally ceased her torment and peeled the boxers down as he lowered or rather dropped himself into the chair. Thankfully, he wasn't wearing shoes, so removing his pants and boxers was quickly completed. Sitting at the edge of the plush seat, Riddick leaned back, legs outstretched on either side of her. After exhaling a long breath, he looked down the line of his body to her. He didn't have a stitch on whereas she was fully dressed. Not exactly fair.

"You still got clothes on," he half-grumbled.

Smoothing her hands up his calves, she planted a kiss on the inside of both knees, but said nothing.

"Jack?"

"Mm-hm?"

That small sound resonating against the skin of his inner thigh almost unmanned him. Riddick jumped, his hands flying behind his head to grip the chair instead of her. She moved to the opposite thigh, teasing the skin with her teeth and flicks of her tongue, which only made him clench the leather with an even tighter grip.

"Riddick? Did you want something?"

Unable to talk, he shut his eyes and shook his head. She had him so twisted, his cock was pulsing...aching. Literally. He was either going to come probably the second she actually touched him or die of a heart attack. Right now, his chest felt so tight from the shallow breaths he had been taking that he was betting on the latter. Determined to regain some of his lost control, he inhaled slowly and deeply, but her teasing mouth along his inner thighs and now a silky, feathering sensation had him close to panting again.

Insane curiosity go the better of him and he looked. Big mistake. The moment he did, her lips and moist breath ghosted over his sac. And the sensation? It was her hair. That silky fucking hair of hers that had played center stage in a fantasy or two, and it was teasing some of the most sensitive skin on his body.

His leather chair was going to have permanent indentations from his fingers he was gripping it so hard.

Frozen in place, he watched her fingers whisper over his sac, lightly exploring and brushing along the base of his cock before grazing up the length of him to delicately trace the flared edge of the engorged head with a finger. Groaning, Riddick had to fight against bucking his hips in protest of the teasing touch.

"Please, Jack," he panted, immediately cringing because the words had slipped out unbidden.

She didn't smirk or gloat like he was expecting. No, instead she licked the underside of his length from base to crown and finished by dipping her tongue along the slit to collect the drop of pre-cum that had formed. With a light touch, she held his shaft between her hands, licked her lips and slid the head of his cock into her hot mouth for the first time.

"Ohhhh fuck!"

Riddick bit his bottom lip, groaning deeply. So many women had done this to him he'd lost count, but watching Jack take him into her mouth was entirely different. There was something about it that simply pushed his buttons. And her tongue? Holy hell! How had she known? As she took more of his cock between her lips, she was massaging that sensitive spot just under the ridge. Fucking amazing. She was killing him, forcing him to fight the urge to come with everything he had.

Just as he thought he would have to push her off, she eased back. His relief was palpable. Shaking his head, his hand went to her shoulder until he could regain the ability to speak.

"No...no words."

Maybe not, but she understood all the same and was thrilled she was pleasing him. "None needed, and I'm not quite done yet. I've only gotten through using part of lesson three."

"Lessons?" he half-croaked.

She coyly smiled, counting silently in her head to see how long it would take him to comprehend just what kind of lessons she was referring to. She knew the second it hit him when his eyebrows suddenly jacked sky high.

"Blowjob lessons? Who the fuck-." He fell back in the chair, realizing her choice of tutors was limited. "On second thought, I don't wanna know."

"Should I finish lesson three?"

He nodded somewhat weakly, then at the last moment thought to ask, "How..how many?"

Jack shrugged. "Lost count." She swirled her tongue around the swollen, purple head just to watch him suppress a shudder. "But I think when you caught me with the ice cream, we were somewhere in the high teens." She didn't know which she loved more - his shocked expression or the way his face contorted in pleasure as she ever so lightly teethed him. "But you'll come for me long, long before then...at least twice."

Had shit like that come out of his mouth, she would've been calling him a cocky bastard. Was he tempted to call her on it? Absolutely. But that would have to wait until after she let him come...at least twice.

And somewhere in the midst of the next lesson, Riddick's roar of completion caught Drake's full attention away from the video game he and Micah were playing. Granted, noises from their bedroom had become commonplace, but this had been just beyond the norm.

"What the fuck is she doin' to him?"

"Jealous, Drake?" Micah simply grinned, which only served to made Drake suspicious.

"You know what's goin' on in there? YOU?"

Micah cleared his throat to keep from laughing. "Ah...let's just say I have a pretty good idea."

"An' what the hell is that supposed ta mean?"

"That I'm a far better teacher than I would have ever imagined?" And he left it at that. Partially to spare his friend future harassment from Drake, and partially to just drive Drake's curiosity crazy.

A few days later and hours from landing...

Jack looked at the date displayed under the clock. Tomorrow was the deadline Cox had given them to be on Thyria. They were going to make it a day earlier than expected. She didn't understand the urgency to arrive where they least wanted to be before the allotted time until Riddick begrudgingly explained his reasoning. The plan was to get off the ship in case Cox thought to ambush them, which was a certainty in his mind. She shuddered recalling her reaction to the attempted hit on his life. The fuck hired a hitman, boarded their ship, and was coercing them by threatening Iman and his family. All of it for money. All of it because of her, which was placing everyone in danger.

Her eyes fell to her wedding ring, bringing a warm smile to her face. She wished she could bottle their time on the ship and live off of it forever. It had become a safe haven away from all of the ugliness, but now that was coming to an end. The closer they were to Thyria, the worse the atmosphere among them grew. Everyone tried to keep conversations light and away from topics that might lead to talk of what they might face, and it worked for the most part. Mostly.

No one could completely put it out of their minds though, especially the two people who were discussing the pending landing; Drake and Riddick were both spending more and more time together - plotting. Cox had called again, too. Mostly to gloat, but also delivering explicit instructions on exactly where and when to meet. And what did her husband do? He locked her out of the bridge every chance he got and completely out of their plans as well. Enough was enough.

When Jack walked into the galley, and in on them discussing one of their options, the room got deathly quiet. She wanted to take someone's head off if they didn't open up. Micah even tried to help her out, but Drake refused to say a word, which infuriated her friend. But seeing both men clam up finally made her realize she would have to take the bull by the horns.

"Drake, I need to speak to my husband, please."

"Husband? Oh! You mean Rick. Fine by me. He's right here. Talk."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. He was being obtuse on purpose. "Alone."

"R-i-i-i-i-ght." He rose from the chair and slowly walked toward the door, which she was blocking. He was shoulder-to-shoulder with her when he leaned in and informed her, "I ain't tellin' pretty boy shit. No matter what."

Still staring at Riddick, only a small tug at the corner of her mouth altered her expression. "Funny. I hear you talk plenty, even beg with the right motivation."

Drake growled, frustrated by how she always managed to get the best of him, then walked away muttering something about finding a way to shut Micah up, leaving her and Riddick alone. She stepped through the threshold and the door hissed closed behind her. Arms crossed, she inhaled a calming breath before beginning her talk, reminding herself to take baby steps to find her answers.

"How much longer 'til we land?"

Riddick glance up at the clock above her head before answering. "No more than three hours."

"What's the first thing we need to do when we get there?"

This was the part he had been dreading. He picked up a small blue box that had been resting inconspicuously on the table next to his hip and held it out to her. Her stomach cramped, instinct telling her that whatever he was holding, she would want no part of it.

"What's that?"

Riddick avoided making eye contact as he brought it to her. Never a good sign for a man who could be painfully direct. "It looks like we're gonna need you to wear these no matter how this plays out."

"Wear?"

He opened the box and nestled in indigo velvet was an intricately carved silver collar and matching bracelets, each of which had no discernible catch mechanism to open them, but all had a metal loop where a chain could be attached. A remote the size of a man's thumb, which operated the jewelry's locks, was tucked in a pocket inside the lid.

Shaking her head she took a step back. "Tha-that's what a slave wears. You said that married women are protected. We're married. I-I don't need-."

"That's what I thought, too. Drake and I haven't been there in years, so he made a few calls to some guys who are in our business. They said things have gotten less...civilized on Thyria since we last made a drop there. If a man wants to keep his woman, wedding rings don't cut it alone."

She tried her best to swallow the mounting panic that threatened to choke her. "Where did these come from and when? Did you buy them?"

"No, Drake picked 'em up on our last stop just in case we needed 'em. Didn't even know he had 'em." He took a step closer to her. "Jack, I didn't want to have-."

"Please," she pleaded, as her trembling hands moved to her throat and now churning stomach. "Toombs...he made me-."

"Shit!"

The box was dropped, its contents clattering across the tile floor. Riddick caught her just as her knees buckled, cradling her against his chest. He was speaking, but the words were unintelligible. It didn't matter though. His quiet, rumbling voice and strong hand rubbing her back worked much like a soothing balm, preventing the dark memories from swallowing her whole.

Toombs. There had been pictures he took of Jack wearing a collar with a chains. Pictures without a memory attached - until he opened the damn box. Now, the recollection forced her terror roaring back to life, the stench of it enraging him. Watching her go pale, her body trembling when she realized what he was asking her to wear gutted him and riled his beast's fury enough to test Riddick's tenuous control.

"I want their flesh...their blood."

The scent of it, warm and freshly spilt assailed him. He pictured himself covered in it, coating his skin, rivulets streaming down his arms to paint the floor. God, he wanted them alive. He wanted every last one of them alive so he could hunt them down and take his sweet time slowly cutting away flesh, making them scream in terror until they were begging for death. Just like what he had done to Rafe.

Teeth clenched, Riddick buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent in an effort to counter the animal's thirst for something it would most likely be denied. Indulging their common lust with whores and finally claiming Jack as their mate had kept him and his animal in sync, its baser urges under control. But she had been violated in the worst possible ways and retribution had been lost...denied. But now, her mingled fear and pain were inciting a longing to feed on the dark satisfaction of a fresh kill. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Riddick suppressed a shudder as he recalled the near carnal thrill of Rafe's death, the blood-laced pleasure he experienced when his beast all but took control that night. They had relished restraining Rafe's terror-wracked body against them, savored the taste of salty sweat and tangy blood from the man's throat, and were stirred by his screams and the heady scent of fear as though inhaling a woman's arousal. It wanted all of it again. To protect what was theirs, to destroy those who dared to touch, torture, and almost destroy what belonged to them.

With her cheek pressed to his heart, she felt and heard it begin to race along with his respiration; he was breathing as though he had just undergone some kind of physical exertion, but he hadn't. Even his skin felt suddenly warm and moist. And the comforting arms that had eased her back from the edge of panic were now virtually clutching her to him, as if she was some kind of lifeline. The fingers of one hand were steadily pressing her against his chest, while the others were woven into her hair, bringing a handful of it up to his face. Something was wrong.

She froze, her mind racing back to the many journal entries she had written about him from years back. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this behavior or something similar to it had happened before. It was a vague memory and something she had written about, a facet of who he was that separated him from every other man. How had she described it? Raw...elemental in nature when it surfaced, and utterly fascinating.

Jack struggled a bit, but managed to pull her head back to the point where she could see his face. She framed it between her hands, studying him. He was Riddick...yet wasn't.

"What is going on?" No reply, but she could have sworn she heard a rumbling growl. Then a word flashed in her mind, a word she often called him but only in a teasing tone when he was overly demanding. In this case, however, it fit him quite well, which is why she tentatively voiced it.

"Beast."

His eyes flashed to hers, his lip curling. Still not a word. She most likely would have run away screaming if she didn't know him as she did. Even without all of her memories intact, instinct told her she had nothing to fear. It also told her he needed her. She caressed his cheek and he flinched, then turned his face into her open palm, nuzzling it, scenting her, the harsh lines of his face softening a degree.

She gasped, almost laughing in delight, and blinked back the tears now clouding her vision. Without a doubt, she knew this was a first, talking to him when he was like this. But this side of him was always there, like the texture of his skin that you take for granted. Perhaps, if she had been more aware in the past, she would have noticed it much earlier.

Now thinking back on different situations when Riddick's behavior or demeanor had shifted from the 'norm', normal for Riddick at any rate, it must have been this animal-like presence coming to the surface. Anger and arousal seemed to allow its leash a longer range. Had he ever let it off? Lost himself to it?

She had always heard people talk about their being two sides to a person's personality, but this was different. It was surreal to consider another 'entity' existed within him. On the one hand it was true, but on the other...no, this was still Riddick. It was simply a darker, untamed shade of him, less civilized, ruled more by visceral impulses than rational thought. And it helped explain why she always felt a part of him had been missing, hidden away from her.

The disjointed pieces that never quite seemed to fit the whole puzzle made so much sense now. His keen ability to smell what she couldn't, the way he would watch and study her, read her body language, carry himself...it was almost animalistic. And it most definitely gave her a new perspective into motivations for his behavior and actions. His sex drive, the raw intensity he sometimes showed when they were in bed, but even more than that, she saw the violent side of him with new eyes. No wonder he was so territorial where she was concerned. And she would bet money his shine job wasn't as a result of a surgical procedure, even though he had alluded to it when she first met him years before.

But why now? What brought it forth? Jack wracked her brain, trying to recall what sparked this. His whole demeanor had morphed when she crumbled from the memories of Toombs making her wear the damn slave collar. The horrific pictures had helped bring it all to the surface, bit by bit but seeing the collar in person was entirely different. Damn Toombs! The bastard had enjoyed documenting every little thing he did to her, too, and now Riddick was-. The pictures! Her mouth dropped as a thought hit her.

"No! You didn't!"

Jack shook her head as she took the hand that had once been deeply gashed by shards of glass. She traced the barely visible scar lines with the pad of her thumb before pressing her lips against his palm.

"Oh my god! This was no accident. You didn't cut your hand because you were shit faced. You were shit faced because of those fucking pictures, because of what Toombs and his men did to me."

She met his eyes, and he quickly cut his away. "You blamed yourself, so you tried to drink it away. Drink away the guilt you felt that Toombs did all of that to me because you weren't there, because he wanted you instead. But the alcohol wasn't enough was it?"

Riddick didn't answer, not that she expected him to.

"And when that didn't work, when you couldn't get numb enough, you hurt yourself on purpose. But here's what I don't know. Were you trying to punish yourself because you weren't able to prevent it or were you hurting so badly that you needed physical pain to drown it out? Or was it a bit of both?"

One blink of her eyes sent the welled tears streaming down her cheeks to land in the palm of his hand. He tried to close it, but she would have nothing of it. Holding firm, she kept his hand securely between hers and brought it to her face, again kissing his palm.

But that was the last of her tenderness for the moment. He had kept this from her. Hid the real reason for his injury even after she learned of her past. Damn him! Aggravation suddenly swept through her and she nipped his thumb, almost breaking the skin. She let go when he stepped back and jerked it away. He met her eyes, lip curling again.

Jack pointed to the chair between them. "Sit down!" He didn't move, so she put her foot at the edge of the seat and kicked it back. It was heavy enough that it slid instead of falling. "Now!"

Another three seconds, which felt more like minutes, he acquiesced and did as she said. His entire posture spoke of how displeased he was though. Well, that made two of them. Jack sat on the table directly in front him, which allowed her a small height advantage. She settled her feet on either side of his legs, and grasped his face to ensure she had his attention.

"You listen to me and listen well. You were in no way responsible for what happened to me. I knew exactly who you were, what you had done, and what you were capable of when I stowed away on your ship. I was young, but not incapable of making my own decisions, making mistakes, and choosing to do my own share of stupid shit. You taught me how to survive, but you never, NEVER, made me do anything I didn't want to do.

I accept responsibility for my actions. I own my mistakes. Had you turned around and taken me back home, that wouldn't have guaranteed my safety from fucks like Toombs. Not a bit. There were already enough news articles out there that could have led anyone to me and Iman, which could have made us enough of a target that a merc might have come to use us to get to you.

Yes, I have scars on the inside from what Toombs and his men did to me, but I survived. He never broke me. Do you hear me? He NEVER broke me! Why? Because you were there. Not physically, but you were there in my mind, speaking to me. I was probably hallucinating at the time, but regardless you spoke to me. I stayed strong because of you, because of the time I spent with you. Had I stayed put on Helion Prime and gone through the same thing, I can tell you with complete certainty, I wouldn't be alive right now."

"Their blood should'a been mine to spill," he snarled, finally speaking.

"Like hell! It was my body they tortured, beat and bruised, me they repeatedly raped in every orifice I have, my mind, spirit, and soul they tried to crush. They were MINE to kill. Mine, and I would have ripped you a new one had you denied me their deaths!" Her eyes cut to the floor before returning to him. "Stay put."

Jack left him only long enough to pick up the box and its scattered contents. Returning to sit in front of him, she found the hand remote and activated it to open the latch on the collar and bracelets.

"The thought of wearing these sickens me." She inhaled a calming breath and with trembling hands put the collar on, latching it shut, then each of the bracelets. "But I will wear them if it is a possible means to my freedom." Then she removed her wedding ring, placed it in the box, and offered him the remote on her open palm. "And knowing you hold the key to getting these off when this is over gives me a semblance of peace. I wish I could promise you won't have to smell my fear again, but I can't. But what you won't smell on me is defeat, not as long as you're fighting for me."

Riddick took the remote key and pocketed it, and as he looked back up, she laced her fingers behind his neck and feathered her lips across his. "Tell me...do you smell fear on me now?"

Seizing her waist, he pushed his chair further away from the table and pulled her down to straddle his lap. To his shock, Jack leaned her head to the side and cleared away her hair, exposing a long line of her throat for him to to peruse. Was she aware that exposing her throat was an act of submission? Regardless, his beast approved.

Starting at the slave collar, he nuzzled skin up to just beneath her ear, absorbing every nuance along the way. Fuck! She always reminded him of sugar cookies. On the one hand, it centered him, reminding him of what was here and now, of what he cherished, and that pushed down the desire to spill blood. But at the same time he equated her scent with sex, her nails digging into his back while buried in her sweet body, and the blinding release he found with her. He wanted to bite her, mark her. He'd been wanting to do it for a while now, and barely held back even though his mouth was watering.

Finally suppressing the urge, he spoke. "No...no fear."

"And that's because I have you."

Harnessing a heavy dose of self-control, he brought his animal to heel, then sat her back on the table and rose, walking a few steps away and out of temptation's reach.

"You wanna know what's goin' on don't you."

"About what's simmering beneath the surface inside of you?"

His jaw ticked. Not a topic for conversation at this time. "About the plans."

"Yes...to both, but I'll put the first on hold. When it comes to Cox, this is my neck that's on the line. You and Drake are plotting behind my back, because of me I might add, and I'm left in the dark."

There. She said it. No more baby steps.

"And what if keepin' you in the dark is what saves your neck?"

" me?"

"What if tellin' you what we've got planned ends up workin' against us? What if you knowin' about every bit of it can fuck it all up?"

Jack's eyes narrowed as her temper flared. "Fuck it up? What is that suppos-."

Hell, so much for keeping distance between them. This conversation was deteriorating and they were landing in hours. Riddick had to resolve this with her quickly, so he quieted her the most effective way he could think of. He kissed her...gently of all things. The unexpected move confused her enough to cool her temper. Cradling her face between his hands, he moved his lips from her mouth to her nose, then to her forehead before pulling her into his arms.

Although they were quite alone, he nuzzled her ear, whispering, "When I thought you were dead, a part of me went with you. I got it back, but losin' you now..." He paused and tightened his arms around her even more. "I won't go through it, Jack. Never again. Not after I've made you mine."

He felt more than heard her breath hitch at his admission and hoped she wasn't crying. She struggled in his arms a bit, but he held her fast, not ready to meet her eyes.

"Jack, I want this behind us. Over. Shit, part of me wants nothin' more than ta take care of these fucks the old-fashioned way and be done with it."

"The old-fashioned way? Ohhhhh...you mean just you, your knives, and a couple of opened arteries - preferably in the dark so they can't see you sneaking up on them. That kind of old-fashioned way?"

In spite of himself, he laughed and it felt good, especially feeling her arms squeeze around him. That was definitely a 'Jack' thing to say. Smiling, he tilted her face up with a finger under her chin.

"Yeah...like that. Richard B. Riddick could get away with it, too, but Rick Bryant can't fuck up your chance at a normal life. I have to think of Drake and Micah, too."

Jack released a pent up breath, resigning to his reasoning. "Okay."

"Okay?" Surely he hadn't heard her correctly.

"I won't press for details. You're right. If you come up with a plan and my knowledge of it could affect the outcome, then I'm better off not knowing. I won't like it. You KNOW I won't like it. In fact, I'll hate every minute of it."

"But?"

"But I love you and I trust you with my life. I had to place blind trust in you when the monsters wanted to eat me alive to get off that planet. If I could do that as a kid, then I can do it now even though these monsters scare me a hell of a lot more."

Jack was rising on her toes to kiss him, but she didn't need to go far. He had nearly breached the divide himself, claiming her mouth in a kiss that spoke in place of the words he often couldn't say. Words were never easy for Riddick, but his kiss said everything that was in his heart.

The two were so lost in each other, they didn't hear the hiss of the door sliding open or Drake's footsteps as he entered the room. He gently coughed to get their attention. As much as she hated his interruptions, this one time she was grateful. It gave her the chance to turn away before she possibly lost it and started bawling. The last thing Riddick needed was to see her crumble - again. He turned around to acknowledge Drake, loosening his hold on her enough so she could slip free.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you've got an incoming message."

"Thanks."

Riddick turned back to say one last thing to Jack, but she had already made her escape. He frowned, but acknowledged she was probably doing him a favor. If this was going to work, he needed to get his head in the game - now.

On the bridge where they were free to talk, Drake wondered if Riddick divulged his plan.

"So...I heard some raised voices - hers mainly. She wants details, right?"

"I thought I had a call comin' in."

"I lied. You needed to get away from her and that was the only thing I could think to say."

"Slick, Drake."

"Thanks, and you didn't answer my question. Does she know?"

"No, I didn't tell her."

"You didn't tell her what? Which part of which possible plan? I saw the slave collar and bracelets on her, so you already let that cat outta the bag, but did you tell her we might play like I'm gonna try and strike a bargain with Cox, like I took over and I'm tryin' to cash in myself by slavin' her out? Or how about the part where-."

"Enough, Drake! I don't fuckin' like this anymore than you do, but we've gone over it and over it. There ain't a lot of choices. If we go with Plan A, Cox and whoever else he's involved with have to believe they're gonna get what they want as long as you're paid off. I know it won't work unless she really thinks this is serious - at least long enough for them to buy it. Shit! It eats at me that I can't gut the fuckers. But with her in the middle of it-. I won't risk her more than is absolutely necessary."

"I know. I know. Shit! I feel like we're skatin' on thin ice. Cracked thin ice."

"You coulda kept that to yourself," Riddick half-growled.

"Ain't like you weren't thinkin' it already. By the way, Micah can't tell her anything either. I did as you asked. In spite of his efforts, he doesn't have a clue."

"Did he give you a hard time?"

"Does Jack have a mouth on her?" he retorted. "Hell, yes he did, but he's gotta believe I've really turned on the three of you and that I'm gonna hand her over for credits, too."

"Think it'll work? Him believin' it?"

Drake ran his hands through his dark, unruly hair. "Honestly? I dunno. It may shock the hell out of him initially. Maybe that'll buy us the time to take em' out. I'm still not comfortable with the schedule. Did you hear back from that guy who took the shot at you?"

"Yeah, we can't count on him. Cox is furious that he fucked up the hit on me and he's got to lay low for a while."

"So much for Plan B."

"Things may be worse than we thought. One of my contacts said he's heard a rumor of a private slave auction comin' up in just over a week. Minimum bid is 20,000 credits. Wanna guess who the slaver is?"

"No...no way."

Riddick nodded. "Damian Cromby - Toombs' brother."

"Shit!"

"I told you he's probably the one who put Cox up to this."

"And there's always a kernel of truth in every rumor. This just got a whole lot more fucked than it was before!"

"I might be able to get to Damian first. Have you offer her to him and bypass Cox."

"Who will still want your head on a platter regardless. If we only had one more person to back us up, I'd feel a hell of a lot better about this whole situation. I dunno...someone who could lend another hand, so when we strike we're stronger and she's better protected. Hell, someone who could even help create a distraction."

Riddick's head jerked up. "Say that again?"

"What about? Needin' one more hand?"

"No, after that."

"Having someone to create a distraction?"

Riddick, grinning like a fat cat, grabbed both sides of Drake's face. "You're a fuckin' genius! I'm actually tempted to kiss that ugly mug of yours right now."

Shocked to his toes, Drake struggled against Riddick's grip. "Oh, no you don't! Last thing I need is to get into a catfight with your wife because you can't keep your lips to yourself!"

Jerking Drake's chain a little, he contemplated his words before replying, "You're right. Better wait until she's here to do it. Watchin' you and Micah kiss got her all hot an' bothered, and if she's gonna jump anyone's ass it's gonna be mine."

Drake's jaw was literally on the floor, for about two seconds until he finally realized Riddick was messing with him. "You're a real fucker you know that?"

"You're scared shitless of Jack, do you know that?"

Scowling, but not denying the accusation, he crossed his arms over his chest and sat in silence for a moment, which for Drake didn't ever last long. "What...what just happened here?"

"Drake, do you recall a woman I told you about on this planet. The one who could make herself into anyone?"

"Yeah, I think so. A slave right?"

"That's right. The first time i met her, she took an image of Jack outta my head and I thought I was lookin' at a ghost. She looked exactly like how I pictured her."

"And then you fucked her."

"Hell no!" he roared. "Not lookin' like Jack I didn't!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, Princess. I forgot about that part. She turned into some other woman you knew, right?"

Riddick nodded. "Yeah, Carolyn."

"And then you fucked her."

"You're missin' the point - as usual. You said we needed one more person. Someone who could provide a distraction. I like the idea. If this woman is still down there and she agrees to help, she can make herself into the spittin' image of Jack and no one will be able to tell the difference."

"Which, depending on how we use her, could give us the element of surprise we need."

"Exactly."

"Do you think she's still in that bar where you found her?"

"Dunno. Not until we look, but it's the only other option I can come up with on short notice."

"So...what's Jack gonna say when you tell her she's about to meet another woman who you've slept with and who looked and can look just like her?"

"I fucked Carolyn that night. Not Jack."

Drake couldn't bottle his chuckle. "You didn't answer my question, friend. I said "slept with" not fucked. Jack is gonna have a conniption like she did when we took her to that whore house."

"She'll understand."

"You better hope like hell she does, but that don't mean I'm not gonna love havin' a ringside seat just in case she doesn't. If there is one guilt-free pleasure I love takin' from your wife, it's watchin' her chew your ass up one side and down the other."

After Landing

Micah was angry. No, more than angry. He was furious. Drake knew exactly what was going on and had completely shut him out, absolutely refusing to give him the smallest glimpse into their plan. He shouldn't have been taking it personally, but in a small way he was. She was his best friend and if he didn't know what to expect, how could he help protect her? But Drake wasn't about to give an inch. Riddick's orders.

Waiting for Jack, he watched the two men from inside the ship. They were discussing their plans and he wished they were close enough for him to at least hear snippets of their conversation. Anything for him to grasp onto. His attention was so honed on the other two men that he flinched when Jack's arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

"Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her arms away.

Micah kept a hold of them though and turned around instead to face her, hugging her in return. "Don't apologize. I'm just a bit jumpy I guess." Micah's brows furrowed, his lips tightly pressed together as he slid a finger along the ornate design in the silver collar around Jack's neck. "Was this really necessary? The slave collar and bracelets?"

"You know as well as I do that women on this planet are considered property. They're either married to a man or owned by them."

"But you're mar-." Micah had been lifting her left hand to make the point of her marital status, but her lack of ring stopped him mid-sentence. "Where is your ring?"

"Drake did some checking and things have gotten bad on Thyria. Rings aren't enough to keep someone from trying to claim a married women, thus the collar. It and the bracelets are visible symbols that I'm already property. Since JP gave me the ring, I didn't want anything to happen to it."

"I thought the point of marrying him so quickly was to help you in this situation."

"Riddick said it's information we're not to divulge. At least not yet."

"I don't like this. Not one bit."

"And you think I do?" She swallowed down the lump in her throat and pressed closer to him, her arms tightening around his waist. "I'm scared, Micah. Not just for myself though. I'm actually more frightened that something will happen to the three of you. I don't know if I could forgive myself if that happened."

He forced her to look up at him by placing a firm finger under her chin. She winced under his pointed glare. "Stop it. Now. I know if the tables were turned that you would be doing the same for me. The thought of something happening to you guts me every time I think about it, but I could never live with myself if I didn't do whatever was in my power to get these bastards off your back for good. I love you and no matter what, I will never regret being here."

Jack stood on her toes and brushed her lips to Micah's. "I love you, too. I'm not sure what I did to ever deserve you, but I'm so thankful you're in my life."

Riddick and Drake had finished their conversation in time to witness the chaste kiss between Jack and Micah and how she was firmly ensconced in his embrace. Riddick couldn't help but recall when all he wanted to do was rip Micah apart for touching her.

"Down boy," Drake chided.

Riddick's eyes snapped to his. "What the hell did you just tell me to do?"

"You were growling."

"The fuck I-."

"You were. I heard it now and I've heard it before. He's gay remember?"

"I got an eyeful of the two of you fuckin' in my livin' room, so yeah, I remember."

Drake actually itched to punch him for saying that, but he refrained. As satisfying as it might be, now simply wasn't the time. "Look, what I'm tryin' to point out, but obviously ain't doin' a good job of, is that he's here for her. His best friend. He's her gay soul-mate for fuck's sake!"

That last comment broke through Riddick's tension. "Her gay what?"

"Soul-mate. Yeah, romantic of me, I know but I'm beginnin' to think some people have two soul-mates. One they fuck and one they don't. Micah's her "don't fuck" soul-mate."

"You're cracked! I know she ain't gonna fuck him."

"And trust me when I say, he would never do more than what you've just seen. He's never looked at her or spoken to her the way he-..."

Smiling now, Riddick stepped closer to Drake, slightly crowding his personal space. "The way he's looked and spoken to you?"

Drake wiped a hand down his now flaming face before shoving Riddick back a step. "You're really enjoyin' this ain't ya! Making me squirm and turn all red."

"You make it too damn easy not to, and I get what you're sayin'. I know Micah won't go there. He knows I'd gut him, but..."

"You're feeling very protective of her right now and even though the two of 'em have never knocked boots, it still gets to you a little that she's got that close of a relationship with him."

"I don't give a shit who she's best friends with."

"But it still bothers you to see him holding her. You and I both thought they had a history until told otherwise. Hell, if he went around talkin' all girlified and actin' feminine an' shit, we wouldn't be having' this conversation. But nothin' - not a thing about that man says 'gay', and I can totally see how it's hard to get past that."

Riddick snorted. "You get all in touch with your girly side after hangin' with Micah?"

"Truthfully, I'm just tellin' you what the man said to me. You scare the crap out of him sometimes, and he said he can't be himself around her when you're in the same room. He's afraid you'll take it the wrong way and break him."

"I ain't gonna touch him."

"You growled at the man from here."

"Jack would kill me if I laid a finger on him."

"So cut the guy some slack. Yes, he loves your wife, but if you gave him the choice of sleepin' with her or havin' their nails done, he would already have a choice of colors ready for her."

"Why are you all over me defendin' him anyway?"

"Because I've spent a hell of a lot of time with Micah - outta bed. Everything aside, he's a good, decent person, and I haven't met many in my life. Just remember that. Stay here, I'll go tell 'em we're ready to head out."

Near the bar on Thyria

Looking at his watch, Micah frowned in confusion. It was already past six in the evening and they all needed their rest for tomorrow. Going to a bar simply didn't make sense.

"I thought we were heading straight to the hotel for the night. Why in the hell are we going into a bar at a time like this?"

Jack shrugged, but it was anything but casual. Her shoulders were eat up with tension. "I'd like to know the same thing. We have to eat dinner soon, but I thought we were going to do so either in or near the hotel. Riddick just said something about amending their plan if they could find a key person to help out. Beyond that, I'm clueless."

"Since we're close, maybe they'll tell me something."

"If you want to try, be my guest."

But Micah didn't get the chance to grill anyone. As he got shoulder-to-shoulder with Drake, Riddick let them know they had arrived. Drake opened the door and entered first, followed by Micah, Riddick, and then Jack. Her skin crawled immediately as many sets of eyes salaciously raked down her body even though she was dressed conservatively in a t-shirt and cargoes. Not wanting to draw any additional attention her way, she suppressed the urge to rub the goose-bumps on her arms. Instead, she stepped closer behind Riddick, using his body to partially shield her from view.

Frustrated, Micah ribbed Drake. "What does this person look like?"

"Dunno. Rick says we'll know when we see her though."

"Her?"

Drake cringed. He hadn't meant to let that cat out of the bag just yet, but it was only a matter of time. "There is a method to this madness. I hope."

"There better be or-."

Drake grabbed Micah's arm in shock. "Ho-ly-."

Micah finished the sentiment. "Shit!"

Both Drake and Micah saw her coming before anyone else did. All of a sudden, a shorter woman with straight blond hair whirled around and morphed into what looked very much like Jack, and she was heading their way with a smile on her face. Both stunned to their toes, neither man could speak quickly enough to alert Riddick. He had been scanning the patrons in the opposite direction and didn't notice Syrin until her arms were around his neck.

A bit off his game, she had startled Riddick enough that he took a step or two back, which caused Jack, who was right behind him, to scoot out of the way, trip over a chair, landing her ass-first on the floor. Without thinking, Riddick's hands automatically went to Syrin's waist as she closed the distance between their bodies.

Grumbling, Jack got back to her feet and was slapped in the face with the image of her husband embracing another woman. Riddick was already moving her away from him, but a bit too late. Jack was two shades past livid.

"I did not have you drag me here to take a trip down memory lane and meet yet another whore you've fucked!"

Syrin, arms still around Riddick's neck, turned to see who had called her a whore right as Jack gave her a strong shove. That's when the two women got a good look at each other. The shock of coming face-to-face with her near-twin made her speechless. Syrin, on the other hand, chuckled at Riddick.

"By the gods! Not so dead after all!"

Syrin's appearance morphed again to exactly replicate Jack, who took a huge step back and straight into Riddick. He was the last person she wanted to be near at that moment, too. In spite of that, he grasped her waist and pulled her flush against against him, preventing her from doing anything else that might cause more of a spectacle.

"I need to talk to you. Privately," he said to Syrin.

Even though puzzled, she nodded and motioned toward a door at the end of the room. "The office. We can go in there. I charge extra if it's more than just you...even if they watch."

He tried to take a step, but Jack was rooted in place. Through clenched teeth, she demanded, "What in the hell is going on?"

"Not here. Get to the office before we make a bigger scene than we already are."

She moved, but judging by how stiff she held herself, she was furious. Micah was still in shock. And Drake? He was trying his best not to laugh his ass off as he turned to follow Syrin.

There were almost enough seats for everyone. Drake and Micah each took a chair farthest from the door, which faced the two remaining chairs. Jack wasn't about to sit next to Riddick or this woman, so she moved one closer to the guys and sat. Riddick motioned for Syrin to take the last chair before walking to his wife. He stood over her, hands on his hips, brow arched.

She responded by crossing her legs, then her arms. Her body language said it all. "What?"

Now was not the time for a pissy or prickly Jack. With little effort, he picked her up by the waist, sat down in the chair himself, then deposited her in his lap, effectively rendering her trapped when he caged her in his arms.

Jack ground her teeth together with enough force to make her jaw ache. "Let. Me. Go."

"You stay put or sit on the floor. Make your choice."

"I'm not a fucking lap dog."

Calmly, Riddick took her by the chin and in a voice that could have cut through steel, told her, "No, what you are is my slave. A spoiled one. My advice? Learn your place. Now. Before I'm forced to put you in it. Do not embarrass me further."

Jack's gasp was heard by everyone. She turned her head to the side, letting her hair fall across her face to shield her from Syrin's view. But Micah and Drake both saw the tear trail down her cheek, unsure if it was a product of anger or hurt feelings.

Drake's hand went to Micah's arm to stop him from doing anything stupid. He met the blond's furious gaze, but soon calmed. No words were exchanged, but Micah had apparently gotten the message. Riddick was in charge and he better not do shit to defy him.

"You'll have to excuse her behavior," Riddick flatly stated to Syrin.

"I suppose I can let it pass. It take it she's new to her role?"

"Yes. I recently found and claimed her. She was on a nearby planet where her ship crashed years ago."

"Years you say? It's been years since you were last here. All that time and she didn't contact you? How very rude. I gathered the two of you were closer than that."

Puzzled by her tone and how she was speaking to him, Riddick didn't answer immediately. Something about her was...off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was definitely different and not the woman he recalled. Granted, he had been shit-faced drunk and spent more time fucking than talking to her, but her demeanor still made him wary.

"She didn't know who she was or anything about her past. My friend, Drake, was in a club where she worked. He sent me a bunch of pics, tryin' to get me to join 'im, and she was in one of 'em.

"How very fortunate that fate smiled down upon you."

Syrin slowly looked Jack over. "She's exquisite. Your mind's image of her wasn't far off the mark. And speaking of minds...you have an incredibly strong one. When you came in the bar I was overwhelmed...compelled to change into her likeness. I recognized the thoughts as yours immediately even though it's been quite some time. I've been with countless men, but you? You, I've never forgotten. Can't help but admit that I'm disappointed. When I changed to her, I thought perhaps you had returned to take advantage of what I offered you last time. You're a hard act to follow in bed...no pun intended."

Jack grew deathly still in his arms, no doubt believing Syrin's insinuation that Riddick had fucked her after taking on her appearance.

Riddick's brow wrinkled. This woman may know him, but he was beginning to doubt the person behind the facade. "That ain't quite how I remember things."

She morphed into Carolyn's image and laughed, the cackling sound of which made Jack curious enough to look. Nothing could have prepared her for the change. "Oh, my god! Carolyn!"

Syrin met her eyes. "Yes. This is what I looked like when he fucked me...twice. He couldn't stomach the thought of doing it with you."

Jack's anger eroded what defenses she may have been able to erect against such venomous words, causing them to strike deep and make Jack flinch before she could stop herself. The woman's animosity was palpable and she didn't know what to make of it. For some reason, it felt like she was trying to force a wedge between her and Riddick. Regardless of her intent, she was tired of staying quiet and taking the verbal abuse.

She sweetly smiled at Syrin. "I promise you, he regularly demonstrates his lack of such hang ups now."

"Enough," Riddick barked. "Where is your master, Syrin?"

She touched her own slave collar. "Why?"

"Because bein' a manipulative bitch ain't good for business. Somethin' I imagine he doesn't tolerate."

Without warning, Riddick stood up and gave Jack a gentle push in Drake and Micah's direction. Micah snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to his lap. The three of them watched as Riddick hauled Syrin out of her chair and pressed her to the wall with a blade at her throat. He scented her neck briefly and his face twisted.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"You know who I am. Syrin."

"Try again. You've got her memories, her abilities, but you don't act or smell like her. Scent is similar, but it ain't the same."

"Oh, you are good," she cooed. "It's been years since you've been with her and you remember her essence that clearly? Damn. I can't recall the last time I was outed and in record time. Given the knife at my throat and my curiosity about your purpose, I'll acquiesce. The name is Celeste."

"What are you?"

"I've been called a lot of things, but there's no clear term for me. To start, I'm a symbiot."

"Which implies a mutually beneficial relationship," Jack quipped. "So what is Syrin getting out of this?"

Celeste met Riddick's eyes. "Rebellious, disobedient, and snippy. She's in need of a lot of training. Nothing a good whip and ball-gag can't handle, which I'd be happy to help supply. Hell, it would be my pleasure to train her. For a nominal fee, of course."

Riddick's blade bit into her throat. "Answer her question."

"Persistent. Normally a trait I admire...normally. No need to worry, Syrin is unharmed. We inhabit the same skin."

"Sounds to me like you're more of a parasite and you didn't answer the question."

"Parasite?" she scoffed. "I suppose judging what I am is all a matter of perspective. Syrin is hardly suppressed. It was she who changed this body when you came into the bar. As for benefits for her? My presence has a healing and protective effect. She's immune from all illness, will heal extraordinarily fast if injured, and any bodily imperfections she had prior to my inhabitation have been eradicated."

"How and why did you make her your home?"

"The 'how' is easier to show, which I will. Why? Because my previous carrier and I had reached the end of our cohabitation term. My time in a host is limited, but I enter a contract with each one. It's a mutual decision regarding the length of my stay. And anticipating your next question, Syrin chose to invite me in, albeit reluctantly, but there was no force involved. Her master had died and left her and the bar to his nephew. The man was vile and had a malicious, cruel streak that ran sadistically deep. He had abused her gifts for his own gain, not caring if she got hurt, which she often did. When I arrived, he had beaten her to within an inch of her life."

"And you offered her an out."

"That I did, Big Boy. I killed her master in exchange for the use of her body. If anyone asks for him, we morph into his likeness."

"Show me how you did it."

"Am I permitted to sit?"

Riddick backed away to allow her access to the chair. After sitting, she took the hem of her nearly diaphanous ankle-length skirt in her hands and drew it up, exposing her milky-white long legs all the way up to her waist. Then she spread them and pointed to two small puckered scars on her inner thigh, scant inches from the lace edge of her thong.

"Here. This is where I enter"

Riddick quickly glanced down, hyper-aware of Jack watching his every move. "Femoral artery?"

She flicked her skirts back down. "Precisely."

In spite of herself, Jack couldn't suppress her curiosity or the fact that she was intrigued. "You're a blood-born parasite without a true physical form and you enter by biting?"

"A blood exchange or rather transference is necessary. I make it painless." Hoping to make Jack squirm, she leaned forward in her chair, lowering her voice enough so everyone in the room would need to listen attentively. "In fact, I devoured her sweet pussy and gave her a mind-blowing orgasm before I bit, which then sent her into a series of orgasmic seizures over the course of three hours."

Much to Celeste's chagrin, Jack didn't even blink. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."

"True. But I'm horribly verbose by nature."

"No, you just love the sound of your own voice..and to shock people."

Smiling, she shrugged. "That too."

Riddick had enough. "And you're gettin' us off topic. Back to Syrin? You said she was in bad shape. How did her body get back into perfect condition?"

"She healed while my hollow fangs were embedded, but her level of damage required me to stay latched on longer than I usually do. My cells die off as they repair, so I have to replicate in the old host, transfer over to heal, and repeat until my new host is perfect. Only then can the last of my essence leave the prior host, which allows me to disengage."

"Your last host...man or woman?"

"I switch...well,most of the time. A man was my prior host."

"And how do you feed?" Jack asked. "What do you feed on?"

Celeste's brow rose, her admiration for Jack's mind growing. "My, aren't you astute. An annoying pain, but astute. I feed this body with food, naturally. But I require further sustenance, which is what I believe you're getting at."

"Blood?"

"I can't live off of it, but it is a tasty treat every now and again."

"So no blood." Jack tapped her chin with a finger as she thought. "I'm curious. What was the occupation of your last host?"

An appreciative smile slowly transformed Celeste's features. "My apologies, my dear. I have seriously underestimated you. I think you may be able to guess what he did. Let's see how close you are."

"Pimp? Strip club manager or owner."

Celeste clapped, laughing with delight. "Bravo! Bravo! He owned the club where I met him, and was eat up with cancer. I offered him a chance to live, which he accepted."

"And the woman before him? A stripper? A whore?"

"Both."

Jack stared at Celeste quite intently, never taking her eyes from her when she named what else Celeste was. "Succubus."

Drake placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Excuse me. Suck-you what?"

"Succubus. She...it feeds on the life force of humans via sex."

"So she gives the traditional suck and fuck a whole new meaning," he chuckled.

"That she does." Turning, her attention back to the other woman, she asked, "But how do you feed? Sinking your fangs leaves a scar. That would bring too much attention your way. And do you suck them dry?"

"Suck them dry? No, dear, you've obviously watched far too many campy horror films. To feed, skin-to-skin contact is essential, some forms being more effective than others, such as my hands on specific areas of the body, but it's peripheral, not sustaining."

"Like an appetizer?"

Celeste nodded. "An apt comparison. If it's a quick meal, fingers inside a woman's hot, sweet cunt or wrapped around a man's cock when they orgasm work better. But to feed deeply?"

"Sex?"

"Precisely. Milking a man's cock of his semen, I consume sexual energy from there. If I'm the man, it's through my cock when she orgasms. It must be done while they're coming. That's when their guard is at its lowest, their pleasure at its peak."

"You forgot oral sex. Not gifted in that area?" Jack goaded.

"Oh, I am. Eating pussy or sucking cock works - but not unless they come. For some people, it can take forever, which isn't nearly as fun."

"So it's lust you feed on...pleasure specifically."

"Yes, not their life essence...force...whatever you called it. Their pleasure appeases me quite nicely and is the easiest to come by."

But Jack sensed the creature before her fed on more than blood and orgasms. "And if not pleasure?"

"Hmm...you're well read on folklore," she commented. "The flip side of the coin. Pain...tortured souls. I feed from them much the same way, but I don't require nearly as much physical contact. Not at first that is. But oh what a challenge they are. Those who seek pleasure give in to it easily. Those who are mired in turmoil? They must first release their pain to me by opening themselves to it, facing it, becoming vulnerable. Then I extract and consume it. Cleansed, they can seek the pleasure I can give. And when they reach the pinnacle it is nothing short of glorious. So pure and sweet after the darkness is scattered. They are indeed a rare, delectable delicacy to find."

Celeste licked her lips as though savoring the final taste of a wonderful meal. Her eyes remained on Jack, but she addressed Riddick. "You big, bad, bald delight in bed...when Syrin recognized your mind, I probed her memories, wanting to know why she was so keen on having you back here. Oh, what a fucked-up, tortured mess you were. She was intent on healing you."

"She didn't feed offa me," he snapped.

"No, I wasn't a part of her then. But based on her memories, you would be a succulent dining experience."

Jack stepped forward, growling,"No way in hell!"

"Don't fret, dear. He's still got his issues, but now that a certain someone has filled the void in his soul, he's only slightly more appealing than vanilla ice cream...with sprinkles, hot fudge sauce and a cherry."

The way Celeste was now regarding Jack made her feel like a prized dark chocolate truffle.

"But you on the other hand? Syrin fiercely feels the burden you carry. I can ease some of it - all of it over time. Oh, my sweet little hot mess of misery, if I had the honor of feeding off you, who knows how long you'd sate my hunger or the kind of strength I'd gain."

Celeste once more felt Riddick's cold blade at her throat. "You fuckin' touch her, I'll kill you. You hear me?"

"Loud and clear. But where she is concerned, I can't make a contract with you. My kind, in spite of what you may think of us, is incapable of subterfuge and lying to feed. If we attempt to do so, we experience inexplicable pain. Call it a safety mechanism for mortals." She met Jack's eyes. "My dear, I will not touch you unless invited, but I can't stop the compulsion to try and convince you of how wonderful it could be for us both."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Jack dryly replied.

"You do that, my sweet. Any other questions?"

"Just one, from me at least. When you take over someone with gifts like Syrin. Do they move on with you to the next host?"

Celeste nodded. "Nice little side benefit. She won't lose anything in case you're wondering. My cells absorb some of her genetic material. That's what I take and nothing more." Now, if we're done with the holy inquisition, may I ask your intent? I know you came here looking for Syrin. What do you want from her?"

Riddick removed his blade from her throat and returned to the chair in front of her. "Sryin could read my thoughts. You can morph like her but can't read mine?"

"Unfortunately not. Manipulation remember? It's forbidden and mind reading falls under that category. I can only read to morph and channel what Syrin feels from others, but thoughts she hears from people like you? Those are for her ears only."

With that in mind, he contemplated what to tell Celeste...how much to tell her. Her own forthright answers to their questions had been unexpected. Where he assumed his blade would have been the force to persuade her to talk, she surprised him by being frank and open on her own. She definitely liked to fuck around with people's heads. Hell, so did he, but in the end she was genuine. It wasn't that he trusted her, but at times like this when an opportunity presents itself, you have to take a risk.

"I'm Rick. That's Drake on the right. This is Micah with my wife, Jack, in his lap. I registered her as my slave for her protection."

Celeste nodded as if the pieces were falling into place in her mind. "I sensed just how much she means to you." But Celeste being Celeste, she couldn't resist trying to stir things up a bit. "So you don't mind your wife all cozy in the lap of a strapping blond Adonis?"

Riddick sat up in his chair, the only sign that her question had irritated him. "He's her best friend. Her gay best friend."

Celeste's eyes lit up. "Oh indeed. Micah, that does explain some things I've seen and felt from you." She cocked her head to one side. "You had me a bit perplexed at first." Then her attention turned to the woman on his lap. "Jack, you have garnered some wicked-deep loyalty among these three. There is a deep-seated tension - about you. Concern...some fear as well. Jack you're in trouble aren't you. Serious trouble."

"We're not exactly here on vacation." And she left Riddick to supply the rest of the details.

"Stems from a long time ago, and it's back to bite us in the ass. Defendin' herself, she killed a merc, Darrius Toombs, and his crew. His brother, Damian Cromby, is a slave trader here. He sent a merc by the name of Cox to bring her in. When that didn't work, they went after her family and threatened 'em. We wouldn't be here otherwise."

Jack grabbed Riddick's forearm. "You never told me that you confirmed Damian was involved."

"I wasn't sure, but you know I suspected it might be possible. Still not confirmed, but a contact of mine gave me some intel that makes me believe he is."

"Why? What did they say?"

"Jack-."

"Don't you dare 'Jack' me! Now!"

He was going to tell her. Planned on it, but not like this. Now, he didn't have a choice. "Rumor has it he's got a high-profile private auction planned a week from now with a hefty opening bid."

Color drained from her face. "For me?"

"You weren't mentioned by name, but-."

"It's too much of a coincidence to think it's not about me."

"By the way," Celeste interrupted, cutting the tension in the room. "I know Damian. I've bought a few slaves for the bar at his auctions. Unfortunately, your hearsay is indeed fact. He won't name the woman and anyone desiring to participate has to make an escrow payment to hold their place."

Riddick ground his molars together upon having his suspicion verified. "I ain't about to let it get that far."

"Yes, I gathered that about you. But the real question is this: Does he have a legitimate claim on her? If he can prove it-."

Riddick shook his head. "Toombs kidnapped Jack, but he didn't have shit to make a legit claim. His beef was purely personal, and she was never registered as his property even though he contacted Damian about sellin' her."

Celeste leaned forward in her chair, intent on Riddick's next response. "You're absolutely certain?"

"Positive. She's mine and mine alone - twice over."

"And your purpose for Syrin?"

"We were gonna ask if she would pose as Jack as a diversion, with ample compensation for her time and effort."

"Forgive me, but I don't understand. She's your wife and registered property. Damian has no rights to her. Law dictates he respect your legal union and ownership claim."

"They don't know about either - yet. 'Sides, if Cox and Damian gave a fuck about respectin' the law, they wouldn't be so eager to ghost me or her family to get her here. Us bein' married or her bein' my slave won't keep'em from tryin' to take her. There's too many credits ridin' on this and it's just the four of us. We need somethin' to throw 'em off their game."

"Do you want them dead?"

Riddick didn't even pause to think over his answer. "In a perfect world, yes. But we gotta do everything we can to keep things from gettin'...messy. I want a normal life for her, not one where she's gotta always be lookin' over her shoulder."

"If they're as determined as you've made them out to be, their deaths may be the only option. In self-defense, of course."

"Of course," Riddick agreed, unable to hide his own small smirk.

After a long moment of contemplative thought, Celeste nodded and proclaimed, "I've decided to help you."

"I wasn't askin' you. My bargain was to be with Syrin."

"And Syrin is under contract with me, so to speak. If it makes you feel better, she wants to help. She's beside herself with joy that you found Jack...sickeningly so."

Suspicious, Riddick circled around her, seeing if he could rattle her composure. "So what's in it for you?"

"Several things...I haven't gotten to enjoy a good ol' righteous kill since Syrin's former master. Would any of them be missed?"

"Missed?" He hadn't succeeded in rattling Celeste. Instead, he was thrown the curveball with her casual talk of murder. He'd play along. "Not as far as I'm concerned."

"Splendid! I'm also itching for a little action. Other than the occasional great fuck, bar life can be dreadfully dull."

"And the money?"

"Syrin would do it for free. I, on the other hand, will take what you offer."

"Kinda thought you might. Now, about the details?"

"Ah, instead of impersonating her, I may have a better idea. Damian sounds like the ringleader, am I right?"

"As far as we can tell, he's holdin' the purse strings."

"Just how badly do you think it would fuck him up if his brother were to come back from the dead? Just in time to cash in on her, too?"

Drake whistled in appreciation. "Ohhhh, she's good!"

For the first time since they landed, Riddick smiled. "I like the way you think."

Without warning, Celeste started to morph into Toombs thanks to the image he projected. Fear suddenly oozed from Jack's pores, thick enough to choke on. Although it wasn't truly Toombs, she was terrified nonetheless. In her haste to back away, she almost sent the chair tumbling backwards, with her and Micah in it. Sensing a stronger image of Toombs, Celeste began to morph again, this time to accommodate Jack's worst nightmares.

Smelling her fear, Riddick pulled her into his arms and cradled her face. "Look at me. He's gone. You killed him. This is an illusion, nothin' more. Remember, you took care of the sick fuck and he can't hurt you anymore."

"Son of a bitch's hairy balls!"

Drake's outcry brought their attention back to Celeste. Toombs was now covered in blood, his shirt torn open revealing butchered flesh from dozens of stab wounds. His pants were open revealing a bloody glob of flesh - the remains of his penis.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Micah moaned, running to the garbage can.

Celeste wasn't happy. "Well, don't I just look lovely. She's screaming this image in her head. Can you get her to stop?"

Fascinated, Riddick shook his head. "Not just yet."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This is what Jack had done to Toombs. To say she butchered him was being kind. In some sick, twisted way he was proud of her...immensely. His animal definitely noticed and was purring in approval, too. Her attack was obviously born out of sheer rage, but she left nothing to chance when it came to killing him. Jack had buried her face in his chest, but he urged her to look.

"That's what you did to him?" She slowly angled her face enough to take a quick look and nodded. "What'd you do with his cock? I don't see it."

"I-I...I think I stuffed it in his mouth."

"And the rest of his crew?"

"Pretty much the same I think."

He leaned down next to her ear, half growling, "Nice baby. Very, very nice."

She should have been horrified by his words. She knew that. But strangely enough, she wasn't. This is what he'd been denied, what he had wanted to do himself. Knowing he approved of the results made her feel better in an oddly perverse kind of way.

"Excuse me," Drake tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. "Is this your handiwork or someone's idea of a sick wet dream?"

"Sick wet-? God, you're twisted. Truly. And yes, that's my last memory of Toombs. I did this."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say." Drake then dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together in front of him as if preparing to pray. "I promise from the bottom of my heart, I will never, ever, ever, ever ask you to cook again."

Smiling at Drake's antics never made her feel so good. "Why? You don't like my cookin'?"

"Love, love, love it darlin', but I'd prefer to keep you as far aways from the knives as possible." Riddick promptly knocked Drake over with his booted foot. "Hey, Princess! This was between me and your wife! Just for that I'm hidin' the tea and soup cups when we get back on board, too."

"Hey-." Jack looked around, her brow wrinkling when she realized Micah wasn't right there beside her. "What happened to Micah?"

She found him on the floor next to a garbage can with his back turned to the rest of them. Fearing what he may now think of her, her gut painfully clenched. Knowing your best friend murdered someone is one thing. Seeing visual proof of it was entirely different. Tentatively, she touched his shoulder, startling him. He looked up at her somewhat sheepishly. The poor man's forehead was dotted with perspiration and he looked very, very pale.

"Never was good around blood."

She dropped to the floor at his side. "Oh, Micah! I'm so sorry you had to see that!" In her mind she changed the image of Tooombs back to normal and Celeste shifted accordingly. "It's gone. I-I mean Toombs is still there, but not all gory."

"Thanks for changing him back. It's for this very reason why I'm forced to hide my eyes every time you make me watch a horror flick."

"You mean we both hide?"

"You're always too busy hiding your eyes to notice I'm doing the same."

"How...how do you feel about seeing him like that? Other than barfing."

"Don't you mean to ask how do I feel about you now after seeing that?" She nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, he got what was coming to him. But..."

"But what?"

"I'm with Drake. If you do decide to cook and ever need anything chopped up. Just call us. We'll be glad to do it for you."

"I will always regret introducing the two of you."

"Too late, chica!" Drake chuckled. "Nice to see I ain't the only voice of reason. I'm sure Rick would agree, too, if it didn't mean you'd shut down the honey pot somethin' fierce."

"Asshole," she huffed, slapping away the hand he offered to pull her up.

Drake extended a hand to Micah and pulled him up instead. He wobbled a little, but Drake got an arm around his waist to steady him while he walked back to the chair. Jack couldn't help but grin at how attentive he was being. It was cute and she intended to rib him about it in the very near future.

But the brief sidetrack from reality had hit its end. It was time for her to swallow the sickening lump in her throat and face Toombs. Slowly, she circled Celeste, fine tuning the image she projected as she remembered more details. She couldn't believe she was even contemplating the hair-brained idea even working.

"Can you say something? This won't have a chance in hell if you don't sound like him."

Toombs grinned. "An' what in the holy bowels of Christ would you have me say, my sweet little bitch?"

Riddick saw Jack's skin erupt into goose bumps and started to rub them away. "That's some shit. Sounds like him to me. Judging from your arms, she hit his voice perfectly."

Jack shuddered as she nodded. "Scary perfect. She's going to need to know a lot more of the expressions he used. Damian will expect him to talk as he remembered."

"I can work with her on that." He didn't bother to say he had hours of transcripts at his disposal. He never wanted Jack to know about those. She was tormented enough.

"Good, because I'm not sure how much I can help there. And what kind of story is he supposed to tell his brother about how he survived?"

"We'll hafta work on that one. For now, he survived the crash, but barely. They knew what he did to you and kept him locked up until you left."

"It's a stretch, but plausible. I think he should have some kind of impairment or something. A permanent injury he still suffers from."

"How about a limp?" Celeste offered, trying to walk as if a leg had not been set correctly.

Jack nodded, smiling. "I like it. A head injury that affects memory in some capacity wouldn't be bad either, just to cover up anything you can't easily respond to. I think he should keep a bottle of pills with him for pain and pop them like candy. And we need to make sure he has scars from where I stabbed him."

Celeste made the modifications to the letter. They just needed to get her a pill bottle. "So, when do I make my debut?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

'Toombs' snorted. "What the fuck is this? High noon at the O.K. Corral? Gotta be my pansy-ass brother's attempt at humor!"

Riddick nodded. "That was good, Celeste. Jack, what do you think?"

"It's perfect except for one thing and it's a huge detail. His cigars. He always had one in the corner of his mouth or in his hand when I saw him. And the smell must be ingrained."

'Toombs' stepped toward Jack who backed away. He salaciously licked his lips. "Well, don't the sun just shine down on your cute little ass! We sell cigars here."

"I don't know which kind he smoked. Just the smell."

"Good thing I know the brand," Riddick replied. "Mitchell Brothers Select. The fat ones."

Celeste shed her Toombs persona, changing into a gorgeously curved blue-eyed woman with dark auburn-colored hair that fell in waves about her shoulders. Drake, who always had an affinity for redheads, sat up and took notice, then quickly pointed at Riddick, sputtering until he could find words.

"Oh, hardy, har, har you sick fuck!"

Riddick was grinning while Jack and Micah were left out of the joke, but only momentarily. They both had heard the story, so only one word was necessary to make them both bust out laughing. "Rats."

Hands on his hips, Drake declared, "Two can play at this game."

Celeste patted the side of Drake's face in pity. "And I've been offered a handsome amount of money not to comply."

"When?"

"While you were over with Jack and Micah."

"What? Oh, come on! Now that ain't fair at all," he whined.

She cocked her head to the side, then whispered in Drake's ear, "I think what you really want now comes in a taller, blond package, eh? Can't say that I blame you, either. He's scrumptious."

"Just go get the damn cigars!" he growled, then dejectedly sat down, slumped in his chair, his face no doubt resembling that of a fresh sunburn. "An' the rest of you can forget askin'. I ain't goin' there."

Micah whistled in appreciation and nudged Drake after watching Celeste enter a walk-in humidor full of cigars. "You may wanna go in there though."

Drake turned, his jaw dropping. "Su-weet! Celeste? Do you mind?"

"Peruse away, but nothing is on the house. And keep the door closed if you plan on being in there for more than a minute."

Drake rubbed his hands together, already at the entrance with Micah right behind him. "Will do!"

With a wrinkled nose, Celeste brought the box of cigars over to Jack and Riddick. "The man was ugly as sin and liked cigars that smelled like the rotting trash. Sounds like a positively charming person. Are you certain these are the right ones?"

She opened the box and within seconds Jack's knees quaked from the sickening stench. She immediately turned to fist Riddick's shirt, buried her nose in the gathered fabric and inhaled deeply. Holding her close to him, he soothingly stroked her hair until her grip eased.

"You okay, baby?"

Nodding was the only indication of her answer. Riddick noticed Celeste was now leaning against the wall, eyes closed and biting her bottom lip. She was nearly panting.

"Celeste?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she smoothed the hair away from her face, although it didn't need it. "Between her reaction to Toombs and the cigars, your wife-. The wounds her soul suffers are unbearably raw. The more times she reacts, the stronger they become. I could taste them standing two steps from her. So, so sweet. I-I've never experienced that before, not in the thousand plus years I've existed. I always have to touch a person."

"Don't you forget your promise to her," he warned.

"You needn't remind me. I don't relish that kind of pain. I experienced it in what you might call my youth. Never again. She must ask me to help her."

The stress of the evening suddenly hit Jack along with her desire for air. "When are we going to the hotel for the night. I'm hungry and tired."

"We'll leave soon, but Drake, Micah, and I will need to go back and take care of any uninvited guests."

"You are not going to leave me alone in a hotel! Micah can stay with me."

"Micah has agreed to be the bait. We need him."

"I'm not staying by myself!"

"Yes, I highly advise you don't - stay in a hotel or leave her alone," Celeste interjected. "If this Cox is as determined as you've made him out to be, he'll be monitoring the port and local hotels. My home is directly behind this establishment. I have plenty of rooms and-."

Riddick shook his head. "No."

"And why not?"

"Don't play dumb, Celeste. You know exactly why."

"Because you're afraid I'll feed on her against her will? You insufferable ass! I've given my word!"

"I've trusted you with enough already."

"Then you're going to have to extend it a bit further," Jack interjected.

Riddick scowled at his wife. "What in the hell are you talkin' about?"

"You're focusing on me instead of the big picture. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. I think her vivid depiction of what I did to Toombs should be proof enough of that. She needs time to prepare for tomorrow, and it's already almost seven! Checking into a hotel, going out to dinner, then coming back here to work with her and then back to the hotel? You might as well paint a neon target on my ass."

With a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth, Drake sauntered over to join the argument, invited or not. "She's got a good point, Rick."

"I didn't ask for your fuckin' opinion, Drake."

"No, no you didn't, but she's right. As much as it crunches my nuts to admit it, she is. They both are."

Riddick walked away from all of them for a moment to gather his thoughts. He was used to his word being law. Being ganged up on and being wrong? It was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Fuck it. We'll stay here. You're about to start workin' for those credits you're gettin' from me, Celeste."

"Then I'll start you a tab beginning with cost of your room and board."