Broken Promises

Chapter 2

            He'd known she would leave eventually to stalk through the night. The darkness closed around her, but his time in Slam had given him the gift of sight, even in the dark. He hated to admit it, but he'd learned quite a bit there. Granted, he hadn't accepted most of it until now, but still. It had all been learned in Slam. Evidently she'd learned a bit from him during her stay in Slam City as well. He could tell that just by watching her walk down the street. Her eyes darted back and forth, hands shoved deep into pockets meant for concealing weapons. While they'd danced at the bar, he'd barely felt a sheath holding a shiv. Unnoticed to the eye, but his fingers had still found it. She was good – there was no denying that. Better than him, maybe. He hadn't seen her in action recently, so he didn't know for sure. But the way she carried herself and the coldness she reeked of had to be some indication.

***

            Once again, she knew he was watching her. She didn't know where he was, but she did know he was there. Close by. Somewhere. She felt him, smelled him. Just barely, but there all the same. His scent was unique – soap and sweat and man. The scent of Riddick. She smirked to herself, thinking back to the jasmine. Maybe some day they would have a spray that had been engineered from his DNA and a little creativity to smell just like him. Like the jasmine. She shook her head, kept walking. He would follow her, she knew. She didn't mind. Her senses were on high-alert. The slightest sound and she would turn, adjust her eyes slightly, whatever needed to be done without looking jumpy. Just a midnight stroll, no big deal. Yeah, right. With Riddick close behind it is a big deal, she reminded herself. On the toes at all times.

            Unbelievable. A knife to her throat, and this man smelled nothing of Riddick. He was short, fat, and disgusting. What the fuck was he thinking?

            "You're a pretty lady, and you're all mine, you know? Now anyway," he rasped to her, his breath nearly knocking her over.

            "You don't know who you're fucking with, little man," she spat. "Two seconds to change your mind."

***

            Now was the time to find out just how good she was. She should know better than to walk around in the middle of the night looking that good, smelling that good, Riddick thought, leaning back on his haunches to watch. He would step in if need be, but he didn't think the need would come.

***

            "What're you gonna do?" the smelly man pressed. She'd had it with this stinky bastard. Timing was crucial, so she waited. "You gonna scream or something? No one's gonna come to your rescue," he continued. He took a breath to continue, but couldn't find air after her elbow made contact. He was quickly flipped over her shoulder in a martial-arts type move, and landed on the concrete with a thud. He groaned and tried to get away, but he'd fucked with her. No one fucks with her and lives to tell about it. Except Riddick, she thought. And that thought – the thought of him – just pissed her off even more. Boy, this stinky asshole was going to get it. Her shiv was drawn from her boot, quickly meeting his throat to make a deep gash. He swung uncontrollably, the nerves starting to spasm on their own. He was dead, but his brain hadn't caught on yet. His knife caught her arm, but didn't do much damage. Flesh wound, slight blood. She watched him until he stopped moving, even after the small, intermittent twitches well after death. All in a day's work.

            She turned on her heel, deciding to head home before that damn cut got infected with whatever it was he could have had. The possibilities were endless, she figured. Better safe than sorry. He was leaning against her door when she entered the hallway.

            "Nice one," he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

            "I figured you were watching."

            "Couldn't sleep?"

            "Not very long, and not very well," she admitted with a shrug. It came with the territory, and she figured he knew as well as she did. He followed her into the apartment, despite the warning in her eye. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom again, watching her tend her wound. He couldn't help but stare. She'd peeled off the black shirt and was standing there in front of him, clad only in jeans and a black lacy bra, plus that nifty little shiv in a sheath on her back. Blood dripped from her elbow, and she mopped it up gently. He noted the long scar down her back, breaking through that gorgeous dragon tattoo twisting its way from her shoulder blade and around her other side. Slam, maybe? Butterfly bandages, gauze, and medical tape, and she would be fine. The peroxide had stung a little, but not enough to make her cringe. She looked up at him. He was mesmerized. "I'm done, are you?" she snickered. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she could have sworn he'd blushed before disappearing down the hallway.

            She found him standing in front of her bedroom window, nursing what she'd left of his drink from earlier. She watched him for a few moments, taking every inch of him in. He'd not changed much from the last time she'd seen him. He was a little thicker, more muscle, but other than that, nothing was different.

            "Do you remember what it looked like before?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet.

            "Before what?" He turned to look at her, his eyes flashing as they passed over her. Yeah, the shine job. Her gaze lowered.

            "I don't remember what I look like, much less anything else." He nodded and turned back to the window.

            "Me neither." He smiled, though, and corrected himself. "I remember what you looked like before you got yours, but I never saw you before mine." She nodded. She remembered. "Do the contacts help at all, or is it just for other people?"

            "Makes the glare a little worse, but hides them rather well." He nodded. "They gave them to me when I got out. Technicality, you know, but exonerated all the same." Another nod. That's why he never got any.

            "Color matched even?" he asked.

            "Close." He felt her move behind him. "What do you want from me, Riddick?" She was scared he would answer truthfully, but couldn't resist asking. He turned to look at her, taking his time to formulate a response that wouldn't piss her off. That probably wouldn't be such a good idea, given her recent kill.

            "A second chance." She stared up at him, her head cocked slightly to the side, as though the question still hung from her lips. She broke the gaze first, turning to leave the room. He sighed and stood there for a moment.

            She felt his eyes on her, boring through her it seemed. Her face flushed, and she knew he could tell that. Hopefully he would think it was the shot of Schnapps she'd just downed. It didn't matter.

            "There are more pressing issues right now, Riddick," she said, her voice cracking slightly, strained from the alcohol. He nodded, closing the gap between them. Her eyes avoided his, despite his efforts to lift her chin toward him. She was having none of it. "You broke a promise," she continued. His heart sank. "Taking a hit on me doesn't qualify as protection. Sooner or later, the greed would take over and you'd do it anyway." She paused and licked her lips. His thumb brushed over her cheek lightly, and her eyes closed. "I hate you, Riddick." Her eyes lifted to his with that admission, the third time she'd said it to him today. She'd lost count of the times she'd told herself that. His brow furrowed, but he held her eyes with his. Mercury danced, a mixture of heat and emotion. Hate in hers, longing in his. He'd had her and lost her. Lost her in the process of trying to keep her alive and safe. Her eyes shifted down to his lips and back up before she tilted up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. If this was hate, he wanted more.

            His arms snaked around her waist, expelling any remaining air between them. Their tongues fought for control, both pulses speeding up. One hand was twisted in his shirt, the other behind his head, not letting him get away from her. Her eyes slammed open as his hands closed on the snap of the sheath still holding her favorite shiv – the one she'd stolen from him in Slam. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Panic over took her, and she twisted out of his grasp. He glanced down at it, then back at her.

            "Not now," he whispered. She stared back up at him, trembling slightly as he reached for her again, her skin burning where his made contact. Their lips were at war again, kissing, biting, whatever struck them at the moment. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, her lips breaking from his only long enough to wrench it from his body, taking his again as it fell to the floor. He'd had countless women before, but the one in his arms right now was the only one he'd ever let take control like this. His hands slid down her back and over her butt, each hand palming a cheek and lifting. Her legs went around his waist, her lips still attacking his as he carried her to her bedroom. She hadn't noticed that his fingers had already gone to work on the closure of her bra, but it was off before her back made contact with the mattress, his lips leaving a trail of heat as he moved down her body.

            He stopped suddenly, glancing back up at her quickly. She smiled, knowing what he was thinking. His eyes glittered as his fingers closed on the metal rod and turned it slightly, watching her back arch up toward him. A change he'd not considered. Nipple piercings. Wow. I've seen the hottest of hot. He smirked, leaning over to run his tongue over it lazily. Her moan served only to spur him on. His fingers made fast work of the buttons closing her jeans, sliding them down her legs, more skin exposed to his lips. He sighed and concentrated on the ankle holster, setting it on the floor, gun in place.

            She was tired of being controlled. It was her turn now. Her legs snapped around his waist and flipped him onto his back. He seemed a little surprised, but let it slide. She was, after all, in complete control of him. The throbbing was because of her, the clouded thoughts were because of her, his surrender was because of her. Hell, his presence was because of her. Her hands pinned his to the mattress on either side of his head. She was surprised he didn't fight it, but didn't slow down. She did, however, notice that there was a spot of heat on him for a fraction of a second after she lifted her lips from his skin, and it fascinated her. Yet another shine-job plus. Her tongue swirled around each of his nipples, and she smiled at the growl he granted her. She lived for vocalizations. He was too distracted by her tongue-assault to notice her fingers making quick work of his pants, and they were on the floor in a heap before he felt the tingling of the cool air on his skin. She radiated against him, fighting off the shivers for him. She closed her teeth on the side of his neck, biting and sucking hard, leaving a mark for the world to know he was hers, and hers alone. He groaned again, his hand tangling in her hair to bring her face back up to his. The ferocity of his kiss evoked a moan deep in her chest, and her lips were now pleasantly bruised.

            Her head spun as he flipped her again, pinning her underneath him. His turn again. Capillaries broke on the side of her neck, her mark returned to her. They belonged to each other now. As if there had been any questions before. His thumbs hooked in the sides of her black silk panties, sliding them slowly down her legs, his lips once again leaving a trail to her ankles. He worked his way back up her body, spending a little more time on those two pierced little nubs, reveling in her writhing underneath him. She cried out as he pushed his hips forward slowly, her back arching more than it should be able to. He filled her completely, now absolutely still. She was made for him, and he for her. They fit perfectly together. Still. His hand slid underneath her, up her back, coming to rest on the back of her neck. He lifted her head slightly.

            "Look at me, Cassidy," he whispered. She did, tears shining in her eyes. Their noses touched as he started moving, and her eyes fluttered closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He stopped again. "No, look at me," he demanded gently. She did, and a tear broke free. Her eyes never left his face as he bent down to stop it with a kiss. His eyes met hers again, his movements returning. She fought to keep her eyes open, focusing on the dancing of light in his eyes, knowing that pink glow was her. She let her hand travel up his back and around his neck, her thumb stroking his cheek. Her face twisted as the heat rose up from within her, but she still fought to keep her eyes open. Little moans escaped both of them as they exhaled, their breaths leaving goose bumps on each other's skin as it traveled over their glistening bodies. A trickle of sweat traveled down the side of his face, and she wiped it away with a trembling thumb. As long as she was staring into his eyes, she couldn't get there, just hovering on the edge. God damn, he's good. She whimpered, trying desperately to fall over that edge. His groans got louder, his brow furrowing. With one long thrust, his lips met hers, and her eyes slammed shut as she fell, his moan vibrating through her entire body as she convulsed under him, around him. He moved until he couldn't any more, and slumped against her, his hot breath fanning out across her skin, making her tingle. He bit her lip, and she moaned, another contraction around him making him echo her. She took his breath away, and he couldn't seem to catch up.

            Her eyes met his, tears still falling slowly down her cheeks. His fingers ran through little sections of her hair around her face, staring down into those mercury eyes. Neither said a thing, just stared. Her fingers pressed into the back of his head, drawing him back down to her for another kiss. The tenderness in that kiss surprised her, and her other hand tightened on his side, her hips grinding upwards against his to evoke another growl. But his kiss didn't change – still gentle. He rested his head on her shoulder, his nose grazing her neck. His eyes closed slowly as her fingers traced imaginary patterns lightly down his back. He didn't dare say what he was thinking. It couldn't be possible for him, a cold-blooded killer. He chalked it up to post-orgasmic haze and sighed lazily, listening to her heart beat return to normal.

            "I missed you," she whispered. He looked up at her, watching her lip tremble. A slight smile, but genuine all the same. Another tender kiss. Her hands went to his cheeks, caressing them lightly. If he never lived another day, he was satisfied with this one, as badly as it had started out. "But this isn't you," she finished after a long pause. His eyes searched hers. "You've never been…" she paused, thinking, "like this." He shook his head a little. "Gentle." No reaction. "You never made me cry like that before." His eyebrow twitched downward a fraction. "This is the Riddick I'm scared of." Her voice cracked. He waited for explanation. "This is the Riddick I could fall for." His lips met hers again, possessive. Her lips quivered even as she responded to his, fighting against his. She let out a sound that he knew had the same origin as her tears. The sound a child makes when it's trying to be quiet while crying. He pulled away, panting.

            "This is the Riddick you turned me into," he said between gasps. She shook her head, letting the tears break free again. He stroked her face and held her gaze. "And there's no way in hell I'm going to leave you again." Bigger tears. "I'm going to keep you alive." She nodded. He paused and smirked. "Please tell me you're reconsidering your decision to follow through on the hit." She laughed, her muscles clenching around him, evoking another moan. He dropped his head to her chest, planting a kiss where it happened to fall. "Tell me you don't hate me, even if it's a lie." He was begging. The great Richard B. Riddick was begging. She couldn't believe it.

            "I never have." Damn that lip for quivering. She almost lost it – almost broke down into complete and utter sobbing. "I had to hate you to keep from hating myself." He shook his head against her.

            "I'm sorry." His whisper made her shiver. This definitely wasn't the same man she'd met in Slam.