Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

This chapter is Rated R but is not strictly PWP, it's pertinent to the character arcs.

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Time Enough

The first week of her extended training left her exhausted beyond the point of thinking. Jaron was clever about how to start training Nor. Nor responded willingly enough to him as long as he spoke Furyan, and they would not teach her in any other language. With Zemma, Nor was more enthusiastic.

W'Rdah was not, however. Still, he did acquiesce to the request of his friend and Zemma found herself in a training simulator… and getting knocked in the back of the head every time she wasn't perfect.

Acceptance… peace…

She didn't complain but one particularly energetic clout caused the helmet she was wearing to smash into her nose rather painfully. Jaron had frowned when he saw her that night but neither spoke of it. The next day's lesson seemed calmer, if not less acerbic.

Peace.

By week's end W'Rdah was cuffing her less and less.

Six days since she had last seen Riddick but her heart didn't hurt as much as it had before she faced her feelings for him.

Truth. Peace. Now.

And Now was very, very busy. She didn't even have time to follow the politics and Jaron seemed reluctant to speak of it. Still, she thought she could guess what he wouldn't tell her. Riddick was putting distance between them.

So it was no surprise when she saw a cloaked figure walking purposefully in the direction of the Lord Marshal's quarters.

Acceptance.

Truth.

Peace.

Damn it.

Peace!

It was a surprise to have Riddick visit her again that night, smelling of soap and liquor. Zemma made no move when she woke to his presence in her room. Nor made her greeting noise and climbed off the bed where she had been sleeping at Zemma's feet. Zemma waited for the Now to play itself out.

Riddick patted Nor on the head as she left the room, then crossed it and sat on the edge of her bed. He was almost vibrating with tension. Zemma reach out to him but he caught her hand before she could touch him and pinned it to the bed, still not looking at her. Zemma waited.

Riddick turned on the bed to regard her and she looked back peacefully with her lenses twitched up. She tried to turn her hand so she could wrap her fingers around his but he tightened his grip until she stopped. Then he moved her hand and changed his grip to his other hand. With the free one he threw back the covers, exposing her. Zemma smiled, but he returned it with a cold look, a predatory look.

She mentally shrugged to herself. If he was angry with her she couldn't know why until he bothered to tell her. If he was angry at something else she was willing to help him forget about it.

With his free hand he was feeling her body, the other still had one of hers pinned to the bed. Zemma reached for the buttons on her nightshirt but he pulled it away and pinned it too. He was now leaning half over her, face to face with her hands unmoving near her head. He was searching her face for something.

Fear? Was he looking for fear? She could have laughed out loud at the idea. She hadn't feared him even in the beginning; she mostly feared herself and her own uncertain feelings. She kept her face blank and waited in anticipation of the Now.

Riddick's head dropped down quickly to her exposed neck and he bit her hard. Zemma gasped but when she tried to rub her cheek against him he pulled away and looked at her face again. She quirked her mouth and spoke in a harsh whisper in Furyan.

"Get on with it, you colossal prick, what are you waiting for?"

He recognized a few of those words. His eyes narrowed. Zemma restrained a smile.

Gotcha.

In a flash he was no longer beside her but astride her, still holding her down, still staring at her with his unreadable blue eyes. She stared back with hers. If he wanted to impress upon her that she was merely fuckable and not loveable she was far from offended. She recognized a mask when she saw one.

If he gave her the chance she was going to bite him back SO hard.

He pushed her hands together above her head where he was able to hold them both in one of his. Then, one hand freed, he ripped her shirt from her. He handled her roughly and she tried to twist up to bite him but only succeeded in gnashing her teeth. That almost put a smile on his face, a grim one at any rate.

He had to know she was just playing back, right?

Zemma bucked her hips up against him but Riddick was too large to be moved. He forced his legs between hers and kicked off his boots. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tighter against her. The low rumble in her throat could have been a growl or a moan.

Though awkward for a moment while he still held her hands together, they were finally liberated of their clothing. Zemma matched Riddick's fervent movements with her own ardent ones. At some point she noticed he had freed her hands but was too occupied to do more than clutch at him.

Release was excruciating.

Sweating, hovering above her, looking down, Riddick's face was unreadable as before. Zemma arched up and caught his face for a kiss. And bit his lip till she tasted blood.

He didn't seem to mind as he kissed her back.

Neither spoke. And when Zemma woke in the morning he was gone.

Time enough.