A/N: Thank you for the comments! This fic is a departure from my comfort zone and I appreciate the kind feedback. :)
CHAPTER 2 - Breathe
Royal guards escorted Mara to a private training facility adjacent to the Imperial palace, directing her to the secured entry. Lord Skywalker had sent instructions to use the fingerprint recognition pad for access and she entered the spacious dome cautiously.
The room was dark with minimal glow strips around the outline of the floor. As she ascended the few steps leading to the exercise platform, light beams around the walls and ceiling illuminated spontaneously.
It was only then that she noticed Lord Skywalker standing on the opposite side of the room. He mounted the steps casually, "Let's get this out of the way now, shall we?"
Mara eyed him suspiciously, "Get what out of the way?"
He stopped in front of her, adopting a casual stance, "You want to kill me."
She shrugged, "A lot of people want to kill you."
"True," he granted. "But you," he flicked a finger and a panel opened on the wall beside them, "are the only one who will have the opportunity today."
Mara turned toward the wall and felt her jaw go slack. The panel had become a display table for one of the most impressive collections of weaponry she had ever seen: knives, vibroblades, lightsabers, neuronic whips, stun lassos, and force pikes.
Resting his hands lightly on the table, he seemed almost apologetic, "You'll pardon me for not including blasters, but I prefer hand to hand combat. It's much more…satisfying, don't you think?"
Mara crossed her arms over her chest. "And what? You're just going to stand there? That'll be rather boring, don't you think?"
"Oh, no," he straightened. "I intend to fight. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."
Shrugging off his cloak, he flung it away revealing his simple attire of black form-fitting trousers and open-neck tunic.
"I don't expect that you are proficient with a lightsaber yet," he continued, "although you are certainly welcome to use one, but I believe that I have provided a sufficient selection befitting your expertise. And, seeing as how I am not entirely without chivalry, I will allow you to choose the weapon, or weapons, of my destruction."
Mara eyed him warily. Discarding her own jacket, she rolled up the sleeves of her Imperial-issue jumper and plucked a vicious looking force pike from the table. She turned to face him, and paused. She had dreamed of this chance for years and yet, now that the opportunity was at hand, she found herself strangely immobile.
Skywalker grasped a similar pike and rounded the table toward her. "Suddenly shy, are you? Perhaps you need a little incentive." He smiled harshly, "Did you like your cell mates in prison? I picked them out myself."
Mara sucked in a breath at the thought of the creatures that had existed with her for no other reason that to make her life a living hell. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on the staff.
"Such noble restraint," he mocked, stepping close enough to touch her. "Are you always so demure?" His eyes traveled freely down her shapely form, pausing to appreciate the feminine contours that even a generic jumper could not conceal.
It was then that she struck; but he was ready. Blow for blow they clashed, the sharp sounds of battle beating a staccato into the silence of the arena.
Mara's refined combat skills rose easily to the task but were quickly engulfed in the wake of Skywalker's dark power.
She stumbled slightly and he slammed her against the table. "I must confess," he taunted, stoking her fervor. "The year of solitary confinement was my father's idea. He said it was incredible what one could learn about oneself while enclosed in the dark."
Mara growled, her boot finding a vantage point and pushing him away with a thrust of anger. In the split second of respite, she grabbed the neuronic whip from the table and lashed out at him. He dodged, but not before the whip's tail grazed his chest, slicing his tunic open.
Skywalker grinned, ignoring the pain, "I do believe you've used one of those before."
Mara snapped the whip again and he caught it in his bare hands, pain exploding through the Force as he jerked the weapon violently from her grasp and lifted the hilt over his head.
Mara dove under the table but not before the whip caught her across the leg. The split-second it took her to stifle a scream was all he needed to press his advantage.
Tossing the table aside, he landed on top of her, planting his knee firmly against her lower back and pinning her face down on the floor. Leaning forward, he pushed damp locks of red-gold hair away from her face with his left hand, turning her head to the side, while his right hand journeyed below her waist.
Caressing the searing welt along her thigh and buttock, his hand lingered over the muscled firmness beneath his palm. "I can heal that wound, if you'd like," he offered coolly, a stark contrast to the heat of his hands.
"Don't do me any favors," Mara spat. Fuelled by humiliation, she gathered her arms beneath her and heaved Skywalker off her back. His momentary loss of balance gave her an opening and she tackled him head-on.
Skin and sweat mingled in slick opposition as they wrestled across the floor with grunts and cries akin to lovers in the throes of passion. Skywalker's superior size and Force ability eventually prevailed and he trapped her beneath him.
Flattened on her back, Mara glared up at him, struggling against his control. Shaggy hair framed his face in damp waves as he straddled her hips and restrained her wrists over her head. She couldn't help but notice that his exposed, muscled chest was surprisingly tanned…no doubt a result of his childhood as a sand flea, she thought.
"Your master writhed, as well," he goaded. "When my father had relieved him of the use of his arms and legs, he promised all manner of offerings in exchange for his life."
Mara bucked beneath his weight, "You're lying."
"Hardly," he hissed. "You were one of them."
With a cry of rage, Mara pulled the Dark Force into herself and pushed, vaulting Skywalker over her head. He collided against the wall as she simultaneously called a set of vibroblades from across the room and launched one towards him.
The blade halted less than a meter from her Lord's bare hand, suspended in mid air as he rose to his feet. She flung the second blade…and froze, suddenly unable to breathe. Her shoulders hunched in an effort to draw air, but her lungs would not expand.
She fell to her knees as Skywalker approached.
He knelt in front of her, having immobilized her diaphragm, abdominal muscles and rib cage, and watched as she gasped in futile attempt to draw breath. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her panting body close.
Sliding the clasp of her jumper open, he placed a hot hand against the smooth skin of her abdomen as unconsciousness threatened. Drawing her ear to his lips, he released his hold and whispered, "Breathe."
She fell gasping into his arms, her breasts heaving against his bare chest. "Impressive," he purred, gathering her sweat-soaked hair against his face. "Most impressive."
to be continued...