A/N: Oh yes. It's back. After... who knows how many months:P To those of you who have continued to write reviews and poke me to update, thankyou so much, and I'm really really sorry it's taken so long! I was ridiculously stuck on this chapter for ages. But hopefully, the contents will help to make up for the long wait. ;) So, without further ado... chapter 11!

Chapter 11: Overwhelmed

Late that night I lay in the dark cabin, curled up tightly in the bedsheets, trying desperately to empty my mind. After a while I realised it wasn't just my mind that was the problem. My heart was pounding, my stomach fluttering anxiously. The harder I tried to push away thoughts of Kurtis, the more vivid and insistent they became. His touch had been electrifying. Kissing him had felt amazing, although it was torture to admit it. I tried to replace his image in my head with Daniel's, lovely charming handsome Daniel who was probably thinking about me too right now. Wondering where the hell I was, worrying about what might be happening to me. But his face refused to stay focused in my mind and kept slipping away, leaving me alone with these hot, desperate feelings. I could still almost taste Kurtis, feel his fingers on my back.

I rolled over, eyes wide open in the gloom. The problem was that I had always been attracted to Kurtis. Our first meeting, over a year ago in the Louvre Gallery, had been almost as tantalising as our first kiss. He was such an enigma then, this complete stranger who had held a gun to my throat and looked into my eyes as though he knew me better than I knew myself. In all our time in Paris and Prague we spent only minutes in each other's presence, but we had an effect on each other that kept him in my mind long after he was gone from my side.

I had had to forget him when I went back to England, especially when I decided to put my tomb raiding days behind me. But I realised now how often I must have thought of him even then, maybe without realising it. When I saw him in that dockside warehouse, despite my anger and confusion at the situation, I felt as though I had been waiting for him.

I turned over again and buried my face in the pillows. I felt so ashamed of how my body had responded to Kurtis' earlier. He was hateful, he was pathetic, he had no interest in me other than as something to trade for a nice big fee. Why should I feel so confused when that was all painfully clear? I screwed my eyes up tight, trying not to imagine how awkward I would feel the next morning, and how hard it would be to look him in the eye. I had no way out. I was trapped on this ship, I was trapped by my hatred of Kurtis, and I was trapped by my desire for him.

I got out of bed and went into the small bathroom. In the dark I ran cold water over my hands, then splashed some on my face. The action achieved little, but it felt better than lying in bed agonising over every thought. I think it was while I was dabbing my face dry on the towel that I felt something give way inside me, some trigger that seemed to switch all of my fear and indecision into a cold, unshakeable determination. If the episode with Kurtis earlier that day proved anything, it was that I must be starting to lose my mind. Well, no more. I had played along with this insane trip for long enough.

I had to escape my captors tonight. And for that to happen, they all had to die.

Back in the bedroom I took my suitcase from the wardrobe, and without turning on any lights I felt around for a pair of combats and vest top. I dressed swiftly and wound my hair into a tight braid, noticing that even as the adrenaline was pumping around my body, a welcome sense of calm and purpose had arisen in my mind, clearing away the previous conflict. I left my boots by the bed, choosing to go barefoot and thus almost silent, and let myself out into the corridor. There was no external lock on my door, and no guard outside, but the main entrance to the suite had been set up with some kind of electronic locking device and alarm. That obstacle did not bother me too much; by the time I had to get through it, Gunderson and his men should be in no condition to stop me.

I moved across the hallway and down to the next door, my bare feet making no sound on the thick carpet. This was Kurtis' room. Several long, uneasy moments passed as I stood by the door, listening for any noise from within. Nothing. I put a hand on the doorknob and turned it, very very slowly. It was unlocked. I slipped in through the door and closed it soundlessly behind me, heart pounding. I could hear steady, sleeping breaths from somewhere to my right. The curtains at the wide window were still open, and outside a full moon hung in the clear black sky, making it easier for me to make out the shapes of furniture as I scanned the room for what I needed. I crept over to a leather chair that stood by the door to the en suite bathroom. Kurtis' clothes were slung over the seat, and I carefully moved the garments aside until I felt the cold, hard shape of his gun, still in its holster. I slid it silently from the leather sheath and tucked it into the waistband of my combats before resuming my search. Attached to the belt on his trousers was the circular bladed weapon I had seen him use in Paris and Prague. I left it where it was, too nervous of its strange powers to want to try using it myself, but found a small folding knife in one of the pockets I explored. I withdrew the blade and tested it against my thumb; it was sharp. The knife gripped tight in my hand, I turned and walked towards the bed.

Through the shadows I could make out his figure, lying on his back with his head turned away from me, one hand resting palm-up on the pillow beside him. Sheets covered him up to the waist, but his chest was bare. He didn't stir despite my closeness. I fought to keep my breathing quiet and even.

This should be easy. All I had to do was reach down, pull the blade across his jugular, and my worries would be as good as over. The other guards would be easy to take care of in comparison. It was Kurtis, with his telekinetic advantages and superior fighting skills, who was really standing in my way. This was what he deserved, and once it was done I would take his weapon and finish off the others. Gunderson would have to be next, wiped out before he could send a warning to the men holding Winston and Daniel. Then that sleazy bastard Vadim, I thought with disgust. As for Paul – well, I didn't want to kill him, but if he fought then I would have no choice.

All these thoughts ran through my head, clear as day, making perfect sense. But after a few minutes I was still standing there, and the knife was still in my hands, unused. What's wrong with me, I thought. I never used to hesitate like this. But I wasn't the same person I used to be. I had never wanted to kill a man again after hanging up my pistols a year ago. After Prague.

No, I told myself. This is different. This is your only chance. You have to get out of here and get home, back to real life. I stepped closer to the bed, the fist clutching the knife hovering over his throat. His chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, such a gentle, simple movement that seemed to render me completely incapable of violence. In the monochrome moonlight his skin was rendered in shades of grey, and the silvery line of a scar showed on his flat stomach. I remembered my last sight of him in the Strahov, looking up at me from that arena, willing to face that hideous creature alone. Perhaps the scar was a souvenir of that battle.

A wave of anger rushed over me suddenly. That hadn't been the real Kurtis that day in Prague, and I couldn't let myself become weak now. The real Kurtis was a lying, greedy, heartless killer and I could only be doing the world a favour by taking him out. I took another, final step forward and pressed the cold blade against his throat. He jolted awake and raised his head from the pillow, eyes blinking sleep away.

"What is –" he began, but stopped abruptly as he saw me. His eyes were wide in the dark, and we stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of us quite able to believe I was paying him this visit. I pushed the knife harder, enough to draw blood, but he just stared right back at me.

After a moment he spoke, just a single word, said without fear or anger.

"Lara."

I didn't say anything in return, just stayed exactly where I was, hand closed tight around the knife's handle to keep from trembling. I was breathing hard with the rage I felt, and although I tried to control it I felt ready to explode. Still I couldn't bring myself to finish the kill, and I realised that the anger was mostly aimed at myself, caused by my own weakness and stupidity when it came to this man.

"Sit up," I said eventually, my voice coming out barely above a whisper. I released the pressure slightly on his neck and he did as I said, raising himself up on his elbows and pulling the bedsheets closer to his body as he sat up fully. As my eyes wandered over his exposed flesh my mind reeled with the conflicting urges of hate and desire. I badly wanted to cause him pain, that much was still true; but I wanted him sexually, too, and that need was growing stronger with every passing moment. Perhaps the rage would have won out if I hadn't been so transfixed by his body. He was about as fine a specimen of the male physique as I had ever seen. And then there were those haunting eyes…

Keeping the knife firmly in place, I watched his eyes widen in surprise as I threw one leg over his and lowered myself onto the bed, kneeling astride his body with the weapon held between us. I placed my free hand on his chest, enjoying the sensation of his taut muscles beneath my fingertips, and from deeper within, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against my palm. Staring into his shadowed eyes, I reached around to the back of his head and twisted my fingers into his hair so hard that he breathed in sharply. He shivered as the tip of the blade moved slowly, almost seductively from his throat down over his chest and stomach.

"I could kill you in a thousand different ways," I whispered as the knife played over his defenseless body. I tilted his head back and lowered my face to his neck, listening to his breathing growing heavier as I trailed my tongue lightly over the soft skin of his throat.

He slid his hands up my thighs to my hips, and I held back a moan of pleasure as his thumbs brushed at the bare skin above my waistband. His hands encircled my waist, then froze for a split second as his fingers found the cold metal of the gun I had concealed in the back of my combats. I paused and withdrew my face from his neck, waiting to see what he would do next, my heart pounding with anticipation. He pulled the gun from my belt and brought it round to the front of my body. His eyes left mine momentarily as he glanced down at the weapon, and I saw a hint of a smile play at the corners of his mouth. I gazed back at him, unafraid, as he clicked off the safety on the pistol and pressed the barrel to my chest.

What now? we seemed to ask each other silently. The answer was simple. As Kurtis pulled me further into his lap, bringing our bodies so close together that only our weapons and my clothes now came between us, I used the hand still gripping him by the hair to bring his face towards mine. Our mouths met in a kiss that was both passionate and aggressive. He withdrew his left hand from my waist and trailed it gently down my bare arm, making me shiver, until his strong fingers encircled my wrist and held it firmly. He was trying to relieve me of my weapon while I was distracted by his lips. Well, two can play at that game, I thought, not breaking from the kiss as I released his head from my other hand and reached for his right arm, the one holding the gun. He squeezed my wrist, trying to loosen my grip on the knife, and I mirrored his movements. My thumb pressed hard against his pulse as we wrestled slowly, testing each other's strength and resolve, our bodies held in balance by the matched efforts of our muscles. But suddenly I felt an invisible force shove against my solar plexus and that balance was lost. I was thrown backwards onto the bed, and in the confusion I lost my grip on both Kurtis and the knife. In a flash he was on top of me and his fingers wrapped around my lower arms, pinning me to the mattress.

"Cheat," I hissed, tugging uselessly against him, furious that he had used his telekinesis to get the better of me. Well, what did you expect? said a voice in my head, and I realised that it was entirely my fault I was in this crazy situation. What the hell was I doing here?

My thoughts lost all clarity as Kurtis kissed me, pressing his body to mine as I writhed beneath him. My spine arched up towards him as though magnetised, my hips responding to his motions by pushing urgently against his. But despite my arousal, I still wanted to fight. With a sudden surge of energy I wrenched my arms free and shoved hard against his chest, pushing him back up onto his knees. He grabbed hold of my arm to steady himself, and then with his other arm around my waist he pulled me up so that we were both kneeling. As our lips locked again, his hands moved to my sides and up underneath my vest, dragging the fabric with them. Every motion of his fingers sent out ripples of electricity through my body, as though his skin was communicating with mine more directly that my brain could. I was amazed at how out of control I had become in just the last few moments. My body wanted to be with his, and it wouldn't have listened even if I'd tried to tell it to stop. My limbs were responding to his command now, not mine. Without conscious decision I raised my arms to let him strip off my top completely. I ran my hands over his bare torso, hungrily digging my fingertips into his warm flesh as he sought out and unfastened the clasp on my bra. I had to press my lips even harder against his to keep from moaning aloud as his hands moved over my breasts, and I reached lower, exploring his body as I'd always secretly wanted to, feeling the evidence of his own need for me.

There was no sign now of the resentment and malice that had tainted our encounters up to this point; only the intensity of our desire. It had always been there as a deep and powerful undercurrent, and here in the dark and the silence it was easy to forget the rest. As Kurtis peeled away my remaining clothes and pushed me down onto the bed I felt an overwhelming sense of inevitability, as though this moment – however brief and foolish it may be – was destined from the start. With the shared suspicion that this was to be our only chance, we threw everything into the exploration, making love with both violence and tenderness.

Afterwards, as our movements slowed and the sweat began to cool on our bodies, I lay back and closed my eyes, savouring the last of Kurtis' kisses and the delicious feel of his skin before he pulled away. He lay on his side and ran his hand gently up the length of my body, over my stomach, my chest and my throat. I looked at his shadowed face, soft and handsome, and wished that our moment could last a little longer. It was hard to believe that despite feeling so powerful, what had just happened didn't really change anything. The same dangers and duties awaited us outside this room. With this thought weighing on me, I rolled away from Kurtis and swung my feet onto the floor. I gathered up my scattered clothing and dressed in silence.

"So… what now?" Kurtis said quietly from behind me. I could hear the doubt in his voice.

I breathed in deeply before replying with a heavy heart. "Now, I leave. And I suppose we pretend this never happened."

I heard him get to his feet and walk towards me, and a moment later his hands were on my shoulders. He turned me around to face him, and lifted my face for one last kiss. I let my lips linger close to his for a long time, then pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Kurtis," I whispered.

"For what?"

In reply I raised my right hand and swung it lightning-fast towards his head, striking him hard across the temple with the butt of the gun I had picked up along with my clothes. His eyes opened wide in surprise, too late to react, and he toppled sideways to the floor. I stepped over him and paced quickly to the bed, where I retrieved the knife from the mess of crumpled sheets.

In the doorway I cast a single glance back at Kurtis, lying naked and unconscious on the carpet. There was nothing more I could do for him. My body could connect with his, but I couldn't save his soul. And now, it was time to get off this damn ship.

A/N:Well, there you go... Lara's just a hot-blooded woman like anybody else; you all knew she couldn't hold out for long against someone that damn gorgeous! XD Hope the chapter was ok, I didn't want to make it too porny, but it still had to be sexy...your thoughts and comments will be greatly appreciated. Next chapter: things go a bit pear-shaped as Lara tries to make her escape. :)