She moved, softly to the ledge, delighting in the way the loose cotton clung and swirled around her body. Her attention was caught by her guardian, who was sitting opposite. His goggles off, eyes close and head bowed, she felt free to study him. The glistening of sweat and water on his skin resembled liquid bronze, or maybe a finer metal, gold perhaps. The smooth melding of his muscles and his sheer, overwhelming scale was awe-inspiring. In this sumptuous chamber he looked more than the primeval incarnation of power, virility and masochism she had seen earlier, he looked like a king. His posture, the possessive and encompassing sweep of his arm span, the legs spread, a classic male posture of dominance and strength. He was a man made to be a ruler, smiling a little to herself she decided that her personal name for him would be "Emperor of the Seven Seas".

Sunk deep in his thoughts he did not notice her moving. Lifting his head slowly he saw her perched on the ledge opposite him, smiling softly to herself. The shifting water threw soft reflections on her skin and still caused her robes and hair to fan out around her, enforcing his image of her as an angel, no, something less grand he decided, a nymph, set down on earth, for a purpose that no man should know. Untouchable he realized, she was untouchable "maybe" he mused "maybe some god has set his mark on her, maybe she is meant for him only", then shaking his head slightly in disgust he tried to clear his mind from thoughts that were inappropriate at all levels.

The lights flickered for a minute, a curtain temporarily masked the light of the wall sconces, and she looked, just for a moment like a vulnerable child-woman from old world film noir, with her dark hair slicked back, shadows nestling under her high, rounded cheekbones and dramatic, defining eyebrows. Her eyes were so shadowy and enormous yet so wide and innocent.

He reined the beast in with a strength and anger he did not often feel, yes, this little foundling bought out the best and worst in him, dealing with her would be like a stepping through a minefield. It wasn't, he reasoned to himself, that he wasn't used to women, at any port he went to, they threw themselves at him, and he never turned them down. He was a man, and he had needs, the fulfilment of which never went beyond the carnal. But she was different, she was young, younger than the youngest woman he had ever been with, and she was calm, quiet and mature. Not only that but she had shown no interest in him, that rarely happened to Riddick, he was, in most peoples estimation, a god sent to earth either from heaven or hell was a matter of personal opinion, women found him irresistible, and yet here was one who seemed to not even notice he was male. Too young, he thought, too young to feel the current of dark desire in the room, too young to understand the heat in his gaze, too young to comprehend the true purpose of this room. Leaning his head back to the cool marble he let his mind drift to safer territories.

He glanced to where he heard a disturbance and the sight that greeted his eyes caused his mind to blank and loins to tighten. She was climbing out of the pool, unaware that the flimsy cotton robe was now see through and clung like a diaphanous film to her body. And what a body, long slits in the fabric revealed colt like legs, and skin so soft and translucent that his control all but slipped in his desire to feel it. She paused for a second in profile, she was waif slim and he could see her soft, high breasts, and an exquisite curve of her back that flared to the perfect curvature of her buttocks, then she turned her back to him and climbed out.

He let his breath out raggedly, willing himself to calm down, willing back his control, trying to placate his beast. He WOULD win this battle, be it against himself.