Umm, just a quick, first author's note….
To all who have reviewed: Thank you for spreading the love! This is my first Riddick fanfic and I feel kinda like a groupie, writing Jack/Riddick, but it's irresistible!
Concerning Imam: I recently learned that 'Imam' is a title, not a proper name, so I went back and did a little research to find out Imam's real name. Any mis-spellings are on me.
To PagingDrHouse-Furyan Goddess: Umm, yeah, I left it there for a reason. Don't know why, just yet…. I think that this chapter is going to be pretty weird… But much longer.
And you have to wait for good smut! Good smut doesn't just –happen!- It takes dedication, thought, and a lot of imaginary foreplay! LOL! Now, be a good goddess and be patient!
Chapter Three- Guilt By Association
New Medina
Imam Abu al-Walid flinched at the glittering honey eyes of the Sheikh of New Medina. This was impossible. No one was supposed to know. No one should have been able to associate Audrey Jacqueline Richards with Richard Bryan Riddick. Who had connected them? How? When?
"Imam al-Walid," the sheikh addressed formally. "Surely you can see the danger of having Riddick's whore in the Helion system. Why, the price for her head is a quarter million credits! Riddick is worth more than ten times that. Use the infidel whore to the greater glory of Allah. Tithe as much as you will and then keep the rest. Just give us Riddick's whore."
Abu flinched again. Jack was no whore. Who had betrayed them? Betrayed Jack? And why?!
"Only my daughters, Ziza al-Walid and Audrey Richards, reside with me. Neither Ziza nor Audrey are whores, Your Eminence."
"But you do not deny association with the one called Riddick," the sheikh exclaimed, pouncing on the omission.
"I cannot. Mister Riddick saved me on the planet T-2. I would not have survived the Hunter-Gratzner crash, but for Riddick's skill and Allah's mercy."
"He sacrificed your sons for his survival."
"As Allah forgives, so must I," Abu said, hands spread in a 'What else could I do?' gesture.
"Imam al-Walid, was your… daughter… close to Riddick? Allowed to spend unsupervised time with him?"
The pause before Sheikh Hazad called Jack Abu's daughter was telling. He knew of Jack's obsession with Riddick. Of Riddick's affection for Jack… how? How was this possible? They had all been so very, very, very careful!
"Audrey was barely twelve when she met Mister Riddick. Yes, they spent unsupervised time together. I do not believe Mister Riddick would do that to a child. Murderer, yes. Child rapist, never."
Abu didn't add that half of New Mecca knew about Sheikh Hazad's preference for young, barely legal brunettes. And the half of New Mecca that didn't know was the half that chose ignorance. Abu envied them their ignorance, but knew that being ignorant was for the weak. The only fool was the one that chose to be fooled.
Sheikh Hazad had wanted Abu to bring Jack to New Medina, to meet the young woman that had won so many of New Mecca's hearts. Abu had deliberately infected Jack with an active strain of the sand flu to protect her. Riddick could protect Jack while Abu was tied up on New Medina. He knew that Riddick would die for Jack, would give everything to protect her.
"Perhaps; however, if their relationship was purely platonic, as you claim, why would he give her something as personal as these?"
The sheikh held up the dogtags that Riddick had given Jack a little over a year ago and Abu knew who the traitor was. Only one person could have coordinated the theft and placed the fakes without Jack pulling a blade.
Ziza was far too young to understand what she had done, the terrifying events that were about to snowball beyond anyone's control, the betrayal that she'd committed.
Lajjun, though… Yeeees, Lajjun would know and understand everything. Lajjun hated Jack, hated every report Abu sent Riddick, every tiny affection he showed Jack, every small indulgence he gave Jack, every moment that Abu spent with Jack that didn't involve Ziza in some fashion.
When Riddick found out, Abu knew that Lajjun was going to die. "Fucking" with Jack was dangerous business because Jack belonged to Riddick…
Even if neither one of them admitted it yet.
x-x-x-x-x-x-
New Mecca
The sun was too bright in her face. Why were her curtains open? She distinctly remembered closing her curtains.
Janice's chatter was in the background. Who had turned Janice on? Janice was only on when Jack was writing in her journal or playing music…
She smelled food. Waffles, bacon, bananas, and a whiff of eggs. Her mouth salivated. She hadn't had bacon since just before the Hunter-Gratzner crash, as bacon was a pork product and pork was forbidden on New Mecca.
There was a scent of wild animal in her room. The scent of Riddick. He was really here. She hadn't dreamed him in the delirium of the sand flu.
She felt that she was on top of her covers, dressed only in her bra and panties, both soaked with fever sweat. Riddick must have undressed her….
That was when she realized that Riddick had undressed her more than she'd originally thought. Her bra and panties were mismatched. One was old Earth Flemish lace and the other New Austrian.
"Janice?!"
"Oh, Jack, you're awake! Thank God! You won't believe what that Furyan asshole threatened to do to me!" Janice gushed. "He threatened to hack me! Me! After that, I started a trid recording. Your Big Evil is a real bitch!"
Jack chuckled, mentally doing some square roots to check her competence at the moment. One is one, four is two…
"Janice, pull up trid of when he changed my clothes. Volume at fifty-percent and crystal clear clarity with the sound."
Janice's expression on the computer screen froze. "I… don't think that's wise, Jack."
"Play the damned trid, Janice."
The computer sighed, "Playing."
x-x-x-x-x-x-
Riddick walked into the room, carrying a bowl of water and several washcloths. His facial expression betrayed concern and fear.
What could make Richard Riddick afraid? Jack wondered.
He sponged off her face gently as her body shook, sweating profusely with tiny gasping moans.
"Riddick!!!" she screamed, eyes wide with terror and unseeing.
"I'm here, Jack. Always here for you."
"No, you aren't. You went away. You left me and the mercs came. Why aren't my eyes like your's? I've killed people, Riddick," she whimpered.
"Mercs don't count, Jack. Mercs are scum. How long they been comin' here, Jack?"
"Since right before my sixteenth birthday. A couple of days after the 'tags started feelin' funny. Ziza had accidentally taken them, but they looked the same."
Riddick looked at the dogtags and cursed. "Fuckin' hell, kid. Those ain't my tags."
"I know that you're in my head, Riddick, but give me enough strength to get undressed, please? You know how I hate sweaty clothing."
He gained an expression she didn't recognize. "Jack, you don't know what you're sayin'. Fuck, you don't know what the hell you're askin'."
His hands went to the hem of her shirt, though, carefully lifting it. Her arms went up and the shirt went over her head. One giant finger brushed down her shirt, infinitely gentle.
His eyes narrowed and he muttered, "Shut up, you stupid animal. She's different. She's more important than that. Too important for that."
"Janice, freeze and zoom on his face."
The scene stopped and Jack went breathless, her heart beating far too fast. She knew then. Knew Richard Riddick's darkest secret. She knew with the certainty of a sixteen-year-old young woman who was far too mature for her years.
Richard Bryan Riddick, convict, murderer, sociopath, escape artist, genius, was in love with her. Head over heels in love… with Jack Richards!
x-x-x-x-x-x-
Riddick heard Jack when she got up and started moving. Her fever had broke early yesterday, but he'd given her another dose of sedative. He wanted her to have a little bit more rest. A body scan had revealed that she'd been up for days.
He could hear her addressing the computer as she moved around. She was still weak, as he couldn't quite make out the words, but he wasn't going up there to see if she needed help, taking the chance that she was still mostly nude.
Damn you, Holy Man. You know why I left. It was your idea that I leave. To give her stability, a chance to mature. What the fuck is the idea of calling me back? How am I supposed to live with temptation this fuckin' close?
He heard the shower turn on, then the music. Then a scream of "Survivor!!!"
Riddick shook his head with a small laugh. Yeah, Jack was a survivor. He could hear her shouting the lyrics with the song. She was definitely feeling better.
He mused about her journal entries. She may believe that she was losing her mind, but Riddick knew exactly what it was. She had the fury, like him, the inner animal that was too close to the skin. He knew the violent urges of her age.
Mate, kill, fight, feed. She had killed. She had fought. She may have even fed off the emotions of her kills, but she had never mated. He would have smelled it on her.
Because she is ours
Riddick shuddered at the possessive wave that washed over him. He couldn't help it. He had touched her, ran his finger down the so-sensitive flesh of her neck, pushed her back on the bed with a gentle hand on her stomach. He was the first to touch those places. To blend his scent with hers like that.
"Riddick?" came a soft voice.
He turned around and groaned inwardly. Not fair, Jack. Not fuckin' fair. You can't dress like that. You ain't supposed to dress like that.
She was dressed in a ripped green tank top that revealed more of her stomach than it covered, jeans that were just at the point of being too tight against her rather fantastic ass, and a pair of boots that transformed her from coltish elegance to mile-long fuck-me-now legs.
If this was how she normally dressed, Riddick couldn't really blame Lajjun for calling the mercs. None of her more private areas were revealed, but it was as if she were screaming, "I'm here and no one can touch me."
Hell, she could have made Holy Man's most sacred Prophet think dirty. Who could blame a mere man like Riddick from hardening to the point of pain and wishing most desperately that New Mecca had whores?
"Yeah, Kid?"
That's right. She's 'Kid.' She's too young. Too inexperienced. To touch her would surely damn me. Not as if murdering sixty-something people hasn't damned me, but to touch her would be a fuckin' shame.
"Is breakfast ready? Or do I have time to take a small run through the training program?"
Is she really there, Riddick, or are you imagining her because you need her? queried his beast. Admit it, you've seen her standing in that exact same position in less than that. Could it be that your prudishness has you imagining her there in that rough resemblance to clothing?
He didn't want to admit it. Was it possible that he was having a delusion because having her so close, but unaware, was painful?
It was possible… There was a way to tell, though.
"C'mere, Kid."
She walked forward, the steps silent. He knew then that it was a delusion and he was free to act as he wished. It wasn't as if he hadn't taken her a hundred times in his dreams.
His arms went around her and he tipped her head up. "Sorry, Kid."
His lips met hers and the beast roared in satisfaction…