Author's Note: Thanks so much to all of you that reviewed the first chapter! This chapter should explain a few things, but it's going to be a bit of a slow build for a while. I hope this installment is up to expectations – it was actually kind of hard to write (I got distracted with a Lit paper, among other things…). So, please excuse the awkwardness and any errors, no matter the kind. And, as always, read, review, and enjoy.
P.S. To those of you that got the Fray's song stuck in your head after reading the first chapter, I can commiserate. I've been living with it playing continually until I'm pretty sure my brain will explode.
Disclaimer: Wish I owned it…then college would be paid for…-
Kyra's alarm woke her the next morning. Groaning, she rolled over and reached out to find something – someone – in the bed next to her. That someone was resting right behind her, with an arm thrown possessively over her hip. Who…? Then she remembered – last night at the Shooting Star. Riddick.
Taking a deep breath, Kyra carefully disentangled herself from his arms. She reached over Riddick's broad chest and turned off the alarm, sliding slowly out of bed. Cautiously, she made her way to the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind her. She turned on the shower, then stared at herself in the mirror for as the water warmed up. Brilliant green eyes in a pale face stared back at her.
My God. What have I done?
She'd spent the past two years planning exactly what she would do if he ever dared darken her door again – and falling right into bed with him had not been a part of any of those plans. Yelling at him, ignoring him, kicking his ass – yes; any or all of those things. But almost letting him take her against an alley wall? Definitely not. She rubbed a hand over her face and groaned. What was she going to do now? Taking out her contacts, she started to turn the problem over in her head, looking for an answer. By the time she stepped under the hot spray, Kyra had the beginnings of a plan.
Riddick heard the kid getting into the shower and rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head. He'd woken at the soft sound of Kyra's clock radio, but he'd kept his breathing slow and even as the kid reached over him to turn off the alarm. She wasn't as sharp as she used to be, so as long as he didn't move she wouldn't know he was awake.
Now, as her soft singing drifted to him from the bathroom, he stared at the ceiling and thought. He knew the kid hadn't meant for any of last night's…activities…to happen. Technically, neither had he – at least not like that. Idly, he wondered when she would get around to tearing him a new one; he was sure she would, sooner or later. Lost in his thoughts, Riddick suddenly heard the water shut off. Glancing toward the bedroom door, he saw the kid standing there, wrapped in a towel; her silvered eyes glinted in the dark.
"When did you get the contacts?" he asked, suddenly. He hadn't noticed last night, but he realized that was probably one of the reasons he hadn't recognized her; a pair of colored contact lenses and she'd look just like any other girl – yeah right, like she could look like just any other girl…
"Good morning to you, too," the kid replied. "Didn't mean to wake you," she added, crossing the room to the dresser and opening a drawer. Riddick watched as she pulled out some clothes, then looked away as she started tugging them on.
Kyra donned her coveralls first, belting them low on her hips. She let the upper half hang around her legs as she pulled a snug black tank top over her head. Shrugging into the top part of the coveralls, she left them unzipped and headed out of the bedroom. Still silently berating herself, Kyra grabbed the day's paper from the mail slot in the front door, then she went into the kitchen. Flipping on the light as she crossed the room, she poured herself a cup of coffee and put some bread in the toaster. As she opened the paper she glanced at the kitchen clock and made a mental note of how much time she had before her shift started. Then she took a sip of her coffee and scanned the headlines, waiting for her toast
Riddick wandered into the kitchen a little later to find Kyra sitting at the table. She had the paper spread out in front of her as she finished her toast. She glanced up as he opened a cabinet, searching for the cups.
"Still in the same place," she said, looking back down at the article she was reading. "Cabinet right next to the cooling unit, bottom shelf." Riddick opened the cabinet she mentioned and grabbed a mug. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he turned around and leaned back against the counter before taking his first sip. The kid glanced up at the clock again and sighed.
Closing the paper, Kyra popped the last bite of toast in her mouth and washed it down with the rest of her second cup of coffee. She left the paper on the table as she rose and crossed to put her dishes in the sink. On her way out of the kitchen, she absently turned off the light. When she realized what she'd done, she paused and reached behind her before remembering that Riddick didn't need it. Shrugging, she ducked into the bathroom to finish getting ready for work.
When the kid came back into the kitchen, Riddick could tell she had her contacts back in. He frowned; he didn't like not being able to see the wash of silver over her green eyes. Wondering how he had missed the difference last night, he started when she spoke.
"I'll be back sometime tonight – probably around seven or so. Your old set of keys is in the back of the freezer, if you need them. If you go out at all, be sure to lock up." She grabbed her keys out of a little bowl in the center of the kitchen table. Then, after tying her shoes and shrugging into a light jacket, she was gone.
Well. This was proving very interesting.
After Riddick finished his coffee and showered, he took a while to just look around the apartment. The kid was doing relatively well for herself, that much was easy to see. There were a few more pieces of furniture scattered throughout the small rooms – an end table and television stand in the living room, a night table in the bedroom, a small china cabinet in the kitchen. She'd also hung some pictures on the walls – mostly framed art prints, nothing that she would mind losing if she had to pick up and leave in a hurry. In the bathroom, he saw the organized chaos of make-up, toiletries, and contact supplies scattered across the counter. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the distinctly feminine scent that seemed to cling to everything, and smiled. That was something else he'd missed over the past two years – that apple smell that seemed to follow Kyra everywhere.
When he'd finished looking around, Riddick realized that Kyra hadn't kept any of the things he'd left behind. Or if she did, she's hidden them well. Sighing, he grabbed his keys out of the freezer – exactly where the kid said they'd be – and left the apartment.
-
Kyra was on edge all day, tensing at every little sound. It was like her senses were working in overdrive, and a few times she just barely caught herself before she hurt one of the guys in the shop. Now that Riddick was back, she had a whole list of things to worry about. The bounty for her had dropped off over the years, but mercs still tailed Riddick like sunrise followed sunset.
Around seven, she glanced at the clock and sighed – she'd managed to make it almost the whole day without losing her control. Turning back to her work, she bent over the engine of an old Ford, double-checking her repairs. She was tightening a screw, a screwdriver in her right hand, a wrench in her left, when she heard someone moving behind her. Her hands tightened almost imperceptibly on her tools as she paused, listening.
At the sound of a work-hardened hand scraping against fabric, she didn't hesitate. Whirling around, Kyra had her screwdriver at her would-be attacker's throat and was about to bring the wrench down on his temple before she registered who it was. Cap stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. She could smell the shock and fear radiating off him. Slowly, she dropped her hands to her sides, still clutching the tools in a white-knuckled grip.
"What the fuck, kid?" Cap growled, once he was sure she wasn't going to open his throat with her flat blade.
"Guess I'm a little jumpy today," she muttered, lamely. Turning around, she bent back to the engine to hide her embarrassment.
"Yeah, well you can just take your jumpy ass home," he grumbled. Kyra kept her head bent to her work, listening as he moved away. She sighed; she wasn't about to argue, especially after almost bashing his skull in with a wrench. Quickly, she did a final check on the Ford and closed the hood. Putting her tools away, she clocked out and headed home.
The walk to her apartment seemed to take longer than usual, but when she reached her building, Kyra couldn't seem to bring herself to go in. She stood outside, smoking, until she felt a familiar presence next to her.
"Those things are gonna kill you, kid."
Kyra ignored Riddick and tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing it out with her shoe. Brushing past him, she headed straight for the staircase. Someone had fixed the elevator a few months ago, but she never bothered using it – she didn't trust it. Instead, she took the stairs; at least she knew she'd get to her apartment. At the top of the fourth flight, she unlocked the door and stalked inside.
Riddick followed close behind Kyra, making sure to close and lock the door. Turning around, he saw her toss her keys into the small bowl on the kitchen table before she disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged again, he caught a glint of silver as she glanced down the hall and realized that she'd taken her contacts out.
Kyra crossed into their – her – bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She didn't say anything as she felt Riddick come to stand in the doorway.
"You never told me when you got the contacts." His voice washed over her in that old familiar way, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from throwing herself into his arms.
"They came in a few days after you left," she said, tossing her coveralls into the hamper. As she pulled on a clean pair of pants, she hesitated. "I sent yours back," she added, glancing toward him. What she didn't tell him was that the day she'd opened that package, she'd held that stupid box of disposable contacts in her hands and wept for hours…
Kyra tossed the box on the kitchen table, pulling a knife out of the waistband of her pants to open it. She cut the tape and dug through the packing material, smiling sadly when she pulled out the box of green colored contacts. She'd gotten fired from her waitress position a few days ago – her shine was making the customers nervous. But the contacts would cover it. Hopefully, it would help her get a job soon.
Reaching into the packing material again, she came up with another small contact box. Brown ones, this time. Kyra collapsed into a chair, staring blankly at the label on the box's side. She'd been doing so well; she thought she could handle this…Guess not. A sob tore from her throat as she clutched the contacts to her chest.
Later – much later – Kyra took a deep breath. Uncurling herself from the chair, she wiped viciously at the tears drying on her cheeks. Slowly, she shuffled back to their bedroom – her bedroom now – and lay down, still gripping the small contact box. Inhaling the scent of Riddick that still seemed to cling to everything in the apartment, Kyra fell into a restless sleep.
After that, she refused to shed another tear in his name. She'd sent the contacts back, and put him out of her mind – until he showed up at the club.
Shaking her head, Kyra finished dressing and pushed past him. Riddick followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, allowing his eyes to watch the sexy sway of her hips as she moved. He leaned against the wall as the kid crossed to the counter and paused.
"Rules," she said. Reaching up, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass out of a cabinet. She poured herself a drink, then turned to face him. "If you're gonna stick around, there are gonna be some rules."
Riddick moved to one of the chairs and sat down, straddling the back of it. Kyra stayed where she was, leaning back against the counter. He waited, knowing that she would get it all out without his prompting.
"If you sleep here, you'll sleep on the couch. The bed is mine, and I don't like to share." Liar. You want nothing more than to share your bed with him. She took a swallow of her drink, trying to clear the traitorous thought from her mind, before she continued. "There'll be no strange women in my house," she went on. "If you're that hard up for female companionship – no pun intended – you'll need to find some place else to…" She waved her hands in a vague gesture, but Riddick got the point; he nodded. "And last," she said, staring straight into Riddick's quicksilver eyes, "if you come home shit faced and smelling like a two dollar whore ever again, you can bet your ass that you won't ever be welcomed back." Kyra tossed back the rest of her drink and set the glass on the counter. "If you can follow those rules, we'll get along just fine."
With that, she strode out of the kitchen and into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, she grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, hoping to distract herself. She flipped aimlessly through the channels, pausing here or there when something caught her interest. Then suddenly, she felt Riddick's presence in the archway. Unconsciously, she curled herself up in one corner of the sofa, leaving plenty of room for him on the other end. If he noticed the gesture, he didn't say anything; instead he simply sat down and stared at the tv.
Riddick wasn't quite sure what to make of the kid's "rules". It definitely hadn't been the blowout he'd been expecting, that was for sure. Maybe the kid finally learned to control her temper, he thought, as Kyra started changing channels again. He knew she was lying about not wanting to sleep with him – the way she'd responded to him so eagerly last night told him that; but if she wanted him to crash on the couch, that's what he would do.
They watched television in silence for a while, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Eventually, Kyra yawned and stood up. Stretching, she tossed the remote control in Riddick's general direction and headed down the hall. "Blankets and pillows are in the linen closet," she tossed over her shoulder, as she stepped into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and idly wished she'd installed a lock at some point over the past two years.
Yawning again, Kyra stripped out of her clothes, letting them fall wherever, and crawled into bed. As she pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Riddick that still clung to the sheets. Then, with a small smile on her face, she drifted off to sleep.
After he heard the bedroom door close, Riddick turned off the television and stood. He moved silently down the hallway and paused in front of the door, listening to Kyra's slow, deep breaths. After he was satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, he grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet and returned to the living room.
The couch was a little too short for him to stretch out on, but it was comfortable enough for now. Settling himself, Riddick closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Finally, he felt himself start to doze off; just as sleep claimed him, Riddick caught a faint whiff of apples, and smiled.