Author's Note: This chapter is rather short compared to the others, hopefully it'll serve to wet your appetites for the next installment. Hopefully I'm inserting the right amount of sexual tension and sensibility between Riddick and Kyra. Let me know what you think.

Chapter Eight

The water was cold, freezing. He had done that on purpose. Some where between pinning her on UV6 and kidnapping her from the merc ship, his elemental male instincts had picked up on one very blatant fact: Kyra was a young, vital, beautifully built woman. His subconscious had been kind enough to inform him of such while in cryo.

He did his best to shove down his neanderthaloid urges to picture himself with her by replaying memories of T2 in his mind. She was scrawny, bald, and thirteen. Scrawny, bald, thirteen. He chanted it again and again as his fingers scrubbed his golden brown pectorals and biceps, keeping his hands as far as possible from more sensitive areas.

Kyra couldn't hold still. After minutes of tossing and turning across the mattress, she stood up and began pacing like a caged animal. She had to figure a way out of this. If nothing else, she needed to escape. Ideally, she'd reverse their roles some how.

For her age, she was highly experienced. She knew there was more than one way to coax a man into cuffs. But this was Riddick, and they had a history. The usual list of gimmicks had to be thrown out the window. She'd just have to sit back and wait for an opportunity to present its self.

She heard the water cease, and turned to see the bathroom door open. Riddick swaggered out, zipping up his pants. He'd thrown a towel around his neck; most of his slicked upper body had yet to be dabbed at by the cheap cloth. He tossed his sweat stained tank on the bed nearest the door, claiming it as his.

"What are we doing here?" she asked curtly.

He vaulted effortlessly onto the twin bed. "Laying low for a while," he rumbled, leaning into the thin comforter and lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Wonderful." She sat down. Her stomach growled loudly.

"Hungry?"

"What do you you think?"

"What do you want?"

"Anything. As long as it's dead before I'm expected to eat it."

He got to his feet before pulling his shirt on over his head. "How 'bout Thai? There's a place around the corner from the hanger. I'll stop by after I pick up your bags and trash the locator beacon inside the ship."

"Wanna do something about these before you go?" she asked, jerking her chin over her shoulder, indicating the cuffs.

He unsnapped her cloak and put it to the side. He pushed her farther up the bed, until the head board prevented her from scooting any further. He unlocked one cuff. She rubbed her sore wrist excessively, then held out the other to be freed as well. Tenderly, he took both hands in his and stared at them for a long while before half heartedly chaining her to the bed post.

"Riddick," she grumbled through her teeth, pulling uselessly.

"Be back soon," he promised as he left, shutting the door with a definitive thunk.

His errands didn't take much time at all. Her cloths and weapons were easy to access, and the beacon was a synch to find. Before he left, a sudden, bothersome feeling struck him. Something seemed off, wasn't right. He turned on the crafts sensors. Everything was all right there. Then he attempted to start the engine. With a weak sputter it refused to turn over.

Grabbing the onboard tool box, he headed out side for a peek under the hood. His suspicions were well founded. Some one had tampered with the magnetic tumblers. One was completely distorted. They were grounded until a new one could be found.

Taking extra care, he picked up a few boxes from the Thai restaurant before making his way back to the grody little establishment. He paused at the front desk. "Any one come here tonight who didn't check in?" he asked with his usual indifference.

"You mean some one looking for some body?" suggested the clerk. "No, no. No one like that tonight, not yet." Riddick started up the stairs, but the man's continuing drawl stopped him. "If it's her husband you're worried about, or-" he smiled at her youth, "-Or her father, pay it no mind. We keep a stiff lip about these things."

At the door to their room, Riddick knocked lightly. She didn't say anything. He entered noiselessly. She was fast asleep, peacefully dreaming. He put the bags on the floor and joined her on the bed, stretching out. She sighed contentedly. He watched the expressions of her vision play across her fair features.

He rubbed her arm to wake her. "Hey."

She slowly blinked the sleep from her eyes. She smiled fondly at him, then immediately snapped out of it when she realized she was no longer in dream land. She bucked him off, "What?"

He waved the take out in front of her nose, "Dinner."

"Right." She sat up.

He began opening the boxes, setting them down one by one next to her on the bed. The room was dim enough for his eyes, so he pulled his goggles back. Extracting a pair of chopsticks from his back pocket, he dug in and held a pinch of food up for her to take.

"Un-Uh," she shook her head wildly, "No way are you hand feeding me like I'm some sort of invalid. Put that down!" She turned her face away.

"Come on," he coed, "Just eat."

"Riddick, you are not going to treat me like a kid. Fucking uncuff me so I can eat the goddamn food!"

With a soft shrug he shoveled the noodles into his own eager jaws.

"Oh, ho ho- no. You are not gonna let me starve either, you rigid bastard."

"Then open up," he said obstinately.

"You're despicable," she scoffed, glowering profusely.

"You take what I give you or you don't eat," he growled, his voice taking on a no-nonsense tone.

"Bastard," she breathed.

"I brought your cloths," he said, brushing aside her name calling. He gestured at the bags before taking another bite.

"And how am I supposed to put them on? You gonna do that for me too?" They both froze and exchanged sideways glances. She rolled her eyes distastefully, "You wish."

He cleared his throat and took up another carton, "Some one was nice enough to visit the ship... and they left a calling card."

She groaned, "What now?"

"They cracked a tumbler. I'll have to find a new one."

"Shit!" She drove her heal into the mattress out of sheer frustration. Now, even if she could escape, she had no way to get off the planet.

"I know a guy here who can get me one. Quick and quiet. I'll call 'im after I get done."

"After we get done," she said reluctantly. Suddenly submissive, she opened her mouth like a baby bird to its mother.

She had a plan, or more like a crude idea. If she behaved herself she just might have a chance to turn things around.