Misery Becomes Her
Chapter 1
13 years later...
She hated her name. Well, that wasn’t true, she hated how pigs said her name. Slurring out the ‘y’ and dragging out the o’s into a u...allura. As if it was a compliment, as if she enjoyed the sick sound of their lurid tone.
Tonight was no exception. Her client, incidentally also her mark, had the most disgusting grin plastered across his face. She could almost feel his sweaty palms as they obviously itched to violate her. He was mistaken if he thought he’d be doing the violating tonight though. Senator Karkarion had been a bad man, and his number was up. Foolish enough to disregard the directives of his security team he’d dismissed them all to the outer part of the building until he was finished with his business. She could laugh, if she wasn’t so disgusted. She heard him anxiously fidgeting and grunting behind her, “Alright Allura,” a quiver of rage crept down her spine, “you look mighty cold, why don’t you just come and sit on big papa’s lap.” The gravelly laugh that followed hid the click of her slim blaster. Turning in a flourish she quickly changed hands, swapping it behind her back in her left as her costume flared up showing more than enough leg to distract him.
Smiling seductively back at him she sauntered forward slowly, accentuating a hip here, thigh there, then sliding her pointed toes up to rest on the chair next to him. He reached his meaty hands forward to grab at her and quicker than he could blink she had the garrote around his neck and blaster pressed firmly against his groin. The panic didn’t die from his eyes as she drew the thick wire cord slowly closed. But soon it was joined with anger. She all but laughed as he attempted to struggle. “You Devlin Karkarion are being served your death warrant. For the trafficking and murder of women and children of foreign governments and your own. The Taritte has charged me with your demise. Tell the Devil Misery said hello.” Alyoora took in the dying man’s choked gurglings noting the blanchedness of his features. Beady eyes stared up at her as his fat tongue lagged out of his mouth. Cleaner than she’d expected, but then he seemed a bit taken aback by her attack. Men often guarded their jewels and threatening them with a blaster was a good way to quiet them down in these sorts of establishments. Other than that he was just another sleazy coward.
Wrapping up her kit and partially disassembling her blaster she carefully put them in her outer thigh holsters. She knew she had about 10 minutes before anyone would notice something amiss from the room. The clubs she worked tended to have the least surveillance and security, making her job both extremely easy and deceptively difficult. Just the kind of challenge she liked. Donning her leather coat that easily hid her holsters she shouldered her bag and tied back her hair. She tapped her comlink as she walked out a side entrance to the private room she was in. Laughing to herself at the absurdity of it. The side entrance was there just for entertainers to come and go discreetly without anyone knowing exactly who was in the room with whatever corrupt official. Tonight it served her well. She nodded quickly to the cook as she passed by the kitchen. Arnull nodded slightly as he got back to making more greasy bar food. “I’m on my way.” she spoke into the link, pausing to listen to her instructions. She hailed a transport which was lingering about just for her. “Devi, you know where I’m headed, get there quick its about to get ugly here.” The shadowed driver nodded as he took off with a lurching speed to the nearest port where she’d parked her fighter.
She’d given her kill confirmation to The Taritte, but she was sure there’d be another assignment before the close of the next day. Sitting back in the transport she settled for a quick combat nap...
Rafe sat at the bar drinking Tandorian fire. The burn woke him up as he slammed the glass down. Used to the noise the bartender didn’t even look up. He laid out a few credits before he pushed back from the bar. Noticeably stumbling he headed for the front door. The doorman sneered at him slightly then turned his attention to the small party that was arriving. Rafe cut through the party stumbling into one who angrily shoved him off. Out the door he continued his facade till he rounded the edge of the building and ran into one of Karkarion’s security detail. “You gotta light,” he slurred deliberately. The man tossed a small pack of matches at him just as a transport pulled up and he all but fell in. As the transport pulled away from the club he tucked the cigarette behind his ear, and matches in his front pocket. He pulled out his telecom and stylus making the notes he’d been at the club to collect. The driver mumbled something to him about where to go and he directed him to the closest hangar. His small fighter would be docked there and would be where he slept for the night.
He went back to his notes, he was sure it was the dancer Allura. Hell of a way to be discreet with a name like that. Then again, discretion didn’t seem the suit anyone who took up the profession. While he’d been in his share of skin joints over the years and even before he was of age, she definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. To the casual observer she was like any other fly-by-night girl. Here one minute, gone the next. Most were never questioned due to the nature of their character. Most were wanted for some sort of petty crime and they tended to disappear as drugs or their other unsavory dealings caught up with them. Allura was different though. While she may have acted the part a trained eye could see the tense awareness she held. And the nice ass. He grunted to himself, she definitely had the lithe definition he took notice of. There was a brightness to her green eyes and shine to her jet black hair that couldn’t be reproduced with makeup or enhancements. Unlike the other girls she didn’t bear the tired look of one who’d been dancing too long, groped too many times. Not to mention the subtle hints of ink on her skin. Despite being half naked most of the night she seemed to strategically dress so that her identifying marks were only hinted at. Smart, but not smart enough. One look and she was done for.
Arriving at his destination he paid the driver and exited the transport. Walking through the loading and docking areas he found his fighter parked sedately. Opening the ramp he entered his fighter and settled into his sleeping pod.
13 years later...
She hated her name. Well, that wasn’t true, she hated how pigs said her name. Slurring out the ‘y’ and dragging out the o’s into a u...allura. As if it was a compliment, as if she enjoyed the sick sound of their lurid tone.
Tonight was no exception. Her client, incidentally also her mark, had the most disgusting grin plastered across his face. She could almost feel his sweaty palms as they obviously itched to violate her. He was mistaken if he thought he’d be doing the violating tonight though. Senator Karkarion had been a bad man, and his number was up. Foolish enough to disregard the directives of his security team he’d dismissed them all to the outer part of the building until he was finished with his business. She could laugh, if she wasn’t so disgusted. She heard him anxiously fidgeting and grunting behind her, “Alright Allura,” a quiver of rage crept down her spine, “you look mighty cold, why don’t you just come and sit on big papa’s lap.” The gravelly laugh that followed hid the click of her slim blaster. Turning in a flourish she quickly changed hands, swapping it behind her back in her left as her costume flared up showing more than enough leg to distract him.
Smiling seductively back at him she sauntered forward slowly, accentuating a hip here, thigh there, then sliding her pointed toes up to rest on the chair next to him. He reached his meaty hands forward to grab at her and quicker than he could blink she had the garrote around his neck and blaster pressed firmly against his groin. The panic didn’t die from his eyes as she drew the thick wire cord slowly closed. But soon it was joined with anger. She all but laughed as he attempted to struggle. “You Devlin Karkarion are being served your death warrant. For the trafficking and murder of women and children of foreign governments and your own. The Taritte has charged me with your demise. Tell the Devil Misery said hello.” Alyoora took in the dying man’s choked gurglings noting the blanchedness of his features. Beady eyes stared up at her as his fat tongue lagged out of his mouth. Cleaner than she’d expected, but then he seemed a bit taken aback by her attack. Men often guarded their jewels and threatening them with a blaster was a good way to quiet them down in these sorts of establishments. Other than that he was just another sleazy coward.
Wrapping up her kit and partially disassembling her blaster she carefully put them in her outer thigh holsters. She knew she had about 10 minutes before anyone would notice something amiss from the room. The clubs she worked tended to have the least surveillance and security, making her job both extremely easy and deceptively difficult. Just the kind of challenge she liked. Donning her leather coat that easily hid her holsters she shouldered her bag and tied back her hair. She tapped her comlink as she walked out a side entrance to the private room she was in. Laughing to herself at the absurdity of it. The side entrance was there just for entertainers to come and go discreetly without anyone knowing exactly who was in the room with whatever corrupt official. Tonight it served her well. She nodded quickly to the cook as she passed by the kitchen. Arnull nodded slightly as he got back to making more greasy bar food. “I’m on my way.” she spoke into the link, pausing to listen to her instructions. She hailed a transport which was lingering about just for her. “Devi, you know where I’m headed, get there quick its about to get ugly here.” The shadowed driver nodded as he took off with a lurching speed to the nearest port where she’d parked her fighter.
She’d given her kill confirmation to The Taritte, but she was sure there’d be another assignment before the close of the next day. Sitting back in the transport she settled for a quick combat nap...
Rafe sat at the bar drinking Tandorian fire. The burn woke him up as he slammed the glass down. Used to the noise the bartender didn’t even look up. He laid out a few credits before he pushed back from the bar. Noticeably stumbling he headed for the front door. The doorman sneered at him slightly then turned his attention to the small party that was arriving. Rafe cut through the party stumbling into one who angrily shoved him off. Out the door he continued his facade till he rounded the edge of the building and ran into one of Karkarion’s security detail. “You gotta light,” he slurred deliberately. The man tossed a small pack of matches at him just as a transport pulled up and he all but fell in. As the transport pulled away from the club he tucked the cigarette behind his ear, and matches in his front pocket. He pulled out his telecom and stylus making the notes he’d been at the club to collect. The driver mumbled something to him about where to go and he directed him to the closest hangar. His small fighter would be docked there and would be where he slept for the night.
He went back to his notes, he was sure it was the dancer Allura. Hell of a way to be discreet with a name like that. Then again, discretion didn’t seem the suit anyone who took up the profession. While he’d been in his share of skin joints over the years and even before he was of age, she definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. To the casual observer she was like any other fly-by-night girl. Here one minute, gone the next. Most were never questioned due to the nature of their character. Most were wanted for some sort of petty crime and they tended to disappear as drugs or their other unsavory dealings caught up with them. Allura was different though. While she may have acted the part a trained eye could see the tense awareness she held. And the nice ass. He grunted to himself, she definitely had the lithe definition he took notice of. There was a brightness to her green eyes and shine to her jet black hair that couldn’t be reproduced with makeup or enhancements. Unlike the other girls she didn’t bear the tired look of one who’d been dancing too long, groped too many times. Not to mention the subtle hints of ink on her skin. Despite being half naked most of the night she seemed to strategically dress so that her identifying marks were only hinted at. Smart, but not smart enough. One look and she was done for.
Arriving at his destination he paid the driver and exited the transport. Walking through the loading and docking areas he found his fighter parked sedately. Opening the ramp he entered his fighter and settled into his sleeping pod.
* * *
Alyoora woke fighting to breathe. She clutched at her throat, still feeling the tight leather grip about her neck. It was just a nightmare she reminded herself. One that hadn’t been real for a very long time. The cold sweat covered her and she shook herself to dispel the rest of the dream. She heard her comlink buzzing and she reached for it, Devi’s even tone greeted her. “You know you were tailed last night.”
That took her out of her previous state, “What?” she all but growled into the com.
“Did I stutter Miz? Last night you. were. tailed.” He accentuated the last three words.
She knew she’d had a bad feeling last night, but she’d dismissed it. She knew the penalty by the The Taritte for being caught. They didn’t take kindly to their agents being uncovered and they would tie up loose ends before they’d give her a chance to defend or explain. There was one thing she knew, she had to find this tracker and take care of them herself and before she reported next to The Taritte.
“And to answer your next question, yes I found him.”
“Him?”
“Miz, you really need to get your hearing checked, yes him. What, shocked a man could outwit you? I take high offense to that.”
“No you don’t Devi, so don’t even try that. We both know you’re not crafty enough to outwit me at anything.”
“Yea, so how come I know where this tracker is exactly and know his name and you’re dumbfounded.”
She opened her mouth to speak but found no rebuttal, “Alright, touche maestro. So where’s the rat bastard so I can take care of him before we take off tonight.”
“Three ships down, UZ-3V1L. I caught the other transport arriving shortly after we did. He left “drunk” but got out of the transport as sober as the noonday sun. And I got a name for you too - Rafe.”
That perked her ears up. Rafe was a worlds class thief. What was he doing tailing her? While she’d heard of him she’d never seen a picture of him. Few had, but those few always gave varying accounts of him. Obviously a man of subtle disguises the only thing that didn’t change was the height and general build. She continued to think of how she could have missed being followed or that she had been stalked at all. Pulling on her battlesuit she decided it must have been her focus. While normally she noticed everything around her last night was her last shot to get to the senator. Unlike The League, The Taritte wanted their kills done quite a bit quicker. They were given a day to get to their appointed area, a day to collect information, and a day to hit the mark. After that they were to report in or be dispensed with and another stealth would be sent in. Tugging her boots on she stood and turned her attention back to Devi.
“Have you seen him stir?”
“No, not yet, but dawn’s creeping up so you might want to hightail your ass over there. I’ve rigged his fighter open and disabled it enough that he won’t be going anywhere without serious repairs but he’s bound to notice soon.”
She allowed herself a small smile, if there was one thing about Devi, he could be counted on for logistics. “Alright, I’m heading out and over now. Handle any com throughs for me. I’m turning my link off.” She heard what sounded like a grumble but ignored it. She knew the regs of The Taritte, they literally beat them into you when you entered. Shaking her head to clear it of things she’d rather not remember she turned off the link and shoved it in her pocket. Situating various blades, she checked for the wire cord she always kept at her back. While she was always armed with a blaster with her she preferred her kills more close quarters. The garrote was her go to, but second up were her blades. They also worked better for interrogation while being soundless, at least on her end.
Opening her hatch just enough to slip through she closed it and crept through the darkened parts of the hangar under and around various ships till she pinpointed the one Devi had described. She quickly ran through everything she knew about the Wraith. While few knew his name as Rafe, everyone knew the moniker. It was whispered he was called that because you never saw him coming till it was too late. He would be there and gone without the trace of a shadow. And he always got what he was after. Yea well today that wasn’t going to happen. Her work and her mission were too important to have her career thrown by some high horsed pick pocket.
Looking up she saw the tell tale scuff marks of Devi’s handiwork. No doubt her partner had tampered with the thrusters, not a hard thing to do, and drained a few fluids essential to take off. She smiled evilly as she worked her way up to the hatch that was noticeably pried open. Alyoora pulled slightly at the it, just enough to admit her slim form. Grabbing a support bar she swung expertly into the crevice, feet first and tumbled to a crouched position.
That took her out of her previous state, “What?” she all but growled into the com.
“Did I stutter Miz? Last night you. were. tailed.” He accentuated the last three words.
She knew she’d had a bad feeling last night, but she’d dismissed it. She knew the penalty by the The Taritte for being caught. They didn’t take kindly to their agents being uncovered and they would tie up loose ends before they’d give her a chance to defend or explain. There was one thing she knew, she had to find this tracker and take care of them herself and before she reported next to The Taritte.
“And to answer your next question, yes I found him.”
“Him?”
“Miz, you really need to get your hearing checked, yes him. What, shocked a man could outwit you? I take high offense to that.”
“No you don’t Devi, so don’t even try that. We both know you’re not crafty enough to outwit me at anything.”
“Yea, so how come I know where this tracker is exactly and know his name and you’re dumbfounded.”
She opened her mouth to speak but found no rebuttal, “Alright, touche maestro. So where’s the rat bastard so I can take care of him before we take off tonight.”
“Three ships down, UZ-3V1L. I caught the other transport arriving shortly after we did. He left “drunk” but got out of the transport as sober as the noonday sun. And I got a name for you too - Rafe.”
That perked her ears up. Rafe was a worlds class thief. What was he doing tailing her? While she’d heard of him she’d never seen a picture of him. Few had, but those few always gave varying accounts of him. Obviously a man of subtle disguises the only thing that didn’t change was the height and general build. She continued to think of how she could have missed being followed or that she had been stalked at all. Pulling on her battlesuit she decided it must have been her focus. While normally she noticed everything around her last night was her last shot to get to the senator. Unlike The League, The Taritte wanted their kills done quite a bit quicker. They were given a day to get to their appointed area, a day to collect information, and a day to hit the mark. After that they were to report in or be dispensed with and another stealth would be sent in. Tugging her boots on she stood and turned her attention back to Devi.
“Have you seen him stir?”
“No, not yet, but dawn’s creeping up so you might want to hightail your ass over there. I’ve rigged his fighter open and disabled it enough that he won’t be going anywhere without serious repairs but he’s bound to notice soon.”
She allowed herself a small smile, if there was one thing about Devi, he could be counted on for logistics. “Alright, I’m heading out and over now. Handle any com throughs for me. I’m turning my link off.” She heard what sounded like a grumble but ignored it. She knew the regs of The Taritte, they literally beat them into you when you entered. Shaking her head to clear it of things she’d rather not remember she turned off the link and shoved it in her pocket. Situating various blades, she checked for the wire cord she always kept at her back. While she was always armed with a blaster with her she preferred her kills more close quarters. The garrote was her go to, but second up were her blades. They also worked better for interrogation while being soundless, at least on her end.
Opening her hatch just enough to slip through she closed it and crept through the darkened parts of the hangar under and around various ships till she pinpointed the one Devi had described. She quickly ran through everything she knew about the Wraith. While few knew his name as Rafe, everyone knew the moniker. It was whispered he was called that because you never saw him coming till it was too late. He would be there and gone without the trace of a shadow. And he always got what he was after. Yea well today that wasn’t going to happen. Her work and her mission were too important to have her career thrown by some high horsed pick pocket.
Looking up she saw the tell tale scuff marks of Devi’s handiwork. No doubt her partner had tampered with the thrusters, not a hard thing to do, and drained a few fluids essential to take off. She smiled evilly as she worked her way up to the hatch that was noticeably pried open. Alyoora pulled slightly at the it, just enough to admit her slim form. Grabbing a support bar she swung expertly into the crevice, feet first and tumbled to a crouched position.
* * *
He’d heard the scraping noises to his craft at about 2:30 that morning. While it hadn’t woken him, it’d definitely attracted his attention from the plan he was mapping out. He wasn’t the least bit surprised, though he was a little disappointed it’d taken her this long to notice him. When the scraping had stopped he’d waited, half expecting her to burst in. Instead there was the subtle trickle of starter fluids and oils draining from his ship. While he had more, fixing that tampering was going to be a bigger pain in the ass than he cared to deal with. So tamper with his ship first then she would come for him later. Well he’d been forewarned so he knew to expect her, so he went to plant his trap.
* * *
She listened intently for any stirring about the craft. While it didn’t look like much on the outside it was certainly larger than she’d expected on the inside. There was almost a homey feel to it. She suspected that reflected the truth. The Wraith didn’t seem to have any address on file, ever. In fact you rarely saw him in more than one place longer than a matter of days. Much like her line of work he seemed to be always moving. Drawing her preferred dagger, long and curved, it tapered from thinner to thicker and terminated in three nasty serrated spikes. It wasn’t uncommon for a man to wet himself upon her drawing it and she’d had a number beg for the lives because of it. Her notorious reputation certainly didn’t hurt either.
Heading to the rear of the ship she crept soundlessly, wondering whether he was up yet or not. Surely not, so the element of surprise was still on her side. That always made her kills more efficient. She saw him in his sleeping pod. She was struck by the fine features of his face, and the peaceful look. A slight twinge almost made her feel guilty. Get your head in the game, he reports anything and its your neck. She set her mouth in a line nearing him. Moving slowly she raised the blade towards his throat.
Despite her soundless entry he could feel a difference in the air. The quiet sliding of the blade out of its sheath tipped him off too. While she seemed to have halted for a moment she was now upon him. He was waiting for her to be just a little closer, close enough to grab easily and surprise the hell out of her. Throwing her off would stun her long enough for him to at least disarm the weapon she had drawn.
She almost felt bad, killing him in his sleep. But she knew the code and the consequences. Found and you will be shed, like the skin of the snake removed and forgotten. Removed was just their way of saying killed. Alyoora pulled back, ready to deal her blow when his eyes snapped open...
It was hard to keep from smiling, but his self-preservation kicked in just in time. The surprise on her face was priceless, the glint along her wicked blade was unmistakeable. In a flash faster than she could blink he grabbed her right wrist and sharply twisted it behind her back. As the surprise faded from her eyes fury snapped there. She had spirit alright. While her slender figure was slight he could feel the power that was all muscle in the way she attempted to drive him back. Attempting to brace her left forearm against his windpipe she could surely crush it given half the chance. He growled low in his throat and shot up with her, pinning her to the other wall in the ship’s corridor. That light of anger continued to flash in her eyes as she struggled, attempting to stomp his foot. Staring down at her like this, her legs wiggling against him he could almost forget how lethal she was. Feeling her shift her pelvis slightly and moving her thighs between his felt good, until she brought her shapely leg up hard against his groin. There went those thoughts of ever reproducing. Growling again to mask the overwhelming pain he felt that typically left men clutching themselves doubled over he turned the pain outward at her.
Alyoora was surprised. That move worked on most species of male. Now she was in trouble, if it had worked he was definitely more than pissed. Having pinned her offending thigh tightly with his though there wasn’t much she could do now. Arching her back more to avoid getting stuck by her own blade she couldn’t help but feel the steely muscle of the man holding her. Normally she had much more observation time for her marks. She learned their routines, all their physical information and devised a way to neutralize any strengths they might have. The Wraith was a complete exception. She could curse herself for her overconfident stupidity. What was the first thing they taught her in The Taritte? Never underestimate your mark. While you may be trained you may not know all the secret weapons they possess, the only way to be prepared is to have complete knowledge that you could efficiently and ruthlessly destroy them in every way.
At her height of 5’ 5” she was used to coming up to men who towered over her, but while Rafe had a good seven inches on her he was by no means a hulking brute of a man. Still he was all steely muscle, something she wouldn’t have expected from what appeared to be a slight build. There was a quiet and determined strength to him. An air that said he took no shit from anyone and gave as much as he got and more. She started to notice other things that normally she would have had memorized by now. His hair was shaggy, but not unkempt. It appeared to be styled in a way that made him appear to blend and be no one to notice. It was dark, but not black. A slight stubble dusted his chin adding to the dark look about him. Letting her eyes move about the planes of his face she noted a certain pride to his features. It wasn’t the self-importance of the aristocracy, but rather a demeanor of a man who knew what he wanted and intended to have it, others be damned. Continuing to study his features she came to his eyes, while they were gray it was a soft shade rather than threatening. Flecks of a muted blue broke up the flat gray bringing a certain light to his eyes.
Her studying of him would have disconcerted him had he not known her for what she was. As an agent of The Taritte they were trained to quickly gather information about each mark, finish their assignment, a euphemism for their interrogations and assassinations, and extract themselves immediately without a trace.
Rafe decided to use her observation as a helpful distraction. “So little hivra what brings you aboard my humble ship?”
She curled her lip at the slang that often was used for exotic dancers and other vixens of the night. “I heard the famous Wraith was in town, I just had to pay you a visit.”
“Disappointed?” his lips held a charming smirk.
“Yes, I was hoping the rumors you were male were just that.”
Now that surprised him, but as he considered it he’d noted that many a dancer favored women. Casting a long look down her side he stopped and looked meaningfully at the thigh he had pinned, “Indeed, what a shame. You had such spirit.” He moved his gaze back to her face stopping at several points on the way back and gave her a long lusty look.
He grinned inwardly as she exhibited the exact reaction he’d set her up for. Green fire snapped brightening her eyes and with blind rage she pushed him back with more force than he’d reckoned for. Shaking the daze from his skull he moved to the center of the corridor, carefully backing up towards the bow of his ship.
She could barely see she was so enraged. The thought of slitting his throat consumed her as she stalked deliberately forward. Alyoora barely saw him straighten seconds before she took her last step. She put her foot directly down on a pressure censored button hidden on the floor. A thick, weighted net sprung out from each side of the corridor wrapping tightly around her. Unable to walk any further she hobbled forward and fell hard jarring her shoulder and smacking the side of her face. She did her best to bite back a yelp, but the smallest squeak escaped her lips.
Coughing and gritting her teeth she attempted to back up in a sitting position. The weight of the net made it difficult.
He looked down at her struggling and felt bad for her. She just sabotaged your ship and tried to come in to kill you. But he hadn’t expected her to continue to fight so, or to smack her head into the floor. Lunging forward he caught her before she fell a third time. “Easy, you’re not going anywhere. We both know that.”
Her eyes blazed again, “They know I’m on assignment.” she began.
Hauling her up by her shoulders and steadying her he pinned her with a droll stare, “You know as well as I do they’re not coming for you. Taritte agents work alone and the only coming for you is after you.” He accentuated it with a gesture of execution. “Trust me, I know all about your friends.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “You’ll get nothing from me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her defiance, “Who said I wanted anything from you?”
His words felt like ice through her veins. For reasons she couldn’t even guess at his dismissal of her raised her ire even more. She kept her head high in indignance to him.
Noting her cooled demeanor he continued, “If you promise to be good and not kick like a mule, I’ll tend your injuries. Otherwise I’m throwing you like that in the cargo bay.”
His threat made her stiffen, first dismissal, now tossing her away. She weighed her options. In this state she couldn’t reach any of her weapons and her drawn knife was merely digging painfully into her flesh. Something that was becoming more and more painfully obvious by the second. She attempted to shift her weight to her left. The action merely caused her to overbalance, slicing pain in the side of her hip, and fall hard to her knees. She winced as tears rimmed her eyes - the serrated edges digging in caused her to gasp against her will.
He saw the glazed look on her face that prepended shock. It was then he remembered the wicked blade she’d had in her hand while attacking him. He hadn’t heard it clatter to the floor which meant she still held it and it was lodged somewhere painful. Rafe stepped in to catch her just as than she passed out.
Rafe had to respect the strength with which she’d fought. While he might not appreciate her coming for his neck it was only out of self preservation he knew. He’d had dealings with The Taritte most of his life and knew they were far more brutal to their agents then she would have been to him. Since their agency worked in secret the agents were supposed to make their kills clean and silent, most of all discreet. While anyone could guess that they were the ones who had acted, The League nor anyone else ever stepped forward for the kills, there was never any proof but whispered rumors.
Yet despite all her fierceness and strength, he saw her for what she was. A woman defending herself, trying to survive. Her lithe form even while deadweight was so light. Her passive features masked the danger she imposed on him. Getting to the medical bay he laid her gently down on the cold steel table. “Terek,” he said addressing his onboard mecha engineer, “I need you outside making repairs to the ship. We’re going to launch in less than an hour. Be sure to check the stabilizers, all the fluid lines and refuel.”
The mecha nodded to him, making a series of gestures before it left.
Turning his attention back to his tiny assassin he carefully untangled her from the net. The propulsion had wrapped it solidly around her, and he could see in places where its weight had pressed into her flesh. He grimaced for her, no wonder she’d passed out. Combine that with the knife wound she had somewhere on her and she definitely would be in a large amount of pain.
With the net finally off he took in her unconscious form. Awake and armed she somehow seemed larger, like a lorina crouched and teeth bared - lethal. He picked up a small hand, it was so delicate, but inspecting her palm he saw the hardened strength of it. It was as if she was a kovu egg. Soft and delicate on the outside, containing a vicious beast on the inside. No, that wasn’t right. He looked at her soft features. Even with her split lip and bruised cheek she held a feminine grace he all but marveled at. Everything in his life was grimy, spoiled, tainted. Its what came from running the streets and back alleys to survive. There was a haunting purity to her. Running his hands up her arm he could feel the supple softness of it. Her hair was a tangle of thick wavy curls. The kind of hair a man wanted to bury his hands while he held her against him.
He frowned, grimacing slightly as he took in her whole form. His groin tightened in protest. Funny how when he’d been observing her earlier that night he hadn’t really noticed her. Now he couldn’t ignore it, the full pouty lips and smooth light texture of her skin. His inspection of her was interrupted by the tapping on his shoulder of Terek. Ripping his gaze away from her his mecha went into a furious battery of hand signals. “Shit.” he cursed, if what Terek was telling him was true - and he knew it was - they’d have to launch in less than twenty minutes. “Did you at least close the lines?” An affirmative. “Are the stabilizers and thrusters enough to get us off the ground and out of here,” he paused, “safely.” The mecha seemed to pause, considering, he gave another affirmative, this time slower.
Great, just great. They could get out and launch but they’d have to land in less than a day, somewhere and could expect hefty repairs. Flying in this condition would put strain on the quick repairs and was a great risk. But if the mecha said there was a chance, he’d have to take it. He knew the alternative wasn’t any better. He’d take death on his terms over anyone else’s any day.
Grunting his frustration he finished removing the net from her and the table. Trying to arrange a pillow and sheet over her to keep her as comfortable as possible he strapped her down to the table. Shooting one last glance back to at her he moved to the bridge to initiate the launch sequence.
Heading to the rear of the ship she crept soundlessly, wondering whether he was up yet or not. Surely not, so the element of surprise was still on her side. That always made her kills more efficient. She saw him in his sleeping pod. She was struck by the fine features of his face, and the peaceful look. A slight twinge almost made her feel guilty. Get your head in the game, he reports anything and its your neck. She set her mouth in a line nearing him. Moving slowly she raised the blade towards his throat.
Despite her soundless entry he could feel a difference in the air. The quiet sliding of the blade out of its sheath tipped him off too. While she seemed to have halted for a moment she was now upon him. He was waiting for her to be just a little closer, close enough to grab easily and surprise the hell out of her. Throwing her off would stun her long enough for him to at least disarm the weapon she had drawn.
She almost felt bad, killing him in his sleep. But she knew the code and the consequences. Found and you will be shed, like the skin of the snake removed and forgotten. Removed was just their way of saying killed. Alyoora pulled back, ready to deal her blow when his eyes snapped open...
It was hard to keep from smiling, but his self-preservation kicked in just in time. The surprise on her face was priceless, the glint along her wicked blade was unmistakeable. In a flash faster than she could blink he grabbed her right wrist and sharply twisted it behind her back. As the surprise faded from her eyes fury snapped there. She had spirit alright. While her slender figure was slight he could feel the power that was all muscle in the way she attempted to drive him back. Attempting to brace her left forearm against his windpipe she could surely crush it given half the chance. He growled low in his throat and shot up with her, pinning her to the other wall in the ship’s corridor. That light of anger continued to flash in her eyes as she struggled, attempting to stomp his foot. Staring down at her like this, her legs wiggling against him he could almost forget how lethal she was. Feeling her shift her pelvis slightly and moving her thighs between his felt good, until she brought her shapely leg up hard against his groin. There went those thoughts of ever reproducing. Growling again to mask the overwhelming pain he felt that typically left men clutching themselves doubled over he turned the pain outward at her.
Alyoora was surprised. That move worked on most species of male. Now she was in trouble, if it had worked he was definitely more than pissed. Having pinned her offending thigh tightly with his though there wasn’t much she could do now. Arching her back more to avoid getting stuck by her own blade she couldn’t help but feel the steely muscle of the man holding her. Normally she had much more observation time for her marks. She learned their routines, all their physical information and devised a way to neutralize any strengths they might have. The Wraith was a complete exception. She could curse herself for her overconfident stupidity. What was the first thing they taught her in The Taritte? Never underestimate your mark. While you may be trained you may not know all the secret weapons they possess, the only way to be prepared is to have complete knowledge that you could efficiently and ruthlessly destroy them in every way.
At her height of 5’ 5” she was used to coming up to men who towered over her, but while Rafe had a good seven inches on her he was by no means a hulking brute of a man. Still he was all steely muscle, something she wouldn’t have expected from what appeared to be a slight build. There was a quiet and determined strength to him. An air that said he took no shit from anyone and gave as much as he got and more. She started to notice other things that normally she would have had memorized by now. His hair was shaggy, but not unkempt. It appeared to be styled in a way that made him appear to blend and be no one to notice. It was dark, but not black. A slight stubble dusted his chin adding to the dark look about him. Letting her eyes move about the planes of his face she noted a certain pride to his features. It wasn’t the self-importance of the aristocracy, but rather a demeanor of a man who knew what he wanted and intended to have it, others be damned. Continuing to study his features she came to his eyes, while they were gray it was a soft shade rather than threatening. Flecks of a muted blue broke up the flat gray bringing a certain light to his eyes.
Her studying of him would have disconcerted him had he not known her for what she was. As an agent of The Taritte they were trained to quickly gather information about each mark, finish their assignment, a euphemism for their interrogations and assassinations, and extract themselves immediately without a trace.
Rafe decided to use her observation as a helpful distraction. “So little hivra what brings you aboard my humble ship?”
She curled her lip at the slang that often was used for exotic dancers and other vixens of the night. “I heard the famous Wraith was in town, I just had to pay you a visit.”
“Disappointed?” his lips held a charming smirk.
“Yes, I was hoping the rumors you were male were just that.”
Now that surprised him, but as he considered it he’d noted that many a dancer favored women. Casting a long look down her side he stopped and looked meaningfully at the thigh he had pinned, “Indeed, what a shame. You had such spirit.” He moved his gaze back to her face stopping at several points on the way back and gave her a long lusty look.
He grinned inwardly as she exhibited the exact reaction he’d set her up for. Green fire snapped brightening her eyes and with blind rage she pushed him back with more force than he’d reckoned for. Shaking the daze from his skull he moved to the center of the corridor, carefully backing up towards the bow of his ship.
She could barely see she was so enraged. The thought of slitting his throat consumed her as she stalked deliberately forward. Alyoora barely saw him straighten seconds before she took her last step. She put her foot directly down on a pressure censored button hidden on the floor. A thick, weighted net sprung out from each side of the corridor wrapping tightly around her. Unable to walk any further she hobbled forward and fell hard jarring her shoulder and smacking the side of her face. She did her best to bite back a yelp, but the smallest squeak escaped her lips.
Coughing and gritting her teeth she attempted to back up in a sitting position. The weight of the net made it difficult.
He looked down at her struggling and felt bad for her. She just sabotaged your ship and tried to come in to kill you. But he hadn’t expected her to continue to fight so, or to smack her head into the floor. Lunging forward he caught her before she fell a third time. “Easy, you’re not going anywhere. We both know that.”
Her eyes blazed again, “They know I’m on assignment.” she began.
Hauling her up by her shoulders and steadying her he pinned her with a droll stare, “You know as well as I do they’re not coming for you. Taritte agents work alone and the only coming for you is after you.” He accentuated it with a gesture of execution. “Trust me, I know all about your friends.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “You’ll get nothing from me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her defiance, “Who said I wanted anything from you?”
His words felt like ice through her veins. For reasons she couldn’t even guess at his dismissal of her raised her ire even more. She kept her head high in indignance to him.
Noting her cooled demeanor he continued, “If you promise to be good and not kick like a mule, I’ll tend your injuries. Otherwise I’m throwing you like that in the cargo bay.”
His threat made her stiffen, first dismissal, now tossing her away. She weighed her options. In this state she couldn’t reach any of her weapons and her drawn knife was merely digging painfully into her flesh. Something that was becoming more and more painfully obvious by the second. She attempted to shift her weight to her left. The action merely caused her to overbalance, slicing pain in the side of her hip, and fall hard to her knees. She winced as tears rimmed her eyes - the serrated edges digging in caused her to gasp against her will.
He saw the glazed look on her face that prepended shock. It was then he remembered the wicked blade she’d had in her hand while attacking him. He hadn’t heard it clatter to the floor which meant she still held it and it was lodged somewhere painful. Rafe stepped in to catch her just as than she passed out.
Rafe had to respect the strength with which she’d fought. While he might not appreciate her coming for his neck it was only out of self preservation he knew. He’d had dealings with The Taritte most of his life and knew they were far more brutal to their agents then she would have been to him. Since their agency worked in secret the agents were supposed to make their kills clean and silent, most of all discreet. While anyone could guess that they were the ones who had acted, The League nor anyone else ever stepped forward for the kills, there was never any proof but whispered rumors.
Yet despite all her fierceness and strength, he saw her for what she was. A woman defending herself, trying to survive. Her lithe form even while deadweight was so light. Her passive features masked the danger she imposed on him. Getting to the medical bay he laid her gently down on the cold steel table. “Terek,” he said addressing his onboard mecha engineer, “I need you outside making repairs to the ship. We’re going to launch in less than an hour. Be sure to check the stabilizers, all the fluid lines and refuel.”
The mecha nodded to him, making a series of gestures before it left.
Turning his attention back to his tiny assassin he carefully untangled her from the net. The propulsion had wrapped it solidly around her, and he could see in places where its weight had pressed into her flesh. He grimaced for her, no wonder she’d passed out. Combine that with the knife wound she had somewhere on her and she definitely would be in a large amount of pain.
With the net finally off he took in her unconscious form. Awake and armed she somehow seemed larger, like a lorina crouched and teeth bared - lethal. He picked up a small hand, it was so delicate, but inspecting her palm he saw the hardened strength of it. It was as if she was a kovu egg. Soft and delicate on the outside, containing a vicious beast on the inside. No, that wasn’t right. He looked at her soft features. Even with her split lip and bruised cheek she held a feminine grace he all but marveled at. Everything in his life was grimy, spoiled, tainted. Its what came from running the streets and back alleys to survive. There was a haunting purity to her. Running his hands up her arm he could feel the supple softness of it. Her hair was a tangle of thick wavy curls. The kind of hair a man wanted to bury his hands while he held her against him.
He frowned, grimacing slightly as he took in her whole form. His groin tightened in protest. Funny how when he’d been observing her earlier that night he hadn’t really noticed her. Now he couldn’t ignore it, the full pouty lips and smooth light texture of her skin. His inspection of her was interrupted by the tapping on his shoulder of Terek. Ripping his gaze away from her his mecha went into a furious battery of hand signals. “Shit.” he cursed, if what Terek was telling him was true - and he knew it was - they’d have to launch in less than twenty minutes. “Did you at least close the lines?” An affirmative. “Are the stabilizers and thrusters enough to get us off the ground and out of here,” he paused, “safely.” The mecha seemed to pause, considering, he gave another affirmative, this time slower.
Great, just great. They could get out and launch but they’d have to land in less than a day, somewhere and could expect hefty repairs. Flying in this condition would put strain on the quick repairs and was a great risk. But if the mecha said there was a chance, he’d have to take it. He knew the alternative wasn’t any better. He’d take death on his terms over anyone else’s any day.
Grunting his frustration he finished removing the net from her and the table. Trying to arrange a pillow and sheet over her to keep her as comfortable as possible he strapped her down to the table. Shooting one last glance back to at her he moved to the bridge to initiate the launch sequence.
* * *
Once they were out of the orbit of Kontira he set Terek on the helm and directed him to get to the nearest safe port where repairs could be done. Nodding to his captain the mecha turned and took over piloting.
Rafe hurried back to the med bay, practically running. While he’d check her for bleeding quickly before launching he hadn’t been able to staunch anything. Not until he found the knife and removed it, assuming he could.
He paused at the door to see her stirring painfully. Shit. He went over to the first medical cabinet on the left and pulled out a drawer, filling an injector he went over to her. Brushing the hair from her eyes he spoke softly to her, “Shhh, don’t move. I’ve got to patch you up still.” He saw her eyes flutter and snap open, their fire still burning, but laced with pain. Before she could struggle further and hurt herself he jabbed the injector into her neck and pushed the release. She had just enough time for a surprised look then she was back out again.
Sure she was out he finally spoke, “Gah, you’re gonna be pissed when you wake up. But it was for your own good.” Pushing the intercom on the wall he contacted the bridge, “I’m going to be in surgery for the next hour, try to avoid any crazy maneuvers.” Terek made what would pass for an electronic chuckle followed by an affirmative.
Turning his attention back to her, he set his jaw about what he was about to do. He pulled back the sheet and quickly scanned her front, briefly pausing to appreciate the lethal grace she held. Her bruised cheek and cut lip could wait, he had to find clean and seal her wound. Pulling back the sheet from where he’d tucked it under her sides he found it. The blood that stained it was no small amount. It was then he realized how pale she was. Unstrapping her he turned her gently over keeping her right cheek down so she could breathe uninhibited. Surveying the damage he winced. The knife hadn’t just punctured her skin. It had dug in severely and twisted. It was a wonder she’d stayed conscious as long as she had. Carefully he set to work.
Alyoora moved on the hard surface. Groggily she tried to remember what had happened and where she was. Then the pain struck her. She went to move her hand to her side and realized she couldn’t, she was strapped down. Panic flooded her as her memory slammed back. She’d confronted the Wraith, she was just about to lunge for him when the nets had come. Other bits of memory swam about her head that she couldn’t make out, her knife, a soft voice, a set of mechanical eyes. Her head ached as she realized he’d sedated her. But why, the Wraith didn’t take prisoners, she’d only be a liability to him, why hadn’t he just killed her...unless. She struggled even more, dread and anger filled her. No, this wouldn’t happen again, she’d died first.
“Sir, she’s awake and from the looks of it about to tear open her stitches and ruin all of your hard work.”
“You stay here, keep on the course to Qiran.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he practically ran to the med bay.
She knew the instant he was in the doorway. But it wasn’t her heightened hearing or other physical senses, it was a deeper more subtle one. As if she were attuned to his presence. She turned her head glaring death at him, then she grimaced slightly remembering the pain in her cheek and lip.
He passed her an amused stare, “Serves you right looking at your savior like that.” He saw her eyes widen then narrow. Well if she wasn’t a suspicious little thing. He tried to soften his look so not to frighten or piss her off further, “You need to keep still. I’m a fair surgeon but not good enough to keep your struggling from ripping your side open again.” That seemed to give her pause.
“Where am I?” she said slowly.
“How about this, I’ll unstrap you if you promise to behave and you can see for yourself.”
A fleeting look of something he couldn’t identify passed over her features before she answered, “Alright, but no funny business, or-”
He cut her off with a droll stare, “Do you really think in your condition, aboard an unfamiliar ship, you’re going to do much of anything but bleed?” That seemed to quell her anger abit. He could see the calculating look on her face however. This was going to be an interesting ride...
Rafe hurried back to the med bay, practically running. While he’d check her for bleeding quickly before launching he hadn’t been able to staunch anything. Not until he found the knife and removed it, assuming he could.
He paused at the door to see her stirring painfully. Shit. He went over to the first medical cabinet on the left and pulled out a drawer, filling an injector he went over to her. Brushing the hair from her eyes he spoke softly to her, “Shhh, don’t move. I’ve got to patch you up still.” He saw her eyes flutter and snap open, their fire still burning, but laced with pain. Before she could struggle further and hurt herself he jabbed the injector into her neck and pushed the release. She had just enough time for a surprised look then she was back out again.
Sure she was out he finally spoke, “Gah, you’re gonna be pissed when you wake up. But it was for your own good.” Pushing the intercom on the wall he contacted the bridge, “I’m going to be in surgery for the next hour, try to avoid any crazy maneuvers.” Terek made what would pass for an electronic chuckle followed by an affirmative.
Turning his attention back to her, he set his jaw about what he was about to do. He pulled back the sheet and quickly scanned her front, briefly pausing to appreciate the lethal grace she held. Her bruised cheek and cut lip could wait, he had to find clean and seal her wound. Pulling back the sheet from where he’d tucked it under her sides he found it. The blood that stained it was no small amount. It was then he realized how pale she was. Unstrapping her he turned her gently over keeping her right cheek down so she could breathe uninhibited. Surveying the damage he winced. The knife hadn’t just punctured her skin. It had dug in severely and twisted. It was a wonder she’d stayed conscious as long as she had. Carefully he set to work.
Alyoora moved on the hard surface. Groggily she tried to remember what had happened and where she was. Then the pain struck her. She went to move her hand to her side and realized she couldn’t, she was strapped down. Panic flooded her as her memory slammed back. She’d confronted the Wraith, she was just about to lunge for him when the nets had come. Other bits of memory swam about her head that she couldn’t make out, her knife, a soft voice, a set of mechanical eyes. Her head ached as she realized he’d sedated her. But why, the Wraith didn’t take prisoners, she’d only be a liability to him, why hadn’t he just killed her...unless. She struggled even more, dread and anger filled her. No, this wouldn’t happen again, she’d died first.
“Sir, she’s awake and from the looks of it about to tear open her stitches and ruin all of your hard work.”
“You stay here, keep on the course to Qiran.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he practically ran to the med bay.
She knew the instant he was in the doorway. But it wasn’t her heightened hearing or other physical senses, it was a deeper more subtle one. As if she were attuned to his presence. She turned her head glaring death at him, then she grimaced slightly remembering the pain in her cheek and lip.
He passed her an amused stare, “Serves you right looking at your savior like that.” He saw her eyes widen then narrow. Well if she wasn’t a suspicious little thing. He tried to soften his look so not to frighten or piss her off further, “You need to keep still. I’m a fair surgeon but not good enough to keep your struggling from ripping your side open again.” That seemed to give her pause.
“Where am I?” she said slowly.
“How about this, I’ll unstrap you if you promise to behave and you can see for yourself.”
A fleeting look of something he couldn’t identify passed over her features before she answered, “Alright, but no funny business, or-”
He cut her off with a droll stare, “Do you really think in your condition, aboard an unfamiliar ship, you’re going to do much of anything but bleed?” That seemed to quell her anger abit. He could see the calculating look on her face however. This was going to be an interesting ride...
* * *
She looked at the strong planes of his hand...marveling in the tapered and graceful length of his fingers against hers.
He paused as she took his hand. Hesitating, he did his best to keep it still. Marshalling himself to let her touch go unnoticed his thoughts betrayed him. For all he's learned of her he knew she didn't touch any more than she could stand to be touched. But here, right now, she held the curiosity of a child. He closed his eyes at the soft texture of her skin. It was enough to make him hard. Hell, who was he kidding, he could feel the blood draining from his head to the other already. Grunting he shifted uncomfortably. She jumped back not realizing he'd awoken, a sheepish look on her face like a child caught. "Sorry, I-" she stammered.
He gave her a look that seared her, suffusing red to her cheeks in the most flattering way. He gave her a small smile, hoping it would relax her, "Not to worry, I'm much too hardened for your touch to hurt me." Inwardly he scoffed at himself, knowing the truth. She was the one in all the Ichidian Universe who could lay him low, one word, one touch and he would be done for...something she, nor his enemies, could ever know.
He paused as she took his hand. Hesitating, he did his best to keep it still. Marshalling himself to let her touch go unnoticed his thoughts betrayed him. For all he's learned of her he knew she didn't touch any more than she could stand to be touched. But here, right now, she held the curiosity of a child. He closed his eyes at the soft texture of her skin. It was enough to make him hard. Hell, who was he kidding, he could feel the blood draining from his head to the other already. Grunting he shifted uncomfortably. She jumped back not realizing he'd awoken, a sheepish look on her face like a child caught. "Sorry, I-" she stammered.
He gave her a look that seared her, suffusing red to her cheeks in the most flattering way. He gave her a small smile, hoping it would relax her, "Not to worry, I'm much too hardened for your touch to hurt me." Inwardly he scoffed at himself, knowing the truth. She was the one in all the Ichidian Universe who could lay him low, one word, one touch and he would be done for...something she, nor his enemies, could ever know.