Star Wars: Dark Angel, Dangerous Games

But it was enough to render her muddled and vulnerable. She cursed herself for letting that remark slip, but was relieved she had been able to recover. Hold your tongue, she told herself, until the time is right. She had to remain focused, solid.

Lylla was angry. Vader had made it quite clear that Xizor and he were not friendly, so she could only guess that all this was some sort of retaliation on Xizor's part. Then why did Vader just hand her off to him, in front of all to see? And then leave her alone with him? Anger seethed in her gut as she began to suspect that this was some sort of courtly practice not covered in her protocol lessons. Maybe it was some twisted custom for a noble to hand his woman to another for the night. This custom seems to be universal, she thought bitterly. Wouldn't be the first time I was handed off to someone. But she never suspected that Vader would do this to her. She knew she was not his equal, but she thought that she had at least gained his respect, if nothing else.

She watched Xizor remove the enormous diamond pin from his throat and unwrap the cravat from his neck. Her teeth ground under her painted lips. She would be no man's plaything, not anymore, no matter who that man was. She had just escaped a life of degradation and ownership, and she would die before going back. She would show all of them—Xizor, the Emperor, even Vader—that she would never be toyed with again.

As she eyed the Falleen prince across the garden, she smirked through her scowl. So Xizor fancied himself the master of seduction.

The master was about to meet his match.

Part II

Lylla instantly wiped the glare from her face as Xizor turned around and stepped back toward her. The dim light of the garden softened the sharp angles of his features, and his skin appeared aqua. Although he was tall like Vader, his build was quite different. Gods damn it, he is attractive, isn't he, Lylla thought. Bastard. His body was long and, unlike Vader's powerful physique, slimly sculpted. Having removed his coat and cravat, he wore a sleeveless cream silk shirt, open just far enough to show the lean strength of his chest. His shoulders were broad but not bulky, and slender muscles elegantly flowed under the smooth skin of his arms. A royal purple sash tied around his sleek waist further accentuated the V-shape of his torso, and his legs were long and strapping under his close-fitting trousers.

He stopped in the center of the garden and, with an inviting smile, lifted his hand, beckoning her. "Shall we dance?"

She returned his smile, lightly pushing herself off the pillar. He could see the cadence in her hips as she sauntered toward him, even through the full satin bell of her skirt. When she reached him, she gave him her hand. He drew her close, but not too close, leaving just a breath of air between them.

"Here," he said, "you put this here." He placed her hand on his shoulder. "And I put mine...here." His hand settled in the curve of her waist.

"This isn't the same dance," she noted.

"It isn't the same song," he replied. Starting at her shoulder, he traced a lacquered fingernail down the inside of her arm, enjoying the slick feel of her satin glove. She suppressed a shudder. He said, "This is a dance from my homeworld of Falleen, a much simpler dance than a spritinal. No confusing steps, no athletics, and far more... "He reached her hand and laced his long fingers into hers, "informal."

"One might even say 'intimate'," she added, huskily.

He raised a brow. "One might." He pulled her a little closer. "Just follow me." He began lightly swaying side to side, shifting his weight from foot to foot to the unhurried, sensual strings of the music coming from the ballroom. She moved with him. "That's it, just like that. Now..." With his hand on her waist, he stepped back and began to turn her in a circle, never breaking the rhythm. She mirrored his movements perfectly. His sinning smile returned. "My lady is far too hard on herself. You are an exceptional dancer."

Her vision sharpened and expanded, as the narcotic coming off him once again affected her. She tried to fight it, concentrating on the music and her own willpower. But it was difficult; she could feel the music undulate through his lean body, even through the layers of her gown. The way he moved was so unlike Vader—where Vader could make the ground quake under his foot, Xizor seemed to glide above it. The feel of his large hand on her waist sent currents through her flesh. She could feel his breath on her cheek. Her loins tightened in response.

Xizor silently studied her as well. This was no nobleman's daughter or sister of an industry czar as he had first guessed. Society women often attempted to imitate the magnetism of a brazen woman, but rarely succeeded: There was no imitation here. He knew from the moment she entered the ball that she was wholly aware of her effect on men, and even on women. Underneath the sophisticated dress and cool manner, a practiced sexuality smoldered—she virtually prowled as they danced, moving her body more like a courtesan than a countess. She had picked up on every signal he had given her, and responded with equal skill. Her reaction to him was more than just a tarigash influence. She had done this before. Many times.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Lylla's eyes flickered. She recovered quickly. "I thought that had already been established. I am Lylla Sa'thraxxx, Enforcer for—"

"That's not what I meant." His face turned serious. "No one has ever seen or heard of you before. And suddenly, you appear out of nowhere, astounding all who lay eyes on you—a Minarian blood rose that grows from the compost of this," he rolled his eyes toward the ballroom's balcony, "obsequious rabble." She laughed, Xizor thought, a little uneasily. "And on the arm of none other than the most feared and powerful man in the galaxy. Well, besides me." Lylla laughed again, and Xizor noted that she bashfully cast her eyes down. "Tell me, where did you and Lord Vader meet? How did you—"

"Ssssshhhh," she hushed. She leaned in closer, and smiled. "Here we are, in this magnificent garden, with this exquisite music and your arms around me...and all you want to talk about is Lord Vader?"

"You're avoiding the question. Who are you?"

Lylla looked into his eyes. She traced a long fingernail from his shoulder to his neck, running it up and down in whisper-light strokes and asked, "Who do you want me to be?"

Xizor stopped momentarily and smiled, slowly. "You intend to stay a mystery. That is quite all right, dear lady. I'll play." He started to move again, and she followed. The hand that had been at her waist slid to the small of her back and pressed her against him. Soon, it traveled upwards, underneath her cascade of curls, until his fingers reached the bare skin between her shoulders. With his talon, he began to lightly trace little circles. He drew their hands in and rested them on his chest. Despite her effort to squelch her response, a quiver traveled through her body. She was disgusted with herself, because she couldn't entirely blame the narcotic coming off him; truth be told, she hadn't realized until that moment how much she had missed the feel of a hand made of skin and bone on her flesh. Although Xizor was cold-blooded, his body was smooth and taut against her and radiated her heat back into her skin. Attempting to maintain control, she dug her nails into the meat of her hand. Hang on, woman. Just a little more time, she urged herself, just a few minutes more, and I'll have him exactly where I want him...

"I wish you could see my skyhook," Xizor whispered, his breath puffing against her cheek. "My palace in the sky, my sanctuary in the heavens. The view of Coruscant from my balcony is unlike anything you have ever seen. My collection of exotic wines and libations is unsurpassed, I have chosen the finest art from all over the galaxy to adorn my treasured home and..." He stopped, and chuckled. "I'm bragging, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Lylla murmured.

Xizor's expression became earnest. His tone deepened. "Lylla—may I call you Lylla?" Batting her lashes, she nodded. He sighed. "Even your name is a song."

Damn you Xizor, Lylla growled in her mind as she felt her nipples stiffen against her corset.

"I have very few weaknesses, Lylla. In fact, I have only one; and that is ..." He gingerly pulled his talon over her bare shoulder, "...for beauty in all of its forms. I apologize for my curiosity concerning your arrangement with Lord Vader but, you see, I..." He snared her eyes within his, "I cannot fathom how a creature such as you could have ever escaped my notice for so long." He squeezed her hand. "I take back what I said in the ballroom. I am a jealous man after all."

In this proximity to him, the drug was stronger than ever. Her charade was in danger of becoming very real. His voice resounded as a soft hymn of passion in her ear. She felt drunk by the scent of him, her legs were weak beneath her, and her heart was beating hard and fast. Her breathing became ragged as she came nearer and nearer to succumbing to him...

"If you were my woman, I would show you off as the priceless jewel you are, and not hide you in some darkened fortress, having you scurry away under the cover of night—"

His words slapped Lylla out of her carnal trance. She stopped the dance and took a step back. "And what makes you say that?" she asked, looking him directly in the eye.

Xizor was speechless for the briefest moment, but it was long enough for Lylla to see trepidation spark in his golden eyes before he once again donned that broad, smooth smile. "I can only guess, dear lady, seeing as Lord Vader has hidden you away for so long until tonight."

Lylla's thoughts kicked into hyperdrive. He had mentioned his palace, called it a skyhook—and she suddenly remembered the unusual and decadently opulent palace off in the distance from Vader's fortress, the only other structure that shared its altitude. How could he have possibly known about her escapes in the night, unless...?

He's been spying on us.

And whatever effect that damned drug had on her instantly evaporated into the breeze.

She leaned back into him, resting her hands on his chest, and let out a coquettish giggle before looking into his eyes. "I'm feeling a bit woozy, your Highness. Could we end this dance and just...talk?" She fluttered her thick lashes. "Perhaps share the view with me?"

"By all means, my lovely one," Xizor murmured, snaking an arm around her waist and leading her to the balcony rail. Lylla wanted nothing more than to smack that smug air of victory off his face. But she merely returned his self-satisfied smirk.

The unseen eyes watching them also shifted positions. The Emperor pulled the heavy drape hiding him slightly aside, allowing him a better view. From his hiding place behind a meter-thick marble pillar, Wrenga Jixton crouched even deeper under his cover of darkness. He raised the comlink to his lips and whispered, "I think you should come down here. Now."

Lylla placed her hands upon the rail, stretching her long neck up and breathing in the cool night air. She opened her eyes to gaze at the electric wonder of Coruscant spread before her. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" she breathed.

Xizor leaned on the rail. "Yes, it is." He stared at her neck, caged as it was in that gem-studded collar, before lifting his eyes to her face. "And it could all be yours, Lylla."

She didn't face him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean come home with me tonight."

"Xizor," she whimpered with well-played anguish, "I belong to Vader. I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he corrected, a tad sternly. He gripped her by the shoulders and slowly turned her to face him. He pulled her close. "The Emperor may control the galaxy, but I control Coruscant. And this..." He gestured to the soaring skyline, "could beckon to your every whim." She gasped against him. "You could have everything you ever desired. I would dress you in gowns designed for a queen. I will take you to the most exclusive restaurants and resorts, have you adored and pampered in the galaxy's most luxurious spas, and lavish you with the finest jewels money can buy. You would be the toast of Coruscant society, and the envy of every woman in the galaxy. And pleasure? Ah, Lylla..." He caressed her cheek with his long fingers and ran his thumb over her full lips. "My skills as a lover are unmatched. I could bring you to heights of ecstasy you've never even imagined." He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, "I can give you anything, Lylla, anything you want."

She slid her hands up his arms and grasped his shoulders. "Anything, Xizor?" she whispered excitedly.

He caressed her cheek with his own, sliding to lightly trace her lips with his. "Anything, my pet." He laced his long fingers into her hair and pulled her to him, greedily intent on ravishing her lips and sealing her fate—

"Can you make me Empress?"

For the briefest moment, it seemed the entire night had stopped motion. Xizor froze, not entirely sure he had heard her right. Slowly, he pulled back, and dropped his hands to his sides. And as he watched Lylla's face harden from breathless surrender to cold contempt, he was assured his ears had not failed him. She chuckled mockingly. "I didn't think so." She patted his chest. "Oh, Xizor. You're good, I'll give you that. But you're not that good."

Xizor stood stock-still, his expression that of livid confusion. "What is this? Some kind of joke?"

"Yes, it is, Xizor. Rather like the one you just tried to play on me." She began to stroll a slow circle around him, glaring daggers into his skull. "Did you honestly believe you could seduce me into betraying Darth Vader, my lord and lover, the most powerful man in the galaxy, the NEXT Emperor? And with what? Some pretty dresses, a few trinkets, and the possibility of a good fuck?" Her smile grew when his scowl deepened. "You think I'd settle for a nice meal, a manicure..." She raised her arm and pointed at the heavens, "When I could have THAT, the GALAXY, ALL of it!" She lowered her arm and, when she turned back to him, her husky contralto grew hard and cold. "I am not about to throw everything away for the likes of you. My days of being just another mare in someone's stable are long over."

"I knew it," Xizor snarled. "From the first moment I met you, with your Outer Rim accent and your clumsiness, I knew you for what you really are. Vader can spend all the wealth of the galaxy to dress you up like a princess, but it doesn't hide the fact that you are nothing more than a common SLUT."

"I prefer to think I'm not all that common," she retorted calmly. She lazily sauntered toward him. "And besides, I may be a slut, but I'm a slut you couldn't seduce." She placed her hands on her hips. "What does that say about you, Xizor?"

He roughly grabbed her arm. "So, the little whore intends to fuck her way to the galactic throne. That is rich, my dear. I wonder what Lord Vader, not to mention the Emperor, would have to say about your little plan—"

"And I wonder what Lord Vader will say when I tell him you spied on his woman, then drugged her and tried to bed her right under his nose. I wonder what he'll do when he discovers it was YOU who told the media about me."

Xizor loosened his vicious grip on her arm, even as wrath simmered under his expression. "You can't prove it."

"Can you disprove it?"

Xizor angrily jerked away, then sneered when he turned back. "Not only are you a second-rate slut, but a perverted one as well. To think you actually spread your legs for that abomination—"

"He is more man than you will EVER be," she growled.

"The Emperor—"

"Is old, sick, and can't live forever."

He stepped toward her. "You really are a stupid slut, aren't you? The Emperor would never leave his realm to a clanking tin soldier, a mutilated little errand boy who bends and sues at his every whim!" Cruel amusement seeped into his tone. "But perhaps that is your lot in life, hmm? You are obviously not getting any younger, my sweet—not as easy to turn the trick as it was?" He laughed. "You cannot even attract a whole man! Just a shambling mound of wires and bolts—"

Lylla viciously slapped him across the face; the crack actually bounced off the pillars of the garden, and the blow even threw Xizor off kilter. Grabbing the rail, he brought his other hand to his throbbing cheek. He raised his yellow eyes, now roiling pits of acid. "You dare strike me, you BITCH!" He lunged at her, grabbing her by the back of her neck, brutally shaking her. Lylla screamed, and curled her hands into claws, her nails driving right for Xizor's eyes—

"Remove your hands, Falleen."

Xizor and Lylla both froze. She heard the deep, labored hiss of Vader's breather behind her, and she saw the viciousness leach from Xizor's face into a hard stare of defeat. She turned around to see the Dark Lord materialize from the darkness. He stopped several meters away. "Come here, Enforcer Sa'thraxxx." Lylla yanked herself out of Xizor's grip and rushed to the Dark Lord. Vader motioned to her to stay where she was and then, with measured grace and menace, he strolled over to the Falleen prince. Stopping just a hand's width from him, he allowed Xizor a few moments to bask in the wheeze of his breather before he spoke. "Prince Xizor," he addressed him calmly, "if I ever see you touch, or even LOOK at anything of mine again...I promise you, you will not share the same merciful fate your family did by dying quickly. Your death will be slow. And extremely painful. And public."

Xizor let out a scathing chuckle. "You will never truly understand who you are dealing with, will you? You regard me as some philandering fop, a fool that should tremble in the presence of the all mighty Darth Vader." He stepped forward until his nose was just shy of Vader's mask. All mirth had vanished from his face. "I own this planet, Vader—nay, all of the Core Worlds. I am an Emperor in my own right. Granted, my forces may not be as vast as yours, but neither are they the docile half-wit drones you call soldiers. My men are quick, cunning...and you will never see them coming."

"Then I'll make it a point not to look, your Highness," Vader flatly replied.

Xizor shot a glare at Lylla before twisting his face into a disgusted scowl. "Take your slattern, Vader. I have no use for her."

"Of course you don't. Few men of your caliber have use for a woman who can outwit them." With that, he casually turned and walked back toward Lylla.

"Mark my words, Darth Vader!" Xizor hissed. "I WILL have my revenge!"

"And I will have mine." Vader turned slightly over his shoulder as he added, "And it will be much sooner than you think." With that, he took Lylla's arm and escorted her into the shadowed walkway. Wrenga Jixton also stepped out of the darkness, tossing Xizor a wicked grin and salute as he followed.

Xizor stood for moment before pushing himself off the rail. Calmly, he walked to one of the priceless sculptures where, with typical Falleen strength and fury, he lifted it off its pedestal and hurled it to the ground, smashing it into a dozen jagged chunks. He looked up to the palace balcony.

Palpatine came forward out of his hiding place to stand at the rail. He closed his gnarled hands over the top of his walking stick and glared down at the defeated Falleen. Xizor opened his mouth as if to speak, but then fell silent again as he cast his eyes to the ground. The Emperor stared into the darkness after his apprentice and his woman, and murmured to no one in particular, "It seems I have vastly underestimated Vader's little bed-warmer."

* * *

"You came just in time," Lylla murmured to the Dark Lord as they walked through the darkened corridor. "Another moment and he may have—AAH! Vader, you're hurting me—!"