Possessed by the Vampire: Caught (Book 3)

J.E. & M. Keep

All Rights Reserved. If you downloaded an illegal copy of this book and enjoyed it, please buy a legal copy. Either way you get to keep the eBook forever, but you’ll be encouraging us to continue writing and producing high quality fiction for you. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Michelle Keep. All cover art makes use of stock photography and all persons depicted are models.

This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only.

All sexually active characters in this work are over 18 and between non blood-related, consenting individuals.

More information is available at Pathforgers Publishing

If you require content warnings: this particular story contains m/f/m menage, female promiscuity, risky sex, edge play, vampire sex/blood play, and a serpent male/multiple penetration.

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Table of Contents

Note from the Authors

More by J.E. & M. Keep

Biography

Chapter 1

The sound of high heels clicking upon the marble flooring echoed through the halls of the Normevor's governing house. Few people were still about; the court session was closed, so the public was keeping out for the day, and only the stoic guards and a handful of bureaucrats stood to watch her. But Anjasa would be damned before she’d let any opportunity to show off go to waste.

Her attire was hardly appropriate for such a serious-sounding ‘invitation’--a summons to stand before a tribunal. Nevertheless, she had draped a thick fur collar about herself with a long silk dress that split at the sides so that her shapely calves and thighs showed their tanned skin through with each new step.

By her side strode her two most trusted advisors: Iridessa to her right, dressed more modestly than she in a simple grey and pearl ‘business dress’, as she called it, though with her large bust straining its fabric, it spoke of a different kind of business; and Luscius to her right. The tall, elegant man wore a thick overcoat, buttoned to the top of his high collar, so different from the leather he’d always worn when she’d first met him.

Normally, he did not shy from scandalously revealing clothing any more than Anjasa did; however, the onset of winter was affecting the curious serpentine man more than the rest of them. Even so, the chill didn’t keep him from letting the overcoat’s buttons stop at his pecs to part and show his bare, well-cut abs down to his low-hung formal trousers.

Like Anjasa herself, he put practicality just one step behind glamour at all times.

Iridessa spoke to Anjasa as they strode through the halls towards the large, wooden doors at the end. “The new prosecutor appointed by the Crown is committed to taking a stab at crime in the city. And not just crime, organized crime as they call it. He aims to bring down your whole operation,” she said, seriousness edging her voice.

And serious it was. After all, it took something big to get the crime lord herself out and about the city at so early an hour.

His every step a confident swagger, Luscius gave a pointed motion to his coat, where undoubtedly his weapons lay. “You’ll not be taken into custody this day, madam,” he remarked with a soft little hiss, his long, lustrous hair gently swaying with their motions through the cavernous halls and its towering marble pillars.

Anjasa had tugged her hair back in a sleek ponytail that let the cascading black waves spill over the luxurious fur coat. She nodded appreciatively to them both and readjusted her collar so that it revealed some of her ample cleavage. She’d been disappointed that her extra training had reduced them as she took on a somewhat more toned appearance, but her body still never failed to get stares.

She glanced to Iridessa, over to the red hair that shone so brightly compared to the drabber colour of her dress. She smiled. Almost two years ago, Anjasa had saved the woman from a vampire’s lusts run amok, and never had she regretted it. Bold and confident, the human woman became a quick friend and a valuable ally.

“I dare imagine disorganized crime is far worse. We’ll convince him of that,” Anjasa said to her, reassuringly.

Iridessa still held onto her beauty despite her brush with death and the time since then, humans could age and wither so quickly that Anjasa wasn’t quite sure what to expect from them at all times. This hooker-turned-bookkeeper and manager had yet to let her down.

“I am not sure he’ll be convinced of much. He’s a young nobleman, a barrister from the northlands where he earned a reputation as a hard-nosed, by-the-books prosecutor. He’ll be intent upon earning a spot at the foot of the throne as Royal Judge. Money certainly won’t do the trick.”

Luscius kept his usual stoic silence while serving as her day bodyguard, his handsome face marred by that one scar that made an otherwise beautiful man look intimidating and fearsome.

Still, though she lusted for him, she’d managed to find a balance. A balance between her unending need for satisfaction, and her ravenous desire to be in control of it. And her life, for that matter. She glanced at him, sidelong with her emerald eyes and felt that twinge in her loins. Something about stressful situations always set her off.

Perhaps that was why her primary lover, Jaral, was a vampire.

And Luscius, a vampire hunter.

Her heels clicked rhythmically with her step until they finally reached the entrance to the courtroom, and she turned to her companions. As an elf, her age was nearly impossible for them to ascertain, though she’d lived lifetimes longer than anyone she knew.

Well, all but Jaral, perhaps. She didn’t know his age, either, but if his tales were to be believed, she could assume he’d lived almost as long, if not longer.

“Please, just leave this to me. And try not to throw yourself under the horse for me unless you need to.” Anjasa licked over her ruby lips, her eyes lined in kohl, making her dark lashes seem even thicker. “How do I look?”

Luscius’ only delay was in admiring her beauty a moment before replying, “As stunning as the summer sun, madam.” His voice was filled with such velvety smoothness as he complimented her so. While he gave her his low bow, Iridessa remained upright, her mind keenly on business.

“I wish you had given me more time with you to practice statements, and your attire should be more professional,” she chided, never one to mince words, “but as you wish.” Her own hard gaze turned to one of the bailiffs at the side of the door and snapped, “Open up. This is Mistress Vilelight, here to stand before the tribunal and give testimony,” before turning over the summons document.

The two of the bailiffs went to work immediately after inspecting the letter, pulling open those immense doors to unveil the glass-domed hall within.

The three entered an ominous and foreboding chamber, ringed by curved bleachers, upon which sat two rows of the city’s most wealthy and prominent citizens, and at the center the Judge-Overseer for all of Normevor. Everything was cast in the eerie glow of the winter sun that filtered through the dark stained glass above.

One of the bailiffs went ahead, while another ushered her forward. The front most one called out in a bellowing, practiced voice, “A Miss Anjasa Vilelight to give testimony on criminal doings in the streets of Normevor.”

The carpeted marble floors led her to one of two podiums before the Judge-Overseer and the tribunal itself. At the occupied podium stood a tall, slender man wearing a crisp suit of navy blue, his dark hair lined with grey. She knew it had to be the prosecutor, but the grey surprised her. It was unusual for humans to age so very quickly.

The Judge-Overseer spoke up in his own low, gravelly voice, “These witnesses with you vouch for your identity, then?” He asked.

To which Luscius simply nodded and Iridessa replied, “Aye. T’is the lady herself.”

The prosecutor cleared his throat and spoke up, a confident smile upon his handsome, well-shaven face. “The prosecution affirms this is the lady in question.”

He’d seen her before? That tidbit did come as something of a surprise. Anjasa had been on the lookout for the man for some time.

“The Court recognizes the Lady Anjasa Vilelight. Take your place and be prepared to give testimony as per order of the court.” Clearing his throat, the old, white-haired judge banged the ceremonial mallet, carved from wood of an elven tree, long dead in the land of humans, representing a time when her own kin brought the knowledge of justice and order to the then-uncivilized brutes.

Anjasa slid to her assigned little area, her keen, elven eyes taking in her stuffy surroundings. This all reminded her too much of her elven home, of when she was banished for ‘willful neglect’ when she was with the Royal Investigators.

Throughout her lengthy life as a witch, as a spy, as a sex slave, and later a whore, never had she been so shamed and powerless as when she was stripped of her duties. Finally, she’d found a job where she could do what she was good at without having to evade the law. Unfortunately, it also required her to follow it, and her sexual hungers had gotten just too strong...

“Prosecutor General Amarkum, you may begin with questions,” the Judge-Overseer declared with a nod towards the dapper man in the tall black boots who was set upon taking her down.

It shook Anjasa back to the present, and she shut her previous failings out of her mind.

Those cold, blue eyes of Lord Amarkum turned toward her as he folded his hands behind his back. “The Court convenes this day to do more than ask questions, my lady,” he said, paying her recognition beyond her station, though by old custom all elves in the land were once treated as lords and ladies. This Prosecutor was courteous, she had to give him that at least.

“We are here,” he continued, obviously speaking from a rehearsed speech, “to bring to light the immense underground network of criminal organizations that you are not only linked to, but responsible for in this city. The webbing of your nefarious doings that stretched and bound the underbelly of Normevor from the footsteps of this very hall of justice and order, to beyond the walls itself, and into the slums of the outer city.”

In the audience of nobles and merchants among the Tribunal, Anjasa could see eyes widen and butts shift uncomfortably at the blunt manner in which the prosecutor tackled the issue. They were a people not used to such forwardness, but courtly and clever ways of dancing about the issue.

He didn’t stop there. “I have before me-- and have presented to this Tribunal before your arrival--significant evidence and testimony as to the heinous nature of your dealings. How far your network of thugs and villains extends. How you have ordered and orchestrated the downfall of public officials, illicitly affected local competition to expand your legitimate business fronts beyond its legal confines, and even waged gang warfare in the streets!” His voice rose with such indignation that was clearly not faked. He was an ambitious man, but one with some scruples, it seemed.

“Already I have shown, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how one individual has come to control the economic affairs of this city to a greater extent than its council. How one lone woman has risen from the lowly rank of bawdy barroom whore to become the queen of a criminal organization that threatens the legitimacy of the true and rightful queen of this land!” His voice shook with anger at that, his face growing a bit flushed, though he never seemed about to lose control. He was a careful orator.

Turning his hard gaze upon her, she standing there in her silken dress as she slid her fur collar back so that Luscius could take her now-unneeded coat from her, the prosecutor tilted his head. “I shall not waste the court’s time on retreading my evidence again for the sake of your benefit, but know that every denial you have: I have a counter. Light to shed upon your falsehoods. So tell us, lady Vilelight…” he came to an end, sounding downright theatrical as he paced around his podium, tracing a hand along its carved stone surface, “shall you spare us all a long process and simply begin by naming the heads of your criminal syndicate under your command? In recognition of your kin and the justice they have done our people, we shall offer you a light sentencing if you aid us in the dismantling of your villainous empire.”

“Villainous?” Anjasa would not be cowed. No, when she was removed from duty, banished from her homelands and forced to run from those who blamed her for their ills, she felt remorse. Regret. Even fear.

But not here. Not in the human lands, where she had true power.

“I would argue that nothing I’ve done is villainous. In fact, I fancy myself a charitable woman, giving life and purpose to the wonderful people of this city who have welcomed me, an elf, openly into their lives. I provide them a reasonable salary for their legal work, which is handsomely taxed. I keep the rabble from your doorsteps by ensuring they’re not subject to poverty, and in the last two years since arriving in this beautiful city, I believe you’ll find that crime, especially violent crime, is at an all-time low.”

Anjasa’s speech wasn’t rehearsed, but it still sounded strong and composed. Her back was straight, and the inappropriate gown fluttered as she moved to look at the assembled crowd. “Indeed, I imagine you all should be thanking me for taking your poor and destitute and turning them into productive people who provide you with much demanded services. The rich have never been safer as when I provide such profitable employment to those that would otherwise be cast aside.”

There was a lot of uncomfortable shifting in the stands before her at that, the wealthy noble lords before her not much liking being brought directly into the limelight on the matter. The prosecutor himself didn’t let them stew long though before he responded.

“You fancy yourself a champion of the rich and the poor alike then, do you?” he challenged, brow raised as he folded his hands together upon the podium, returning to his initial position. “Then how do you explain the fact that you have seduced women from their family homes to work as whores? That you have put children to work as burglars and pickpockets against the wealthy of this city, the same ones you claim to serve the benefits of?”

“Seduced women from their lives as future brides, offering them independence and freedom to live their life in a safe environment? I’m sure that Iridessa, my manager, can attest to the fact that I do not employ whores who do not desire the job. In fact, most of the women seek me out. That’s why we are such a premium entertainment establishment for the upper class, and sought those so-called illegal expansions of our services into more convenient locations for our wealthy clientele.” Anjasa smiled, cordially, but behind her green eyes was pure desire to see them squirm a little.

She parried one of his accusations deftly, but the indignant look upon the prosecutor’s face showed she was convincing him not at all.

“You make great pretense towards doing a service to this city,” he bristled, spine stiff, “yet all your words are but thin veils of lies over the truth. How will you even pretend to defend the way in which you ousted an up and coming noble lord from this city nearly two years ago? Or the droves of dead bodies that turned up last year in the streets after what could only be the biggest and most savage gangland crackdown of this city’s history?!”

Anjasa brushed off his accusations with a wave of her hand. “All misunderstandings, I assure you. Trust me, the city is safe in my hands.” Her mouth spread in a wide grin and she fluttered her eyes at the Prosecutor. “Though I admit my curiosity as to where you have been spying on me.”

Even her ethereal beauty and charms had their limits, however, for the stubborn prosecutor did not flinch. He slammed his fists to the marble podium and said insistently, “This is not a game! For the crimes you stand accused, you face public hanging! Or worse! Royal law brooks no such criminal activities as yours, and if you do not cooperate you will face the worst the justice system has to offer!”

Fuming, he brushed a hand back over his sleek, black and grey hair, turning his once-more calm gaze upon her. “I ask you once again -- nay, implore you, for the sake of sparing an elven lady's life -- will you name your chief underlings before this Tribunal and aid in the dismantling of the criminal underworld in Normevor or face the full force of the law? If you cooperate without hesitation or reservation, you may even walk away with a stipend to spend on your life in exile, with comfort and freedom at the least. I speak with the authority of the Crown itself on this matter, with full assurances as to the true queen’s sentencing upon a guilty verdict here.”

“Ah, exile,” Anjasa breathed out. She felt herself inwardly flinch at the word, but she forced herself to stand tall in the face of it. This time, she would not be running meekly into the dark.

“I am the beginning and end of my so-called organization, a legal brothel that employs dozens of underprivileged people who weren’t born into the wealth we see in this room. Perhaps it threatens you to know that the poor can rise up from the chains you place upon them and find their own measure of happiness? Or, worse still, perhaps you are feeling the pinch that an elven woman holds the key to the wealth of this fine city, so we best eliminate her. So please, rally your death squad and bring me into the public square so that I may say my final goodbye to those I’ve helped.”

Anjasa’s voice rose, “Let us see what happens to those so-called whores and burglars without me, and whom they turn their anger and vengeance upon!”

Her two companions stood behind her, proud and silent, their trust in her secure. They didn’t waste their time or energy trying to murmur other ideas for her defense in her pointed ears.

“Lovely words from a lovely woman,” chimed in the prosecutor as he lifted up his stack of parchment and held the thick stack for all to see. “However, as the Tribunal here is aware, your crimes are indefensible. Undeniable. We have countless witnesses and evidence that you have overseen a murderous criminal empire. Witnesses who have seen you head into street battle your very self even! Willful and bloodied.”

Amarkum let the thick stack drop to the podium with a noisy slap. “Your refutations might have taken an unprepared Tribunal unawares, but today your luck has run out.”

Turning confidently to the Judge-Overseer, prosecutor Amarkum proclaimed with certainty, “The Crown rests its case, Lord-Overseer, as the evidence stands apparent to all.”

The white-haired old man turned his gaze upon Anjasa again, the crowd of lords in the stands shifting uncomfortably. “Do you have any final words before the Tribunal reaches its judgment on your accusations?”

“I think that, once Lord Amarkum has finished brooding over losing his big case, he should come visit The Prancing Pixie and see some of our very fine women and men who can make all his sorrows disappear,” Anjasa said with an air of finality and confidence that dismayed some of the audience.

“You have the right to see each piece of evidence and testimony before you and take opportunity to refute them all,” the Judge reminded her, to which Anjasa could feel through some inner sense Iridessa bristling with eagerness to tell her to take.

Lord Amarkum spoke up. “All eighteen pieces of damming evidence and fifty two lead witnesses,” he chimed, a surprisingly hefty amount even for so large a proceeding.

“I have to get back to the club at dusk. I’m certain the evidence speaks for itself, sir,” she said to the judge, feeling a bit bristled at the mere pretense of showing him deference.

She didn’t need some special sense to detect Iridessa’s reaction to that statement, but the spirited human said nothing. She didn't dare argue against her mistress in public.

The nobles in the stands all moved about anxiously too, and it wasn’t excitement at getting to leave without hearing all the evidence put before them again and then argued against. They were troubled by something else.

“Very well,” the old Judge grumbled, slamming down the mallet upon the marble before him. “We shall take a preliminary headcount of the Tribunal before settling in to deliberate,” he remarked, nodding to the bailiffs. “See to it, bailiffs.”

Anjasa had to give it to Lord Prosecutor Amarkum--he didn’t gloat, nor even look smug. He stood there confidently as the preliminary votes were tallied and counted from the Tribunal then handed to the judge.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the old man counted then recounted them again. Clearing his throat he began to speak, then remembered himself and banged the mallet once more as per tradition.

“The… the vote stands unanimous,” he began, and lord Amarkum let slip a smile. “Miss Anjasa Vilelight,” the white-haired Judge-Overseer stated, unable to look her directly in the eye. “No further deliberation shall be needed by the Tribunal, lest one should speak up now as to change their mind…”

Silence hung in the air, only disturbed by the sound of expensive fabrics shifting upon marble seats in the stands.

“Very well,” he began again, “Miss Anjasa Vilelight, you are hereby relinquished from the authority of this Court. This assembly of lordly personages finds you innocent of all charges, and--”

“What?!” Lord Amarkum blurted, utterly shocked.

The old judge turned a hard glare upon him, “Quiet!” he commanded in a loud voice that seemed beyond the elderly man. “And all further investigations are hereby declared fruitless and without merit,” he asserted with a hammering of his mallet.

“How can that be possible?!” continued the wide-eyed prosecutor.

“Lord Amarkum, if you cannot keep your peace, you shall be held in contempt of this Court’s Authority,” the judge threatened before rising, bent over and enfeebled looking. “The Tribunal is adjourned with thanks for this service rendered. Go now with pride in having served the Realm.”

Behind her, Iridessa’s own eyes were nearly as wide as Amarkum’s, though Luscius wore a smug lopsided grin that showed none of the reservations the lordly prosecutor had when his whole case seemed assured. The dashing man held out her coat, “Shall we return, madam?” he asked with a cocked brow.

She accepted the warm garment and gave him a brief smile. Even though she knew the case was in her pocket, she didn’t feel smug about the win. A chance to flex her muscles and pontificate on the finer points of poverty to the wealthy she held in her palms was a mere errand. A distraction from her true passions.

“Thank you, Luscius,” she said as she patted Iridessa’s shoulder. “I trust I didn’t disappoint you?”

The beautiful redhead had quickly dropped her stunned expression and smiled at her knowingly. “I should have known better than to think this was ever in doubt, mistress,” she approved.

Though as Iridessa led the way, up came Lord Amarkum, striding towards Anjasa with burning questions in his eyes. Luscius stopped him immediately, halting the lord's charge with a hand.

“How did you manage that?!” the disgruntled prosecutor demanded of her, holding a pile of useless evidence against his chest. “Every single one of them?! The judge didn’t even exercise his right to challenge that farce of a verdict!”

Anjasa felt pity for the man, but she quickly pushed it down. His hopes, his aspirations, his very faith may have been shattered by her, and all she could do was shrug her shoulders. “I help people, Lord Amarkum.”

Clenching a fist as he struggled against the strong defensive barrier of her watchful bodyguard Luscius, Amarkus said, “I’ll be taking this up with the judge again! He’ll have to exercise his rights of discretion in this case, or else… or else…” he struggled, either with what he would threaten the judge with, or his better judgment at whether he should tell her of it or not.

“Okay, handsome. You go do that. I’m sure the judge who just ruled in my favour after viewing all your evidence and hearing your opening statements will start to see your side of things. Everyone likes an upstart.” Anjasa looked up at him and her eyes gave no hint as to the inner workings of her mind. “But, should you speak with him and he convince you of the errors of your ways, I can arrange for a very pleasant evening for you at my establishment. And you can tell me where you first picked up this... strange obsession with punishing me.”

The innuendo was thick on her words before she gave him a disarming smile. “Thank you for your service to the Realm today.”

Luscius kept the man at bay as she strode off before finally following after.

“I won’t rest until I see your criminal organization done with!” he called after her as all the other bodies in the room filtered out, leaving him the sole one standing by.

With Iridessa at Anjasa’s side, she murmured to her quietly, “I take it we won’t need to worry about the old judge changing his mind then?”

“No, dear girl, we don’t.” Anjasa walked in silent reflection as they made their way to the exit. It had been more than a decade since she was banished from the elven homelands, but a decade passes in the blink of an eye for an elf. After centuries of living in a place, of always having a home to return to no matter how hard she strayed, it was difficult knowing she could never go back.

But she refused to let her past make her afraid of the future, and of making her life have meaning. Purpose. Beyond sex, beyond drugs, beyond profits, she wanted something that she could be proud of.

“Luscius, please make sure to alert all our people to Lord Amarkum’s vendetta and contact me immediately if he’s seen anywhere near our properties.”

“Of course, madam,” he said to her respectfully in that charming voice of his. “I have no idea how he snuck up on you unawares, but I shall redouble my efforts to keep you safe, I assure you.”

Anjasa licked over her plush lips, thoughtfully. “If you have an inkling of how or when he was spying on me, I’d care a great deal for that information. Who knows what he might have seen.”

Luscius nodded to her as he resumed his stoic watch at her side, just half a pace behind her. “I’ll do all I can to figure it out, m’lady.”

Chapter 2

Anjasa had finished her business at the township hall in less time than she had allotted for, over cautiousness in retrospect. So she ended up at her club, the Prancing Pixie, at an earlier hour than she normally would. Overseeing her business at night had made her accustomed to sleeping during the day.

As did the company she kept.

The two stunning men at her beck and call assured that she was rarely in a hurry to get out the door right away.

Nevertheless, business at the club was on the upswing. There was one unquestionable thing about Anjasa’s tenure as owner of the bawdy house: it had led to a boom in business. It turned out that happy, willing whores tended to please customers and attract business better than the other sorts.

A virtual monopoly on the trade didn’t hurt either. Not many cared to ply the trade on their own when she offered protection and benefits. Bouncers and a daily stipend for all of the girls were hard to turn down.

So when she arrived, it came as no surprise that even in the light of day, the club was active. Inside, she found the handsome young elf Aeulin manning the bar serving up drinks to customers, while the dainty little Prim served up piping hot food from the kitchen in the back. A kitchen that had improved greatly in quality lately, she was proud to say.

Though one thing that wasn’t changing was the sight of a very pregnant Prim. The petite young human woman maintained her slight frame, but for the thick, round bulge of her belly. She didn’t let that keep her from working, though, which was good, as her ever pleasant face was popular with the customers, regardless of her state. The pregnancy was dragging on ridiculously long.

So long that it left no doubt as to who the father was. Had it been a human father, she’d have popped a couple months ago. That was the strange thing about human-elf mating-a human woman could face an unpleasant thirteen month term.

Clearly, Prim had not been prepared.

Iridessa went straight to work undoing her stiff collar as she barked orders to Prim, “Have a meal prepared for m’lady and taken down to her office. You know what she likes.” The words were barely out of her mouth before she vanished up the stairs to start preparing the business for the night.

It was strange how fond of Iridessa she had become, Anjasa thought. She might have seen such a stern, commanding woman as a threat in her younger, more foolish days. Now, she was grateful for it, as it allowed her to become a bit softer and more caring while comforted that nothing would be forgotten or missed.

Anjasa gave a smile to her two employees before glancing around the bustling bar. The Prancing Pixie had everything a gentleman or lady needed for a pleasant evening. Good food, great drinks, and exceptional entertainment. Dancers and whores in great variety, to suit every taste, and all eager for the position.

Her bawdy house, reflected Anjasa, was the happiest place in the city.

“Having a good day?” she asked, lingering longer than she usually did in the open area. “Don't have to rush on my meal. It’s still early.”

Fair-haired Prim looked to her with a bright smile, her cheeks dimpled as she stood there in her lovely, pleated dress that came down across most of her thighs. A pair of white stockings covered the rest of her feet, and a fresh apron was tied over her round belly. “Oh just lovely, ma’am!” she chirped, sounding sincere as ever. She had never lost her gratitude for the job, despite treatment Anjasa sometimes worried was over generous. “How’d your ol’ meeting go? I heard it was kind of a big deal. Nothing bad I hope!”

“It went just fine. As to be expected.” Anjasa brought her long fingernails up to her hair, loosening the ponytail so that she didn’t feel so tight-laced. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not really,” Prim shrugged her still slender shoulders peeking out from beneath her shirt to show their soft, milky skin. “It’s been pretty calm so far, just--” her blue eyes widened in surprise as she remembered.

Cradling her swollen stomach she scuttled around the table she was cleaning and spoke quietly to Anjasa. “There’s a new fella downstairs outside your office. Seems he’s hopin’ to impress you and maybe get a job here,” she remarked, biting her plush lower lip anxiously. “He’s kinda cute, so I thought you might like him. Hope you don’t mind I told him to wait for an opportunity to meet’cha?” Her big, blue eyes filled with worry and hope, the young woman desperate as always to impress and not let her employer down.

“Well, I think I’d be remiss to not interview a man that could turn your head,” Anjasa smirked, lightly caressing Prim’s cheek. “Thanks. You two have a good night,” she said a bit louder, to both Prim and Aeulin, the handsome elf that was no doubt the father of Prim’s child-to-be.

The dashing -- yet careless -- young man gave a bright smile and a wave of his hand to her, though it was unclear if he caught her words over the clamour of the bar patrons.

She turned on her heels and straightened her shoulders as she began to head to her office. Since the attack on her club while she’d been... absent, she’d moved her base of operations into the club’s basement, and she was still getting used to it being so accessible and close to where she spent much of her time.

Down into the bowels of the club, she passed two rooms on either side of the hall. Ostensibly, they were just change rooms for the club’s male workers, kept separate from the women’s upstairs, but these men in particular were more than just dancers or whores.

Handsome though they were -- barely clad, wearing only a pair of tight black shorts each -- they were men trusted and trained to keep her safe.

Though seeing one with his bare feet up on the dressing table, buffing his nails, it was hard to imagine him being much use in a fight, but Luscius assured her he was ready.

“Shall I go look into those matters for you now, my lady?” asked the dutiful serpentine guardian, the handsome bronzed man smiling at her unevenly as he paused in the hallway.

“No time like the present,” she nodded. “The sooner we figure out what he might plan on doing next, the more off balance we’ll catch him. Don’t give him a moment to get ahead of us.” Anjasa finished removing her ponytail, letting the elastic wrap around her wrist as her black hair was shaken loose.

She massaged her scalp, giving a little moan of pleasure as she rolled her shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll be sore at us for a while.”

Luscius stared at her a moment, admiring her every little motion as she shook free her hair about her head, neck and shoulders. “Aye aye, ma’am. I’ll see to it that you maintain your advantage on the man,” he gave a deep bow with that alien grace only she had an inkling of the source of. His slitted, reptilian eyes found their source in that strange, serpentine nature of his.

Turning the corner of the hall, she came to the nook before her office, in front of which was a desk and the second of her scantily clad bodyguards. The handsome young man with his dark hair was glaring at the new fellow who hoped to win Anjasa’s approval.

The energetic applicant jumped up at the sight of her, looking more thickly muscled and masculine than most of the men who ended up coming her way. Perhaps that might have explained her guard’s suspicious glare, but really, he was like that with everyone. “This one’s here to see you,” he said gruffly, cutting off the tall, muscular wannabe-employee in his tight turtle-neck.

“I need a few moments in peace,” Anjasa commanded, nodding to the door and waiting for him to open it for her. “Send him to me in five.”

Really, she didn’t need the time, or the space. She just wanted to assert her control over the applicant, to get him wound up and see what type of person he really was under the guise that all applicants wore. It was nearly impossible to tell how a person would behave in the long term if they’re comfortable and confident.

Her makeshift secretary was up and opening the door for her before she even finished the request, unveiling the poshly appointed sanctum of her office. With its rich silk fabrics, fine upholsteries, ample seating, and lounging room, it looked far more a den of debauchery than even she could make it.

Truthfully, she did spend a great deal of her time managing the affairs of her growing network of business operations.

Taking her seat behind the thick, mahogany desk, she took a moment to appreciate all she had done. It all quickly began to buzz about in her head. She had so much more responsibility, so many people relying on her. Not the least of which was Jaral…

Her emerald eyes were drawn to the silken tapestry he had given her. “A gift from my homeland. It was sewn by my own sister, long ago,” he had told her, and she swore she could smell the sands of his birthplace upon it, despite the centuries that separated it from its source.

It was one of the rare moments that he opened up about his past, about where he had came from. She'd done the same. Both had their own private shames, the horrors that made them who they were. Perhaps that was why she’d stuck with him for so long.

He understood her, in a way that so few could. She, an elven sex slave turned assassin, he a vampire, it made sense that both were closed off about their past, and it had nothing to do with a lack of trust. No, it was an understanding that some things were simply too painful to needlessly bring up.

Her five minutes were up sooner than she expected, and her topless guard nodded to her before letting in the tall, dark haired man.

“Thanks for seein’ me,” came his gruff voice, jaw lined with a dark beard, another dissimilarity between him and her other male workers. He very nearly helped himself to the seat before her, but stopped, folding his arms over his chest and waiting for the invitation.

Behind him came her guard Peayo asking, “You want me to stand in or keep the door ajar, ma’am?” Luscius had trained the handsome man, and he maintained an air of professionalism at all times, although he lacked the same charm as his teacher.

Still, the sight of him made her brain go hazy for a moment before she pushed it away. There were dozens of these little practices of refusal, of not allowing her mind to linger on the lurid. Sex had controlled her life for so long, and very nearly cost her everything she held dear. Ever since, she’d been firm with herself about it being an appropriate time, if not venue, for such indulgences.

“You can stay, Peayo,” she smiled, as if granting him a favour before looking at the brazen man before her. “And you are?”

Peayo made himself comfortable, folding his own arms over his bare, fair-skinned chest, supporting himself on one leg as he bent the other up. It annoyingly had the effect of drawing attention to the sizable bulge in his black shorts. Peayo’s own gaze never quite left the other man as he kept a careful watch with his dark eyes.

The newcomer looked a bit bothered at this, judging by the way he arched a brow and looked between her and the guard. “My name is Brashinko.” He unfurled his thick, bulging arms to nod to her in subtly deference. “I have come from far east, in the northern foothills of the Marquo Mountains.”

“And you’re looking to work as a whore, I take it? Have you ever had sex with someone for money?” Anjasa asked quickly, as much in the routine as anything as she glanced over at the black ledger in front of her. She could surely use some more men. Her female clientele had grown faster than the male demographic, if only because the establishment encouraged hedonism from all people.

The burly man from the mountains looked from the scantily clad guard back to her. “I was thinking…” his accent so heavy, “body guard. Enforcer. I did such work… for boss back home.”

Peayo narrowed his eyes at the stranger, immediately suspicious of such a man trying for his own position.

“I have heard you are woman to see for such affairs, no?” asked the muscled Brashinko in his curious way of speaking.

Anjasa looked up, though she couldn’t quite say her interest was piqued. He wasn’t the first who’d asked for such a position, but she’d never truly considered before. Jaral and Luscius tended to such matters, but now that things were finally in a good place for her, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that everything was going to come crashing down.

“And what type of boss did you work for before?” she asked, closing the ledger and staring at him sternly.

The towering man cracked his thick knuckles, “Kind like you,” he replied in his deep, heavy voice. “Boss of business. Women. Stolen items. Drugs. Gambling. Debt.” A mobster, much like the kind that the prosecutor tried to paint Anjasa as. “I make things happen for woman in your line of business.”

“And what happened to her? This kind and powerful boss you made things happen for, hm?”

With a shrug of his broad-set shoulders he said, “She died to competitor. He recruited Crown soldiers. Raid and destroy her business. Way of things, no? But I was not there. In neighbouring town collecting debt when it happened. So I make way to big city and seek new employment.” His words dry, perfunctory, either because he was a man of few words, or because the local language wasn’t entirely agreeable with him. Likely both.

Anjasa crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, looking over at Peayo and judging his reaction. She knew it would be a folly to assume Brashinko was dimwitted just because of his simple speech, but at the same time, she knew that tight-lipped people could make the best guards.

“Where are you staying in the city and who else are you looking at working for?”

Peayo didn’t like the man, that much was clear. He had been studying him with a dark, suspicious stare ever since the start of this impromptu interview, and none of Brashinko’s story had changed that. But then, it was his job to be suspicious. She’d rarely seen him react any way but that around anyone. He even managed to keep a stiff upper lip when Prim would prance down with the staff's dinner.

“I am staying outside city walls. Slept last night in tavern there. Uh… Hook Tavern,” he recalled, taking a moment to pronounce the name of the low class dive. “And you were woman on everyone's lips when I enquire about employment. Only other places I hear of, they say dark woman runs them all secretly too. I think this you too, yes?” he asked, brow raised quizzically.

She shrugged her shoulders before pushing herself out of her chair. “Stay at the same place again tonight. If I’m interested, someone will let you know.”

The towering brute looked down and mulled it over a moment longer before giving her a firm nod, simple and direct as ever. “Yes. Will wait.” He turned to go, giving not a glance at her glaring bodyguard Peayo before heading out, and then making room for the pregnant visage of Prim as she brought a silver platter of food for Anjasa. That, and her bright smile.

“Glad to see I didn’t interrupt your business!” she stated cheerfully, placing the platter upon her desk with a slight sigh after having relieved herself of the burdensome weight.

“Not at all.” Anjasa looked over the food with delight before returning her gaze to Prim. “You’re not overworking yourself, are you?” There were times past that the words would have been said with menace and annoyance, but not now. Not when everything was so good, and when she inspired such loyalty from her people.

Prim batted a hand at her as if her worries were silly, though the young farm girl was doubtlessly used to hard living. “Anything to keep my mind off things,” she cradled her swollen belly and sighed. “I feel like I’m going to burst from the inside out and it’s driving me mad!”

Preayo gave Prim a once over, but left thereafter to retake his seat outside her door. Even he had to accept that Prim was no threat as he took up his watch for someone worthy of his suspicions.

“Why don’t you sit a spell while I eat, then. At least rest your weight, I swear that baby’s going to be bigger than you.” Anjasa began eating, suddenly famished at the sight of food, and such delicacies from home no less! Roast qualin, a delightfully succulent bird, and steamed oravega, a bright yellow vegetable she could have found in the gardens of her parents long ago. She knew she had Aeulin to thank for that. The charming young bartender was good for a few things. “When you do need time, you know you’ve worked enough hours to take it, right?”

Prim sat herself down carefully, cradling her belly with one arm as she grasped the back of the chair. “Oh you’re so sweet, ma’am,” she cooed, her cheeks a little flushed from the effort. “But I’d rather be nice and square for whenever the baby’s born. Might need some time to recover, and besides…” she trailed off, blushing a little.

Prim, reminding Anjasa that even a whore could be bashful.

“Besides, you like the excuse to work with the father?” Anjasa probed. She’d been gentle about it long enough, and it was as plain to her as day. Hell, she’d given the girl her blessing to go out on their first date over a year ago.

Prim bit her bottom lip, somehow managing to look young and innocent despite the swollen belly in her lap. That was why she remained such a popular employee, despite her condition. “Well… yes, but…” she leaned forward, whispering softly so that Peayo couldn’t hear her, “I just… I can’t help it… I just feel really into… iT-the job-lately.” She blushed a bright red that nearly matched the silks around Anjasa.

A strong feeling panged within Anjasa and she had to avert her eyes. Long ago-so long that she should have long forgotten, but never did-in the dark of the night, when she woke in cold sweats, it was that memory that haunted her. Nothing that came before or after could hold a candle to the darkest of her days as a slave.

She shook off the icy cold grip the memory used to clutch at her heart, but she couldn’t control her change in demeanor and how suddenly closed off she felt.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Thank you for the meal, Prim. Have a good night and work hard.”

Prim took the cue without delay, nodding to her and quietly pushing herself up. Going to the door she added softly, “Thanks for everythin’, ma’am.”

Then she was gone, and the door shut behind her with a solid clunk. Leaving Anjasa in the cool comfort of her opulent office. Alone.

Or, so she thought. The hand that reached out from behind her quickly put that assumption to rest.

Chapter 3

Squeezing Anjasa’s shoulder, Jaral stepped out to stand at her side, shrouded in a half-cloak that covered up much of his beautiful, brown flesh, so perfectly sculpted and preserved in an eternal monument to masculinity.

His full lips seeming to hang in a very slight, sympathetic frown as his koal-lined almond-eyes stayed glued to her.

The tension had quickly knotted her shoulders, and her spine stiffened. Even knowing it was him couldn’t shake her demons away so easily, but gratitude still flooded her. “I'd hoped you were near,” she breathed, pushing the tray of specially prepared delicacies away.

“Nightfall comes soon,” he said in his own unusual accent that persevered the ages to delight her pointed ears. “I decided not to wait, and I am glad that I did.” He dipped down onto one knee, his impressive height keeping her at eye level as she sat, that one strong arm at her back, his hand rubbing her flesh. “I know this frown is not for the Tribunal case,” he said in his dusky voice, lifting his other arm from out under his cloak to lightly cup her cup and stroke his thumb along her jawline.

The usually brazen and confident woman squirmed like a child under his red gaze, and she kissed his mouth with a need that was so different that her usual lust. Her nose brushed against his as her lashes fluttered. “It’s nothing, my love. Just memories. The Tribunal put on a good show, but it went as expected. Better, perhaps. Hopefully not too well,” she mused, a reluctant smirk tugging her lips.

His lips were cold to the touch, but the passion with which he kissed her was as hot as any living paramour's. The undead man before her smacked his lips to hers once more after she spoke her peace. “For those like us, memories are a curse,” he said softly, his voice smooth and delightful. “Baggage we carry with us through the ages. Sometimes we forget we still carry that burden, but in time… we are ever and always reminded,” he continued his gentle stroking of her cheek, pulling her to him closer with his other arm.

“Only the worst really stay. The good seem to float away with the decades,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around him warmly. They never stopped seeming odd, so unnaturally cool, but she enjoyed it all the same time. She always ran so hot, it was as though he were made to compliment her.

“I think I’ve done so many drugs over the years, all to try to forget my mistakes, but they just keep holding on like some stubborn mare.” Anjasa hated introspection, having these little talks, but she had to admit that this was one of the reasons they stayed together. Communication was there, had to be there, no matter how painful.

How strange of a thing to share with a man that was not even a man, a creature born of evil and sustained in acts of feeding upon the living. People like her.

Jaral squeezed her tightly to him, his lips kissing upon her neck, just beneath her ear. His aroma that of desert spices and sun-blasted sand, it had come to represent a new sort of security and warmth in recent years.

His own sleek, black hair was so glossy and pristine, smooth against her skin as he kissed her, holding her in both arms with that strong but gentle grip. “I can scarcely remember my loved ones of old. But I can remember with great clarity the pain of their loss. The awfulness of their demise,” he confessed to her, his own dark-red eyes shutting as he rubbed a hand up and down her spine.

He was a tall man of lean, muscular build, and his body enveloped hers nicely in her moment of emotional need.

She knew that never had she felt so secure as when she was with him. Even when he fed upon her very blood, she felt safe. Cared for.

She wondered at what type of man he had to have been in life to make such a beautiful demon, but the thought passed quickly. If he was just a man, she wasn’t sure she would have batted an eye at him. Dangerous types, they were the ones that caught her attention.

“I’ve had Luscius looking into the prosecutor. Seems he was familiar with me. Took me by surprise.”

His smooth, sandy-brown forehead crinkled ever so slightly before he pressed it to hers, and met her emerald gaze with his dark ruby. “He must have slipped somehow. I have ensured the man was watched all night. There is no way he got to you on my watch,” he stated, not with a prideful arrogance, but the simple intonation of certainty. “It is the little things that undo us. One loose thread, once pulled, can unravel a whole tapestry.”

She loved listening to his smooth, velvety voice, and gave him a brief nod. “Regardless, he wasn’t pleased at losing. He’s still young enough to feel righteous about his causes, about making the world a better place... in his own vision, of course.”

Jaral nodded his head ever so subtly, his smooth, flawless skin on display before her, as if it were cut from impervious stone all those centuries ago when he was made an immortal. His dark gaze studied over her face, admiring her as much as her beauty, seeing through her exterior to the woman beneath. Or, so she felt when he looked at her so.

“I will see about measures to end his interference,” he promised. “Nothing bloody, if it can be avoided,” he added, squeezing her to him tight before leaning in and kissing her lips once more with passion and longing. “I missed you,” he confessed in a breathy murmur.

Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and her loins stirred. His scent, his very presence still managed to twist her stomach into a knot. Two years wasn’t a long time by her perspective, but when it came to relationships, it might as well have been an eon. Especially to still feel like this.

“Do you have anything pressing?” she asked, her voice husky with lust.

With a flick of his wrist he cast back his cloak from his chiselled chest and the leather that covered but part of it, and lunged for her. He pulled her dress down from her shoulders to let her heavy breasts free of their confines before he went after his neck like a ravenous animal. Though he didn’t bite her, not in the way she knew he wanted to, he nipped and kissed passionately, grasping her hips and hoisting her weight up with such ease.

Jaral placed her round ass upon the edge of her desk and growled into her ear. “Nothing more pressing than my need for you.”

She pushed her ledger and forgotten meal out of the way, though still not as carelessly as she would have before. When she first met Jaral, she was wild. She sought danger, recklessly, and damned the consequences.

Now she had things, people she cared about, and had enough wherewithal to know that should she get out of hand with Jaral, she’d definitely need the meal unscathed.

But that level of forethought did nothing to dim her passion, and her shapely legs wrapped around Jaral’s firm ass. The two of them trained together, and their bodies were honed by hours of sweat and pain.

It also made their sex phenomenal.

She shrugged the dress off her arms entirely, letting the slinky material gather about her waist. She rarely wore a bra, or panties, and her nipples were already hard and needy as he manhandled her. “I fucking hate being awake during the day,” she moaned, “hate waking up without you.”

Those two steely hands of his grasped her waist, bending back her upper body as he kissed and bit down her neck and across her collarbone, until he was inflicting moist, succulent kisses upon her heavy tit, zeroing in on her stiff teat. His response deep, needful growls as he licked and suckled her nipple, his sharp fangs threatening the sensitive bud.

Her hands knew where to go to work open his leather trousers, wherein his thick, throbbing manhood was tightly confined. This cold man beat with unholy passion for her.

“I detest waking from my slumber without you,” he echoed to her with the voice of a beast. It sent another thrill down her spine, and her hand slid down to his cock, freeing him with an eager, practiced ease. A gasp escaped her as she felt one of his sharp teeth brush against her, the threat still present. Part of her wanted it still. Yearned to be devoured, to have him sink his fangs into her.

The pangs never left her, just as he had promised. They were bound together, eternally damned in their own way, but together, that burden could be borne.

Her soft fingers wrapped around his throbbing masculinity, giving him a few long, sensual strokes. “Have you fed?”

Jaral finished his suckling at her teat, to let her heavy mound of tit flesh follow after his mouth only to fall back down with a slap to her chest before he lunged for her lips. Licking and kissing that plump ruby lower lip of hers, he pushed her dress up to her waist, where the silken garment became little more than a belt.

“No,” he confessed, his velvety voice gravelly now with desire, his fangs bared as the fire in his gaze was alight, the throb of his loins so pronounced as his dick swelled in her grasp.

Her fingers tightened around him, and her breath was so heavy. “Do you need to?” she asked, practically pleading with him to say yes. She wanted to feel bad, to feel out of control, in such a controlled and careful manner. She needed it, no matter how much she worked to ignore it.

Jaral’s cock leaked a pearl of slick precum to coat his dark purple crown, the prominent ridges along it glistening with the stuff as she fondled his impressive manhood. And all the while he looked at her, an obvious conflict in his eyes over how to answer her question. His demons were nothing if not constant.

Without a word, he grasped her outer thighs, let his fingers curl in beneath them before he yanked her forward, angling her body so her cunt was more accessible to him. “Yes,” he rasped to her at last, his eyes soaking in her voluptuous, fit figure before he lunged in… and sank his teeth into her neck without delay.

Anjasa cried out, softly, the pain igniting such powerful sensations within her. She wanted this, more than life. More than anything.

A partner, someone she could trust, someone who could fuck her and hurt her just like she needed. Her neck throbbed, her pulse raced, and she tilted her head to the side to allow his mouth to wrap around the wound he’d created.

Her legs, too, wrapped around his hips, her shapely calves pressed into the round, hard ass, tugging him closer. Her cunny throbbed with wanton desires, and she moaned his name.

Thrice pierced, Anjasa could feel him throb within her loins as his fangs sank into her to open her vein and drink of her life force. Luscius had warned her about becoming fodder for a vampire, but the dizzying high of the experience was too much to even question. It was morose, morbid, like death taking her, yet in that was a thrill too, like a walking upon a tight-rope. More than that, it held a similar appeal to fucking. The dangerous men who lusted for her, thought they used her.

And she got so much out of it, too.

As Jaral’s body thrummed with the heated warmth of her life essence, he began to piston his cock into her, grasping her thighs and hoisting her body into that perfectly exquisite pose for him to pound deeply.

Anjasa never felt so alive as when she risked death, fucking her dark lover was that and so much more. She moaned louder, her fingers running into his hair and pulling him in towards her neck, lost to the ecstatic--

Peayo and Iridessa burst in on them.

“Mis--” Iridessa’s voice was cut off as the two stood, staring wide-eyed at the couple locked in carnal embrace.

Anjasa was slow to realize what was happening, what a compromising pose she was locked in. A long second passed before she gasped and her eyes flew open. “Shit,” she cursed, turning her head and causing a jolt of pain up her throat from the sudden motion. “Out!” she commanded, urgently, to the interlopers.

Iridessa smacked Peayo on his bare shoulder, “Madam,” she persisted, not moving, despite the command from her boss. And the bright red glare from the feeding monster, who was unable to pull himself quickly away from his lover. Or his meal.

“I’m afraid it’s important,” Iridessa insisted, smacking Peayo a second time and scolding him, “You said she was alone!”

Jaral’s cock still pulsed within her, his desire unhindered by the interruption. Though she could feel him restraining his feeding, licking at her stinging wounds instead of pulling blood from them as before. Those thick, brown muscled arms held her so tight and comfortingly. A reassuring embrace as much as a passionate one.

“Quick, quick, quick!” Anjasa pleaded with Iridessa, her own body wound so tight that she could barely think. The things she’d fought so hard to keep contained, her wild lusts and hedonistic ways, were so raw, so full to bursting. Anjasa wanted nothing more than to revel in their exposure.

She trembled with fear and desire that she might do just that, and her fingers wound tighter along Jaral’s hair while the young dancer looked on.

Iridessa pushed Peayo away, preventing him from watching the two still grasping and grinding atop Anjasa’s desk. The woman demurely averted her eyes as they refused to cut it off immediately.

Jaral pulled from her neck, the bleeding staunched by some unholy mechanism of his being. Though the second pull away from her was sadder still, his thick, veiny member pulsing with such need, veins so prominent and bulging as the shaft yearned for moments longer within her.

Anjasa could see the animal need in her lover, and notice the tremble in his grasp as he went for his pants to try and seal that impressively meaty shaft back inside.

Iridessa pleaded, “I’m sorry but this is dire. There’s something… very serious going on.”

Jaral licked his lips, his dark eyes lit by that unholy ruby light as he stared into her gaze, speaking of the hungry need in him. “Later,” was all he could say to his lover in that gravelly, lust-filled voice of his. A promise as he left her honey-slick petals untended. So empty.

She felt wilted, for a moment, and self-pity overwhelmed her, marred with hatred. Anger at her responsibilities, at the life she’d chosen that so often pulled her away from such carnal delights.

But she hadn’t been happy when sex was all she had, right? At least, she repeated that to herself as her shoulders slumped. “What is it, Iridessa?” she asked, her voice controlled and smooth despite her inner tremble. She regretted the woman had seen her in such a compromising condition, though not because she was ashamed.

Anjasa had saved her from an overzealous vampire once before, after all.

Jaral reined his bulging manhood back into his trousers, leaving an obscenely large bulge that outlined his girth. A reminder of what she’d just lost from within her as the towering vampire helped her off her desk in a gentlemanly fashion that so contrasted the animalistic way he had been ravishing her moments before. He even helped tug her dress down over her thighs and ass, then up over her heavy breasts.

“I’m afraid there was an attack at the Mothering House,” she reported. “A very bad one.”

Chapter 4

The Mother House was a place Anjasa had set up for retired hookers. Those women who wanted to quit working to raise their kids full time, without leaving to find a husband. Some of the working girls helped pay for it, mostly those who had children but didn’t want to give up their work, and in exchange the full-time mothers among them looked after their kids, and everyone benefited.

It was a place of peace and quiet, away from the bawdy areas of town. A place where those working girls who needed time to recuperate or relax would often go too. A place where Prim damn well should’ve been, but was too stubborn to go.

Perhaps that was for the best, though.

A chill went down Anjasa’s spine, and suddenly she was back, fully in the moment, and adrenaline began pumping through her. “What type of attack?” she bit out as she opened her desk drawer, reaching for her selection of weapons quickly. Her fingers skirted over the well-maintained knives contained in a soft material. It was ensorcelled so that they would only respond to her touch, and she grabbed the heavy, bone hilt of her favourite.

Iridessa brushed back a stray lock of her own hair, it still kept in that meticulous up-do. “The messenger said… it’s a mess.” It wasn’t often Anjasa heard strain in her trusted employees voice, but she heard it then, loud and clear. “Some children have been taken,” she explained shakily, “women beaten. That’s all I know so far. We should get over there.”

Jaral was moving around her desk with his unusual, unearthly grace. “I will come with you,” he said that voice that sounded like the strumming of a lyre. Returning the calm, collected tenor to his voice, though it was clear he understood the seriousness of it all.

“What time is it?” She’d lost track of how long she’d been enjoying Jaral’s body. Their intimate touching and teasing seemed to take the both of them out of time while it lasted. Sometimes what felt like minutes could be hours.

Strapping the knife to her thigh, she took two more stilettos in hand and closed the drawer, the magic binding it once more. “Is there a ransom?” Already Anjasa was moving towards her manager, careless about how sophisticated and yet dishevelled she must appear. Certainly she didn’t look like the type of woman who could defend against an attack.

“I don’t know,” Iridessa confessed quickly. “I only just got word. A young boy from the House came here in tears. It’s not good, and it’s after supper now,” she told Anjasa, not a look of judgment or even an expression of awkwardness as she pushed through the hall, leading the way for Anjasa and Jaral.

When they emerged onto the main floor, Luscius walked up crisply, shooting but a momentary glare towards the vampire. That was a great act of charity on his part; the man never approved of the presence of that undead entity. “I’m ready to go with you and keep you safe,” he hissed, looking like he was spoiling for a fight.

With his two personally trained guardsmen behind him, he’d be a solid choice. Though that raised the issue of whether she wanted to bring the two competing men together. Jaral never instigated, but he never took any of Luscius’ shit either.

But they had to learn to work together over time, and Anjasa looked to Luscius. “Stay with me until we figure out who’s behind this. Iridessa, you get the guards on high alert. Expect them to contact you with some demand or another. I hope that’s all that’ll come of it, but tell them to anticipate a fight. Don’t spoil the girl’s or the customer’s time, though. The Prancin’ Pixie is still open for business until we know more.” Anjasa gave her a stern yet encouraging look before heading out into the night air.

Who the fuck would do this to kids? And who the fuck in the city was daringly stupid enough to put up a fight against one of her operations?

Chapter 5

The carriage pulled up outside the Mothering Home, the building still looking quaint and respectable. It was located in one of the nicest parts of town, because though Anjasa had taken a hard line with the women and said it was up to them to fund the program for their own good, truth of the matter was that she paid for a fine building for them. What was a noble's mansion at one point now housed numerous families.

The only sign the four storied building showed of violence was the busted window on the front door.

Luscius was first off the carriage, ordering two of his guardsmen, “Check out the perimeter. Give the call if you sight anything. If I signal back the all-clear, fan out and investigate the neighbourhood. You know what to do.”

He was used to leading others and did it well, though that didn’t stop him from pushing up to the front door and making sure the way was clear for Anjasa herself, a hand ready at the hilt of his blade.

Jaral, however, stayed at her side, taking hold of her hips and waist in his strong hands and helping her out of the carriage, though it was hardly necessary. She was as nimble as they come. The look in his beautiful, dark eyes, though, said it was purposeful. A reminder that she should watch out for herself. If not for her own good, than because she was treasured by others.

It was so strange to her that they both found such purpose in one another, and even in the most troubling of moments, his small reminder was enough to set her on the right course. “Priority is finding those that are missing. I’ll talk to the girls and see who’s missing. If there’s a pattern, we’ll find it,” Anjasa said confidently, though she was afraid of finding out the truth.

Jaral’s cloak flowed behind him as he followed at her side, the casual stride he wore belied the ever-ready nature of the dark killer. The shimmering Luscius emerged forth and beckoned her in, a tentative all-safe gesture.

In the main hall of the building the lights were dimmed, and, being night, there was little aid through the broken window either.

“The place has been wrecked,” came Jaral’s voice smoothly. “And the light’s smashed.”

Luscius spoke up, “Allow me.” The crafty spell-sword conjured up a ball of magical light that lit up the grand main hall.

A gasping cry emerged from the side of the room and Jaral was between her and it before she could even cast a glance in that direction.

Luscius clapped the other man on the shoulder, “It’s our people.”

Stepping around her towering lover, Anjasa saw the illuminated visage of a very pregnant woman, huddled in a corner near an overturned table. “M-ma’am?” came the voice of Elita, one of the most recent women to excuse herself from work at a lower class brothel under Anjasa's control.

The raven-haired elf quickly moved over to her, bending down on her knees and speaking in a soft, maternal tone. “It’s okay. My guards and I are here. Do you know if there’s anyone else in the house?”

The shaking woman shook her head, her brown hair looking dishevelled and wild, her eyes wide. “No ma’am, they… they all left once they got what they came for.”

Before Anjasa could ask what that was, she saw the reason why the pregnant woman herself wasn’t hiding behind the overturned table.

Laying there in a bloody mess was a stocky man with wide and glassy eyes. Though he was alive, he was in a brutal state.

Luscius came up, cursing in some foreign, hissing tongue. “Yarro, one of my men. What have they done to you?” he asked, leaning over the table and laying a hand upon the man’s shoulder.

When he lowered his hand from his face, Anjasa could see the extent of the wounds.

His cheeks were sliced open horizontally, his lips vertically. No words came from that bloody, misshapen maw, and she didn't blame him.

It took a lot to make Anjasa cringe, but she couldn’t hide her repulsion and she forced herself to look away. “What about the other guards and girls and children, Elita. What of them?”

Elita’s hands shook as she brushed back her hair, the pregnant woman clearly distraught. “Th-they said we belong to them now. That… that once we gave birth, we’d come work for them.” She sniffled, and Anjasa heard the quiet footsteps of Jaral as he walked away, investigating the manor.

“They took some of the children… and the women,” she forced out in a wavering voice. “Said they were ready to start. And they told us, the rest of us had better join them if we know what’s best for us and the kids.”

“Better join them where? Where did they tell you to go?” Anjasa probed, trying not to frighten the woman but she couldn’t help the agitation in her voice. The rage that simmered beneath the surface.

She shook her head, her fingers in her hair as she looked down, distraught. “I don’t know! I was too frightened!” she explained.

Jaral spoke up, his steady, seductive voice breaking the stillness of the rest of the manor. “Calm down,” he called out to the floor above. “We are here to ensure your safety,” his foreign accent so delightfully soothing.

The young woman that stepped out was unfamiliar to Anjasa, undoubtedly another girl from a club she only recently took over.

“Perhaps one of the others overheard more,” Jaral said to Anjasa, stepping back to her side.

Luscius muttered to the deformed Yarro, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here soon.”

Anjasa patted Elita’s arm gently, giving a soft smile. “We’ll put you up somewhere safe for the night. Just make yourself comfortable and relax while we check on the rest of the girls, alright?” Anjasa stood again, looking over to Luscius, “Take him. See if he can be helped quickly,” she ordered as she strode up the stairs towards Jaral.

Luscius opened his mouth and looked about to argue with her when Jaral interjected, “Don’t worry. I’ll be watching her back.”

Anjasa knew that would only make the serpentine man bristle further, but in the face of her order her knew he was best off just obeying. “C’mon Yarro,” he said, stooping down and hooking an arm in under the large man’s shoulders, helping him to his feet.

Jaral and Anjasa were already climbing the central staircase where the lone young woman stood in her red curls and nightdress, a couple of kids crouched beyond a jarred bedroom door behind her.

“Did you hear where the women were ordered to appear?” came the steady, even tones of her vampiric partner.

The young woman looked between the two of them, then bowed her head, abashed before the two commanding figures.

“Sweetheart, the sooner you tell us all you know, the sooner we can get everyone back safely, alright? What’s your name?” Anjasa probed, her voice never losing that touch of power, of matronly assurance. Despite all this shit, she was built for this. An adrenaline junkie, through and through. She thrived for the rush, no matter how much she genuinely wished to keep her people safe.

The young woman was pregnant, but only barely. Her petite frame had just the tiniest of bulges in its belly. “I never heard where they said to go, ma’am,” came her meek little voice, so soft and sheepish. “But…” she trailed off, undoubtedly intimidated before the two of them.

“But?” Anjasa urged. She was trying to keep check of her temper, but every moment of delay was letting the culprits get further away from her and Jaral.

Further away from her rage.

The woman curved her feet inward upon the hardwood floor and glanced up at Anjasa. “One of the fellas… he took a girl, my friend… Najel,” she said softly. “I think… I think it was her ex. She tol’ me all about the abusive bastard,” she explained, not a term of insult often heard in the Mothering House. The women there were rather strict against using it as a derogatory term, seeing as most of their children were bastards.

Still, Anjasa took it in stride, and even smiled at the woman. “Good, good. What else do you know about him? Who does he work for? Where does he live?”

Jaral stood motionless at her side, always there for support, rarely interfering unless necessary.

“I heard her say once that she was gonna go march over to his spot in the Dregmire and tell him what’s what,” she recalled, licking her lips anxiously as she tried to recall the conversation. “His name’s Ergan, I think. S’all I know ma’am, sorry.”

Anjasa nodded, glancing to Jaral. “Thank you. That should be enough to start with. Rest up for now, I’ll arrange a safe place for you to stay. We will get your friends back, alright?” Anjasa promised with all the conviction she could muster.

The young woman nodded her head obediently, her blonde curls bobbing before she turned back to the door with the children. The kids scurried away inside, beginning to shut the door before she stopped them. “It’s okay now,” she cooed.

Jaral looked to her, “We should leave this place to your boy Luscius and his men. We can follow up on this lead ourselves.” His dark skin and clothes were all but invisible in the low light and he looked so much more prepared for a battle than she, in her sultry dress.

Still, it was light and flowing, and she knew how to move in it. “I agree,” she responded, though she harbored private worries for Luscius. They’d deformed his guard so harshly, and she didn’t want to think about something similar happening to her attractive once-paramour.

“We need to move fast, catch them when they’re still off guard,” Anjasa ordered as she turned back towards the exit.

She ruled over a little business -- and criminal -- empire of her own, but she wasn’t shy of getting her hands dirty. Not at all.

Jaral and her headed down the stairs and out the main door when Luscius and one of his men came up to her. “Where are you off to?” he asked her, his golden hair and skin seeming to glow in the night. Such a contrast to her other companion.

“The Dregmire,” Anjasa stated, “I need you to watch over the girls until we can find a safe space for them. Try to keep them calm in the meanwhile.” It was clear why she’d chosen Luscius for such a task over Jaral, and she hoped he would take pride in the assignment.

The look on the handsome man’s face said otherwise, though. Whenever he glowered, that --his one blemish--wrinkled, drawing the eye to it. Truth be told, it only heightened his appeal. Made his smooth, golden good looks more masculine.

“You shouldn’t go with only him,” he said, then turned to his guard. “You feel up to looking after the house on your own?”

One guard hadn’t been enough before, Anjasa thought.

She was quick to remind him of just that. “We’re thin on people, and who knows if they plan to come back? We’ll play it safe,” she promised, and stepped towards Luscius. He was a complicated man, and they had a strange relationship, but she trusted him to do what she said, and do it well. “I need you to smooth this situation out.”

Luscius’s beautiful eyes, which she’d first mistaken as feline, contorted into a troubled expression as his brow furrowed. “I don’t like the idea of you going off into the night alone,” he remarked, casting a pointed glance at Jaral, as if his feelings needed to be made any clearer. “If we’re so thin on men, we should wait until more are available.” Though with how he stepped out of her way, he made it clear he deferred to her judgement.

“I will keep her safe,” Jaral assured without so much as looking at the blonde haired man.

“I don’t like it either, but we’ll lose our opportunity if we wait,” she touched his shoulder lightly, affectionately. “Be safe, Luscius.”

The vampire hunter made no further objection, and Anjasa and Jaral headed off down the front steps towards the carriage. He opened the door for her and they climbed inside. “Stop outside the Dregmire,” came her companion’s order to the driver. “We will go the rest of the way on foot from here,” he told her.

And they were off.

Chapter 6

No sooner had the carriage started to move, and Jaral pulled a garment out from under his half-cloak. “I took this from the manor,” he explained, holding out what was a much cheaper outfit than what she wore. “You will blend in better than with that number on,” he remarked, referring to the stunning dress she still wore.

She laughed, stress still coiled in her belly, but his clear-headed manner never ceased to amaze her. It even helped to uncoil some of that tension. She’d barely given her outfit a thought. Act first, think later, that's how she’d always been.

“Thanks.” She stripped out of the long gown, its rich material slipping from her shapely figure as her lover watched on.

The Dregmire was across town, and the carriage wouldn’t get them there for twenty minutes or more. The look in his lust-filled eyes said he was aware of it as much as she. His gaze never met her own, too busy devouring her ample curves with is eyes.

The telltale groan of leather filled the air in the carriage, her keen ears picking up the sound of him shifting in his seat. Of his manhood enlarging and stretching the material of his trousers.

Before a word could transpire between them, he lunged across the gap and embraced her in a kiss. His lips met hers and though his flesh was lightly cool compared to the living, his passion burned hot as he invaded her mouth with his tongue, a low, animalistic growl rumbling up from his hard chest.

She wasn’t entirely shocked by his brazenness, but it still caught her off guard and a gasp caught in her throat. They were so much alike in some ways. They’d been rudely interrupted in the middle of something so intimate, so special, and the real world couldn’t get in the way of that. No matter what happened.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, urging him on as the drive to release her tension spurred her to new heights. His hard body pressing against hers was pure, exquisite torture, and she shifted to feel more of the cool leather and flesh against her.

That interruption had done more than frustrate them, and the intervening stress had merely prodded their desires higher. Jaral treated her naked form ravenously, grabbing at her fleshy breast and firm thigh, kissing her so deeply.

He would have been content to appreciate her body and savour their kissing for some time, but they didn’t have it to spare. No, his pants had to come off, let that thick cock spring out, and rock the carriage as he pulled her into his lap.

With the smoothness and agility for which both were famed, Anjasa went down up on his groin, his cock piercing up into her, impaling her with a roar of desire from the man near feral with lust. She didn’t need the help, her legs as fit as they were, but he grabbed her hips and lifted her anyway. Her whole body was but a plaything in his grip, and he slid her up his length, then pulling her down it with a wet slap.

His biceps of his bulged thickly as he kissed at her, leveraging her up and down upon his lap.

She was still soaking from their earlier, unfinished romp, and her mouth was soon upon his, filled with passion and lust. The day had been such a whirlwind, and for those few minutes, she was free of duty and responsibilities. Until they arrived, she could enjoy him.

Jaral, her lover, her passion, her rock. Her fingers ran along the back of his head, pulling him in and kissing him with such longing. Her tongue massaged his, probing his mouth eagerly as he manipulated her, pistoning himself in hard and fast so as to make her entire body quiver.

The motions of the carriage ceased to jar the pair, their own intense motions making the horse-drawn vehicle move to their rhythm more than its own. Jaral’s immeasurable strength lifting her up so that she had to worry about banging her head upon the ceiling, only to slam down upon his manhood. Her thick mounds of tit flesh rising up, then slapping down to her chest with a heavy smack each time.

It became impossible like that to continue their kissing, and he tore away to lock eyes with her, desire burning. His sleek black hair seemed to shimmer in the dim carriage as he growled his lust at her, made her feel it with the way his dick twitched and swelled. The intensity of his need for her only multiplied by being deprived before.

Their bodies were honed, sculpted from training, and they fit so well together. Even though she was much shorter than him, and he stretched her so wide, it was just what she needed. That little edge of pain that soothed her mind and teased her body.

She moaned lewdly as she met his smoldering gaze, daring him to look away.

His handsome face, preserved in eternal youthfulness. Looking like a young man from far away, out of time. That smooth, sandy-brown skin of his, highlighted by his black beard and hair, his coal-lined eyes. He was a beauty of a man. And were it not for the toned, bulging muscles and strong jaw he sported, he might’ve made a rather pretty boy.

But no, he was all man, and she the epitome of womanhood.

His strong fingers sank into her hips and ass, and his neck strained. She could see the tell-tale signs of his heightened pleasure as he gazed into her eyes. The joy in him boiling up from his immortal flesh as he pulled her down against his cock harder, stabbing his dick into her with both pleasure and a pang of pain.

She still yearned for more. To feel the pull of his mouth around her neck, sucking her very essence, and she squirmed atop his lap. Fuck, she wanted it so bad. Feeling his cock in her body was like a thing out of this world, but having him bite her was quite another.

Still, she knew that she couldn’t lose any more blood if she hoped to help her people, and somehow, even through the intense moment, she resisted the urge to beg for more.

Or, perhaps, she knew he’d have the self-control to resist.

She didn’t want her dark lover to refuse her anything.

As she rode atop his body, powered by their well-honed muscles, she could hear his growl rumbling out. His dick swelling within her as he plunged into her, rocketing them towards pleasure.

Already they’d lost much of their time; it was hard to say what was left for them to savour.

When she saw Jaral’s beautiful dark eyes roll back into his head, she knew the moment was nearly done though. She didn’t need his beautifully accented words, though he gave them anyway. “I can’t take much more of you,” he husked.

But even though her body quaked, her back arching and a low purr rolling out from her throat, she knew she’d always hunger for more of him. Every time. It was like an addiction.

“Cum in me,” she pleaded, her moist tongue licking along his firm throat as her lower muscles squeezed his cock teasingly.

That soft plea of hers made his mighty body tremble beneath her voluptuous curves, and his powering motions grew harsher but more unsteady. Her body smacking against his noisily until…

The final thrust came. His cock jabbing into her with a last, painful push before the swelling of his cock was followed by the thick jets of his unnatural seed.

He threw back his head, letting loose such a rich moan of pleasure as he emptied his loins into her. Thread after thread of rich, creamy cum lancing into her depths, filling her up in appreciation for the lust her body inspired, and the satisfaction it provided.

Her pussy tightened further around him, milking him of every last, creamy drop. She licked and nipped his throat, giving him soft, appreciative little mewls as she continued riding his cock.

The carriage was making a turn as he pulled her against him, squeezing her smooth, gorgeous body against his own hard form. He kissed at her neck in turn, licked at her ear as they embraced.

The driver pulled the horses to a stop and the carriage gave its last shivering shake as they parked.

“Fuck,” Anjasa spat out, anger rising in her once more at being interrupted, even if he had cum. She had always been insatiable, and it didn’t lessen just because she was trying to think first and fuck later. She grabbed for the crimson dress he’d borrowed for her and quickly tossed it on over her head, finding it a bit too tight in the chest.

“We’ll get these assholes, right Jaral?” she asked, and it was one of the few times she genuinely needed his reassurance. Men who stole pregnant women and young children could have no scruples, and were by far the most dangerous of those who would do harm to people in her line of work.

His smooth, dark hands--so strong, so comforting--stroked over her back and hips reassuringly. His full lips kissing from her ear on down her jawline to her chin before resting at her lips a while.

“Nothing is much capable of stopping the two of us,” his smooth, confident voice assured her, tinged with foreign enticements that were by now familiar.

She brought their lips together, her dark lashes fluttering as she brought herself back from her lust and affection and into the rage. The anger that someone had taken something of hers, had insulted her so obviously and harmed her people.

She flexed her dexterous fingers and stroked along the hilt of her knife before grabbing her stiletto blades and giving him a long look. “I’m ready.”

Jaral was done back up, his beautiful brown skin lightly gleaming in the street lamp-light as he climbed out. “You might want to keep those hidden for now.” He helped pull her out of the carriage again, speaking with a wry smile for her alone. The kind of gesture the stoic man never gave to anyone else.

The Dregmire was the newest area of the city, once a fetid open sewer that drained from the old keep, it was now a fetid open street that attracted the vilest of criminal elements in the city. The folk that even Anjasa wouldn’t deal with. Usually because they were too unstable. Too unreliable. Too violently unpredictable.

What passed for housing in the district comprised a collection of old stones from the sewage system, crumbling and stained, and low quality wood that looked barely able to support its own weight, let alone the people who inhabited those one-to-four story buildings.

In all the city, it was darkest there. The last street lamp Anjasa could see was beside them, just at the cusp of the Dregmire itself. The winding road ahead was purest black, as if it siphoned all light into oblivion.

Anjasa sighed as she tucked her stilettos into her purse and took his arm. She hated this place. The reminder of the absolute bottom rung of society, the one even she couldn’t save from themselves.

“A beautiful area for a date,” she mused dryly. “Let’s move quick.”

Jaral gave a final look to the driver, “Report back to Luscius where you dropped us off.” And that was all. Anjasa knew that at least she could count on her two men to behave themselves when it came to such important business.

“We should ask a local,” Jaral suggested as they passed beneath the overhangs. The night sky was almost completely blocked out by the dingy buildings. They all extended upwards to make the most of the narrow space available, and the second and up floors were almost always bigger than the first. Those that weren’t still had roofs that hung out over the street. It was so prevalent it led to the comical reality of some ‘balconies’ actually touching each other from across the street.

The two of them moved quickly through the dingy streets. The old, worn cobblestones and silt-dirt roadway not the best of surfaces to make good time on, but they were both fit and agile.

The locals themselves, however, were among the most frightening in the city. Not that any one of them likely posed a serious challenge to the skills of her or her lover, but their snaggletoothed, scraggly-headed denizens were all among the most violent out there. And with so many eyes on her, she didn’t have to guess at what sort of thoughts went through their depraved heads.

Anjasa wasn’t one for fear. She embraced it, made it a part of her. It was a coping mechanism she’d long ago learned, but even that didn’t stop the cold chill that was going up her spine. It was probably just the location, the strange place she’d never been to in the dark of night. Even with her elven eyes, it was difficult to make things out of the shadows, as deep as they were.

“I think you need to ask,” she finally admitted when yet another toothless grin on a muscle-bound man made her stomach turn. Don’t be such a coward, she chided herself, but she couldn’t fight her instincts that this place was not somewhere she should be.

Jaral looked at her, and she knew his inhuman eyes could pierce the dark in a ways her couldn’t. They could also pierce her better than most.

“Very well,” he consented before diverting from the road to walk up to a door. Crouched before it was a very worn looking woman who cringed away from the approach of the tall man. “We are looking for a man named Ergan,” he said soft and smooth, trying not to frighten the woman more than necessary. “We have a job for him,” he remarked, very surreptitiously pulling a gold coin out, drawing the woman’s eye and Anjasa’s only when some stray glint of light hit it.

The cowering woman eyed the coin hungrily, and him suspiciously. Sheepishly she reached out to snatch it up from his grasp, Jaral doing nothing to stop her as she receded back into the open doorway.

“Down that’a’way,” she jerked her head down the alleyway. “In the ale house,” was all she said before vanishing inside the dingy building that lacked a door.

“Fuckers are already out celebrating,” Anjasa sneered under her breath, staying a bit closer to Jaral as they began walking in the direction the woman had motioned. The idea of walking into a slummy bar would have normally excited, maybe even thrilled her, but not when it was filled with the sorts who apparently were so brazen, or so stupid, that they would make an attack on one of her properties.

No, there was very little thrilling about that at all.

The ale house didn’t look much different from any of the other dilapidated buildings, the only thing that made it apparent as a tavern was the throng of haggard drunks outside it. Anjasa caught the attention of most of them immediately, lewd cat calls erupting from the rough crew.

Though one in particular stepped forward to grab her arm. Jaral stopped him before he could lay a finger upon her, his own strong grasp on the vagrant’s wrist. The pained expression quickly told of how tight that grip of his had to be before he was let go free and stumbled away.

A dark stare from Jaral kept the man at bay as he nursed his wrist, while the other thugs around him stiffened. Anjasa could feel the tension in the air as the two of them entered the building, conspicuous enough that they may as well have worn guard's uniforms.

The building inside was no better, the place clearly just another hovel that was converted -- to use the term loosely -- to serve drinks. Just some rickety tables and chairs, not many of those even as most patrons stood or sat on the floor, while along the one wall were stacked some greasy kegs behind another table.

Every moment spent standing there only seemed to multiply the number of eyes upon her. “We should make this as quick as possible,” Jaral murmured.

Even dressed as a commoner, it did nothing to hide her voluptuous curves or the plush lips that had parted gently. Under different circumstances, she might like the attention, but not now. Not knowing that enemies lurked there.

Anjasa quickly scanned the crowd, looking over the more than two dozen hardened faces, all in varying states of inebriation.

But with everyone’s gaze already moving to her, she wasn’t going to be able to handle this subtly. Not at all.

“Where can I find Ergan?” she demanded, her voice loud and strong, not betraying the tremor she felt in her spine.

The immediate response from those around her was suspicion. Unease. Even a few angry glares. These were men who didn’t care for those kinds of questions. Much less those who asked them.

Some of the grimy brutes edged away. Some others bristled. While along the makeshift ‘bar’ one man rose up and turned, some of his dark hair matted to his forehead as he held mug in hand, staring at her. Eying Anjasa up and down.

“‘Ey,” came his guttural call, gesturing with a jerk of his head summoning her over closer.

Her fingers flexed imperceptibly as she took a step closer, ever wary of the bodies surrounding her. Between Jaral and the drunken crowd, it wouldn’t take much for things to go awry.

“What is it?” she asked as she took another step.

Jaral stood behind her, the tall, ominous man seeming to fade away even as he loomed in the background.

The miscreant before her eyed her up and down, a cold sort of appraisal as if he were inspecting an object on sale rather than a woman. “Yer lookin’ for someone, is ya?” he asked in his coarse, ale-enhanced speech. He cupped his groin lewdly, scratching himself.

Anjasa resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead gave her sultriest smile. “I am. Maybe more than one, if I’m in a good mood. But for now, Ergan will do.

His brow furrowed, though he never met her eyes. Continuing to stare at her body rather than her face, he downed some ale, let loose a noisome belch then said, “A hot piece a’ ass like you lookin’ fer a grease ball like Ergan?” He arched a brow in disbelief. “What’s that piece a shit got that’s earned yer fancy?” He slipped from the rickety ‘bar’ and moved in, closing the gap between them, smelling of sweat and cheap, rank alcohol.

He gave her ass an unwanted grope with a wretched hand that was slimy enough to match his smell.

Yet she swallowed her disgust. Over her years, she’d dealt with so many filthy, rancid people that even though the smell assaulted her nose and his touch made her stomach churn, she was able to push it all aside and smile.

Never had Anjasa conjured a smile looked so foreboding, and she licked her lips slowly while choosing her words.

“I hear he’s in the flesh trade now.” Her voice was lowered, even, as she stared and his repulsive face. “I want to buy him out.”

Those dirty fingers of his were strong, she could feel, as they sank into the supple flesh of her toned ass. The schmuck was helping himself, giving such a cruel squeeze. His eyes were drawn to her face as she licked her lips, and he found himself licking his own in unconscious response.

“Business opportunity, eh?” he said in a low, gruff voice, tugging her by her ass towards his stinking self. “Well… if’n yer lookin’ ta get into the flesh trade, I think ya should offer me up a finder’s fee first.”

The sound of his mug being laid on the table beside them was followed by the feel of his fingers against her lower stomach. The filthy man was working open his pants right there in the middle of the room. “Suck it, bitch.” The slime ball grasped her hip and tried to force her down by raw strength alone.

Anjasa's hand went to his throat, and the webbing pressed against his Adam’s apple as she squeezed. “Try that again, friend?” she offered generously, blood pumping hot through her veins.

She could handle some asshole touching her body, but there was no way she’d allow someone to insult her for free. Her nails began to dig into his greasy flesh.

When the blow came, it was not from her unwanted solicitor.

An overweight man to her right had barreled into them both, knocking Anjasa and the creep into the ‘bar’ table, toppling several pints of ale and eliciting more than a few shouts of anger from patrons.

The dark-haired lout went sprawling over the table to tumble behind it, but as caught-off-guard as she was, Anjasa was able to nimbly catch herself and spin to face the rotund man who’d came upon her.

“I knew I recognized that skank!” he shouted at her, pointing a pudgy finger in her direction. “She’s the bitch that done run me outta a job! Said I was too fuckin’ rough with the girls,” he spat at her.

Recognition didn’t set in right away. His features too soft, but when he said that… she thought she felt some glimmer of recognition. He was some old thug of Zarach’s she had to kick out, one of the few who refused to play by her new rules. He hadn't handled early retirement well, clearly.

“You fucking ran yourself out of your own job, asshole, because you weren’t doing it. You were supposed to protect the girls, not fucking terrify them.” Anjasa stood taller, her knees softening as she adopted a fighting stance, her keen eyes working their way around the room as she looked for any other threats.

“Now tell me where Ergan is, and I’ll be on my way!” she shouted louder.

The fat man came at her with a guttural shout of rage, and what he lacked in speed he made up for in anger and heft. Though as wide as he was, Anjasa was able to sidestep him and get out of the way, let him go tumbling past her with a boot to his back that sent him crashing into the stack of ale kegs there. The cheap wood they were made out of breaking on a few, causing a torrent of the cheap booze.

Cries of outrage from the onlookers hinted that the maneuver won her no friends. Moreover, she noticed earlier the malicious glint in quite a few eyes when the fat ex-employee pointed out who she was. Was the place home to more of her cast off rejects?

When a few of the men started closing in on her, brandishing fists -- and one with some metal wire -- she prepared herself for a bigger fight.

A sharp kick sent one crumpling into a fetal ball at her feet, while another forced her to duck shortly thereafter.

Anjasa was more than a match for any one of them, of course, but as the fight got out of hand, the collective agitation in the room only built. The disgusting spot wasn’t a welcoming place for women usually, she could see judging by the almost complete lack of them, but she’d stacked several other points against her since arrival.

She dodged a fist and then the next and --

Something grabbed her ankle. A strong grasp kept her from lifting her leg to plant a knee right into her target, and she instead took a rock-hard fist to the side that was almost enough to knock the wind from her.

Dark hair flew about her face as she lost her balance, the graceful dance of her defense thrown off as she saw the grinning, gap-toothed face of that dark haired creep who had tried to get her to suck him off in front of the whole tavern.

While hate boiled over in the mob surrounding her, she gasped and coughed, her face turning a bit red. Anjasa narrowed her eyes, though, and thanked something for the fact that her pain tolerance had grown so high over the years. She knew the spot would bruise and that she’d hurt, likely more since Jaral had tasted a bit of her blood only a few hours before, but she could handle it.

She’d been through worse.

What she might not be able to handle was the three men who were gathering back up to come at her, the insistent jeers, shoves and cheers of their filthy compatriots pushing them onwards. Quite literally at times.

Anjasa managed to get herself back up to her feet, but still that insistent grease ball clung to her ankle with such tenacious bitterness. “Fuckin’ cunt!” he shouted at her.

It was the last thing he'd shout for a long time. Out of the shadows of the crowded tavern, Jaral struck like an apparition. A boot to the jaw sent loose teeth flying from the blow, and his grasp on Anjasa’s leg loosened, freeing her at last.

Her partner stepped no further, leaving three advancing brutes for her to handle.

First things first--some payback against the one who’d battered her side with a kick to his shin that sent him down to his knees. A spinning kick went to the next one, cracking him in the side of his head and laying the lunk out on the floor cold. He dropped nearly as fast as her limbs moved.

The third held a wire, barbed metal coiled about his fist as he went at her. She ducked beneath his blow, but felt some of her long, black hair get caught on the implement and rip from her scalp.

When she rose back up, Anjasa sprung with the force of a crossbow. Her hands grasped his greasy mullet as she launched her knee into his jaw and felt it break against her blow. He toppled back to the floor, his head banging against the floorboards.

Her chest heaved with her breathing, but the big goon who’d got a blow on her was up again and coming back at her with a bull-like roar.

He deserved a long, hard thrashing for laying hands upon her, but Anjasa had to be thrifty with her time.

The viper-fast sting of her fist sent him to the ground with a black eye, and she found herself standing alone. The center of attention for a whole, grimy tavern. And while she could see some anger simmering there, and a few who looked ready to try their hand at her despite the last group’s failure, most were shocked. Or afraid.

She stretched out her fingers, rotating her neck and feeling that satisfying little crack as she prepared for more of their misplaced hatred and anger. She knew that, even those she hadn’t wronged, had blamed her for everything terrible in their shitty life, and the alcohol could fuel idiocy.

“Now, where is Ergan? Or do I have to start by plucking some fingernails off first?”

Out of the throng of angry, disgusting men, there was a certain growing sense of power returning to them. Though Anjasa’s display had instilled a tinge of fear to the group, they still felt powerful together. Safe. No matter how false that sense might be.

A ring of them started edging forward and it looked like she’d have an even bigger fight on her hands than last. But not today, apparently. A lone man burst from the crowd and went running off into the streets, looking absolutely panicked.

Ergan?

She’d take a scared man over a bold one any day. Even if he weren’t Ergan, he smelled like a rat, and she smiled. “Thanks, fellas.”

Just before they were able to approach her, her nimble fingers weaved a pattern in the air and she, like her compatriot, disappeared into the ether. Hidden from view.

It was a jarring sensation. Anjasa was still getting used to using illusion powers once more, and though she’d acted cocky in public, it took her a second to adjust to walking on the shadow plane. Everything was devoid of colour and depth. It was even difficult to move in a straight line.

Still, focussing on moving forward one foot at a time, she worked her way through the jostling crowd. It felt as though she were moving through honey, her limbs heavy and lethargic, but when she left the hovel and got back on the street, and began her chase.

The runner upset the dreary stillness of the alleyway. Everyone else moved with such slow, trudging motions. Yet Ergan ran frantic and panting. Even through the hazy film between realities, Anjasa could make him out easily. The only issue was keeping up! Her legs were doubtlessly faster than his, but her shadowcraft had a strange effect upon the way things worked and she had to fight much harder for every step.

Desperate to find some safety, the man before her ran with all his strength, following the slow arching roadway towards what he hoped was asylum.

An end came in sight when she watched him duck inside a shabby building and run frantic up the creaking, feeble stairs to slam a door shut behind him two floors up.

She slowed and took a moment to catch her breath. He was trapped, feeling safe and secure, and that was the perfect time to pounce. She rubbed her rib cage, cringing a little at the sensation, but straightened her spine as she went to close the distance between her and her prey. Untangling herself from the shadow realm, she once more cracked her neck and took a deep breath.

Anjasa could have approached the situation with stealth, slipping outside from her window to his. But after such a hustle, the adrenaline was pumping and she was feeling in need of some more dramatic, directly satisfying results.

With carefully trained precision, she reeled back and then burst the door open in a maneuver that was all about skill over raw strength. Yet resulted in a startling display nonetheless.

A shriek erupted from the man in the dingy little room, and he fell down next to the tiny single bed, panic on his face as he shielded himself uselessly with one arm. “No!” he cried out in desperation.

“Aw, honey,” she purred tauntingly as she took long, slow steps towards him, her heels clicking noisily upon the floorboards. “Aren’t you excited to have a woman like me in your home?”

He was a rather ordinary-looking man, didn’t quite seem the type to be hanging around the Dregmire. He had light brown hair, still showing some signs a recent cutting, though the dirt was starting to sink into him. Nevertheless, his beady eyes were stretched wide as he stared up at her in a panic.

“Wh-what do you want with me?” he managed to force out, his voice warbling with worry as he inched back, though finding he had nowhere to go with the bed directly behind him.

“Are you Ergan?” Anjasa was looming over him, her arms lightly folded beneath her large chest, her head cocked slightly to the side with a gaze both menacing and calm.

He was panicked and sweating, though not just from his run. As he stared up at Anjasa, it was clear that his sense of macho ego had evaporated after seeing what she could do.

“Y-y-yes!” he blurted out, trying to sit up and grasp onto the bed for support. “Wh-what do you w-want with me?”

“I’m Anjasa Vilelight,” she introduced herself, moving to sit on the edge of his bed before thinking better of it. “I believe you’ve mistakenly taken some people who are under my care, and I’d like them back. Now.”

Cowering before her, he stared up at her, looking completely baffled by her query. “Wh-what?” he stammered out, some of his light brown hair sticking to his forehead as he swallowed anxiously. “I-I-I did what?”

Anjasa saw a shadowy movement by the window. The buildings here were so cheap, they of course had no glass in them. She needn't guess who it was. The visage of her dark lover stepped silently inside using the entry she’d purposely neglected.

She let out a soft sigh, and knew that no one could act so well as he was acting. She licked her lips softly, considering where to go from here. The abusive boyfriend, it seemed, had nothing to do with Najel, or the other girl’s, kidnapping.

“Have you heard my name before?” she asked.

Trembling before her, his knuckles had gone white from clutching to the bed so tightly. He licked his lips, but she noted even his tongue seemed to have gone dry. “W-what was it again… m-ma’am?” he asked as Jaral strode behind him in absolute silence, his sleek black half-cloak masking him from that angle almost entirely.

“Anjasa,” she paused, “Vilelight.” Her tone was hard and serious, even knowing that this guy wasn’t who she was looking for. “You were with Najel for a while, right?”

Anjasa’s name obviously had an impact upon him, as his eyes seemed almost ready to bug out of his head. Though at Najel’s name, he blanked, confusion sweeping over him again. Though slowly some look of recognition began to form. “Th-the dancer?” he asked, not sounding particularly familiar with the name.

It was like pulling teeth, and just as pleasant. Anjasa’s face screwed up in disdain, exasperation running through her. “Yes. The dancer.”

“Wh-what about her?” he asked, looking as confused as Anjasa was frustrated. All the while Jaral casually inspected the man’s room unheeded, inspecting the meager chamber.

Anjasa was reluctant to tell him why she was curious, but they’d reached an obviously dead end. Perhaps if he still cared for her, he’d be able to help. It wasn’t like she had a lot of friends in the Dregmire, and they were getting nowhere.

“She’s missing. Someone has taken her. Have you heard anything about that?” Anjasa took her time with each word as though talking to an idiot. Though, then the thought occurred to her that the only thing even linking the crime to this forsaken place was her dead end and her shoulders sank.

“T-taken her?!” he exclaimed, looking shocked. “How could that be?!” he sounded almost as bothered by the notion of her being taken as he was afraid of Anjasa. Almost, but not quite.

“Because someone, somewhere, has not yet met my friends and I, nor do they seem to know what I do to those who hurt the people in my care. Now, I’m going to find whatever asshole out there did this, and I’m going to feed them their own eyeballs. Aren't you glad I don’t believe it’s you?” Anjasa smiled. Through the harshness of her language and the cruelty of her tone, she counted on it not being too reassuring. “So if you hear of anyone talking about anything like this, who are you going to tell?”

He recoiled at that, slumping down into the floor and almost curling up into a fetal position before nodding his head to Anjasa fearfully. “Y-you m-m-ma’am,” he stammered out, still sweating, though from terror now rather than the exertion of earlier.

Jaral stepped in close behind Anjasa, and his appearance startled the man into screaming. And subsequently fainting.

“This is not a place for living,” came the smooth, velvety words of her lover. “This is a place for asylum, away from prying eyes.” A sweep of his eyes about the room seemed to indicate to her to note the sparse emptiness. The only things in there were a bed, and crude dresser. Judging by the open drawer, the dresser was empty.

Anjasa took another glance around with a small shrug. “Or he could just be incredibly poor. Looks like he got here fairly recently, so he might not have been left with much. What do you suggest?”

She was beginning to feel the tender aches in her body a bit more prominently, and she shifted around to make herself more comfortable.

Jaral stepped in towards her, his lean-muscled arms emerging from beneath his half-cloak as he took firm but gentle hold of her hip. “This place looks to be a hotel. Charges by the hour, typically,” he remarked. “And even poor people have some possessions. This room is bare but for the dirt,” he said looking around then resting his gaze back up the man they spent the evening hunting down.

“His coat,” Jaral remarked, and for the first time they took a moment to study him more closely. While the overcoat was poor and grungy, what he wore beneath was a fairly decent suit. These were clearly not the sort of clothes suited for the Dregmire.

“He looked scared enough to piss himself, though,” she said, her brows furrowed. “I mean, he’d have to be pretty swift to instinctually run in terror to a safe house, right?”

“I do not think it is a safe house, I think he ran to the only other place in the Dregmire he knew. The spot he was going to take whoever he was meeting back to.”

Anjasa caught sight of it then, the glimpse of some woman’s hair as she peeked around the corner before vanishing back.

Anjasa narrowed her eyes and motioned her head, “Get her.” Anjasa moved towards Ergan’s body, starting to frisk him for anything in his pockets that might tell her more, “I’ll watch him.”

Jaral was gone in a flash, and Anjasa was left to rifle through the man’s clothes. She found there the typical sort of items one would expect upon a clerk. A civil servant, maybe a banker. Some coinage, a pencil, a scrap of paper with some figures jotted onto them that seemed to detail deposits and withdrawals from an account. Then that was it, save for the little switchblade of the sort sold to fools who didn’t know how to use a knife to begin with.

The fact he hadn’t even gone for it was testament to that. Was he just some mook on the bad side of town looking for some cheap thrills after all?

A scream filled the halls, “Get yer hands offa me!” came the cry.

Jaral pulled the woman into the room shortly thereafter, pushing the door shut. Or as shut as it would go after being busted by Anjasa’s entry.

The woman, however, looked the role of a very low class prostitute indeed. She wore a shawl so worn it was full of holes, over a rather terrible dress. And the woman herself, though not very old, was in hard shape. Her hair and face a mess, rings beneath her eyes, she looked like she was on some drugs.

Not the type that Anjasa would have on at one of her clubs.

“You!” came the woman’s outraged cry as she saw Anjasa, then began to try and struggle out of Jaral’s iron grasp, uselessly.

Anjasa’s head tilted to the side, taking in the woman slowly. Did she recognize her? Another person she passed up for a job in pursuit of the best? It was so hard to tell with how many people she saw on a day to day basis, how many she’d seen in her long life.

The woman was haggard, tired looking. Gaunt even, a common look coming from a stressful, impoverished lifestyle, working the hardest and least prosperous streets in the city. A woman wouldn’t work here if she had a choice. The men were vermin, as likely to kill you as pay you.

“Lemme go!” yelled the woman at Anjasa, filled with more fight than she looked like she should’ve had. Perhaps it was some drugs in her system after all, giving her that extra boost of tenacity. Or just pure rage. “Why ya fuckin’ with my business, cunt?!”

“We’ll pay you however much he promised you. We just want to ask a few questions.” Anjasa’s face was expressionless and cool, and her tone matched it.

This woman was proving significantly less helpless than the man she came to see. “Lemme go this fuckin’ instant bitch! I ain’t tellin’ you shit! You can suck my ass before I’ll tell ya anythin’ you controllin’, dyke!” On and on went the litany of terrible insults and threats, until Anjasa noticed the man at her feet stirring.

He blinked his eyes and peered up, seeing the shrieking woman with great surprise on his face. “My word,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “You found her!” he exclaimed.

“Your date for the night? Yea, she’s a charmer, and we got her all fired up for you.” Anjasa was getting tired of this and wanted to get back on track to finding whoever had crossed her path. She looked up at Jaral, even though it was impossible to gauge his feelings on the matter.

The dark man merely looked stoically over the woman at Anjasa, keeping her restrained dutifully.

“Why you fuckin’ with my customers bitch! You kicked my ass to the curb and now you fuckin’ hornin’ in on my business?!” cried the woman, filled with bitterness and anger.

It was Ergan who broke the obfuscated chain of slurs. “She told me you were kidnapped!” he exclaimed, holding open his arms and trying to approach the woman, though her struggling made it difficult for him.

“Kidnapped?!” she screeched. “The fuck you tellin’ my johns?!” she said to Anjasa, eyes wide and panicked with anger.

Ergan embraced her despite the woman’s rage. “I was so worried for you, sweetie!”

Anjasa’s dark brow arched, though she had to admit she was quite a bit more startled than that. A heavy pit formed in her stomach. “Najel? Weren’t you supposed to be in the mothering house?”

“Oh, like I’d be fit for yer fancy fuckin’ palace with them knocked up bitches,” she growled before giving Ergan a shove. “An’ yer just worried you’ll have to go pay top rate at one a’ the brothels, ya cheap bastard!” She was apparently not too worried about retaining one of her clients after all. Or at least, she expressed it badly.

Jaral arched a brow at Anjasa, looking about as lost as she was in the whole affair as he kept the woman in a tight arm lock.

Anjasa touched Jaral’s arm lightly, motioning to the door. “We’ll just let you get reacquainted, then,” she said softly as they left, Jaral leaving behind some coin on the dresser after dodging a swipe from the irate woman.

Then, all tenderness drained from her, and she was seething.

“We need to get back to Luscius. This isn’t right. That girl lied to me. She wasn’t one of ours.” There was nothing Anjasa hated being lied to more than not realizing she was being lied to.

Jaral nodded to her, “Yes. Clearly we have been misled. This whole thing stinks of --” He broke off mid-sentence, listening to the quiet. Or at least the near quiet. Standing in the hall they could still hear the sounds of the newly reunited couple talking in the other room. But the place was conspicuously absent of all other noise. Not even the sound of the rowdy streets reached them. “Do you hear that?” he asked her.

With some effort, she did. It was the sound of fire crackling.

Her night was long from over, and she reached into her purse, retrieving her stiletto blades. There was no need for subtlety. Not now.

“Fuck, we need to get the hell out of this place,” Anjasa whispered, fear beginning to creep into her. She could manipulate small fires, with lots of concentration, but without focused practice it was little more than parlour tricks.

Jaral took hold of her shoulder, “Out the window,” and he guided her back towards the hallway hole in the wall that passed for such. The wooden shutters were thrust open, but barely a moment later a hail of arrows came shrieking through the air towards them. Anjasa pulled Jaral back in the nick of time, and both tumbled to the floor as two arrow shafts pierced the wall and a third the ceiling, having just missed them.

“Fuck!” Anjasa cursed, her body half sprawled over Jaral’s. “I’ve made some fans here.” She’d been so eager to find out who did this, to have the protection of Jaral, that they rushed out in the middle of the night. It’d been so risky, but that was what she thrived on, right?

“I guess we’re taking the long way out,” she said lower, and already she felt the shadows begin to pull at her, calling her home.

Jaral called to her, “Wait!” Shaking his head he got up, crouching down as he peered around. “The flames downstairs sound high and big,” he remarked, “I do not think we will be able to make our way out down that way. And those arrows,” he said indicating towards the ceiling, “too precise.”

Pulling off his cloak, Jaral pushed the garment up beneath the butt of one of his own daggers. Instantaneously it was pierced by an arrow while another went awry and struck the wall. “This is a trap,” he said to her darkly. “A well laid trap. No random mob awaits us outside,” he remarked, pursing his lips.

Anjasa couldn’t help but let out a cold, cynical laugh. Of course it was a trap.

“I suppose this place had been specially chosen, then. No basement, no hidden exits,” she lamented, trying to think quickly. With just a few blades and her tricks-of-the-trade, she was prepared to take on a few people, but a well-trained gang? That was something else altogether.

“Ideas?” she urged, quickly.

Jaral kept his cool, calm outer disposition. Yet his eyes darted about the room, lit ruby by the dark and his rising vampiric instinct. “I can sense many bodies awaiting us outside,” he remarked in a gravelly voice, and his hunger for blood tinged his words, at least garnering him some extra perception in that regard.

Carefully he tried to edge in by the window to get a peek, but they wouldn’t even allow that much before an arrow nearly struck him.

With a hiss he returned to her side. “We can bundle my cloak with some object and throw it out the window. They’ll focus their shots upon it, giving me time to leap out and take them on. Then you can use your powers to sneak out after me in the distraction,” he stated.

It was a risky plan.

And though Jaral was immensely powerful, Anjasa had seen him suffer grievous wounds before. Ageless he might be, but his body could be destroyed not much unlike any other.

She took a deep breath in, shaking her head. “I’m not going to sneak out. We’re stronger if there’s two of us.” She reached in her purse, digging for something until finally she grasped a small little stone. It seemed plain and ordinary until she rubbed it and it began emitting a soft glow. “You go first, then I’ll blind them with this. Just shield your eyes for me.”

There wasn’t enough time for Jaral to give his opinion on the matter before the arrows that peppered the walls and ceiling started sparking. The curious display drawing their gaze before they realized the sparks were lighting fire to the shabby, cheap wood of the building.

“Very well,” agreed Jaral, bundling up his cloak as the sounds of the weakened wood crunching from the fire below carried up. “After me!” he called, tossing the bundle out. The cloak bloomed in the air, only to be punctured by three then five arrows.

Her vampiric lover leapt after it, his body positioned to fall quickly, arms back as his feet formed a V-shape.

Anjasa ran towards the window to leap out next, though when her booted foot tried to lift her up that last distance, the floor gave way.

Wood crumbled beneath her, and smoke billowed up around from below as she tumbled. Flames licked the walls and coursed through the hallway of the second floor as she immediately felt her lungs spasm from the acrid smoke of the fetid house slowly becoming engulfed in flames.

The window on that floor was completely ringed in fire and leaping through it wouldn’t be as easy, even if her ass wasn’t hurting like hell from her fall. All around her flames were licking upwards, and worse still, Anjasa knew that the smoke would do her in if she sucked in a few more lungs full of it.

Screams sounded from above, and she recognized it as those of the two unfortunates above who’d been part of the setup.

That gave her an idea at least, and Anjasa quickly kicked open the door to her right. Inside was a vacant room, but there the flames weren’t as high. In the back corner a window opened up to the outside, but sadly it was the wrong side. Jaral was stuck outside fighting on his own, and she had to get to him quickly.

With no time to waste, she ran for the window and burst through, taking her chances on avoiding the fire that flickered upwards along the rim of the window sill.

Outside, she was greeted by the smoky stench of the alleyway, one of the rare gaps between buildings in the Dregmire. The sounds of fighting greeted her ears to the left, but she was too busy falling into the unknown to discern much.

Her shoulder struck the building next door, but it didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve, thanks to the soft wood it was made from. Sliding down against it was the more unpleasant part, but it was just a one-story drop, and she knew well enough how to use her agile body to prepare for the landing. With a tumble, she rolled across the dirt before coming to a gasping halt, able to inhale some (sort of) clean air again, at last.

Yet from in the streets outside she heard the bellowing, desperate cry of her lover, “Anjasa?!” Alarm filled that voice, doubtlessly because she hadn't escaped behind him.

It gave her a second wind. Even though her body screamed for more fresh air, she didn’t have the luxury of time to stay still. She pushed herself forwards in a sprint, a single stiletto clasped in her hand. She wasn’t even sure where the other one had fallen, but what this would have to do.

The streets were a frenzied storm. An army of thugs was arrayed around the building, forming a cordon to keep the occupants of the building back. Behind that front line stood marksmen, armed with crossbows. It was more than a setup for her, it was a whole army laying in wait for her. And there at the heart of the fury was Jaral, moving nearly as fast as she’d seen him the night he'd slain Zarach. Nearly. She knew he was too hungry to be at his best. Yet his desire to protect her went a long way, and though thugs fell to his furious blades, she saw he already had some cuts upon his toned chest. Slashes that bled dark blood down his abs.

Between him and her, though, were dozens of those brutes, and they were already turning their attention upon her.

“Hey, assholes!” she called, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps as a way of telling Jaral she was fine without drawing too much attention to their mutual concern for one another. “You missed!” Instantly she threw the shining stone, the little pebble turning before exploding with light. It was another parlour trick, but enough to stun and burn their eyes for at least a few seconds while she closed the distance, weapon at the ready.

There were so many of them, though, that only some even heard her cry. The burst of light did its trick for more than enough of them, though. An arrow fired past her, the shot woefully missed though, doubtlessly due to the blinding of its firer.

Anjasa’s blades slashed at one of the thugs, then another, cutting them up and sending them crying away in pain. But the sea of foes was no thinner, and it became apparent that fighting her way through to Jaral would be nigh impossible.

An alternative presented itself. She saw that but a few men stood between her and escape down the road. Escape however, wasn’t on her mind just yet.

Slicing her way through the blinded thugs, she burst out into the open streets and ran behind the foes. Even as their sight began to return to them, they were all disoriented and confused, no longer certain where their prey was.

It gave Anjasa the time she needed to plunge her stilettos into the backs of a few well-trained men armed with bows. Each being one less worry Jaral had as he did battle in the streets before the horde of foes.

Through the din of cries, Jaral’s voice roared forth, “Get out! They are not after me!”

Something tugged at her, something strange and complicated. The urge to stay, to keep fighting for a lover, it was something... new. She lusted hard and true, but she made herself ready to leave almost as easily after so many heartbreaks. So why did she want to stay?

She had to thin them out, as much as she could. This wasn’t just lust or some curious fancy, no. She’d be devastated if he didn’t make it home, and that egged her on to make things just a bit easier for her vampire lover.

Chapter 7

From atop one of the grimy buildings a lone woman stood tall. Her brown skin and long, straight black hair gleamed in the light of the fire from across the street. Almond eyes drank in the events below as the rising currents of air whipped her scandalous skirts about, showing off her bare calf and thigh through the long, open slit.

Voluptuous and possessed of a glamorously elegant air, she strummed her fingers upon her hip thoughtfully. When she saw the ruckus break out at the opposing side, she zeroed in her gaze.

There, a woman not too unlike herself, did battle with the recruited thugs. Those villains with whom even the local crime lords did not deal any longer.

The graceful motions of that she-elf gave her quickly away. It had to be Anjasa, the crime boss of Normevor herself.

She addressed her accomplice in her smooth, silken voice, “Contain the man. Kill her.” Those words uttered in the brief moment before she smoothly vaulted over the side of the house and descended into the fray like a wraith.

Anjasa ducked, spun, and slashed, in endless repetition and variation. Her body moved with inhuman grace--elven grace--as she put all her training to practice. Somehow she managed to keep the throng of brutes at bay while slowly bleeding them down. Though each time she took one menacing thug down, another turned and took his place.

A sheen of perspiration appeared upon her brow, sticking a few stray strands of her hair to it. It took great exertion to keep up such a fight, but she was resilient.

When the throng shifted focus, however, and no longer were they coming at her a few at a time, worry began to set in. Anjasa now faced off against a small army by her lonesome.

It didn’t take long for muscles to exhaust under such circumstances, and she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. Not even with the adrenaline and all the passion she had boiling up within her, nor her hours of training. Each swing, each parry, each duck was another bit of energy spent.

She had to put some distance between them, reserve her strikes for the ones that counted. The fire was making them harder to follow, straining her eyes with bright lights and deep shadows that flickered all around her. She knew, though, that it had to be hard on the assailant’s eyes too, so she danced a bit closer to the flames.

No sooner than she began to make that strategic move than arrows began to whiz by her. Only her nimble grace kept those precise shots from striking her flesh. Panic nearly set in as she realized that the full force before her was advancing on her, more of those shots coming at her. She had to leap away, but even then an arrow tore through her clothes and cut her arm, adding the coppery scent of her own blood to the pungent alleyway already so rife with it.

The dark woman moved with such grace and subtlety, not even the thugs around her noticed her passing through their midst until she was gone. Her skirts and scarves billowed behind her as she pulled out her own janbiya: two curved daggers with lavish hilts, yet blade edges that were refined to such a sharp edge they could slice through most anything.

She weaved through the crowd, the sounds of Jaral fighting behind her as her thugs kept him hemmed in. All of her focus and attention was ahead, upon her true target.

Anjasa found herself forced to retreat. The overwhelming press of bodies lunging and swiping for her, the shower of arrows aimed at her, it was all too much, and she feared even escape might be too late of an option as she desperately sought to seek some new avenue to flee to and buy time.

There was nothing.

She could see Anjasa ahead of her through the bodies, the woman’s skill and grace now fighting to simply stay alive, no longer able to whittle down the horde. She looked weary, sweating, bleeding.

It would almost too easy, reflected the dark woman. Though she didn’t let that bother her. Business always came before pleasure.

But a moment before she was able to emerge from the throng and close in on the elf, a burst of blinding white light lit the air. The mysterious woman let loose a terrible cry of agony.

Chapter 8

Anjasa could see a sea of white, the explosion of light was more intense than her own devices. Yet it held a strange quality, blinding only temporarily. It was somehow… natural, as if not meant to harm an enemy.

A rush of bodies came around her from behind, forming a cordon to keep the thugs back. Then she felt strong arms about her midsection, pulling her backwards, the wall of armed men and women retreating in careful unison.

“Fall back to the garrison!” came the familiar, hissing words of Luscius, whose warm arms held her weary body.

Relief flooded her, but it lasted only a moment. “Get Jaral!” she commanded, but her voice was weak and small against the noise around her. The will to fight was still there, but she knew she was defeated.

How could she have walked right into such an obvious trap? She chided herself, frustration brewing at the fact that she was bested, that she’d underestimated whoever it was that led the assault. There shouldn’t have been a force so well run, so militant, without her knowledge. Not in this city, nor any of the neighbouring ones. And clearly they knew the city fairly well.

One of her guardians took an arrow and fell, another slung her bow over their back and grabbed him, pulling him along from beneath his shoulders. She didn’t have many protectors, and they were already vulnerable.

Luscius hissed into her ear, “We can’t. We’ll be lucky to get out of this alive.”

He pulled Anjasa up and turned her around to face the avenue of their escape, lifting her as they made their retreat. “Keep them away!” She could see a horse-drawn carriage awaiting her, the same she’d arrived in.

Luscius pulled open the door and tried to shove Anjasa inside.

Her mind was reeling as her body was jostled about like some princess needing rescued. But she did need to be rescued. She knew how close she’d come to getting killed, and it didn’t hold any of the thrill it used to.

Not now that she had reasons to live. Her brothel, her whores, her friends... her lovers.

But she knew that Luscius was right. If they ran in to save Jaral, they’d never escape.

It didn’t make it any easier to allow herself to be pushed into that carriage, to try to scan the crowd for her lover’s familiar form. She could only hope that he’d find some way back to her in one piece.

One of her hands went to the wound in her arm, trying to staunch the bleeding as the other went to the edge of the carriage, touching the metal gently. With sparkling eyes, she prayed for the best.

And grappled with the worst.

Once the arrows resumed after the flash, they began to stroke at the carriage, and both her and Luscius were forced to retreat inside. “Rally!” came his cry, and the guards he’d brought with him climbed up onto the sides of the carriage and another they’d brought.

Their smaller force fired off some crossbow shots as they made their retreat and sped off down the grimy roads, heading as fast as they could out of the Dregmire.

Chapter 9

The garrison that Luscius spoke of was, in truth, the old holy site he and his old crew of vampire hunters had used as their base of operations. The grounds were spacious, and the place easily defensible. At least, it should have been. Anjasa had boldly assaulted the place all by her lonesome and succeeded.

Still, Luscius had patched the building up and used it as a training ground for her small army of thugs.

As the carriage came to a halt, Luscius sprang out and began issuing commands. “Take the wounded through the chapel and into the rest chamber! Bowmen, take up positions along the tower! The rest of you, seal the doors and prepare for potential assault,” he turned around and reached in, gently extracting Anjasa.

“Let me tend to your wound upstairs,” he said, urging her into the building with the rest.

She hadn’t said a word since they’d left, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. She had an enemy bigger than she could have fathomed, and they were hitting her weakest spots. The women and children were just the tip of the iceberg. Once word travelled that Anjasa couldn’t keep her employees safe, there’d be panic.

Even now she worried what the news was doing to her business ventures, and she knew she had to be strong. To appear like she had everything under control and that she wasn’t half so lost and frightened as she was.

She took Luscius’ hand, but stood straight as she walked, refusing to give away her exhaustion or the extent of her wounds to their militia.

“We need to make sure the clubs are protected. How many people do we have that can defend the properties?” she asked.

Luscius kept his voice low as they walked hand in hand into the chapel, “Not as many as them, clearly.” The thick reinforced doors swung shut behind them, keeping out the night as they passed through the now clean and outfitted church. Old, ruined pews were not replaced by training equipment. The stained glass windows, so tall and narrow, now reinforced by metal grating and shuttered by thick wood.

“The plus side,” he continued, “is that their indiscriminate recruitment of those brutes seems to mean their thugs aren’t so well trained. If we can rally and find out who it is that’s attacking us… we might be able to strike back and make this into a war we can wage.”

Luscius took her to the spiral stairs, climbing up to where his own domicile had been when she’d first confronted him on his own turf so long ago.

“Clearly. If not even one of those buffoons could have hit me with an arrow with how many they were firing, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was their first time using a bow.” Of course, reality was she was lucky to escape alive, and the archers were the most skilled among them. “But underestimating them is how I got into this mess in the first place. How did you find us?”

Luscius’ room remained much as it had been when she first infiltrated it, though now the windows were better protected and locked tight. Ushering her inside he turned to two of the guards behind them, armed with crossbows as they took positions at the hallway windows. “Keep a tight watch, I’ll check up on you shortly.”

With that he slammed it shut and guided her towards a plush, comfortable chair before returning to his desk to gather some gauze.

“After issuing orders to see to the protection of your assets, I encountered the carriage you went out in on its way back. And so I took what aid I had on hand to come get you,” he remarked, not looking her way as he cut the gauze and prepared a basin of water with sponge. “Let me clean the wound, first of all.”

She sighed as she began to strip out of the ill-fitted dress, shameless before him. Despite all of their history, Anjasa wasn’t a woman that was embarrassed by her body. Besides, she knew him to be a professional.

But part of her said it wasn’t just that. The arrow had only grazed her arm, and there was no need for her to strip. But she was feeling vulnerable, and that tightness in her stomach had trailed lower. The fabric of the dress tickled her flesh as she pushed it down off her arms, her hand going over her full, bare breasts to shield them from his eyes.

She sat on the edge of the bed and couldn’t quite stay still. Her mind was running a mile a minute, and she knew she was succumbing to her own needs, her own desire, at the most inappropriate time. Her nipples prodded her forearm and she took a deep breath.

Sex was like a drug to her, and she was a recovering addict. She knew she had to refuse herself the easy way out, the distraction that she thought would clear her mind, but wouldn’t. It would make her weak, sloppy. She wouldn’t be able to react to the troubles that her lusts would cause.

Luscius came tending to her with the sponge, gingerly cleaning her wound and wiping away the blood. It left a light sting from the herbs he used to clean the wound and prevent infection. Nevertheless, the dashing man was professional about it, she had to give him that. His eyes only strayed from her arm momentarily, though even he couldn’t resist the occasional slip as he looked at her voluptuous body.

“Might this be the work of your new adversary in the courts?” he asked softly as he began to wrap that thick gauze about her arm, sealing up the wound with his delicate fingers grazing her tanned skin.

“I don’t think he’d resort to something like this. He seemed rather straight laced,” she said with a frown. “Though it has to be someone of money. An army, even a mob of rabble, doesn’t come free.”

Luscius nodded his head, more of his golden hair spilling down from his shoulders as he finished sealing up the gauze. “I would wager a rival gang leader is set on taking your turf,” he said, flicking his exotic, slitted eyes to her own pair as he gently checked the bandage. “Someone from out of town, perhaps. As I don’t know of anyone in town with the money and guts to take you on so brazenly.”

“Certainly not,” she mused. “There was a man in earlier today asking about a job. In my office. You don’t suppose he might have some answers, do you?”

Luscius took a moment to think, his gaze locked upon hers. “Where can I find this man? I’ll interrogate him personally. And in the meantime I’ll prepare plans to defend your assets and be ready to strike back against whoever it was that has engineered this trap. We can’t remain on defensive for too long, not knowing who is after us. We’ll only lose more as long as the initiative remains with them.”

“Brashinko, in Hook Tavern, on the outskirts of town. Big fellow, thick accent. He didn’t seem too bright, and said his last mistress was killed, but all that might have been a bluff as well. It’s easier to seem stupider than it is to seem brighter, right? Fuck, I just took him for some brute. Has there been word from the Prancing Pixie?”

Putting away the gauze and emptying the basin of herb-laced water, he shook his head. Even if he was "the other man," the light of the candles gleamed off his coppery skin, highlighting those pronounced abs, bulging with lean muscle all the way down to his low-hanging trousers. He was a gorgeous man, and if not for that one scar upon his face, he’d have made for the most exquisite of male dancers.

He was nimble enough for it, after all. Every motion of his was so fluid, watching him perform the most mundane tasks was unreal.

“Not yet,” he said. “Though they wouldn’t send word unless something was wrong. I ordered everything sealed up tight until we have a better idea of what’s going on.” He turned his gaze back to her, full lips spreading into a warm smile as he strode across the room to sit back beside her.

“You have competent staff there, well trained,” he assured her, reaching a hand out to brush his clean, smooth fingers over her glossy black hair. “Iridessa will keep things functioning well.”

“I just feel like I need to figure out why they hit the Mothering House. Was it just the most convenient target? The one that’d hurt the most? Maybe if I can figure that out, their motives...” Anjasa trailed off as she stood up, tugging up the top of her dress to once more hide her chest. “Or are they just that unhinged?”

Luscius very calmly motioned for her to sit back down. “First, relax,” he obliged in that smooth, soothing voice of his. “Sit down and tell me about all that happened. I need all the details to help you go over this chain of events. How did you go from chasing down some loser to being assaulted by a mob?”

“That loser was a set up,” she began, sitting next to him. She poured over all the details as quickly and thoroughly as she could. Almost as soon as she was finished recounting all the little facts she could remember, though, she touched Luscius’ thigh and looked at him seriously. “What about the woman from the House, the one who told me about Ergan? Where is she?”

Luscius stroked his chin in thought, but at that familiar touch he softened a little, meeting her gaze once more. “I assume still at the Mothering House,” he offered simply, brushing back some of his blonde hair. “I had no reason to suspect her at the time, so I left her there. She was just another mother.”

Hesitating, he looked like he had something on his mind he didn’t care to say.

Anjasa’s emerald eyes narrowed, her voice lowering slightly, “What is it, Luscius? We can’t all have bits and pieces kept to ourselves if we’re going to figure this out, right? What’s your instinct saying?”

He hesitated still, but pressed her gently, “Did you recognize her at all? She was new to me. I just wrote it off as just a by-product of our expansion. The more new faces we take in under your operations the fewer I recognize. Though I do my best to be aware of all the organizations branches and employees. It’s a security issue, after all.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t. I see so many people, and we were in such a rush. It was just nice to hear that someone knew something.”

“Seems awfully convenient she knew enough to get you straight to this trap,” he remarked. Though with his jaw jutted out in that firm, defiant look, it wasn't clear if he was making sense or just being his usual, overly-cautious self. He saw potential threats everywhere.

“Regardless, that place isn’t safe anymore, and I think she needs to be found and brought to me. Somewhere safe, so that I can interrogate her.” Anjasa touched her temple, massaging away a nagging headache with agile fingers. “We need to be out there, getting the information we need. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we are.”

With a nod, Luscius wetted his full lips and spoke, “I have a feeling she will not be there when we return. However, I’ll dispatch some people I trust to fetch this Brashinko and bring him to the Mothering House. We'll conduct our interrogation there. Shall it be done, madam?” he asked, smoothly sliding up into a standing position as he adjusted his belt and straps.

Anjasa took a moment to think, to gather her strength before she nodded. “Yes. They won’t expect us to return there, I gather. But until we know more, we’re just groping in the dark for what they’ll expect.” She stood alongside him, her fingertips touching his bicep gently, “Thanks for the rescue. Let me know if there’s word of Jaral.”

Anjasa refused to grieve him. He was a fighter. A survivor. He’d make it through.

The smooth, glistening coppery skin of his was warm to the touch, so smooth and sleek.

“We should stick together. I do not trust to have you left --or anywhere-- without my personal guardianship. Or Jaral's. You need more than just regular protection right now,” he asserted. Even being so generous as to include Jaral. She knew he had to be very serious. “If you don’t feel up to it, then by all means, let us take a while to rest. I will dispatch some trusted guards to get things ready in the meantime.”

Anjasa tilted her neck to either side, feeling a satisfying crack and a loosening of her shoulders. “I just need something quick to eat, and I’ll be good as new.” It wasn’t the full truth, of course, but she meant what she said. Every second they dallied was a second her enemy had to gather their own strength.

With a firm nod he smiled just a little, “There is a pantry below. Nothing fancy like you are used to now, but good, hearty fare. Follow me.”

Chapter 10

When the pair arrived at the Mothering House it was early in the morning, before sunrise. A retinue of trusted guards kept watch around them as they ascended into the building, but before they even got there one of Luscius’ trusted trainees came out to report.

“The woman can’t be found anywhere, and nobody here even knows a woman by that description,” came their report through a muffled black face mask that hid all but their eyes.

“I suspected as much,” Luscius muttered, sweeping ahead of Anjasa into the house.

The place was locked down, the door reinforced and repaired hastily, while a few more guards were keeping watch inside. Upstairs, some of the woman peered down at them, as did a couple of kids.

She’d been thinking long and hard about what to say to comfort them. At the very least, she wanted to give them faith in her ability to protect them. But for all her skills and training, speeches were not her strong suit. She often said the wrong thing at the wrong time, making matters even worse, so instead she let the moment pass.

“Have any of the other women said anything helpful?” she asked in a low voice.

The black-garbed trainee followed after them both, reporting dutifully, “Very little. Though one of the women said that she saw a suspicious woman of that description hanging around two of the kids. When she went to question her… the woman made some excuse to check on the kitchen and simply vanished.”

Luscius looked to Anjasa, “Sounds like our culprit.”

“That's all well and good, but we’re still no further than we started. Since they had an inside agent, things would be laughably easy to control from there. When did she show up, do any of them know? How many are truly missing?”

The trainee shrugged their shoulders, “Nobody recalls seeing the woman before tonight. If she was here before then, she must have kept remarkably quiet.”

Luscius nodded, “Thank you, Diraq.” Turning his gaze back to Anjasa he said, “I think the women here are close-knit enough to recognize an outsider when they see one. This infiltrator had to be new. Left behind after the chaos of the attack to spread disinformation, perhaps.”

Anjasa shook her head thoughtfully. “No, I imagine she must have came earlier in the day. Perhaps an hour or two, long enough to take out the guard and find what they were after. Who they were after. There’s got to be a commonality we’re missing.” She walked through the halls, hearing her heels echo back to her.

Seeing that Anjasa had no great, rousing speeches for them, most of the women went back to their rooms, undoubtedly to try to cultivate the last remnants of rest or comfort before an uneasy dawn broke. Though two of the children lingered, clutching the railings as they stared at her.

Luscius walked in behind Anjasa quietly, his voice soft. “If that is so, they must have taken away any of the women here who saw her in the act of infiltration. It makes sense. Leave no witnesses.”

“I really don’t like the feel of any of this, Luscius,” she whispered before catching sight of the two lingering children, cocking her head at them curiously. “Shouldn’t you two be in bed?”

The boy and girl stared up at her wide-eyed, as if they thought themselves invisible before she had spoken to them. The two of them scurried into the room behind them, pushing the door nearly shut. But not quite.

Luscius paid them but a moment’s notice before turning back to Anjasa. “We have that man you wanted now. Shall we go interrogate him?”

She nodded and turned on her heels, but her voice remained quiet. “The woman was with some of the children. It may have been those two, I'm not entirely certain.” All human children tended to look the same to her, if she was being honest. Elven children too, for that matter. “Please have someone speak to them once they're rested.”

With a nod, Luscius relayed the instructions to his trusted trainee as they descended the stairs. Through the main door two of her guards brought in a large man, a bag over his head, and his wrists tied together behind him as he resisted their efforts to guide him down into the basement.

Anjasa and Luscius descended after them into the dark, dirt-floored basement. Two guards were forcing Brashinko down into the chair, tying him in with little ease.

He looked larger than she remembered him, and the fact that they found him at all bothered her. Either he was as dumb as he sounded, he wasn’t in on it or, worst of all, he had a trick up his sleeve.

“I’m sorry we had to meet once more under these circumstances,” Anjasa began, trying to sound much stronger and more intimidating than she felt. Even though she’d changed into battle-worn leathers that hugged her body snug, she still felt naked and exposed. Not even having her weapons on hand helped that much.

The enemy knew much more about her than she did about them, and that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Brashinko’s muffled voice carried through. “Who is that?! I fuck you up!” His large body was lurching angrily, the chair sounding like it might break from the turbulence.

Luscius screwed up the corner of his lips and yanked the black sack off his head. The bearded man was sweaty underneath, and his features were twisted in anger, to say the least. Infuriated was more like it. “You?” he spluttered at Anjasa with some confusion.

“I need to know who sent you,” she began delicately, looking down on the brute with what she hoped was compassion. Compassion laced with venom, but compassion nonetheless. She paced a few steps away from him, as though she were disinterested, when in reality she was simply putting more distance between the beast of a man and herself.

He jerked his thick neck around, studying the dim basement as he blinked his eyes. “Why am I here?” he asked in confusion. “Why you capture me?” his language was still so stunted and ill-refined. Could it be sincere? Abruptly, he yanked at the cord again, and Anjasa could hear the rope straining under his raw strength.

Luscius backhanded the man, though his thick, blocky jaw barely seemed to detect the hit. “Answer her!”

“I tell you who sent me! I sent me!” he roared in a loud, gruff voice.

Anjasa leaned against one of the wooden beams, her arms crossed beneath her chest. “This evening there were about a dozen women and children who lived in a house I own. They have been kidnapped since you and I last spoke.”

He furrowed his thick brow and stared at her with some confusion. “Kidnapping your people would no be good way to ah, make good workplace impression,” he said in his gruff, deep voice.

Luscius glared at the man, and his hand lashed out like a viper, but stopped short this time. “No games! We need to know who you are working for, now!” he hissed.

Anjasa waved an arm at Luscius. “Now, now... Perhaps he’s telling the truth and really doesn’t know a thing about this horrible coincidence. Is that what you’re telling us, Brashinko? That those women and children weren’t taken by your employer?”

He stuck out his chest in indignation, “Have no employer! That why I come to you! You not understand language, lady?”

Luscius gave an annoyed look to the man, as if he wanted to smack him again, though clearly restrained himself on her behest. “I could give him something to help ease the truth out of him, my lady,” he stated calm and collectedly.

“I think we could all use a drink,” she agreed, walking towards Brashinko. “You said your former employer is dead. Would you like to retract that?” She paused a moment, “Take it back, I mean.”

Luscius reached into the pouch dangling from his belt, pulling out some small cylinder and fiddling with it nimbly.

Meanwhile, Brashinko looked between them brow furrowing while trying to the gist of what she meant. “I would take back if I could,” he mused, still missing her meaning.

While Luscius finished with whatever curious implement he had, he looked to her, waiting silently for permission.

A brief little glance was all she gave. “Your Mistress," she looked back to her foreign captive, "Is she dead?”

Luscius jabbed the small vial into the brute’s mouth as he opened it, pushing his head back with the other hand as he forced its contents down Brashinko’s throat. It was a violent move, but it transpired so quickly it barely seemed to disturb the dusty air around them.

Brashinko’s throat bulged, and then after a moment Luscius let go and the large man coughed up some flecks of whatever elixir was force fed to him.

With a flick of his wrist, Luscius cast the vial aside. “Answer her,” he insisted as the glass made a small shattering sound. “Is your mistress dead?”

Sweat began to form on the man’s forehead as his head wobbled atop his neck. Whatever he’d been given was clearly strong, and made him look almost instantly drunk.

“Mistress?” Brashinko's voice came, slurring as though he was half-dreaming, “So dead… so very dead. It’s not right…” he muttered before his head sagged forward.

“What isn't right about her death?” Anjasa asked, not sure what to make of that, or of him.

Brashinko shook his head, looking so sad. “Should have acted sooner…” he mumbled, words tinged with guilt. Luscius lifted his head when the foreigner couldn’t manage it himself any longer.

Anjasa frowned. “Who killed her?”

The hulking man shook his head, eyes rolling back, “Don’t know exactly… far, far away from here…” he muttered, the words now barely intelligible.

“Is it supposed to make him like this?” she asked Luscius, her gaze scrutinizing Brashinko curiously. She took another step closer, trying to think of what she could ask before he passed out.

Luscius still held the man’s head by his thick dark hair as he gave a light shrug. “It is like an intoxicant. I upped his dose because of his size… I thought he could take it,” he remarked, studying the clearly inebriated Brashinko. “He seems to be something of a lightweight, madam.”

Anjasa couldn’t help but give a soft smirk, but she quickly wiped it from her face. “Who took the people under my care, Brashinko?”

Brashinko’s eyes were still partially open but he didn’t respond. Or move.

With a shake of the man’s head and a light slap, Luscius tried to bring some sense to him, but he was clearly unconscious.

“Dammit,” muttered Luscius, letting his head fall and hang limply. “He passed out,” he stated obviously, bending his knees and inspecting the man for any signs of his faking it.

“Great. Not like he was being of much help anyway. Another dead end.” Anjasa scowled, beginning to pace. “We’ve already wasted so much time.” And it was day. Still no word from Jaral. A cold chill went up her spine and she tried to ignore it.

Obviously bristling at the oversized dosing, Luscius rose up with a distasteful expression. “He is not faking it. He genuinely passed out,” he gave the man a final little slap to the cheek, to no avail. “Not as tough as he looks.”

Running a hand back over his sleek, blonde hair, he struggled to conjure other options. “Perhaps I should take you back to the garrison for now, to rest. And I suppose we will have this one dumped back at the Hook, seeing as he was of no use.”

“Give him some coin for his trouble.” She sighed in resignation. Dead end after dead end, and now a bridge burned.

The only thing she knew for certain was that no one was going to stop trying to kill her at this rate.

“Back to the garrison, then.”

Luscius gestured to the two guards. “Untie him and take him back.” Heading to the stairs with Anjasa he said, “Your network of informants will turn up something before long.”

The rest happened suddenly. The lumbering brute was limp as the two guards lifted him up from the chair, and when he came to life, it was with a fury. He charged the two of them with a massive roar, barreling towards them in spite of his drunken gait. When the large Brashinko barreled into her, Luscius threw himself in the way as best he could. Not enough to save her from being knocked into a support beam in the basement and banging her head.

Weariness and surprise chose this moment to take their toll. With no time to block or dodge the man-beast, Anjasa's world went dark.

Chapter 11

When consciousness returned to her, everything was strange lights and high pitched noises for some time. Anjasa couldn't have been unconscious for long--a few seconds, perhaps. The world spun around her even as she laid still.

She heard Luscius shouting, but it was like a distant noise, as if she heard him and all the others through a thick glass fish tank.

She was taken into a carriage, laid out upon the seat and handled with care. Luscius scarred -- but still so delightfully handsome -- face peering down into hers as he checked her, studying her for the intensity of the injury. When he spoke to her in a normal voice she couldn’t make out any of it at all, and his brows furrowed at her lack of response.

Time was a bit murky, but eventually they arrived back at the garrison, Luscius carefully carrying her inside and up into the building, through the stairwell and into the velvety room.

His voice started to come to her clearer as he laid her out carefully, covering her in blankets and giving her a careful drink of some water. “It’s okay,” she heard, his voice reassuring if distant through the muddled mess of her head. “Just a bump on the head,” he insisted with a smile that stretched his scar across his cheek.

She didn’t think she’d said anything, but when he nodded and spoke, it seemed otherwise. “I’ll look into it, don’t worry.”

The rest was sleep.

Chapter 12

Peayo had followed Amie to her destination. A dancer for the Pixie, Amie, had not shown up for work, and that immediately set alarm bells ringing.

Dressed in a casual outfit, Peayo looked simply like another lout on the streets. His well-cut physique was hidden beneath loose, cheap cloth, and his handsome face was shadowed by a large hood.

Amie looked frightened and unnerved as she made her way to a new club, the outside of the building crowded by the sorts of unkempt, leering men that the Pixie might have kept in check. Peayo was already on edge, and when he saw two of them block Amie’s way, he suspected trouble.

Nearing the entrance, he could hear Amie.

“C’mon, I just need to get to work… like I was told to. I’m doing what you all told me.” She sounded frustrated, but the men blocking her way -- apparently this place’s version of a bouncer -- persisted.

“Yea well, new rule m’buddy and I just came up with. Ya gotta pay a toll to work here. Right round the corner in the alley. Then ya can get straight to work,” he insisted with a disturbing grin.

“I don’t have time!” she insisted, but one of them grabbed her, and in the next moment she was getting dragged back to the alley. “No, please! Not again!” she begged, tears close behind her words.

Peayo was incensed. None of the employees of the Pixie would ever be treated like that. In a flash of anger he strode forward. “The lady said no.” He snatched for the brute’s wrist to pry him off.

He wasn’t even surprised when the other man immediately resorted to violence. The knife, though, was unexpected.

Peayo’s hand, though fast and reflexive, wasn’t enough to block a knife, and the metal tore through his palm with shrieking pain.

“Fuckin’ jackass!” came the other brute’s jibe as he plunged a knife into the Peayo’s stomach. “Get ‘im outta here,” the rapist growled, spitting upon Peayo as he crumpled to the ground, a bloody mess.

Chapter 13

Anjasa needed rest. Every time she awoke and tried to get out of bed, Luscius was there in a flash to place his hands reassuringly on her shoulders and gently restrain her.

This time was no different.

“Take it easy,” he insisted, his voice smooth and pleasing. At least her nurse was hot, dressed in a tight pair of leather pants and boots, and little else. “You took a nasty blow to the head. If you don’t recover, you’ll pay long term --” he stressed, “permanenT repercussions.”

The words made her gut wrench and her blood run cold.

She still only had the spottiest of recollections, but she remembered him saying it was a bump. Just a bump on the head. She’d taken so many over the years, and while she knew it wasn’t good for her, how bad could it be?

Looking at Luscius, she knew. Very bad.

“How?” she asked, but she didn’t even know what she was asking the question to. How did she get out of there? How could it be permanent? How could she take it easy when so much was at stake?

Everything and nothing blended together in her muddled mind.

Luscius slowly took his hands from her as she relaxed back, leaving her there comfortably undressed beneath the blankets. She could recall vaguely asking him to get the leather outfit off her, but sleep claimed her immediately after. Or was it during?

“That Brashinko guy,” he said, reaching out and picking up a mortar and pestle again, grinding up something. “Once we began to untie him, he broke the remaining restraints and tried to flee. The concoction still left him tipsy, so instead he plowed right into us.” Luscius gave a wince and patted one shoulder, where she noticed the light brown bruising beneath his golden flesh tone.

“I guess he didn’t get paid,” Anjasa joked, though she wasn’t quite sure it made sense. She definitely remembered telling Luscius to pay the man for the misunderstanding, though.

She licked her lips and found them unusually chapped and she winced. She must look horrible.

“What about the girls?”

How long had it been since she was knocked out?

Then suddenly it dawned on her. She hadn’t been home. She hadn’t seen Jaral. Anjasa’s emerald eyes sought out Luscius’ and her brows furrowed in the center. “Jaral?”

Tapping the pestle against the side of the mortar, he then casually dumped the powdery contents into a cup and mixed it up. “Here,” he offered, carefully reaching out and cradling the back of her head and neck. “Drink this first,” he instructed, the picture of empathy and caring. Perhaps he missed his calling in life.

But she knew that no good news followed taking the medicine. It was easier to obey than to put up a fight, especially with her head throbbing like it was. She let the liquid pour down her throat and held back a face at the strange taste.

Luscius smiled and took the cup away as he eased her head down. “There you go, that should take care of that headache you insisted you didn’t have last time,” he chided, a smirk on his face as he picked up another little container. He put two of his fingers in it, then reached out to her face. “Here, pucker up,” he said, then applied a soothing balm to her two chapped lips. Almost immediately they began to feel much better, albeit now with a sleek sheen to them.

“You’re just procrastinating now,” she groaned before rubbing her lips together. “I’m fine. Just tell me.”

“He’s alright,” Luscius assured her smoothly, as if a father talking to a child. “He suffered some wounds in the fight that night, but not enough to keep him off his feet. And he’s out there protecting your business for you,” then he glanced to the beam of daylight that poked through a gap in the shutters. “Well… not now, clearly. But at night he is.”

She felt a weight lift off her chest, and her fingers wandered up to Luscius’ face, touching it gingerly. “Alright. Good.” Her eyes fluttered a little bit, the sensation of his soft flesh against her bare fingers enough to make her feel better. More solid. More whole.

“And the girls? What about them?”

He lowered his eyes but raised his hand, stroking his fingers along the back of her forearm. “The Pixie is okay,” he said reassuringly. “Though some of the other clubs are… no longer operating. There’s been a growing turf war since they failed to wipe out you and Jaral in one fell swoop. We’ve had to mobilize.”

She swallowed. That wasn’t the news she wanted to hear. Whenever there was a turf war, it was the low level employees that felt the brunt of the injuries, and it was almost impossible to have any semblance of worker loyalty after that. Anjasa sat up a bit too fast and felt her head spin. Closing her eyes, she waited for the rush to pass.

“Who is it? Where are they from?”

“Easy,” he cautioned, his hands lightly brushing over her shoulders and biceps, in preparation of having to stop her should she try to get up again. “You need rest. A rest from thinking as much as physical rest, if not more,” he said. “You took a nasty blow to the head. I’ve dealt with a lot of that over the years. I don’t even let my men read while recuperating from a concussion.”

“I’m not one of your men,” she scolded, but she knew he was likely right. Still, that’d never stopped her before, and her hand grasped his wrist. “Luscius, you know as well as I do that I can’t sit here and wait for them to find us. They'll pick us off one by one. The staff needs to know I’m here, looking out for them.”

He screwed up the corner of his mouth distastefully, but then, gradually, softened. “You need more rest,” he said, but with a sigh he stroked a hand back over his sleek, blonde hair. “Normally I’d insist on another five days of bed rest.” He glanced towards her, catching her mid-protest. “One more. You need that at least. One more night of taking it easy. I’ll gradually catch you up on things. And then in the morning we’ll get back down to business. Okay? Give me that at least,” he urged her, as if bartering on his own behalf rather than hers.

“Luscius...” Anjasa wanted to protest, to fight, and she was torn between her old nature and the businesswoman she was forced to become. She could do no good against a fully prepared army if she was flying in, fists flailing and coordination still... lacking.

“I need to get a message out. To my staff. They have to know I’ll protect them, okay?”

He furrowed and arched a single brow as he looked at her sidelong. “Who do you take me for?” He said, a light smirk forming yet again. “They all believe you’re out there, hunting down the head of this operation. We didn’t let word get out of your condition. If the rival gang gets word of any weakness, their strikes might grow more bold.”

That eased Anjasa’s mind, and she smiled, laying back in the bed like an obedient little patient. She didn’t want to know how she looked right then, but she felt like she’d been knocked off a cliff. “And what of their leader?”

Luscius produced a meal next, a nice thick stew that he fed to her there, her topless nurse diligently looking after her. “No news on who’s in charge yet,” he confessed with a sigh. “But from what we can tell, they have a lot of local muscle backing them. Just about every cutthroat and psycho in the whole city. Anyone you wouldn’t hire? They did. And then some…” he added that last bit quietly.

“Who?” she demanded, her eyes opening wide in shock. It couldn't be one of her own, could it? She knew damn well that she paid well and protected them even better, recent events notwithstanding.

Showing no patience for her interruptions, he resumed feeding her stew before continuing. “Some of our security guys, low level ones, lured away by higher pay. Not many, but enough for it to be felt. Other than that…” he hesitated, obviously bad news.

She took in a deep breath. Did she really want to hear more? Worse than that?

“What?”

Apparently, she did.

“You can probably guess,” he said, putting away the now empty bowl and dabbing a cloth beneath her mouth. “They didn’t stop at the first hit on the Mothering House. They stayed true to their threats, forced more of our women to go work for them. But we’re working on it.”

The type of people that forced whores to work for them were the cruelest. Anjasa felt her stomach tighten, and she thought she might be sick. A hand went to his knee, clasping it tightly as she rolled onto her side. Even though she was feeling better--conscious, at least--her body still protested against her every motion.

“Luscius,” she enunciated, slowly, thinking her words through carefully. “How many did they take? Where are they working?”

He spoke so softly, so delicately, “We don’t have all the details yet,” he explained to her, stroking a hand over her shoulder and arm as she lay there on her side next to him. From her angle, she could see his six-pack abs and chiseled pecs so fully. The former vampire-hunter lost none of his razor-edge since coming to work for her. “And there’s no point in rushing. We only risk hurting those women even more if we charge in headlong,” he added, smiling at her reassuringly.

Things weren’t looking good, despite his calming tone, and she slowly moved in to curl around his body like a cat. Her head was in his lap, her arms gently strewn around him. “Jaral needs to feed,” she said lightly. “Can we find one of the men who betrayed us for gold?”

She knew it was a hard subject. A cruel one. “We can trust him not to kill. Just send a message.”

Anjasa could tell he was trying to restrain his repulsion at the thought, but he failed, giving a distasteful expression. “I’m certain we don’t need to worry about him and his feeding. The streets are full of rival thugs for him to prey on,” the words alone seemed to make him sick. And for good reason: most vampires were more like Zarach, the monstrous man who had abused her and nearly killed Iridessa. At least, that's how Luscius would tell it. Only Anjasa’s bargaining with Jaral had saved the other woman.

Anjasa knew Jaral had chosen this life. From what she’d learned about him and Zarach, becoming a full vampire was a lengthy process, though she never inquired. She wasn’t one to prod into the dark corners of her lovers’ minds.

“A message would be stronger if it was sent to one of our own. One who was willing to turn on us for a little bit more money without even speaking to us about the potential for... for wage matching or something,” Anjasa replied coldly.

The topic of using Jaral’s nature as a weapon obviously repulsed the man, his handsome face contorted into one that looked like it’d just bitten into a very sour piece of fruit. “I’ll see about getting that message to him then,” he said reluctantly, though he pushed the thought away as he rubbed her smooth arm. “Don’t worry about this stuff too much, though. You’ve built a capable business, and it is running well even in this crisis. You have time to spare for recovery,” he assured her.

She closed her eyes, soothed by his gentle touch, his obedience. He was a loyal man. “I know you still have trouble with what he is, Luscius. But I also know that you don’t hate who he is. You aren't blind to some of what I see in him. You’d never tolerate him if you didn’t.”

With a resigned sigh, he tilted his head, some of that golden hair spilling over his sculpted shoulders and down across his chest as he studied her face, her head resting in his comforting lap. His hand continued to stroke along her arm, while the other raised up, lightly preening her hair, pushing back a few stray, black strands.

“The only thing I see is that you are a remarkable individual,” he said in his velvety voice, “and I find myself unable to resist doing what you wish.”

Her lip twitched into a smirk. How could she argue with that? Her dark lashes fluttered as she took in a deep breath, catching his scent in the air, that clean, masculine musk that enticed her so. “Then at the very least, you trust my judgment, mmm?”

His face was placid and calm as he let his nimble fingers lightly dance over her forehead as he arranged her beautiful black hair. He took his time in answering her, combing back her tresses as his exotic, almost feline looking eyes moved across her face and upper body.

“Yes,” he confessed simply, eying her admiringly.

Whenever he looked at her, they both remembered their careless times together. Back when she would throw the world away for sex.

Back when she almost did.

Her fingers lightly moved along his side as she hugged him a bit tighter, relishing his smooth flesh. “I can’t do nothing for a day. You know that.”

“I know,” he agreed tenderly, leaning down and kissing her forehead with his soft, full lips. “You have to stay in this bed until the morning. No expending any of that mental energy. Just… relax,” his voice so velvety soft yet masculine, each word made enticing as his hard body touched her soft yet firm supple form.

She couldn’t help but grin at his carefully-chosen words. That was what had seduced her when they first met. He had such a way about him, so intriguing. It always had her wanting more, to see what promises he could deliver on.

“Doctor’s orders, is that it?” she teased softly, rolling onto her back so that she stared up at him, her breasts just barely covered by the sheet as she shifted.

With a slow motion, he let his hand move from her as she laid back down to the edge of the blanket. He peeled it away at the side, peering in under at her bare legs beneath. “Very strict orders at that,” he asserted, a brow raised at her to hammer the point home. “So you need rest to be very… very relaxed,” he lowered himself down, snaking his hard body in under the blanket to kiss at her smooth thigh repeatedly, those moist, pouty lips of his moving up from her knee.

Her toned calf twitched as she shifted and made herself more comfortable. Her heart thud so hard beneath her ribs and her head began to cloud over, the pain and excitement mingling. It was like falling back into a bad habit, a habit that made her feel so whole and perfect that it was hard to think of it as bad.

Her large breasts parted along her chest as her breath quickened, and she licked at her minty lips. “Luscius,” she whispered, her voice coming out so weak. She felt so vulnerable, so frustrated by her inability to do anything about the rival gang, it made this feel so very righT.

This was what she needed, and he knew it.

She could feel his hard chest brush against her foot and calf as he got up onto the bed and between her legs, the silken strands of his long hair brushing against her tan thigh as he kissed his way to her femininity. That heady aroma filled his nostrils, making them flare as it his leather trousers groaned from the swelling of his dual-manhoods.

She aroused him so; her look, her feel, her smell, her taste. Every sense drew him into her. His tongue flicked over her slit just momentarily, tasting her flesh and it sent a shiver down his spine and back again. That forked little muscle touched her for only a second, but traced the length of her cunny.

He was a strange man, physically. So strong and sensual, but downright serpentine in some manners. None of that deterred Anjasa, though. She loved men and women of all types, all shapes. She reveled in uncovering the secrets bound up in their bodies, of experiencing them fully.

And Luscius was a dedicated lover. Her chest swelled and her body rocked to help him touch her right where she wanted. Her full lips parted as her dark hair fanned around her tanned face, her headache already receding from the teasing touch.

Maybe that was the concoction, but either way, this didn’t hurt.

His two strong hands came up to clasp her thighs from beneath, sinking into the flesh to lift her knees and part them gently. He pressed his face in between her legs beneath the blanket, licking at her slit more fully this time, that long, moist tongue of his so dexterous as it lashed at her, snaking in between her labia to prod into her damp canal beyond with each pass.

Those motions of his grew more impassioned, and he rocked his head, his lips pressed to her as he would lick and tongue her slit, swirling about her clit once on each pass, slowly bringing her body to a boil.

“Luscius,” she whimpered louder, her skin so eagerly responding to his skilled mouth, his delicate motions and eager fingers.

She was coiled so tight, the stress of the last little while making her skin prickle and her clit throb with need. Sexual release was like a drug for her, and she was already gasping for breath and clenching the blankets between her slender fingers as she undulated beneath him. Her hips rocked against his mouth, her heavy breasts shifting with her motions.

He had ramped her up too fast though, and his hands loosen their grasp, instead of digging into her thighs they stroked and soothed. He slowed down the lashing of his tongue, tempering his pace, though it did not diminish the pleasure of it. Only made her shudder and quiver in longing for that release which was pushed just a little further away…

Though with each lick of his tongue, each swish of that long, dexterous appendage, he brought her closer to that pinnacle. Inching her towards that place as her honey coated his lips and cheeks. Ran down to his chin as he lavished her puffy, engorged little labia with his affections. His devotion to her pleasure.

One hand released the blanket, her senses so heightened from his skilled mouth. Even the fabric of the sheet seemed so much more intense somehow, and her hand moved over to her stomach, teasing the skin. It was so smooth, her abs hard beneath the slight layer of fat that protected them, and her fingers trailed upwards before she cupped one of her heavy breasts in her hand.

Her breast was full, so full, and she squeezed it gently, nipple prodding into her palm. She was a woman with a great appreciation for her body, and she knew just how to tease herself. To pleasure herself.

She also knew how to control Luscius with just the subtle press of her heel into his thigh, the small arch of her back that pulled her hips away for a moment, begging to be teased by his hungry tongue.

His strong back arched, rippling with the muscle beneath his golden skin, and she could feel the intensity of his own arousal. He strained the integrity of his leathers as his twin cocks throbbed, so thick with desire for her. But their needs and desires were on hold, his every attention focused on the lashing of his tongue, the pressure of his mouth and lips as he gave her clit a teasing suckle only to resume his well-practiced motions.

Luscius' continued that slow, gentle tonguing was relentless, bringing her voluptuous body closer to its pinnacle. He never slowed, never sped up… just kept his strong, slow flow towards her desperately-needed end. Intent upon delivering her that release at a casual pace as his own hard body coiled up with reserved, pent up desire.

There was such an intense connection between them, an unspoken knowledge of carnality, of pleasure, that they both reveled in. It was an appreciation of sex, of sensuality, that encapsulated the entirety of their beings. It was in their nature, it was who they were, and they fit together like a slice of perfection.

Her thick thigh wrapped around his head, tugging him in closer, harder. Making him gnash his tongue against her throbbing bud harder, more intensely. Her two fingers squeezed her tight nipple, tugging it and making that electric shock of pleasure jolt through her.

“Now,” she whispered, as if she were still issuing a command to her loyal right hand.

Like the obedient servant he was, he gave her exactly as she wished.

His hard body tensed up and he grasped her thighs tighter, licking his tongue over her sensitive little cluster of nerves. Provoking that tiny clit with such fast, oncoming waves of frenetic energy.

Though his own loins were stiff and untouched in his trousers, he moaned against her cunt, sending a hum through her loins that only added to the pleasure of the sensation. He wanted to please her. He yearned for it, more than his own release.

To get her off, to satisfy her, and make her so pleased with him. It drove him onward, licking and prodding that tiny clit. Swirling his tongue around it and sucking the dainty bud, again and again.

Her body twisted and spasmed, the motions beyond her control. Her stomach was fluttering and mind went blank. It was all one continuous moment of perfection, of synchronicity, of sensual appreciation for life. It was forgetting the horrors of her past, the bad choices and the constant second guessing of herself. It was a release of pain, a celebration of pleasure, and an acceptance of self, all at once.

...And then it was over, leaving her sticky with perspiration and panting for breath, her sensitive body jerking each time he licked her.

Luscius’ diligent licking eased her out of it slowly, teasing her away from her orgasmic high as best he could before pulling his mouth away from her slit, face glistening with her fragrant honey as he licked around his lips and savoured what was left of her climax.

He lifted the blanket off him, pushing it back as he peered up over her glorious body, across her smooth stomach, her large, ample breasts. To her beautiful face, with those parted lips and half-slitted eyes, lazily gazing at the world in her post-coital bliss.

She didn’t even have words. Not that she couldn’t speak, but just that she didn’t want to let the world back in, to have to deal with the struggles and anguish of reality. She wanted a break, to hold onto that happiness, the thrill of being with him again. Of being doted on and cared for like a noble woman.

Her hand reached out for him, needing that connection to last just a little longer.

Luscius rose up until he was looming over her, his strong muscled arms cradling her in a warm, slow embrace. His full lips met hers in a soft, succulent kiss. The first they’d shared in too long.

He yearned for her so badly, she could feel the bulge of those two exquisite cocks through his trousers, but he licked her lips and kissed her sweetly, showing no signs of wanting to do anything but hold her and make her feel loved, cared for. Secure in his presence.

It was such a change from their passionate and reckless meeting. So much more familiar.

Anjasa had always ran from the familiar, but she still craved Jaral and Luscius. Perhaps she’d evolved. Kicked her habit for self-destruction, for falling for the wrong men at the wrong time.

Her fingers wound through Luscius’ hair as she kissed him with such tender affection, tasting her own juices off him. Her thumb teased along his scar so delicately. She knew it made him self-conscious, but it made her feel something so different. Regret, concern. Maybe even love.

She paused at the thought, pulling away from him gently and instead meeting his exotic eyes with her own. Still, there was no words, and a breath was shared between them.

What she saw in his gaze was tenderness. Longing. Love. Sadness.

That last one tinged his every interaction with her. He feared for her, and her habit of courting danger. Her insistence on being with a man he considered tantamount to evil itself.

Luscius brought a hand up, stroked his smooth, hard palm along her cheek, brushing back her dark hair as they stared at one another wordlessly. Until…

“You should rest,” he insisted gently.

She swallowed. She didn’t want the spell to be over, for the moment to have passed, but she knew it was too late and she exhaled. He was right. Her body ached now that her orgasm had passed, and her eyelids felt heavy, but still she tugged him tighter against her, nestling her head in the crook of his neck.

“Promise me things will be better tomorrow, Nurse.”

Luscius was so careful not to press his weight upon her as their bodies entangled and his hard, muscled flesh rested against her soft, supple form. With another kiss of her lips, he shut his eyes and nuzzled to her cheek, his voice a low murmur in her ear.

“Things will be so much better on the morrow. This violence will be put to a stop before you even know it.”

“I just want my family to be safe,” she said, and even she could hear the tremor in her voice, feel the jolt that went through her. The club, her workers, they were the only family she had. And here she was, letting them down.

“I know,” he said softly, caressing her sides, nuzzling their cheeks together. “But regardless of our wants, we have a war on our hands right now. And we have to wage it wisely. Otherwise, more people will suffer than necessary. And that’s the last thing you truly want, Anjasa.”

She felt so vulnerable and soft in his arms, not like the tough business woman, or the sultry seductress. She was just herself. The gentler side of herself that she’d once thought dead.

“Thank you, Luscius,” she murmured, her body entangled with his.

He pulled back far enough to place another warm, loving kiss upon her lips. “Take care of yourself. Because whether you get out of this bed today, tomorrow, or a week from now, I don’t think this war will be ended any time soon. And we need you to guide us.”

But secretly, deep down, she didn’t know if she could lead them to anything but death.

Chapter 14

Business at the Pixie was still going strong. Despite the turf war and the competition, it managed to draw in the crowds, thanks to having the safest of atmospheres, the most professional and clean of workers.

Wearing a fur-lined short-jacket, Luscius escorted Anjasa into the building with a crew of personal bodyguards. The look of relief on the bouncers-turned-soldiers' faces was palpable, though they immediately stiffened at a glare from Luscius, resuming their imposing stance.

The club inside looked busy, but there was a certain air of formality in the place that stood out. Even the patrons seemed aware of the heightened security, though it only infringed on their enjoyment a little.

For Anjasa, though, it felt like one of those formal family dinners from her youth. The knowledge that things weren’t right, and that everything could go amiss at the slightest of provocations.

Still, she plastered on the most confident of smiles as she walked through the building. Appearances were everything, and she knew that better than any. A few waves to the bigger spenders and the most regular of her clients and she made her way towards her office.

Peayo was noticeably absent, though under the circumstances, it made sense to assume he was off on some more important task than guarding an empty office. However, no sooner than Anjasa was guided into her room than Iridessa came rushing up behind her.

“You’re okay!” she gushed, the words hushed but said with such relief as she came into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. “I was worried sick about you!” she confessed, though through the whole affair, she seemed to have come out of it well. Iridessa had taken on the sort of sexual-yet-confident air that Anjasa herself so often took.

Relief and gratitude filled Anjasa as she smiled at the other woman. She was glad to find that Iridessa was safe as well. She was reliable and, if Anjasa were to be honest, a good friend. “Please fill me in, Iridessa. How is everyone truly handling this?”

Iridessa brushed back a lock of red hair from her forehead, suddenly looking flustered. She hid it well when she had to, an admirable quality.

“The Pixie is doing fine, ma’am,” she started off with the easy news. “We’ve kept it well guarded, the women here mostly live on site and are safe. The customers know there’s no better place to go for what they want, as long as they’re willing to pay, but…” she exhaled and moved to sit down on a chair in front of Anjasa’s desk.

Anjasa walked around to the other chair, relaxing back into it as if she weren’t at all worried about any of this. As though she were calm and in control, and not stricken with horror at what the woman might say next.

“The wounded from this fight are the real problem,” she explained with worry, her corset pushing up her breasts to an almost obscene level as she relaxed, probably the first time off her feet in a long while.

“How do you mean?” Anjasa asked for clarification, a little relieved that there wasn't some far worse problem pressing. Morale was the thing she was concerned with, but potential fatalities... She’d need to hire a doctor or two, keep them on staff until this was resolved.

Iridessa crossed her legs and adjusted her stockings. “We’ve been keeping the payments going strong, keeping workers' spirits up. But the street fighting is hurting a lot of people on our side. Our muscle is committed, but they’re pushing themselves hard. We have fewer than they've got, and they don’t care about getting their folks wounded or killed. We need to find more shelter for the wounded and more people to care for them.”

Luscius hooked a thumb in his belt and leaned against the wall, his hard abs on display as he simply relaxed back. “It’s true. The garrison is full up. We’ve got no more space to house the wounded there. And we can’t turn our folk out without destroying morale. We need more healers, doctors, more space.”

Anjasa’s fingers tapped on her desk thoughtfully, with a strange rhythm that followed the disjointed manner of her thoughts. “Luscius, I want you to look into that. Now. Money is no object here. We’ll go into debt before I see those roughnecks take what we’ve all worked hard for. Iridessa, you keep people in line here. Make sure they know how hard we’re working to protect them and that they will be fairly compensated. Anyone who thinks of defecting, change their mind.”

Iridessa nodded, “Already on it.”

Luscius however, cleared his throat. “About that… we’re already hiring most of the reputable medics in the city. And that’s coming at a hefty price… very hefty,” he said, stressing the cost again as he wetted his lips. “To get more means we’ll either have to go to the shady, at best questionable healers, or…” he glanced over at Iridessa then down at his feet.

They’d talked about this issue before.

“Or?” Anjasa prodded, feeling the back of her hair stand on end.

How were they so vastly out-numbered? How did this other gang move in on her territory so fast? They must have been nearby for weeks, maybe longer, setting up the infrastructure to move so quickly and efficiently to undermine her stranglehold on Normevor.

Iridessa looked at Luscius and sighed, her bosoms heaving before she spoke to Anjasa. Wetting her ruby-painted lips, she said, “He thinks we should petition some… official help from the city guard. Make a case that we’re ‘the lesser of two evils’ and could use some of their first aid assistance, and maybe even some targeted muscle.”

With a shrug of his shoulders Luscius added, “Why not? The city guard is corrupt around here, for sure. But they still have resources inefficiently used as they may be. Why not put that to use?”

“Because they would laugh in our faces. After pushing them around for so long, we'd be fools to beg for their help,” said Iridessa.

Anjasa’s stopped clicking her nails. It was something she’d considered, but tried to push aside. She was certain that she’d be able to handle this on her own, with her own muscle and her own resources, but she was quickly learning just how desperate the situation was--despite Luscius and Iridessa trying to soften the blow.

Anjasa leaned back in her seat, once more dressed in her leather catsuit and looking every bit the assassin she thought she’d escaped from being.

“Luscius, set up an appointment for me with the most senior person in law enforcement that I’m on friendly terms with. As quickly as possible.”

Luscius raised a brow at her quizzically, “There’s no one, really… I mean, all this time you’ve been influencing them through the nobles in your pocket. They’ve chaffed under that. And…”

“They resent you for it,” Iridessa said plainly, her pouty lips screwed up distastefully. “Like that prosecutor. They see you as the bane of their existence, the source of all their ills.”

Luscius cleared his throat to cut her off. “They aren’t fond of you, no. And we’ve been able to use our connections to the nobles to buy their inaction… getting their action, however? Might be another story altogether.”

Her fingers clicked again. “I am certain that some of their own business ventures are being hurt by this... gang. And if there is some compensation to be made up for that, then we can track that, can’t we?”

Anjasa stood up, walking around the desk as her eyes went dark. “We’ve held onto nothing but the Pixie. Nothing I've built and nobody I've protected are safe. Playing it cautious, hoping for the best with some blackmail or convincing words... it's proving to be the path to a slow death.” She took a deep breath in, looking at Luscius seriously, “I’m sure this prosecutor will make a deal, especially if we have information on the other gang that he doesn’t. If he wants a clean city, well...” she trailed off.

“In the meantime, we’ll gather what force we can, secure all the information we can find, and strike back on multiple fronts. We need solidarity at every level.”

Luscius raised a brow, “What information can we offer him so far, though? All we know is where they’re operating some of their businesses from. But that information should be easy to come by, they have that on us even easier. We operate in the open, after all. Little is secret. Our only bet for now would be an appeal to reason.”

“Didn’t you have some arrangement with the city guards?” asked Iridessa, turning her scrutinizing gaze upon Luscius.

“Only one captain, and she took my word that I would uproot villainy in this city.” His eyes trailed away guiltily. “She hasn't trusted me since I’ve been working for you,” his eyes moved to Anjasa.

“So what other options do we have? We have nothing. No information, no leads. Just a bunch of wounded bouncers with too few doctors to care for them, and no friends but the corrupt and the wealthy who owe us some debt and might be just as glad to be rid of us.” Anjasa’s voice was raising dangerously high, and she sought to reign it in, to keep her composure.

“We need to do something. I’d say before this gets out of hand, but this is already way-the-fuck out of hand,” she snarled.

The two of them tucked their heads down and looked more than a little cowed by her outburst.

“I will see about making an appeal to better graces of someone in the City Watch, or the bureaucracy itself,” Luscius said quietly.

Iridessa calmly cleared her throat. “I can keep a reign on things here at the Pixie. Though you should know your bodyguard Peayo was injured looking out for the only girl we lost here at the club.” She stood up, but stopped, just remembering something. “Oh! And Aeulin has been looking for you. Though I can’t imagine it’s anything important, in light of things.”

“How did we lose a girl?” Anjasa asked, her eyes widening. The pay, the safety, the security of the Pixie was what employees lusted for!

Iridessa gave a sigh, “I suggest you pay a visit to Peayo to find out. He’s being kept here in Amie’s former room. Some of the women have insisted on it, considering what was done to him. They want to make sure he’s taken good care of for what he did.”

Anjasa cringed, her body weighed down with such frustration and anger. Helplessness wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed, and she forced herself to stand straighter. “Get to work, both of you. Report any information you can gather to me, immediately.”

She rubbed her fingers along her temple, trying to ease her headache. “Did Aeulin say what he wanted?”

Iridessa shook her head, “No. Only that it was private. One more thing,” she remarked, brushing down the frills of her skirt as she stepped closer, speaking softly to Anjasa so as Luscius wouldn’t overhear as he left the room. “I know you don’t need to hear it from me, but you should get in touch with Jaral. Send that little bird of yours off with a message or something,” she said, a glint of something in her eyes. “He’s been worried about you. He wouldn't say it, of course… but he’s bothered. Probably more injured than he’s let on.”

Anjasa’s shoulders softened along with her lips and she gave a small nod to the manager of her club. “I will. Thank you, Iridessa.” In part, she was relieved that Iridessa didn’t blame her for walking the same path she had, being fed upon by a vampire.

Anjasa hadn’t asked about her relationship with Zarach before he left her for dead, but she could imagine how it began with his charm and good looks.

Chapter 15

On her way up to the club’s residences, she passed off Aeulin. The handsome young man was serving drinks as usual, but he left his work behind as she was on her way to visit Peayo. She’d not even had time to send a message to Jaral yet, let alone see her wounded employee, so the smiling elf’s interruption was inopportune to say the least.

“I’m so glad you’re back! I was just hoping to speak with you. Something personal. Private I mean,” he added, grinning at her in that uneasy way like a friend about to ask for a favour. A big one.

It rankled her. He’d always been a jovial and light spirited elf, and it was nice to have one of her kin close at hand. Usually, she liked the young man quite a lot, but she was not in the mood for his cheery disposition. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to reign in the anger within. “Is this about Prim?”

“Well… sorta,” he began, already sounding like someone intent on wasting her time in a crisis. “Y’see, well… it’s hard to explain, but… can we just go find a place to sit? I’ll tell you all about it then,” he asked, eyes wide.

“Aeulin,” she snapped, turning to look at him. “Are you aware that these are not circumstances in which you ought to feel comfortable asking me to go somewhere private and talk about buying baby booties or something?”

Iridessa rounded the corner and gave a troubled expression.

“No no, y’see, ma’am,” he began, brushing his fingers back through his hair. “If you just give me a chance, I’m sure you’ll understand just how important this really is,” he stammered, sounding nervous as Iridessa came up and grasped his shoulder.

“She’s got work to do, whatever it is you’ve got to say can wait,” the manager reprimanded him on Anjasa’s behalf, to which the Matron elf was grateful.

“If you can’t say it in the time it takes for me to walk to Amie’s room, then it will have to wait,” Anjasa commanded as she resumed making her way through the building.

The young elf looked frustrated, and only dared a glance at Iridessa, who gave him a haughty look, as if challenging him.

Anjasa made it to Peayo’s room uninterrupted after that, passing by only one other woman who was on her way out of Amie’s old room, giving the boss a fretful half-smile but leaving the door open for her.

Once inside, Anjasa could see why.

The room was full of flowers and little ornaments, mostly self-made by the women at the house it seemed. Though at the center of it all, was a very battered and bruised Peayo. The once stunning and hearty young man looked so… beaten. Worse than. He seemed to barely be hanging on as he laid there, eyes shit, breathing so very shallow.

Nothing could have prepared her for that, and she moved over to the side of his bed with a great sense of urgency. She knew he must have been in hard shape in order to be out of commission, but this?

Her heart was in her throat. “Peayo,” she said softly, cocking her head to the side and letting hair flowing down over her shoulder.

His eyes slowly fluttered to life, his once beautifully masculine face now swollen, cut and beaten in. “Ma’am,” he choked out in a muted gasp, shifting upon the bed to sit up more presentably. He still at least had that much power in him.

She shook her head, sitting down next to his leg. “Always lying down on the job,” she teased, but the furrow in her brow was deep. “What happened?”

It was clear he didn’t like being seen like that, the ever confident and prideful young man was one of her finest guards. Ever eager to help out, more loyal and defensive of her and the women of the club than an actual guard dog could be. Being helpless and weak sat ill with him.

“When we noticed Amie didn’t show to work,” he began, having to pause because of his ragged, weak breathing, “I tracked her down. She wouldn’t talk with me. Real afraid. Terrified, an' not just for her. But me,” he said, his usually smooth voice now raspy and forced.

Smart girl, she thought. She knew Amie fairly well. A cute brunette human, always pretty even-tempered and good with the highest paying customers. She had some formal degree of some type and could be incredibly charming when she needed to be.

It was surprising that she’d end up in the middle of this mess.

“Did she tell you why?” Anjasa asked gently.

He shook his head, but it was the slightest of gestures and made him wince. “She wouldn’t say nothin’. Just told me to go. Worry about myself. But I didn’t… I followed after her in secret, traced her back to her new work place,” he explained in a voice that was painful to listen to.

She knew it was painful, but she had to ask. “What happened then?”

He swallowed, his busted lips looking dry. That drew her attention to the side table, where a pitcher of water rested. Anjasa poured him up a glass before helping him take a careful drink.

“I was gonna report back, get some more help to raid the place and rescue her, but… they assaulted her. Right there. In the open. They were supposed to be her protector and they were abusing her,” he said, anger edging into his weak voice, making him tremble with rage.

Anjasa inhaled slowly, trying to ease her own anger. This was why she didn’t hire just anyone. She looked for the best, people who could be trusted to be professional.

By all rights, she should have had a loyal and skilled army at her call, so how were they being so torn apart. “How did you get away?”

Peayo shook his head again, this time not wincing. Not letting himself.

“I didn’t,” he explained. “I tried to save her, but they had knives. I was cut up, dumped… and beaten.” He shuddered, but she could see the rage smoldering in his gaze. “I’m sorry I let you down,” he said, revealing that extra ingredient: shame.

“You didn’t let me down,” she reassured him, jaw tight. He was a message to her, then. A pitiful message, just like she’d intended to send them. “I’ve let my family down. And I’m not going to let any of you pay the price any longer.” She stood up and, though she was full of determination, it buzzed within her, uncertain of where it should be directed.

“Rest up. If you need for anything, let Iridessa know. You’re a hero now, Peayo. Soak it up.” The last bit was said with an edge of humour, but she felt dark.

“The women won’t let me forget,” he tried to laugh, but it sounded just as tinged with discomfort. He took no joy in being treated like a hero when he hadn’t saved Amie. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t have anyhow, even if he had. He’d have put on a quiet, confident mask and soaked it up in silent.

Chapter 16

Prim came through the door back at their place. They still kept their spot away from the club, even though the streets had grown more dangerous. Aeulin had assured her continually that the two of them were alright, but he still never let her walk the streets alone. This time, however, she was worried, what with him not being there at the bar like he was every night.

When she shuffled in, she saw him, waiting at the balcony with his bird. Turning about, he peered at her with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding upset. “You know you aren’t supposed to walk the streets alone!”

“I couldn’t find you!” Prim protested, her eyes wide with surprise that he was simply at home. Relief flooded her, but annoyance, too. He’d made her worry that he was... hurt somewhere. “You were supposed to be at the bar, and when you weren’t... How was I to know you weren’t caught up in this madness?”

Already her eyes were sparkling with tears, the young human so delicate and vulnerable in her advanced pregnancy.

It wasn’t like her to be upset with him, ever, and it took him by surprise. That might have delayed his own irritation. He sent his elven bird off with a flutter and strode over to her, locking the door before grasping hold of her arm and hip. “You should stay put until I tell you otherwise,” he told her, trying to sound assertive, fatherly. The elf's dashing, youthful looks killed the effect.

Her lower lip trembled, and she looked up at him with such pure affection. “I felt so worried, though! I had to see if you were home, if you were safe. Please don’t be mad at me,” she pleaded.

He looked upset, angry even, a rare state for him. Aeulin had been the man of her dreams. Not even a man, but a fae being from an immortal land of magic and…

It didn’t seem so much like that when he stood there, brow furrowed, irritation and anger simmering in his eyes as much as any human as he looked at her. Through her.

“I just… it was a hard night, okay?” he said to her, his hands grasping her firm. “Fuck,” he cursed, guiding her over towards the bed carefully to help her sit down, and relieve the pressure of carting around such a swollen belly. “I wouldn’t leave you. Not for good,” he explained. “I just had to get away for a bit,” he explained as patiently as he could muster, but his tone wasn’t up to its usual standards.

A whore shouldn’t be so sensitive, she thought, but she was. Tender-hearted as they came, and the thought of disappointing or upsetting Aeulin crushed her. Her shoulders fell in and her breath was short and only at the top of her lungs. “I’m sorry,” she begged, so filled with regret that she’d done something to cause him to be angry with her. “I was just so, so worried. And no one knew where you were.”

Aeulin’s mind was elsewhere, his eyes moving across the wall as if tabulating something else. She wasn’t the cleverest of people, but she had empathy to spare, and most of all for her partner. She could feel the frustration and anger brewing up in him as he forced his gaze back to her.

“You love me unconditionally, don’t you, Prim?” He asked in a measured way, a way that bespoke purpose.

“Of course!” No matter his mood, or perhaps because of it, she spoke the truth. “What is it? Let me help, Aeulin!”

He cupped her cheek and stroked a hand over her belly, gently cradling the growing life within her that they’d so carelessly wrought.

“You’ll do whatever I say, right? Because you know I’ll get us through whatever comes, isn’t that right?” he asked, tilting his head as if patiently awaiting a young girl’s affirmation of her father’s instruction.

“I was just so worried,” she whimpered, immediately assuming this was a reprimand for her mistrust.

Seeing her fret and worry, he grew concerned suddenly and leaned in, placing a reassuring kiss upon her puffy lips. Then another. And another. His hand sliding back from her cheek to that slender stalk of a neck and into her hair. “Shh,” he cautions softly, “I love you, sweetie.” He soothed her carefully, pressing his forehead to hers. “It’s okay. Just tell me. Tell me you’ll obey. No matter what, from now on. Okay? You need to trust that I’ve got a plan.”

“But those thugs! Did you see what they did to Peayo? And he’s so strong. We’re not safe anymore, Aeulin!” She paused, trying to get control over her ragged breathing. “I...I trust you. But I don’t trust them!”

He shut his eyes, but when he opened them again there was a hard look in them. “Do what I say, Prim,” his voice dark and commanding. “Lift your dress. And lean back onto your side,” he told her, sounding so serious.

Aeulin’s chest heaved, the young elven man so clearly worked up.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how she could have upset him so horribly, nor why he asked her to do what he did, but quietly she complied. Her fingers worked up the hem of her light blue dress, revealing her slender, pale thighs as she leaned to her side.

“Good,” he cooed softly, watching her, helping ease her back as she obeyed. “Don’t question. Don’t doubt. Don’t complain,” he instructed her, undoing his own belt before her eyes. His every action, his unexplained purpose confusing her so much. “Relax,” he commanded her, “I’m going to make sure the two of us are very safe, very soon. We'll never need worry about anything again.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but the way he pulled open his trousers, exposed his stiff manhood, it was so bizarre. So jarringly at odds with what was going on as he stared at her exposed ass cheeks. “Bend your knees up towards your belly as much as you can.”

“What?” she asked, even as she obeyed him. She was so confused, and tears dripped from her eyes. She didn’t know why he was behaving this way, but at the same time, she still trusted him. She had to, didn't she? She loved him. She knew he had purpose, even if she didn’t see it or couldn’t understand.

Her little toes curled inwards in her heeled sandals, lower lip worried in between her teeth to keep them from quivering.

Aeulin licked his lips as he watched her obey, curled up on her side upon the bed. He reached out, brushing the hem of her dress away just that tiny bit more as he reached in, curling his finger in her panties. He tugged the garment up, exposing her tiny slit, the folds a little darker than usual since her pregnancy had become so advanced.

He stepped in to the edge of the bed, angling his cock at her and rubbing the tip of his engourged member against her slit, trying to pry it into her. “I need to know you’ll never disobey,” he rasped softly to her. “That you’ll always do as you’re told. Say you’re mine, Prim.”

“You know I am!” she told him with urgency in her voice, but she didn’t know why she had to prove it. Why, when she was so worried, he’d be thinking of sex.

Still, the closeness, the knowledge that he still wanted her in her condition, it was a strange comfort, and she felt herself calming somewhat. She blinked away her tears, blonde hair still matted to her face from the moisture, and her swollen stomach resting benignly against the bed.

Aeulin slowly squeezed his girth into her, sliding that veiny length of his into that tight little canal until the fullness of his manhood rested within, nestled against the bulge of her womb. He took hold of her ivory hip and thigh, starting to pump his length into her, trembling from some repressed urge.

Groaning lowly he let his fingers sink into her soft, milky flesh. “Say you belong to me, Prim. Say you’ll run away with me right now if I demand it…” he licked his lips, watching her with such a storm of emotions on his face. In his eyes. “Say it. Mean it.”

This wasn’t like him, and she wasn’t even finding that comfort, that sense of peace and belonging that she craved. “Yes, of course!” she whimpered, but she didn’t know why he needed her to say it. Even if the city was overrun with the worst types of people, she thought he was happy here. That they’d have their child here, and find somewhere safe to go.

But if it wasn’t safe, then of course they’d run to protection, to safety, no matter where it was. Together.

Her lips trembled again and her stomach fluttered with nerves and butterflies. What was wrong?

Aeulin began to move quicker, pumping his manhood into her pregnant body at an increasing rate. The smack of his loins, his semen-filled balls, loudly slapping to her ass cheek as he helped himself to her body in such a curiously strange way.

He panted, shook, and struck jarringly deep into her--too deep.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he gasped, shaking as he held onto her. “I’m going to protect you and our future baby, Prim… we’ll be together, no matter what,” he pledged a moment before he quaked and let loose a noisy cry, unleashing his seed into her as he gave her a final little painful thrust.

Her body was awash with strange emotions, and she didn’t know what to do with them all, or how to understand her lover’s strange mood. But still, he seemed more devoted to her and their unborn child, so she lay still, letting him finish as she pushed her frustration aside.

Aeulin leaned down and kissed her on the cheek as he panted. “Good girl,” he purred at her sweetly, stroking back her blonde hair. “I’m going to take care of you at any cost,” he pledged, just a moment before he plucked his member from her, leaving her to drool his creamy spunk from her slit.

Chapter 17

The Mothering House had become something of an armed fortress, a place not only where Anjasa’s working women to retire to recuperate and raise their children, but for the wounded muscle of her operation to heal up.

It was a safe, highly protected haven for her operation, whereas so many of her other business ventures were open to the harassment of those who dared. She couldn’t afford to lock them all down safely, and most had to close up entirely for the time being. The risk was too high.

Anjasa arrived at dusk with her usual entourage of Luscius and his hand-picked guards. Though no sooner had they passed through the newly reinforced front doors then she felt a dark yet familiar presence.

The Mothering House had calmed down significantly. Healers and cleaners still shuffled about, trying to keep quiet as they could while performing their duties, but through the subdued commotion, she saw Jaral's unmistakable silhouette up on the second floor.

Quickly she ascended the stairs, but by the time she reached where he was, she only caught a wisp of his cloak disappearing around the corner. She followed after him, realizing he was leading her to a back balcony, the guard apparently given leave as her dark lover stood there.

It’d been so long. An eternity of long hours passed without seeing him. She knew he was healed up, but they’d been so busy trying to deal with the turmoil...

“Jaral,” she beckoned, and her voice was breathy, filled with longing. She’d missed him and catching a glimpse of him was enough to make her heart ache. She was dressed in her battle leathers, fully expecting a fight. She’d barely slept since getting her ‘doctor’s’ leave, and she was beginning to feel jittery.

The tall, shadowy man reached out, wrapping one arm around her waist and placing the other hand on her shoulder as he leaned in to kiss her plush lips. The soft moment dragging on awkwardly long as the other men turned away and gave them some modicum of privacy.

“It is good to see you again,” came that smooth, foreign manner of his, the lilt that made everything he spoke sound so mysteriously enticing.

He tasted just as she remembered, and she licked over her lips as he pulled back. “I’m sorry I left you,” Anjasa murmured as she pushed her mouth back to his, her nose brushing against his cheek as her fingers wound around his neck.

Those strong, cold arms of his held her tight in return, keeping her toned physique next to him as they embraced.

“You needn't apologize,” he said to her with even understanding. “They were after you, not me. After I leapt out, they did not even continue their harassment with arrows, but kept archers trained upon the windows. Waiting to get you.” His chest swelled as he looked into her eyes, “Had you have stayed, you would only have given them what they wanted. I got away without much to show for it.”

Anjasa’s lips screwed up at the corners as she looked down at her feet. “This entire situation is pissing me off and I have no one to direct that anger on.” She squirmed a little before her emerald gaze caught his. It was making her horny. Sex was the drug she turned to when she felt helpless, upset, lost. It turned her on in a sick, pathetic way, and she worried her lower lip into her mouth.

How long ago had she been free of those slavers? The men who taught her to enjoy such pain and anguish, who made her body respond so inappropriately to tense and terrifying situations?

Decades? Longer?

The time all blurred together after centuries of life, but their mark on her went right to the core.

“I need a target,” she said finally.

He nodded, and perhaps part of him detected her arousal, or was merely responding to her body after being so long apart. Regardless, she could feel his manhood bulge against her, growing in his leather trousers.

“I took the liberty of staking out that club Peayo found,” he reported in his low voice, a little more gravelly than usual. It was lust, she realized. His desire for her tinged his every word. “I could lead us in a raid against it right now, if you wished it. Put them on the defensive. Maybe even learn something there.”

His strong hand grasped at her hip tightly.

She knew that Luscius and another guard were behind her, demurring to give them their privacy, but she didn’t care. She always did have a bit of an exhibitionist streak to her. She ground against him, gently at first, subtly. Licking her lower lip she gave a soft nod. “Maybe. What would we be up against there?”

The effect of her sensuous movements against his hard body were immediately apparent. She could feel the tremble of desire, the way his eyes shut as he savoured the press of their bodies together.

His own hand found its way from her hip to her ass, sinking his fingers in and grasping at her round flesh through her own leather suit. “A number of lowlife thugs defend the place. Between three and half a dozen. It is hard to say with certainty, since our foes recruit indiscriminately, and many of their workers partake of the activities while off the job. And on.”

Anjasa’s lips twitched, partially in disgust and partially in arousal. It was disgusting that the guards would abuse their power like that, but it reminded her of a time in her own dark history. A time where her tormentors had become her terrifying lovers, and the corrupt guards had saved her from a man even worse.

The strange sensation mingled in her stomach as her fingers massaged his neck. “How many fighters would we need? I hate to take pot-shots and risk retaliation, but you know as well as I do that if we don’t act now, we risk it all.”

“Standing still is not an option,” he agreed, and his hands tightened their hold upon her, clinging to her ass, her waist, with such a possessive grasp. “They want you dead. In the hopes that all of your criminal empire will crumble and they will be left to pick up the pieces. If we wait too long, they will arrange other traps to lure you to your doom.”

Jaral licked along his lips, and she could tell in that undead man’s gaze that he worried for her. Worried about losing her. “We can manage with what we have here,” he said.

Anjasa glanced over her shoulder at her small entourage. Even in the Mothering House, she didn’t feel safe being alone. It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, and didn’t enjoy.

“We need more information on whoever is behind this,” she finally sighed. “If that means an assault some bouncers at a dive bar, that’s what we have to do. Our first priority is to disarm and capture as many of the guards as possible. We should have escape options for the employees, but be cautious. We don’t know who they’ve swayed against me.”

Rudely interjecting himself, Luscius appeared behind them, clearing his throat as he stood but a foot away from the groping, grinding couple.

“If a small party of us can sneak in, we can set up a trap at the exit ways. My men will net and incapacitate any suspicious individuals as they leave, while the rest of us do what needs doing inside.” It was clear he already knew who was needed for that integral job inside by the way he laid it out. “Any employees we rescue, I will arrange to be set up in a safe house until we can be certain of their loyalty.”

Jaral’s eyes never left hers. “I do not like the idea of leading you straight into the enemy's lair, when all they want is to see you dead,” he remarked. Though before another word could be spoken he continued, “But something tells me you will be safer in the thick of it on the offensive, than waiting behind for trouble to find you.”

“Especially if I have my top fighters on this,” she replied seductively. The leather was so constricting and warm against her grinding form. She needed to escape from it, to tear it off herself and leave it on the floor, never to look at it again.

With the intensity of the throbbing in Jaral’s manhood, she could sense his need was no different.

“When’s the best time to hit?”

“Right away,” growled her lover, placing another sweet kiss on her lips as Luscius watched.

The exotic male, with his golden hair and skin, and fur-lined jacket, watched them intensely. “I don’t like going into an operation without more time to prepare my operatives for what to expect,” he said, “but in this case he’s right. The longer we wait, the more danger you’re in.”

Anjasa took a small step back from Jaral, from the intense emotions her undead lover gave her, and took in a deep breath. “Then that’s what we have to do,” she said, resigned and frustrated.

The strange moment passed in awkward silence, the two men looking at her. Then glancing at each other.

“Let’s strike out and get this done,” Luscius said.

“Once we hit we will have to assume word goes out. We will not have forever to search the place and pick some choice people to bring back for interrogation,” Jaral added.

“Be as silent as possible,” she reminded them both, as if they needed to hear it.

Chapter 18

Silence was no issue for her team. The six of them in total split up and went after their assigned missions with the sort of precision only well-trained professionals could pull off. Three of them were waiting at the main entrance, setting up their operation to take down the bouncers and control the doorway.

While around back, Anjasa and her two lovers entered through the rear. It was unguarded. The back alleyway was closed off, with no apparent access to anyone incapable of climbing walls.

In absolute silence, Anjasa and Jaral stalked through the kitchen at the back. The grimy room was overheated and steamy as they grasped the two bloated cooks and incapacitated them in sleeper holds.

Gently lowering their bodies to the ground, they carried on. Though before they could exit the kitchens themselves, a man came from outside.

“Hey Reg, we need --” Anjasa silenced him with a foot to the throat. As he gasped and sputtered, Jaral handled the rest, pulling him out of the way and ensuring he would not wake up any time soon.

Luscius did not possess their skill with physical subtlety, but he had means of disguising his presence that Anjasa still didn’t quite understand.

The room outside was bustling, bright and noisy. Her own mystical powers of stealth were not terribly useful in such an environment, so bereft of shadows. Yet feeling that seductive man’s presence, she trusted in his promise.

The three of them moved casually along the wall towards the stairs. Then up it.

And nary a customer nor brutish thug of a bouncer looked their way.

Into the rooms above, the noises exposed most of them for what they were: grungy little fuck rooms for the clients and whores. Though one at the end of the hall was guarded by two men. Bereft of the professionalism of her own guards, they chatted and lounged against the wall to pass the time.

Luscius warned her that against foes who were actively looking for intruders, his powers of concealment would be less effective. Yet those two blabbering away and didn’t seem to notice.

Not immediately, at least.

As the assassins approached, one of the guards glanced in their direction. Not with alarm, or even recognition, but as if he thought he had seen something strange. He wasn’t sure.

Anjasa and her men sped up, but the guard’s eyes widened with realization, then the others, and they were seen.

The final gap between them was closed in an instant after that, and Anjasa kicked the one man’s wrist as he pulled out a cudgel, forcing him to drop it.

A melee broke out. Thankfully, though the two men shouted, nobody responded right away. Jaral pounced upon the other man, and the two grappled on the floor, leaving Anjasa busily dealing with her own.

He was big, and had enough raw strength to cause her serious harm. But with her fast reflexes and well-honed physique, she deflected his attempts to strike out and grasp at her, then brought him down with a well-placed knee in his gut.

It ended shortly thereafter, and Jaral and her tied up the guards.

Luscius stood back, a furrow in his brow. “I dampened their cries,” he said. “Nobody should have heard.” Despite his own physique, his magical skill set lay in abilities unique to him in all that Anjasa had encountered.

She was grateful for his foreign ways, and she gave a brief nod. Catching her breath, she felt more alert than ever, and her spine prickled in anticipation. “We should move fast, just in case. We still might have the element of surprise on our side,” she whispered.

The two men prepared themselves, and together they tested the door, finding it locked as they suspected. Then with a mighty kick by each of their powerful legs, they beat in the door and together the three rushed inside

Within, they found a scene of crass vulgarity. Four grimy looking men stood about, drinking and snorting some sort of powdered drugs, while two women were on their knees fellating a single man as he sat there, looking as if he were lost to the world in an addled mess of drugs and women.

Three of the men responded to the assassins' intrusion, albeit to varying degrees of poorly. One man was quick to rush at them, but he looked manic and drugged-out. Anjasa felled him with a quick kick to the side of his head, her dark hair twirling about in her ponytail as she spun.

The next man that came at her crumpled over as Luscius put a crossbow bolt into his stomach. The third was terrified, apparently trying to claw his way through the wall before Jaral subdued him.

The fourth and final then seemed to realize something was happening. His head pivoted slowly, as if the world were moving in double-time and he was the only one stuck moving at the rate of molasses. It was clear it wasn’t the two shrieking women that were keeping his mind occupied. He was on something, some concoction both powerful and hard.

Anjasa moved to him, her hard gaze on him as she spoke. “We’re not here to hurt you, girls. We can protect you. We just have some questions for this beast,” she snarled.

The two scantily clad women--one wearing nothing but a tattered pair of panties--cowered in fear, while the man only slowly turned his gaze to Anjasa. Seemingly staring through her, and looking quite unalarmed by the whole situation.

Luscius came to her side, crouching down and speaking gently to one of the women. “This is the owner of the club?” he asked.

The shaking woman stared at him wide-eyed, perhaps transfixed by his inhuman eyes, his alien beauty. “M-manager,” she sputtered out.

“Well of course. Why wouldn’t you hire a classy, lucid gent like this...?” Anjasa bit her tongue. Last time she dealt with a man who seemed out of it, he was quite well enough to pummel her to a concussion.

Her body flexed instinctively and she glanced to Jaral. “No clue what he’s on.”

Jaral nodded to her, sensing her caution. He and Luscius then stepped in, restraining the man as they threw him to the floor, tying up his wrists as he grunted. Otherwise, the fellow gave little response.

Anjasa sighted a desk in the corner, seldom used by the manager it seemed, but stacked with papers that were left untended. As she went through the documents however, she found nothing of interest. Pay receipts, bills, the tedium of usual club management, except managed badly, or not at all.

As she gave up on that, she turned back and witnessed as the man finally came to life. Perhaps his brain was only then registering the situation, slowed by whatever drugs he was on, as he struggled intensely, managing to lift Jaral up a foot and knock Luscius back.

“Woah, cowboy,” Anjasa cooed, trying to maintain all that calm that she didn’t feel. “We just want to talk. It’s up to you if it’s done the nice way or the not so nice way.”

As the two terrified women moved to the other side of the room in their attempts to get away from the frothing manager, his attempts at communicating utterly failed him.

Foamy spit spewed from his mouth, which snarled and sputtered in some incomprehensible rage as Jaral and Luscius got a hold of him again and kept him pinned.

“He’s not going to be of any use,” Luscius said. “Whatever he’s on… it’s rough stuff. He’s going to need a night… or two, to come down off this,” he said, marveling in his own way at the strange effect the intoxicant was having upon the man.

At that moment a man ran up to the door, panting.

“Boss! There’s men outside at the door and they--” he came to a halt as he found himself staring at Anjasa. Definitely not expecting to see a clothed woman, let alone an elven one, armed and mean looking.

“Hello, sweetness. Tell me all about what these men want. The manager has temporarily put me in charge, you see.” Even as she was speaking in such a seductive, taunting manner, she was moving towards him, and in a flash her hands were wrapped around his wrist. It wasn’t the most elegant grab, but it made it easier to yank him into the room proper.

He was bigger than her, which wasn’t odd; she was a short, elven woman after all, but he made little effort to resist her. He was too frightened. Or at least, too surprised.

“I d-d-don’t kn-kn-know,” he stammered out uselessly. The young man didn’t look like he’d be a fountain of useful information. If he had much in the way of information, her opponents were more desperate than they seemed. “D-don’t hurt me,” he pleaded pathetically.

“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” she stated, honestly. “We simply want to end this little... war that your owner started.”

Jaral secured the manager tightly, and Luscius came over beside Anjasa for backup, glaring at the young man with his matted dark hair.

The boy’s eyes flitted between them. “I o-only j-j-just got hi-hired on,” he stammered, and the two women, who were holding each other in their state of frightened vulnerability chimed in.

“He’s tellin’ the truth,” said the topless woman.

“He’s new, and ain’t never hurt none of the girls like some,” added the other.

Luscius murmured in Anjasa’s ear, “We need to go. If our operatives had to act downstairs they might need backup, and it’s only a matter of time before they find out and send some serious backup here.”

Anjasa’s grip loosened slightly on the man’s wrist as she sized him up.

This couldn’t be another lost cause.

Another waste of time and force.

“Fine. You can either have our protection or we can pummel you enough to make it look like you put up a fight. Whichever you like,” she offered the boy, her shoulders rounding in defeat.

Jaral pulled the manager up, “Let’s take this one back and interrogate him once his system clears out a little.”

Luscius nodded to the other man’s words, agreeing with him again, surprisingly. “He’ll be our best bet here. Now we should get downstairs.”

The young man however was looking between with such fright in his eyes. “P-protection?” was all he managed to repeat blithely.

“From retaliation that you didn’t stop us,” Anjasa hissed, her voice hurried. She knew they were under time constraints and she let the boy’s wrist drop. “We’ll get a move on. Take him. I’ll take these three,” she said more than asked, glancing around for dissent.

The two women nodded and began to pull some jackets from the unconscious men to cover themselves up.

The group of them moved on down the stairs and found the main room a mess of toppled chairs, spilled drinks but few patrons. Only a lone group of three men sat at a table in the corner curiously watching.

A couple guards were still around though, weapons in hand as they guarded the front doors.

When danger came not from outside, but within, they were caught unawares and Anjasa and Luscius quickly dealt with them. Luscius called out the door, “We’re coming! Get the carriage ready.”

Anjasa felt those prickles on her scalp again, paranoia trying to grip at her mind. It was hard not to be completely racked with fear, but she swallowed it down and stood taller to make up for it.

The trio with their captive and others in tow went out and found a group of similarly disabled and tied-up brutes outside. Luscius’ favoured operative came up to them, driving the carriage, her voice carrying through her mask. “We’re clear to go,” and the other two helped usher the other women they’d rescued in the ruckus at the doors.

Jaral threw the drooling manager onto the floor of the carriage as Luscius helped Anjasa up onto it.

“We should get what we need from him once he wakes up,” assured the golden-haired man.

Her vampiric lover agreed. “We’ll take some downtime and these workers somewhere safer, then tend to business.”

Anjasa’s stomach was still in knots, uncertainty plaguing her. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed, and even though she nodded, her heart wasn’t in it. This would be another dead end.

She was sure of it.

Chapter 19

Two hooded figures moved through the opium den swiftly, standing out amid the throngs of languid people enjoying themselves into a stupor. The clientele were all upper crust, and the establishment was as old as the aristocracy itself, though the recent switch to the southern-grown opiates, as the drug dejour was quite new.

When they approached the back door, however, two guards blocked their way in shrouded garb, tall and imposing. Reaching into a pocket, the leader of the two hooded figures pulled out a small silver crest.

“I’m here to speak to the Silk Mistress,” Aeulin said, intoning some old code name he’d never had need to speak aloud before.

The two guards inspected his insignia, then one pulled out the counter for it. The two pieces fit together perfectly.

“Wait here,” came the man’s foreign, commanding voice, while the other disappeared into the room beyond.

Prim was nervous. She’d never been to this side of town, let alone to such an establishment, but Aeulin had coaxed her along.

She was trying not to tremble, trying not to seem out of place. She’d entertained plenty of rich clientele, but this was strange. It just didn’t feel right, and she scooted a bit closer to her elven lover.

Aeulin put his arm around her, rubbing her opposing arm. “It’s okay,” he murmured, leaning in to her. “You’ll be a little princess soon. Nobody to answer to but me,” he assured her, placing a kiss on her cheek, soft and sweet.

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled, giving him a nod. Despite his odd behaviour, she did trust him. He’d stayed with her through her lengthy pregnancy and been a good partner for her. She loved him like no other, she told herself, and pressed into him with affection.

The other guard emerged and silently left the door open in quiet invitation.

Together they went inside, wispy smoke lingering in the air amid the lavish beaded curtains. It was like setting foot into another land, the fabrics and adornments totally foreign to Prim; they might as well have been from another world. And that smell? It was fragrant and made her nose tingle.

Though behind the curtains her eyes slowly took in a silhouette lounging upon a comfortable silken bed. A woman, she was voluptuous and tall, dark sandy-brown skin and wearing a revealing outfit that might’ve fit in at the Pixie if not for its strange exotic make.

She was simply unreal to gaze upon. Curtains of black, glossy hair around her head as she casually puffed upon some strange hookah device.

“Did you bring me an offering?” came her foreign-accented voice. “This is not the one I am interested in, I am sorry to tell you, Messenger Boy.”

Aeulin cleared his throat then disentangled his arm from Prim to stand in front of her, as if protecting her from the woman’s harmful gaze.

“She is not on offer,” he said to the woman--the Silk Mistress--as he pulled back his hood. “But I would like to revisit the terms of our arrangement,” he said, chin angled up.

The dark woman took her time, languidly puffing on a thin stem that was connected to a strange vase-like base by a tube. “If you brought this one with you, then you certainly have something on offer for a renegotiation.”

The woman spoke with such a delightful purr that pleased Prim’s ears. This woman rolled her R’s ever so softly, yet the words… were they a threat? She spoke like a woman of immense authority, and made it sound as if Aeulin didn’t have something to give her for his suggestion. If her perception of this woman were right, she worried he might never leave alive.

Was this supposed to make her feel safe? Prim felt her fingers tense into little fists as she fidgeted from foot to foot.

“I do,” Aeulin said, trying to sound so calm and in control as he stood beside her pregnant visage. “I know when you are done here, you have no desire to linger. Such a city is too small, too backwater, for a lady such as you,” he continued, sounding his charming self.

The woman shifted ever so slightly upon her lavish divan. A low purr emerged from her pouty lips, “I do so love flattery,” she said, making it sound both quite true and a mockery. She had a way with her voice that was eerily able to convey conflicting messages at once. Or perhaps that was only her aura?

“When you go, leave me in charge of your operations here,” he stated boldly. “And in exchange…” he hesitated, licking his lips, and Prim could detect his reluctance. “In exchange I will take care of your problem for you. No more delays.”

Prim could detect the slightest of shifts from the woman, the dark figure’s senses not dulled by the smoke despite all appearances. Or perhaps that powerful aura was merely what she wished people like Prim to think.

“My Messenger Boy, resorting to such violence?” She tsked softly, “I thought you were out of the business. Was that not a stipulation of our original agreement? Hmm?”

Aeulin stiffened in front of Prim. “As I said… a renegotiation. All I ask in exchange is that you have my… my lady here kept safe until the dust settles. And you leave me this empire of dirt when you go.”

What was he talking about? An empire of... dirt? Aeulin being violent?

“Done,” came the woman’s word, pronounced like a judge’s verdict. “Leave your woman and go. She will be safe and well cared for until you are done.”

Aeulin turned to Prim, meeting her wide eyes with forced positivity. “It won’t be long, and then I’ll bring you a life of comfort and power like you never dreamed of, my sweet. You’ll live like an elven princess,” he murmured to her softly.

But Prim barely heard his words. All she heard was that he was leaving her, here, in this strange place with these discomforting people. With his erratic behaviour, though, she knew better than to argue even as her big, blue eyes filled with tears. “Hurry back?” she pleaded, not even sure what to say, her voice cracking as she gazed up at him. “Don’t... don’t get hurt?”

He cupped her cheek in one hand, then leaned in to place a warm little kiss to her soft lips. When at last it broke he gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. It’ll all be done with real soon, I promise. Stay strong. For us and the baby,” he said, brushing his palm over her swollen tummy for a moment before exiting the room.

Prim found herself standing before the strange woman’s scrutiny in silence. The moment dragged on awkwardly until the Silk Mistress declared, “Take her to a room. See she’s looked after.” Prim could almost hear the unspoken ‘For now.'

Chapter 20

The garrison was quiet upon their return, scarcely any light coming from the former chapel as Anjasa and crew approached. She knew, of course, that they were alert inside. Luscius gave a hooting owl call to his trained guards inside, and received the appropriate call right back.

The gates swung open to them: Jaral, Luscius and two other agents towing the unconscious club owner behind them.

Turning to the two agents, Luscius instructed, “Take him into the interrogation chamber. Tie him up and let him dry out. Once he wakes, come let us know.”

With that, the two loyally trained people nodded and went ahead, the manager’s tied feet dragging along the ground between them as they hefted his substantial weight down into the basement into the waiting room.

The trio ascended into the tower, over the stone stairway. Jaral’s smooth voice rolled out as they walked, “You should eat and rest while you can. From here on out there may not be many opportunities for either, should the interrogation go as planned.”

Luscius interjected, “There’ll be food waiting for her and I in my chambers.”

Pushing open the door, revealing the plush chambers, the smell of warm, freshly cooked food wafted up, announcing itself more prominently than Luscius’ words could have.

Anjasa’s lips quirked and she direly wanted to ask why Luscius didn’t have something prepared for Jaral, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Still, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was biting her tongue to keep from letting loose her flippant response, and it made her grin.

There’d been so much frustration and stress since this all began, she’d take any source of joviality that she could.

Anjasa walked in first, leading her two lovers and taking a seat in her favourite chair. Crossing her legs and leaning back, she rested her head against the fabric. “I hate feeling helpless,” she finally let out, her thick eyelashes shielding her eyes.

Jaral brushed past Luscius to enter in after her, and the blonde haired illusionist strode in afterwards. Luscius shut the door behind him before moving to lift the cloth that covered the meal to inspect it.

“We’re not helpless, we’re taking action,” he said before moving his hand over the platter, as if divining the meal’s future. “It’s safe to eat, by the way,” confirming that what he was performing was some mystical test of the food's safety.

Jaral stood at Anjasa’s side, partially shrouded by his half-cloak, “We must be patient. Beating that man to awake him prematurely might kill him. Who is to say what concoctions he’s consumed?”

“I know,” she sighed, leaning forwards. “It just makes me feel like I should have been more clandestine. Not made myself such an easy target. I got greedy.” But there was more to it than that. She yearned for more in her life. She didn’t want to delegate everything to peons and work in the shadows all of the time.

Luscius very carefully laid out the utensils and served up a meal upon a plate to Anjasa. “You’ve tried to run your operation like a legitimate business. You’ve taken care of your people, grown your reach. Made this city a better place. Unfortunately, there’s a risk to that. But I think once we beat this down, we’ll see it was worth it,” he offered with a smile.

Jaral, however, had a different take. The unnaturally comely man offered his two cents.

“Ruling from the shadows is preferable. I did it. I intended to use you for it,” he remarked to Anjasa pointedly. “However, I exposed myself to keep you protected rather than skulking in the shadows. It’s a risk we run, and I think once the dust settles, we should arrange for you to vanish from sight. Delegate authority and run things secretively.”

They were so similar and yet so different, and she pushed around the food with her fork as she considered both points of view. Though, in the end, it all came down to one thing.

“Once we find out what type of person is behind this, we’ll be better able to decide our next move. We’re still in the dark and all we know is that someone has enough money to hire every lowlife and asshole in town. Luscius, have you looked into setting up an appointment with that... prosecutor. It might not hurt to see what rumours have been spreading around his ilk.”

Jaral rested a hand upon her shoulder, that strong grasp reassuring as he quietly stood there at her side. As if he needed to be her dark sentinel even then.

Luscius sat down on the edge of the shuttered window, lifting one leg up high, showing off the tightly leather bound thigh of his right leg, the hard muscle showing, his stomach bare, showing his ripped abs beneath the fur-lined collar of his jacket.

“Got you a meet up with him tomorrow. It took some work, he’s paranoid. Doesn’t trust you. I could’ve hid my involvement with you, but he would’ve found out eventually, then resented us for it and been more likely to act against us than help us.” He gave his analysis calmly as he ate the mix of local meats and dried fruits that were his own meal.

“Good. I suppose I’ll have to put more thought into my argument this time around, though. Last time, well... I could say whatever the hell I wanted and knew I’d get off on it.” Anjasa pierced some meat, chewing it thoughtfully. “Once this is all over, I could go for a spa day.”

Luscius cracked a wry grin at her from across the room before biting into another piece of what looked like chicken. The man seemed to eat little in the ways of non-meat, devouring eggs and fowl with a passion.

Her other lover stepped behind her, resting both of his strong hands upon her shoulders and beginning to massage with a firm grasp. Those nimble fingers of Jaral’s kneading into her flesh through her catsuit with such precision.

“You worked too much even before this all began,” offered her dark lover. “Your dedication to this operation is admirable, but for a boss such as yourself…” his sandy, cinnamon aroma tickled her nose, mixing with the flavour of the food itself. “Take it easy. Enjoy the fruits of your power. Lavish in excess a while.”

She laughed softly. They all knew that wasn’t likely to happen. It wasn’t just a job for her. It was her life, a way of distracting herself from the sins and agonies of her past. It was always amusing for her how quickly the good faded from memory and how resiliently pain lingered. Still, she couldn’t help but moan at the dedicated and firm motions of Jaral, and she forced herself to nod.

“A short vacation, maybe. Once I’m satisfied, things will run smoothly in my absence,” she acquiesced.

As Jaral so expertly rubbed the stress from her shoulders, Luscius watched intently, eating his meal quietly. The dark man behind her leaning in and letting his lovely lips brush against her ear, letting only a tickle of his deep breathing against her ear.

Luscius cleared his throat as he lay his plate atop the desk beside him. “Maybe I should give you some space,” he admitted, sliding his booted-foot down from the window sill to stand up straight. That glorious, golden male form taut with muscle, standing before her.

Anjasa’s emerald eyes darted to the man, narrowing slightly. “When have you ever wanted to give me space?” she teased. Her mind was already fogging over from Jaral’s expert touch and heady scent, but that didn’t mean she wanted Luscius gone.

Not at all.

Luscius stepped forward, standing near to her, resting his hands on his hips as he watched her with a wry grin. “I suppose I’ll go check on our guest, make sure he’s being looked after properly.” The obviousness of his excuse was so plain to see. Luscius’ men were more than adequately trained for such a task, of course.

Though while the dashing man stood within grasp before her, Jaral’s lips moistly kissed beneath her ear, softly working their way down her neck as his thumb brushed her dark hair out of the way. The moist little morsels titillated her, making her skin burn and her body shiver with his affections.

She knew the two men didn’t get along, considering Luscius had relentlessly hunted Jaral for quite some time. Still, it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Hell, it had only become more enticing. What could be more erotic than two mortal enemies, brought together by the lust for her body?

Her tanned skin flushed at the thought that he’d leave, that the opportunity would pass her by, and she shook her head. The side of her cheek brushed against Jaral’s forehead as he kissed his way down, and she swallowed hard.

“You’ll miss all the fun, though,” she protested, voice tinged with desire. With lust.

Luscius arched a brow at her quizzically, as if surprised by her audacity. She couldn’t see it, but when Jaral hesitated, his lips stalling against her neck a moment, he reacted much the same before resuming his soft kisses along her sensitive neck.

“Not much for voyeurism,” Luscius responded shifting his feet and turning to go. Though before he could get away her hand reached out and caught a single digit of his, her hand dangling from his pinky.

Her heart was pounding so fast, and her thoughts were slow and muddled. Whatever she said next was the make or break words, but it was so hard to come up with something witty when she simply needed so bad. It was as though she were once more reduced to simple carnality, her brain effectively shutting off all rational thought. Disconnecting from all of the hatred and sorrow she kept locked within her heart.

She was in a room with her two favourite people, two men who trusted and adored her. Who followed her, and bled for her.

And she wanted them. Both. Now.

“I’m tired of not getting what I want,” she purred, a certain authority to her words, squeezing his finger tighter.

Luscius hesitated, unsure of what to do. When the two men’s gazes locked for just a brief moment, it was as if he had decided to go ahead purely to taunt the vampire at her neck. The same dark fiend who was coaxing such titillating little reminders of deeper, more intimate moments, when Jaral had fed from her very blood.

Falling to one knee before her, Luscius rested his hands upon her knees and slid them over her thighs slowly.

“You know I never want to leave you,” the handsome blonde muttered, licking his own plush lips.

Her breath was shallow. She pushed aside the remains of her long-forgotten food, her palms running over the back of Luscius’ hands eagerly. Her body prickled with delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with two men. Certainly not two she cared about so deeply, who gave her such carnal thrills.

It was almost too much, and for a moment she felt a bit faint and uncertain of herself.

That passed quickly enough, and a filthy grin spread her lips. “Good,” she cooed, shifting in her seat. The leather was already stiflingly warm, sticking to her tanned flesh and making her temperature soar higher.

Luscius’s hands gripped at her thighs tightly and he pressed her legs open as he leaned his chest in between her thighs. His head angled to the side as he brought his lips to hers, their two mouths meeting in a tender kiss. That moist tongue of his flitting between her lips as Jaral pulled back from her neck, staring disapprovingly down at the two of them making out.

It was a daring move, trying to coax them both together, but as Jaral’s hands grasped her shoulders, it was clear the vampire had doubts of his own about sharing such an intimate moment with a former rival. To say the least.

But it was too late to turn back. Much too late.

Her lips against Luscius’ were so soft and tender, but she missed the firm touch of Jaral around her neck. She needed that contact just as much as anything, and her hand reached behind her, grabbing for Jaral urgently.

Either it was the commanding touch itself or the obvious need she expressed in her pulling, but he gave in. His strong grasp squeezing her shoulders as he leaned back in, a low growl tickling her eardrum as he licked then nipped at her neck, a tiny pang of pain from his fangs as he gave that warning.

Though already Luscius was into it deeply, kissing her so passionately, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Letting his hands slide up from her parted thighs to her ample hips, squeezing at her figure as he pressed in close, holding her locked there between the two ravenous men as they worked their mouths in such distinct and passionate manners.

Bliss. Ecstasy.

She whimpered and knew that this feeling was better than any drug, any drink, any other high she’d ever tried in her long life. Sex was her addiction, and no matter how hard she worked to keep it in check, to prevent it from running her life again, it was part of who she was. A core aspect of her being, of her personality. Exploring it with these two men she loved was...beyond heavenly.

Her breath was already hard, peppered with whimpers of need as she kissed Luscius back, her hand running up Jaral’s neck to the back of his head and egging him on.

Jaral growled deeper, suckling at her neck, biting at her possessively, though as he became rougher, Luscius only grew bolder.

Those dextrous hands of his slid up across her slender waist and began to yank open her leather bodice. He made short, practiced work of it, brazenly exposing her chest before tugging her hips nearer to the edge of the seat. The two men’s desires rose as they competed over her, Jaral’s grasp slipping in beneath her leather as it was parted, letting those two strong palms slide down to cup her large breasts and squeeze them.

Her nipples went stiff at the touch of the cooler air, Jaral’s hands doing nothing to warm them except through friction. Anjasa still didn’t understand how undead physiology worked, but she knew it worked incredibly well where it counted.

It still made him chilly to the touch, though, and that was precisely what she needed. The two bodies pressing in around her, lavishing her with their firm hands, hard bodies, and needy mouths, it was enough to boil her blood!

Luscius’s hands stroked her form, moving in such a way that told her he appreciated her every curve, her every inch of flesh, in such a deep, passionate manner. Her serpentine lover ran so hot despite his heritage, though he’d attribute it all to her given the chance.

Jaral was no less ravenous, his mouth working over her neck, hands groping and squeezing her breasts. The supple, tan flesh of those buxom mounds bulged between his dark digits, her stiffened nipples prodding between two fingers.

As if the two men were nearly synchronized in their lusts, they began to lift her out of the chair. Jaral’s arms beneath her shoulders, Luscius’ at her hips. They hoisted her up, peeled away her tight leather leggings and carried her back towards the large canopy bed, lowering her ass cheeks to its plush surface.

She was their Queen, and they treated her as no less. To some, she might just be a slummy drug lord, a woman taking advantage of others for her own greed. But these two? They saw her as something so much more, something she rightly deserved to be seen as.

Anjasa sprawled out on the bed, beckoning them both to her. Her skin was bare, her supple curves revealed, and she wanted to feel them smother her.

Both wore tight leather pants and tops that left much of their exquisite midriffs exposed. One gold and one brown, they crowded her, pressing on either side of her as Jaral discarded his cloak and Luscius his jacket.

Together, they descended on her flesh. Luscius kissed his way down her body, between her two heaving breasts, licking and lashing his tongue as he moved towards her flat tummy. At her side, Jaral cupped a breast, let its rippling flesh point towards his mouth before he wrapped his lips about it and suckled hungrily.

They were two of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met in her centuries of life. The gratitude and eagerness she felt couldn’t be understated as she squirmed against their hungry mouths. “Fuck,” she whimpered, gasping for breath as Jaral nipped just hard enough for her heart to skip a beat.

“You have no idea how often I've thought of this.” It was muttered under her breath, and she regretted saying anything that might break the spell over the three of them, but she couldn’t help it.

Thankfully, nothing seemed able to deter them then. Whatever competitive spirit they had towards each other was put to work ravishing her flesh, fighting over nerve endings as they sought to please her.

They had stripped her down and laid her out, and Luscius’ hands found her thighs again, grasped those strong limbs and parted them as he kissed his way across her stomach to her mons. Lingering only a moment before he kissed and teased her inner-thighs, skirted the source of her feminine aroma as he raised her knees in the air.

Jaral lashed his own tongue and worked her teat with the hunger of starving beast, and the expertise of a craftsman. He squeezed her other breast and ran his fingers through her hair, the ebon hunk stalking over her as he supped at her breast with dark, vampiric desire.

Anjasa was lost to the pleasure of their touch, their worshipful, devoted mouths. She squirmed with eagerness yet at the same time wanted the torture of the slowness, of drawing the evening out forever. To never have to deal with reality again and just drown in the joy and glory of their fucking. No, not fucking. It was far too intimate to be considered something so crass.

This was love-making.

True to this, the two men were in no rush to conclude the event. Both were driven by different but equal passions for her, not to merely rut and be done, but to show their devotion to her. To show their lust for her flesh. To show their commitment to her pleasure.

Luscius finally ceased his teasing and lashed his tongue against her slit like he wielded a weapon: expertly. He parted the folds of her labia and he tongued her sensitive clit, swirling about it with each smooth glide of his moist muscle.

While Jaral’s eyes looked down and observed the other man eating her in a different manner jealously, he suckled her teat, tugging it upwards before letting it snap into place and jiggle atop her chest. He growled needfully and kissed her lips again, one hand leaving her breast to tug at his leather straps, desperate to undo them, to reveal more of his hard, chiselled chest, so perfectly frozen in time at the height of its perfection by undeath.

Her hands explored Jaral’s body ambitiously, lingering on his muscular thighs and back whenever his position gave her a chance.

She never allowed herself to indulge in the pleasures that her establishment offered, though she’d be lying if she said there weren’t times when she was sorely tempted. Whenever the new whores walked in, she always wonder how they fucked, how they pleased and teased, but she kept herself in the dark. Only informed by second-hand accounts.

Part of the reason was that she knew it could never compare to the emotional intimacy of moments like these. Knowing how much her two lovers loathed one another, how much they lusted for her. It caressed her mind just as well as they handled her physical form, and she moaned lowly. Urgently.

She needed more, and she felt herself losing the last bit of conservatism that withheld her from utter hedonism.

Luscius only took her moan as cue to lick her harder, faster. Lashing his tongue and swirling about her clit with a greater urgency, increasing his tempo as he dug his fingers into her thighs. He gazed up at her across the flatness of her stomach, the valley between her tits, those slitted eyes locked on her pleasured face as she kissed at Jaral and unleashed her passions.

Both of the men were agonizingly hard, straining their trousers as they tended to her body, though Jaral was the first to shed his pants. The tight garments going shortly after he tossed his top, letting his thick, veiny cock spring forth so hard and needful as he caressed her cheek. It was such a magnificent pillar, dark and sandy-brown, so large and tall when erect, full and bearing a perfectly-bloomed crown.

That intense look in Jaral’s eyes was unmatched, except for those intimate moments when he fed from her very blood.

Her hand reached for his cock almost instantly, needing to feel that stiffness in her hands, to reward him for being such a good boy. Her eyes were partially hidden by her long black lashes, and she kept biting on her lower lip seductively, holding back her panting.

Her thick thighs wrapped around Luscius’ head, her heels resting on his back as she tilted her hips just so and rolled her eyes back in bliss as he hit her at just the right spot.

Luscius had such a delightfully long tongue, and it delved into her deep before sliding up to twirl about her clit. The agonizing bliss of his expert work stoking her flames so high, but bringing her to such a slow building crescendo. He knew what he was doing, as in most all things, and he sought to bring her to a crashing, blissful end after the long, torturous work that was building up the electricity in her nerves with each passing moment.

Jaral‘s thick cock didn’t thrum with heated blood like a living man’s, however. But it swelled no less thickly for it. It throbbed no less urgently with need for her voluptuous body as he stroked one hand over her sleek black hair, and another along her thick, smooth mound of tit flesh. A tiny glistening spurt of precum coating his dark crown atop that hard cock.

She squirmed against Luscius’ mouth, and she wanted so desperately to cum. To feel that electricity spark through her, igniting her every nerve, but she pulled back. It was almost painful to resist his adept cunninglingus, but she wanted the evening to last, and her hand reached down for his face, beckoning him up.

That dashing protector gave into her urging, albeit reluctantly. His mouth lingered a moment longer to suckle at her sensitive reservoir of nerves before pulling away with a wet pop of his lips. And with no less hunger, he lunged for her mouth, kissing her passionately with the lingering taste of her honey on his mouth. His two hands went to his waist to undo his trousers and free those two aching cocks of his, so painfully hard with desire.

It was the most striking thing about his race, whatever it was called. She still hadn’t quite figured out his lineage, though really, she enjoyed the ambiguity. If she found an entire town of two cocked, hot bodied men, she might never leave.

She ran her fingers up Jaral’s length, teasing him, letting the sensation of his flesh caress her skin, her palm. Her tongue lashed against Luscius’ and she fed on her own juices, that tangy sweetness coating her lips.

Jaral looked from her to eye his opponent for just a moment, before his gaze was inevitably drawn back to her. Luscius was atop her, kissing her, grinding his twin cocks against her slick cunny mound, but the growling vampire was ravenous for her.

Grasping Luscius’ shoulder, he pushed the man off just enough to free her mouth, then ran his hand up along her jawline to stroke her lower lip with his thumb.

All the while Luscius looked on, brow furrowed, almost ready for a fight. The tension rose for that brief moment as the two men locked possessive glares at one another.

All of this did nothing to hinder Anjasa’s need, and on the contrary, her hands were upon both of them, touching their hard bodies, their beautiful flesh. They were surreal in some ways, and always left her hungering for more.

“Don’t fight,” she whispered, her green gaze going between the two of them with commanding finality. The hatred, the betrayal that was in the past still simmered, but she couldn’t help but want them to get along much, much better.

Though ultimately the best way to quell their anger, their competitive spirits, was to direct their emotions to other pursuits.

Her grasp tightened about Jaral’s stiffened length, pumping her fist along his thick, dark pole as she twisted her wrist, giving him such a delightfully satisfying squeeze of his cock he could not resist giving a gravelly moan.

For Luscius she angled her hips, expertly positioning herself so that his dick -- still pressed to her loins -- slide in that first inch. That warm, wet kiss made his eyes roll back into his head and he couldn’t help but push forward, sinking more of his larger cock into her as the smaller pried at her ass cheeks.

The two men were slaves to their desire for her, their inability to resist the siren’s call of her voluptuous body. Both of them pressed their turgid lengths to her tight grasps, each forgetting the other one as they rolled their hips in unconscious surrender to the queen.

The sensation was beyond anything, and her body arched as she accepted Luscius inside her. She was so wet, aided by his serpentine tongue, and her lower muscles squeezed him tightly, welcoming him in.

Glancing at Jaral, though, she knew Luscius alone wasn’t enough for her. Her mouth opened, and her tongue hid the lower row of her teeth as she stuck the pink appendage out, begging him to fuck her mouth.

That was all it took for him to oblige. His two strong hands grasped each side of her face, and he lowered himself down, plunging that thick brown shaft into her mouth so that it slid along her tongue to the back of her throat.

With a low groan, he began to pump his dick between her lips, his heavy cum-laden balls slapping against her chin as he built up pace steadily.

While below Luscius took hold of one thigh and her hip, pumping his dick into her before he paused. That brief, yet agonizing, delay having him reach between their tightly pressed bodies, to grasp his second cock and help squeeze that one into her too. Both dicks stretched her tight canal so taut about Luscius' twin dicks before he began to slowly grind them into her. He groaned loudly, and the reverberation backing that tremendous entry made her feel so incredibly full.

Her own whimper was silenced on Jaral’s cock, a hum instead reverberating up its veiny length. For a moment she thought it was too much, but the pain passed and in its wake was just perverse joy.

She ground her hips back against Luscius as her tongue eagerly swiped along the lower side of Jaral’s cock. He hit the back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex and calling forth viscous saliva, coating the crown of his member with its warm, sticky film.

The two men were surely demigods in their own right, and they worked at her flesh in unison as if they were practiced at it.

Luscius arched his spine and slowly pumped two dicks into her tight, over-stuffed cunt. Moaning all the while, her heels bounced and dug into his hard ass cheeks. Those two strong hands grasped her hips as he forced his dual-lengths into her, again and again.

Above her, Jaral cupped her cheek in one hand, reaching down to squeeze her tit and grope at it pleasantly with the other. All the while he thrust his length down her mouth, slowly daring to thrust his dick into her throat a little with the help of that slick saliva.

Both of their noisy moans filled the air, such a beautiful chorus. Two masculine voices lost in rapture with her.

It took everything she had not to angle her hips in just the right way, to not force Luscius to run the top of his cock along her clit and send her over the edge. It just didn’t feel like it was time.

She never wanted this to end. To go back to reality and the frustrations of her existence.

So even as she swirled her tongue around Jaral’s cock and ground Luscius twin members within her, she never let herself get close to her own brink.

Luscius built up speed as his two cocks pistoned into her, stretching her to accommodate his girth. Nothing lasted forever, sadly, and she could see the furrow of his brow, the grimace on his face as he grew nearer to that release of his. His golden skin holding a light sheen of perspiration, a few stray strands of blonde suck to his forehead as he looked nearly ready to blow his load inside of her.

And oh, how she wanted it. More than anything, she wanted to feel her lover’s appreciation for her body, and she tightened her pussy around him, coaxing him forward as she forced herself to take Jaral deeper. It was already making her eyes water, but she didn’t care. She needed to be utterly stuffed by those two gorgeous men.

As Luscius panted and moaned, he gasped while tumbling towards release, Jaral tensed over her. Every hard muscle fiber tensed along his bulging pecs and ridged abs. His two broad shoulders bent as he stared at her through slitted eyes, adoring the sight of her lips wrapped about his venous shaft as the vampire himself grew ever nearer to his finale.

Though it was Luscius who beat him to it. The man letting loose a loud cry as he buried both lengths in her as deep as they would go, letting them spew their seed inside her as he shuddered and quaked. Two thick ropes of seed spraying her depths as he bucked wildly, locked in her tight, clenching cunny to the very end before he slumped down, panting.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, but never did she stop sucking Jaral’s cock, the thickness parting her lips and the veins teasing her tongue as she coaxed him closer to his own release. She didn’t let up, even as her throat stung and her lungs burned with need for breath as she took him to the furthest recesses of her mouth.

With all her focus put to it, she managed to pull that dark and mighty man over the precipice while Luscius was still bent, panting over her body.

Jaral twitched, groaning aloud as he bucked his hips erratically. His eyes forced shut by the overwhelming sensations as he moaned loudly. Those heavy balls of his tightening against his body before the fiery release trailed up his shaft and exploded across her tongue and down her throat. Such thick, rich cream blasted through her mouth as he bent over her head, grunting and groaning in ecstasy at the work of her expert tongue. Unloading all he had to give into her hungry mouth.

Despite her own skill, there was no physical way that she could keep from coughing and choke on his load. She struggled to take it all in, but some still dribbled down her full lower lip and instantly she went to cleaning him up. Her hand grabbed his hard ass, yanking him closer as her tongue lavished him with tender affections.

Luscius fluttered open his own weary eyes, watched as Anjasa pushed Jaral’s shaft down into her mouth again. The vampire’s two hands clasping the back of her head as she paid his dick final attentions, swishing her tongue along the venous surface, cleaning away every last droplet of pearly seed.

From between her legs, Luscius pried his two cocks with a wet pop. His two dicks leaving such an immense mess of cum in his wake as a thick dollop of cream dribbled from her puffy red labia, down to her ass crack and onto the bed sheets below.

She reached out for him once more, still craving his warmth, his closeness, even as she cleaned her vampire lover’s cock with such diligent care.

When Luscius spoke, reality came crashing in. “We hear you! We’ll be there shortly.”

In all the noise of their passion, Anjasa had not heard the pounding of the guard trying to get their attention, to tell them that the manager was ready for interrogation.

Though none of that stirred Jaral from his place, a hand on her cheek, another on her breast, his eyes locked with hers as he stared at her. Appreciating each moment of watching her fellate him so diligently.

It was with great force of will that she slowly allowed that cock to pop free of her mouth, a trail of spittle connecting them before that, too, was broken and she let out a soft sigh.

Reality had crept back in, and the tension was already tightening her muscles. She kissed the helm of Jaral’s dick briefly before she rolled onto her back and groaned.

“Back to work, I guess,” she lamented.

Both men sighed, but Jaral reached out, fingers entwined in her hair, before he kissed her salty lips, not caring about the lingering taste of his own seed there. Luscius took her hand and gently helped tug her to her feet as he presented a warm, moist cloth between her thighs.

Chapter 21

After a bit of time tidying up, the three of them headed down into the basement of the former chapel. It was fixed up and reinforced after Anjasa’s first experience with it, new rooms added to make it practical as a place for storage and use.

Two of the agents parted and opened the door to make way for them, revealing the tipsy headed man looking straight at her.

“Where am I?” he demanded, voice slurred a little. “Why’d you take me here?!” Panic was quickly rising in his voice as they slammed the door shut behind Anjasa and her two men.

“Relax, we’re not going to hurt you. Hell, letting you dry out was probably the best thing we could have done for you right now, since those that stayed at your club are likely being chastised as we speak.”

Anjasa’s voice was like honey, rich and golden as she paced just out of reach. She was being cautious and alert after what’d happened last time she had a drugged man tied to a chair.

“The faster you talk, the faster you can go,” she promised.

He was still suffering the effects of the concoction, but it was clear to see that he was sobering fast. The manager slowly seemed to get his eyes into focus as he watched Anjasa pace, then glanced at the two looming men at the sides.

“Talk about what?” he grunted obstinately. “I run some stinkin’ whore house! What do you want from me?!” He did a good job of sounding ignorant.

“Your owners, employers, whichever you wish to call them, has decided that they wish me dead. I’d like to know whom I have the pleasure of being assaulted by, and we kindly request you oblige us,” Anjasa said with a dark smile. Her black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her leather catsuit accentuated her hourglass curves as she paced.

The drugged up manager looked about to protest, though all it took was the slightest shift of her two male protectors to jar a frightened look out of him. It was clear to her that he was going to be easily manipulated.

“I don’t work for nobody, I’m my own boss. Why’d you attack my club?!” he protested, straining against his bindings.

“One of my girls was working there, and I don’t anticipate it was by choice. She did very well for herself at my club. Oh, and everyone has a boss. Who owns your club?” Anjasa was toying with him, warming him up for a long evening of repetitive questions until she broke him.

If she couldn’t savour the afterglow of her sex with Jaral and Luscius, well, this would have to do.

The man swallowed visibly, and though he was easily shaken he showed he was proving committed to his bullshit. “So that’s what this is, huh? You’re shakin’ me down because I stole one of yer girls? Look… have her! Take her! There’s plenty more pussy out there to be got. No need to get so fuckin’ territorial.”

Anjasa’s smile didn’t touch her eyes, and she looked at him directly. “Well, that’s interesting, since your owner is the one moving into my territory. This city? It’s mine. I am the thing that goes bump in the night, and the wealthy and aristocrats eating out of the palm of my hand alone. Your boss shouldn't be treading so lightly in my territory.”

She paused to lick her lips, leaning down to his level and narrowing her emerald gaze. “So I get that you’re probably pissing yourself, afraid your boss will find out that you sold them out to me. I get that. I won't begrudge you that fear.”

She stood back up, folding her arms beneath her ample bust and glared down at him, “But you’ll never get out of this room alive if you don’t tell me who they are and where they came from.”

“I told you, crazy bi--” before he could even finish the words, Anjasa’s hand darted to her daggers at her side.

She didn’t even need to take them out though before he stutteringly wailed.

“No wait!” he jerked his head to the side, terrified of her. “I mean… I mean I don’t have a boss, but… but I got… investors. Kinda.” He offered up weakly.

“I would really,” Anjasa spat between gritted teeth, “really appreciate their names.”

“I don’t know,” he sputtered out but then flinched again as she pulled her dagger free. “It’s true but-- but--” he was spitting onto his own shoulder with how desperately he tried to assuage her rage. “The money was offered up by these shadowy fucks,” he blurted.

“I would imagine.” Anjasa tried to hide her disappointment, her annoyance, as she played with her knife casually. “But I still need to know everything you know about them. And I will get that information from you. No one knows you’re here, and I have always enjoyed being able to take my time.” Her voice lowered so that it came out as a sultry lilt, “So I can really enjoy the long, slow process of bleeding someone out.”

The manager shut his eyes tightly, trying not to look at her toy with the dagger. “They want you gone,” he blurted. “They promised the coin if we agreed to move in on your turf, steal some customers a few of your workers too,” he swallowed anxiously. “Whoever it is fuckin’ hates your guts. Never asked for much else.”

She glanced at Jaral and Luscius, brow furrowing. That didn’t make a lot of sense to her. “So they invested in your club, but wanted nothing more than to drive me out of business? Because I could have seen that going better in a million different ways.”

The guy tried to shrug his shoulders, but he was tied too tightly to the chair to make much of a gesture. “I don’t know! I figured you’d know better than me who it could be! ‘Cause they sure as shit got some grudge against you. They want you gone real fuckin’ bad. I heard about the mess in the Dregmire!” He shook his head in disbelief, “They burned half that thing down just tryin’ to find you.”

“And failing,” Anjasa added on with some pride. “Once these shadowy investors are gone from our city, I hope to help rebuild the Dregmire. Provide more lucrative and secure options there. Wouldn’t that be nice? But I can’t do that until whoever this is gets expelled from Normevor. So start from the beginning, and tell me everything you know.”

He was sweating before her, the lamp light reflecting off his forehead as he struggled to look at her without wincing away in fright.

“They’ve been recruitin’ everyone they can get their hands on. Either directly or through the folks like me they got on payroll. They started with the blokes who have an axe to grind with ya. The fellas who you shut out of your operation for bein’ too adventurous.” That was putting it colourfully.

“Who approached you about this?”

“Some guy!” he practically shouted before wilting once more in fright. “He was all wrapped up in black shit,” he said eloquently. “Couldn’t see none of ‘em. But he talked real funny. That’s all I know! Was an old business acquaintance o’ mine who introduced us!”

“Funny... how? High? Low? Did he have a hiss? A growl? I’d also like to know your acquaintance’s name, of course.” Anjasa felt like maybe, just maybe, she was making progress. And it felt good.

The man shuddered beneath her gaze. “He sounded -- I dunno… foreign!” he offered up simply.

“By the light,” Anjasa cursed. “Did he sound human?”

“Yes! Yes he did!” he shouted back in a panic. “Like some foreign weirdo I guess! I dunno! Those types are always so fuckin’ strange! All deep an’ ominous an’ shit!”

“Deep, good. Ominous, good. See, those are things I can use to find whoever is after me. And the sooner I find them, the sooner you can go home. Do you know why?” Anjasa asked coldly.

He arched a brow and looked around at the other two men then her. “Um… because you're in charge of this city?”

“Right. And you’re going to be staying with me for your own safety. Because I'm a nice lady.” Though, she did everything to contradict her words, brandishing the blade more prominently as she resumed her pacing. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Brandt,” he stammered out, watching her with a nervous gaze. “These people aren’t folks you wanna mess with. They got enough money to drown you in if this all don’t work.”

She tried not to let his words get under his skin, but he sounded so damned genuine. So afraid. Then again, it didn't take much to shake types like this.

“Brandt, I’ve run this town for over a year now. I’m not going to let them waltz in and take what’s mine, no matter how wealthy they are. But in order to stop them, I need more details. This dark, ominous human. How tall was he? Was he this tall?” She pointed to Jaral. “Or this tall?” She pointed to Luscius. “Somewhere in between?”

Brandt’s eyes flickered between her and the two men. “A lil’ in between.” He jerked his chin towards Jaral. “Reminded me a bit of that cheerful fucker though,” he said, immediately regretting his word choice as Jaral ever so slightly narrowed his eyes.

If he hadn’t already pissed himself in his drugged out stupor earlier, Anjasa was sure he’d done it then.

Her nose crinkled in distaste as she took in a deep breath. “Well, Brandt, I can’t let you go until we’ve found whoever tried to kill me. It would be too great a risk to your life. So it’s in your best interest to help us as quickly as possible. Now, your associate. Tell me about him.”

The man was nervous and edgy, licking his lips anxiously. “He don’t know nothin’ more than me! He just turned them onto me as a way to score some more investment dollars off ‘em. That’s all! It was a scam we was runnin’. I got to run this new club, and I’d kick back some of the earnin’s to my friend for hookin’ me up.”

“Excuse me a moment, Brandt, while I discuss with my colleagues what we should do with you if that’s all the information you have.” She gave a hard smile before turning her back on him, walking a few steps to her partners.

Luscius and Jaral gave the man twin deathly glares before turning their attention to Anjasa. Luscius spoke first, “We need more information. This isn’t enough to go on.”

Jaral concurred, strangely enough, “We need his accomplice, so we can trace back the money to its source. Maybe this companion knows more than he thinks he does. Or maybe his companion is in on this deeper. Either way… we need to follow that up.”

“Everyone gets referred into this somehow,” Anjasa agreed. She glanced over her shoulder at the pathetic man, “Brandt, we really need your associate’s name as you’ve been incredibly unhelpful. We don’t like unhelpful people.”

Brandt wilted in his chair, sinking down in the seat as he looked so frightened. “Nedge is gonna kill me,” he whimpered.

Chapter 22

Emerging from the cellar, Luscius spoke up. “We need to track this Nedge down, but you have pending business.”

Jaral lamented, “It is nearly dawn. I will be of much direct use to you shortly.”

How easy it was for the three of them to slip back under the veil of professionalism.

Anjasa nodded sternly as she looked between them. “Jaral, go rest. Luscius... Have you slept since? I can’t have either of you being sloppy. This might be the break we’re looking for, so I need you both in the best shape possible.”

Luscius puffed up his chest, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I look for this Nedge, but you have to meet with the prosecutor, Amarkum. He’ll be expecting you bright and early. And if it’s your hope to win us some support from his end, then… well, let’s not disappoint him any more than we already have, huh?”

Anjasa hid her eyes, her cheeks beginning to burn a little. She couldn’t even remember precisely what she’d said to him last they met, but she could quite clearly recall asking him to meet her in the club and tell her when he became so obsessed with punishing her. She hoped she didn’t lick her lips or grab her tits to punctuate the statement.

“I should probably find something more conservative to wear, then,” she agreed.

Luscius nodded to her, “I’ll see you back safely then track down this Nedge.”

Jaral touched a hand to her shoulder, giving it a strong but gently squeeze. “I have little choice but to rest. Should a problem arise… I will come.” His pledge was simple, direct. No mention of how she would notify him. He’d just know, somehow. That was his way.

Anjasa figured it had to do something with the fact that they’d done such carnal things with one another, but she never asked. She just trusted in him.

“Sleep tight, sweet prince,” she teased, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, soft and filled with affection.

Jaral embraced her momentarily, squeezing her body in his strong arms before he slipped away into the shadows.

That left Luscius and Anjasa to get to business, the diligent former-vampire hunter escorting her to the Pixie. It was closer than her own home, and time was of the essence. When wasn't it these days? Luscius left on his own after that, leaving Anjasa to enter the club with an escort.

Business was shut down by then, just a few staff about cleaning up while armed guards kept watch over the place as they did at all hours now.

Descending into her office she heard the sound of racing footsteps come up behind her. Spinning about, she saw Iridessa. The woman looked tired, but somehow alert.

“There you are,” she breathed a little heavily after rushing down to see her. One of the guards or staff must’ve passed along news of Anjasa’s arrival to the manager at her request.

“I have an appointment, Iridessa. Talk to me while I get changed,” she ordered as she opened her wardrobe, skimming through to try to find something that the prosecutor might find respectable. It was, obviously, a fruitless task. She instead took out a simple black dress and a bolero jacket.

Iridessa sat upon the edge of Anjasa’s desk, catching her breath.

“Some men stopped by last night, wished to speak with you about a business opportunity,” she said directly, straight to the point. “They would only speak with you however, but they looked like serious types.”

That gave Anjasa pause, but she quickly resumed dressing. “Did they leave contact information? What did they look like?”

“They said they’ll be back this afternoon and will wait for your return. They were well dressed, but not posh. Not nobility, but maybe merchants. I tried to chat with them, but all I could get was that they are looking to do business in Normevor, and they need a partner. Initially, they were going to do business with our ‘rival’, but after seeing you in action…” Iridessa arched a brow, giving an expression that indicated her lack of understanding on that point. “They would prefer to deal with you instead.”

“You know what the creepiest thing in this business is, Iridessa? Everyone knowing who you are, and you not having a single clue about them.” Anjasa smoothed out her black dress and tugged on the crimson bolero. The skirt still barely covered her ass, and her cleavage was still prominent, but it was the best she could do.

“How do I look? Professional?” Anjasa went to her long ponytail and wrapped it about itself, into a tight bun.

Iridessa studied her up and down, then walked about her for good measure, adjusting a few things in back. “There, good. Oh, and we’ve been able to keep on top of these things, have you informed before they go down. That’s how we got that prosecutor problem wrapped up before he even got you in court. But with all money flowing into the pockets of our enemy right now… people aren’t coming to us with information like they used to.”

“Why would they want to get in the middle of this if they don’t have to?” Anjasa licked her lips and slipped on a pair of simple, elegant heels. “Tell them I’ll be back. I have other business to attend to for now, but if they seem like the types we deal with, make them comfortable.”

Iridessa nodded, “I’ve already vetted them as well as I could. Their offer seemed legit, and they seem like the types eager to start business. Just want to make sure they’re in business with the right people. They’re even staying at a hotel that’s under our ‘jurisdiction’, owned by that nobleman you own.” She took a moment and inspected Anjasa once more, “Where are you going anyhow?”

“It’s probably best you don’t know,” Anjasa said with a small grin. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Iridessa brushed back her hair and nodded, accepting that at face value as she escorted Anjasa back to the front door. “I’m going to catch some rest while I can. Things have been quiet here other than those visitors. I’ll keep them entertained should they return.”

The two guards Luscius had left Anjasa with opened the doors and led the way back to her carriage, their eyes looking about, ever at the ready.

Rather than annoyed, Anjasa felt grateful for their protection. But it didn’t stop her from loathing the fact she needed it. Sure, the powerful often needed guards, but she hated having to feel so reliant upon them. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Chapter 23

It was in the one of the nicer parts of town, but still far from ostentatious. A simple, grey stone building, it was a small place. A bureaucrat’s home. And she knew, of course, that a bureaucrat of his stature could have afforded a much larger place, but he must have turned down such an offer to take up more humble accommodations.

Her carriage came to a halt outside the iron gates, the same simple wrought-iron that protected all government buildings. Simple, imposing, and largely for show.

Her two guards took up position on either side of her and knocked upon the door so she didn’t have to. When the door swung open after a timely wait, she found herself looking into the eyes of that severe, dapper young man, a hard look on his face. No butler to answer his door, even.

“Come in,” he invited, offering her polite treatment at least as he made way for her to see down the hall, the simple furnishings of the home inside as understated as she might have expected. Professionalism was more than his way, it was his whole life it seemed.

Suddenly her outfit felt even less appropriate than she’d feared.

She was going to have to grovel hard, or be more impressive than she’d ever been before. She called upon all the memories of all those schmoozing dinners and galas she’d attended, remembering that between the scoffing and eye rolling, she had once been quite good at fitting in with his sort. She’d gotten so used to not having to, though, that it didn’t come as easily as it used to.

“You have a lovely home. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

He quietly led the way down the hall before coming to a cozy study. It wasn’t opulent by any means, but it had a rather lovely red satin sofa beneath the window, and an austere seat across from it by the fire place. He stood by that one, of course, as he gestured for her to sit by upon the sofa.

“I am a reasonable man, and I would not have it said that I would shut my doors a legitimate offer. I was told that’s what you have to offer me this day.”

“Yes, well. I realize that now,” she began as she sat herself down on the sofa, struggling to keep her ass covered in the black dress. “I’m one half of your problem in this city. And that other half...” Anjasa licked her lips, sitting herself up straight. “Listen, I know you’re not my biggest fan. You think I’m hurting this city, but I will tell you right now that the things I do... They are nothing compared to what this other force is trying to achieve.”

Amarkum only sat himself after her, smoothly sliding back into his seat to sit with a rigid posture that somehow made him look comfortable, if stiff. It was as if his body was born with an unusual appreciation for awkward, formal niceties.

“This other force,” he began in a quiet, even tone, “are the ones you now wage war with in the streets daily, I presume? Warfare which has caused such disruption and havoc on the lives of law abiding citizenry lately?”

“In my defense: I never wanted this, and can assure you. I did not start any of these fights. Once the other force has been driven out, well, I hope to employ those in the Dregmire to rebuild what was lost in that pointless assault against me, and help improve the already-struggling lives there. The poverty and sorrow I witnessed that night, the resentment over unemployment, it was shameful.”

Taking his time, Amarkum crossed his legs, letting his polished shoe bob slightly as tapped his fingers upon his knee. He wore a well-tailored suit of blue-grey, crisp from collar to cuffs. If he lived frugally in every other manner, he seemed to spare little expense in dressing well.

“You are asking me to side with you in some gang war, to help you reclaim control of the streets?” he asked at last.

It sounded so base when he put it like that, and she mirrored his posture. Her emerald eyes were upon him, and she shook her head gently. “Not as such, no. I’m asking that you allow me to help you restore order. I believe we can have an amicable relationship, and I believe you suspect as much too, Amarkum, or you wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting.”

He brushed his fingers over the cuff of his pant leg, brushing away some speck of dust undoubtedly. “As I said, I agreed to meet with you out of sheer respect for courtesy. I hear out all legitimate offers and arguments. However, I have no intention of seeing this city locked forever in criminal hands.”

“Well, if I lose, I’ve no doubt things will become much darker for you. For all my flaws, of which I’m sure you see many, I pay my employees a fair wage. I don’t hire just anyone, and my guards do not hurt any they don’t have to. My whores are well cared for, and if they choose to retire, we have a system in place to allow them to do that. We even have a house dedicated to women in my employ who chose to become mothers. That’s where this gang first hit, Amarkum. They stole women and children from their protective home. These are the sorts we are dealing with. I may be just another criminal to you, but I have a code. They don’t.”

Amarkum shifted his weight to the left as he studied her. “Therein lies the issue, isn’t it, Miss Vilelight? You have made an improvement for the low-class streets around the Prancing Pixie, or so I’ve heard. Yet you talk of improving the Dregmire. How do you propose to do such a thing?” He arched his brows questioningly, but continued on before she could respond.

“From what I hear," he continued, "the vile inhabitants of that area were even too savage and barbaric for the likes of your employ. I am told, as a matter of fact, that much of the support this rival gang was able to muster up came from bitterness against you. Of how you shut out so many of their element. Do you think that will all suddenly change once this rival has been put down?”

“No. But someone has to rebuild that place, and the inhabitants would have a vested interest in it. Perhaps that would be enough, along with some gold in their palms, to ease some of their frustration. Those elements will always exist. They’re unpredictable. Reckless. But this other group is just riling up their hatred, their violence. They... they beat one of my best guards within an inch of his life.”

Anjasa felt tears welling up as she allowed herself to, for once, fully reflect on the weight on her shoulders. “All because they were threatening to beat one of my girls. If you don’t have me, you have them. I'm at least willing to negotiate.”

Her impassioned plea was followed by long, drawn out silence. Amarkum studied her with an intensity that seemed to lay her soul naked. The well-dressed man was pondering her words seriously, she let herself hope. Leaving no doubt that he was keeping to his word and taking her offer seriously.

At long last he broke the quiet. “My ability to direct the town’s guards is lessened by your little display at the tribunal,” he stated softly. “You humiliated me, weakened not only the Queen’s trust in me, but the whole of the bureaucracy,” he cleared his throat, willing calmness to his voice. “I need more than this to not only help you, but make me care to help you.”

Anjasa cringed a little at the reminder that her actions had repercussions on this man’s career-- a career he took, no doubt, very seriously. “Well, that isn’t fair. No matter who was prosecuting--” she blurted out before she was able to stop herself.

She bit her tongue for a moment, averting her eyes. “Very well. What do you want in return?”

Amarkum gave her a hard stare before he laid it out. “I want a written and witnessed admission of guilt on your part. That once this is over, you shall stand before a legitimate trial, and not a tribunal of easily-bought or coerced nobles. That in the meantime, you shall put your thugs under authority of the town guard, and work in concert to end the violence.”

Taking a moment, he paused and folded his hands over his lap. “Do this, and I will grant a blanket immunity to the rest of your operation for all past crimes. Your business will be given the chance to flourish as a legitimate, above-ground venture, and all its employees will make an honest wage in the open.”

Anjasa leaned back in the couch, and it was her turn to fall silent. This was definitely not what Jaral would be happy with. But then again, Jaral did not own her business. She crossed her legs as she looked over the prosecutor’s handsome face, his well-tailored clothes. He was the type of person she’d never feel worthy of, no matter what she did in life. He was noble, and not by birth.

“And how long do you wager I’ll spend, wilting in prison?”

His stiff posture softened just a bit. “You’re a powerful and ingenious woman,” he stated with perhaps more than a diplomatic amount of respect. “I don’t doubt that you have ways of dealing with things. And should you vanish from this city before sentencing… I will not hold onto that too bitterly,” he stated carefully, implying what he could never bring himself to say.

He respected her enough to offer her that quiet escape, at least.

“If you care for the people of Normevor as you’ve said, you are surely tempted. And as I understand it, your businesses have all but shut down. You can’t have any income flowing in, but I imagine you are spending a great deal. How long can you keep up this war before you’ve lost it all anyhow and have to run fleeing? With the resources of the town guard and your thugs, we can clean this up promptly. And you’ll even be left with something of a nest egg I’m sure.”

She couldn’t stand to look at him, her dark lashes batting away more genuine tears. How many cities was she going to be banished from before she finally died? She’d been on the run constantly, and since being removed from the Elven homelands...

Her stomach turned and she stood up, still avoiding his gaze. “I’ll consider your kind offer,” she managed as she quickly walked across his room and past him. Her heart thudded in her chest and the room spun as dizziness threatened to overtake her.

She couldn’t lose her home again.

The people she loved...

But then, perhaps he was right. Maybe they would be better without her. Iridessa could easily take over, slip into the role of a diligent businesswoman, couldn't she? She already acted the part. Maybe even rise higher than Anjasa had. So why did the thought leave such a heavy feeling in her gut?

Chapter 24

Anjasa arrived back at the Pixie after some much needed rest. She didn’t have time to dally, as news from Luscius and the curious men who needed to speak with her awaited.

At the club, Iridessa was up and about, overseeing things as expected. She immediately took note of Anjasa and made her way over through the moderate afternoon crowd to accompany her to her office. “I trust whatever engagement you had went well?”

“That remains to be seen,” she said softly. Anjasa had managed to clean herself up, but she retained her little black dress. She'd ditched the bolero. Her face was more heavily made up and her hair was let down in waves across her shoulders as she looked about the club. “Have they arrived yet?”

Iridessa followed Anjasa to her office, where she showed the elf a satchel of coins. “They have indeed,” she hefted the weighty pouch before tossing it to her, letting the dexterous elf catch it. “I treated them to some private entertainment in the VIP area. They insisted on paying for the pleasure. And paying well,” she noted, sounding a little impressed.

Ordinarily, it would have been just another business transaction. One Anjasa would be excited for.

Presently, she felt only suspicion and dread.

“Has Luscius returned?”

Iridessa folded her arms beneath her bust and shook her head. “No, should I be expecting him? I’ll make sure the staff is on the lookout. Though you know he comes and goes as he pleases. Both of your men are like that in fact.”

Anjasa smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes as she sat down in her chair, tucking the coin away. “You can send them in when they’re finished. Please see that someone is outside my office until they leave.”

Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have to ask. But Peayo was still recovering, and her forces were spread thin already.

Iridessa arched a brow quizzically, “You want to meet them in here?” She asked. “I have them set up in the private lounge upstairs. I figured that’d be where you’d do business. It’s cozy, comfortable. They have entertainment… which so happens to be two of our women who are more than capable of looking after themselves and you in a fight. Should it come to that.”

She looked upon Anjasa with concern, “You alright?”

Anjasa rubbed her temples. She knew Iridessa was right, but she had no idea how she was going to blend into a fun, entertaining business transaction. It was usually so easy. She could flirt, drink, tease, and seal the deal, all while having a good time.

But right now, she didn’t feel like she should.

Still, she knew that keeping up appearances was more important now than ever and she forced herself to stand. “I’m fine. You’re right. I’ll join them in the lounge. Is what I’m wearing fine?”

Iridessa gave her a once over. “Sure, but then you’d look good in a potato sack. Shall I have a couple bottles of the good wine sent up? What they paid more than covers that, on top of the rest,” she offered.

“Might as well, if it’s what they’re expecting,” Anjasa agreed, looking at herself in the mirror. Iridessa might think she looked great, but she felt tired, and grabbed some lips stain to freshen herself up. Her pointed ears poked through her waves, and she tucked some of her dark tresses behind them before standing up straight and practicing a smile. Her crimson lips parted to reveal her white teeth, and she gave herself a nod of approval.

“Showtime,” Anjasa announced as she strut past Iridessa, looking every bit as haughty as she didn’t feel.

Through the service stairs and halls, Anjasa came to the back door to the private lounge. Therein she found three men being tended to by two of her most stunning--and capable--employees. Up on ridiculously high heels, they looked like any normal dancer at the club. Fit and athletic with well-shaped calves, but whose true prowess was hidden behind their well-honed skills.

Anjasa herself had trained them, and they'd picked up some secondary skills from Luscius.

They smiled to her, a particular smile that let her know all was well, that there was nothing they’d seen from the men to raise suspicions.

The three men themselves were much as Iridessa had described them. Two were pale and looked to be northerners, one with sleek, slicked back hair and a goatee, clearly in his middle ages, the other younger and with a military style cut. The third wore spectacles, with short hair dark skin and a very quiet, official demeanor about him. He wasn’t partaking in the dancers, and it clearly seemed to be by preference.

All three seemed patient as they awaited her, and the youngest thoroughly enjoyed the show before him.

“Don’t let me interrupt, ladies.” Anjasa gave the most brilliant smile that she could muster as she looked to each of the three men. Despite her apprehensions, once she was thrust into the familiar situation, it slowly silenced her nagging worries. This was who she was.

Without this, she’d be a shell of a woman.

The two women nodded to her and kept up their smile, lowering themselves into the men’s laps. The blonde in the older man’s, the brunette in the younger’s. They draped their arms about the men’s necks, and though they looked so decadently sensual, Anjasa knew they were in the best position they could ask for to keep the men in check, should they try anything.

The older of the two northerner’s spoke first, “Thank you for meeting with us, madam. We understand it’s not everyone who is lucky enough to get a personal audience with the true queen of Normevor.” He gave Anjasa a smile, though it didn't carry false charm. A casual smile of a professional man paying a compliment to a lovely lady.

The only thing off about him, or the other two, that struck Anjasa’s intuition was a vague sense of familiarity.

She moved to sit herself next to the darker skinned one, holding out her hand. “The pleasure is all mine. I didn’t get your names, I’m sorry.”

The man took her hand and offered a thin but pleasant smile. “Norwing,” he introduced himself, sounding more like a scholar than a criminal contact.

Anjasa moved to the next, the young man gripping her hand much firmer and giving an exuberant shake. “James, ma’am,” he said with a toothy grin, obviously relishing the attention he was getting in her private lounge.

The final man gave her a respectful kiss to the back of her hand, “William,” he enunciated clearly. “And may I say, you are even lovelier up close than you were from afar.” So she had indeed encountered them before.

At that moment, a waitress came in, bearing two bottles of wine and some fresh glasses. Of the three of them, only Norwing jolted at the intrusion. The other two were either very relaxed or far more adept at keeping a calculated calm than they seemed capable of.

“Ah, I do so love meeting my stalkers in the flesh,” she teased as she motioned for the waitress to pour them all a glass. “Now where, pray, have you seen me? Iridessa mentioned you being moved by one of my displays?”

James blurted out immediately, “You’re damn right we did. You pulled off a bust on that rival gang like nothin’ I ever imagined seein’.” William gave him a disapproving look for the outburst, while Norwing only gave James an even look. Both reactions shut him up, but it was the dancer in his lap handing him a tall stemmed glass that stole his silent attention.

“As young James here said,” began Norwing, “we were at the club you and your underlings broke up last night. It was quite the display. Very professional. Very efficient. No messy carnage or mayhem.”

“Unlike your rivals,” William added, looking for something on his person only for the kindly blonde in his lap to pluck a pair of larger spectacles out of his breast pocket and perch them upon his nose for him with a giggle. “Thank you, dear,” he remarked with a broad smile.

“We only hire the best,” Anjasa smiled with pride. “So what type of business are you three gents involved in?” She recalled seeing them there, the three quiet men amid the chaos, observing.

Perhaps she brought up business more quickly than usual, but she couldn’t calm her nerves, even as she took a small sip of wine. She had to keep her wits about her.

“We wish to do business with you,” offered William with a smile. “We can humbly boast excellent product, and you seem to have the most reliable and well-run operation in town.”

Norwing spoke up, “We initially approached an agent of your competitor. That was our reason for being at the club the other night. We offered him some of our product for a test. We meant you no disrespect by not approaching you first, please understand,” he said with measured care, trying his best not to offend her.

“Oh hell no,” the young James with his short cropped blonde hair blurted out. “We didn’t even really know there was another operation in town at first. All signs pointed to the big money being in your competitor's hands.”

William interjected, “But it’s clear though your competitors may have coin… they are lacking in discipline. And long term prospects. Business with erratic partners cannot go on long.”

Was that what the manager was on? Their product?

She leaned back, allowing her shoe to bob off the back of her heel as she considered the three of them. “Yes, unfortunately if you’d have only come a month sooner, we could have really impressed you. But once this issue is taken care of, well. Things will go back to usual, and you’ll have picked the right side.”

But Amarkum’s offer lingered in her mind, and it was hard to push it away completely. He certainly wouldn’t like for her to be making future plans to bring in a new drug to the city.

“And what is this drug like, hm?” she inquired.

“It is without compare,” offered Norwing with a smile and an even-tempered tone.

William continued, “There is nothing like it anywhere else. It produces the most extraordinary high. Finer than anything you shall find in the city, finer than any imported substances. However, not only do we manufacture it right here, meaning our operation will not need to rely on perilous smuggling routes and the associated costs, but…”

The older man had paused for dramatic effect, but James jumped right in. “It’s addictive as fuck. One hit and you never want anything else.” He tossed forth a pouch onto the table and grinned confidently.

She picked up the bag, curious, and inspected the goods. “I see. And how long does the high typically last? And what’s the withdrawal like?” The second one was, mostly, important for her dear captive.

The substance inside was like a pinkish crystalline powder, the smell from it was acidic, harsh. Very artificial. It did not bring to mind something Anjasa would care to put into her body at first inspection.

“The high lasts a few hours,” James said. “And it’s wicked strong.”

“But more importantly,” William stated, finger held aloft as if lecturing a class. “The intensity of the high wanes with time. It makes you want to take another hit without leaving you feeling… well, bummed, or low. A wealthy user could string together hits without needing to come down. And spending a ton in the process.”

“I see. And if they can’t get another hit? Do they simply, cleanly, want more?”

Norwing opened his mouth as if to speak, but looked to his companions first. “It can be an unpleasant feeling, so we’re told. Neither myself nor William have partook, so we only have second-hand knowledge.”

James grimaced a little, “It’s not a good feeling.”

“But nothing horrific,” William backpedaled for his companion with a smile. “It takes time to build up to a noticeably unpleasant level.”

Anjasa looked to James directly, “Did it make you want to hurt or harm someone simply to get more? Did it drive you to violence?” Beforehand, it would have been a consideration. Now it seemed more important than ever to know.

The three men looked surprised by the question, and the elder of the trio looked at James as he exchanged confused looks with them. They didn't seem to share her concerns. “I make the stuff,” he stammered, “I don’t need to do anything like that for more.”

Norwing smiled, “The bottom line is that our product is a money maker. A long-term investment. In our small distribution outside of town, we sold that pouch you hold for a profit of five hundred silver.” The number was startling, and the term ‘worth its weight in gold’ would’ve been a disservice to the powdery product in her grasp.

“However,” William stated, “with your network and the market of the city? We expect the profit margin to be at least a full dozen gold pieces.”

Anjasa suddenly found herself holding a pouch worth as much as her fancy carriage and thorough bred horses with it.

She couldn’t hide her surprise and she greedily licked her lips. “That is quite a tempting prospect,” she agreed, hefting the bag in her palm. A drug made for the wealthy. If she could bleed more gold from them, she could easily rebuild her empire and restore the Dregmire as promised.

At any other time, she would have leapt at the opportunity. But now? She was fighting for her life, for what little territory she still held, and on the brink of losing it all.

“Sorry for my paranoia. With the sudden spike in local violence, I wish to avoid contributing any more than I have to.” Her smile was charming, her posture softer in apology. “How long have you been making it?”

William stated proudly, “Over two years now. We felt it was time to expand our operation.”

James blurted out, “You’ll have people beating down your door--and everyone else's for that matter--just to get a sniffet!” He laughed at his joke, though the other two men, who clearly detected her hesitance, didn’t appreciate his humour.

“We need a reliable distributor,” Norwing stated evenly, trying to move from that interruption. “Someone who can accept the hundred pounds per month we intend to provide.”

A hundred pounds?!

At the value of what she held in her hand… Anjasa’s mind reeled at the potential. She felt herself restricted under money woes now. A hundred pounds of this stuff a month? She’d be able to end the gang war in a couple months simply by bribing every thug on the other side to stop.

She didn’t even know if she had a network that she could rely on for that. Not yet. But with that type of income, she was sure she could put one together. Especially with the money that came in and out of the Pixie every night.

She took in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. This could be the thing she needed to turn the tide, to get this city back without sacrificing her life.

“Incredibly tempting. When are you hoping for my distribution to start?”

All three men smiled at her eagerness.

“We can have the first shipment to you in just a couple of days,” Norwing said.

“In the meantime you can pass that shit around and give some of your highbrow customers a taste. Best you start with them, help get word out. Before you know it, everyone in the city’ll be raving for it,” James boldly declared.

“Consumers will be talking about nothing else,” William asserted more humbly.

Her smile was purely sweet as she nodded. “Well, I’d need some time to come to some arrangements, obviously. Have you heard from our rivals yet?” Quickly, she added, “I don’t want to lose out on this if there’s already someone else expressing interest, you understand.”

Norwing calmly added, “You took captive the only one of their number we spoke with. So the deal is safely between us. For this first shipment, we will agree to work on the basis of consignment. We will consent to two-thirds in your pocket for distribution and protection, if you set us up with a safe place to manufacture within the city limits. As is, we produce in the countryside.”

William added, “We’ll entrust it into your hands based upon your reputation. You’ll pay us for both the first and second loads upon delivery of the second. Sound fair? Oh, and did we mention--that profit margin? We factored in the split already.” He grinned, obviously taking a great amount of pride in the product despite its rather dastardly nature.

Despite the lives it would ruin, siphoning the money of the city into the hands of the very, very few.

Anjasa stood up, tucking the pouch away. “Give me a couple of days to see what can be done. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. How can I get a hold of you when I’m ready?”

The three men got up, albeit James did so reluctantly after seeing the other two. Their accompanying ladies cleared the way for them, smiling charmingly and keeping their attention at least a little divided.

“Your manager here knows where to find us,” said William. “We feel quite comfortable dealing through her from now on, if you so desire. She seems more than capable.”

“We only wished to pay due reverence to the head of this operation by speaking with you first,” Norwing said with a slight bow of his head.

“Thank you. You’ll be hearing from one of us,” Anjasa said before walking from the room, down the service hall, and back towards her office.

She felt like she was suffocating.

She needed to be alone.

Chapter 25

Time alone proved unhelpful.

Luscius was the first to return to see her, wearing a furrowed brow as he walked into Anjasa’s office.

“Nothing yet,” he stated firmly, shutting the door behind him and closing out the noise of the club above. “I tracked the man down, kidnapped him out of his own gambling ring. But he didn’t seem to know much of anything specific either. Dark, foreign men. That was about it. Though I have more names of other accomplice local thugs. Someone will eventually lead us to their organizer.”

This was what she was in for, if she took the drug deal. This, and so much more.

Not to mention the heavy guilt on her conscience about turning the entire city into junkies.

She had tried to sleep, but she mostly drifted from troubled thought to troubled thought.

“Life was simpler, once,” Anjasa sighed. “Back when it was just fucking and fighting, never getting close to anyone. Never stickin’ to one place.” Even as she said it, though, she knew it was simpler but not happier. Not more familiar.

Luscius looked at her with some confusion, and concern. He strode around the desk to stand near to her, placing an assuring hand on her arm. “We will beat this. We just need more support. How did…” he trailed off, backpedaling from asking about the meeting with Amarkum, hesitant in case it’d gone badly.

“He gave me an out, offered to help,” she finished for him, shrugging her shoulders, leaning into his touch rather than away from it. “But you can guess the price.”

Luscius crouched down beside her, placing his other hand on her knee. “You have to turn yourself in for arrest?” he asked, trying to sound calm, but she could detect a hint of anger boiling slowly beneath the surface.

“And everything will be fine for everyone that isn’t me,” she said half-heartedly. She dragged her emerald gaze to his, and stared through the fog of her unshed tears. “Everyone else will be offered full immunity, able to continue working and living safely. Peacefully. Securely.”

She could see the gears working in his head as his eyes drifted off.

He turned his gaze back upon her, hard, “I won’t consent to seeing you behind bars. Ever.” He asserted those words so firmly, his two hands gripping her tight as she felt the commitment rise up in him. Like watching a wild animal raise its hackles in a defensive stance.

She nodded, swallowing. “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t think he cares if I actually serve time. He just wants to be vindicated in front of the Queen. I embarrassed him, probably cost him a fair few promotions in the future. He prosecutes me, finds me guilty, and whoops... I slip away. Forever.”

Luscius’ face was awash with emotions, though ultimately he looked a little relieved. “So it really is an out, then,” he murmured to her softly.

Sliding his hand down her arm, he grasped her fingers and lifted it up, placing a kiss on the backs of her knuckles. “We can end the struggle here promptly with the backing of the queen’s forces,” he stated, “And then whisk you away to live out a peaceful, happy life elsewhere. No more need to struggle and stress.”

Her lips twitched as she peered at him tenderly, trying desperately to conjure a sincere smile, but it wouldn’t crinkle her eyes. “I knew you’d like that option. Everyone safe. Iridessa would do a great job taking over as a legitimate businesswoman. But you know what that leaves, Luscius.”

Luscius lifted her hand, brushed her fingers against his smooth, golden cheek as his exotic eyes locked with hers.

“Don’t you believe you deserve some peace and quiet? Some time away from these stresses and strains? You don’t need to be a mob queen. Hell, if you want action we could travel the world and hunt down the awful, foul things that haunt the weak. You’d be amazing at it!” he professed, eyes wide and excited.

She ran her thumb across his scar, loving eyes wandering over it as she nodded. “I know what I should do, Luscius. But I don’t know how I could do that to Jaral. I know how you feel about him, but you can’t deny what he is to me.”

Luscius let his eyes dip, his voice soften. “I know how you feel, Anj… but he’s a parasite on you. And I don’t just refer to your blood.” He furrowed his brow ever so softly, not in anger, but empathy. “He feeds upon your goodness. Siphoning away a part of you that is wholesome. You need to be apart from a man like that.”

She couldn’t look at him then. Jaral had taken her from that out of control woman, desperate for death and seeking it at every turn. The elf who allowed herself to be defiled and degraded, hurt and beaten, just for the thrill.

He’d taken her from that and given her purpose: a career. Something she was good at, really good at. She’d focused her life and taken it back from the grips of chaos, and it was thanks, in large part, to a vampire.

To Jaral.

She sniffled and struggled to hold back her emotions, to swallow them down and hide them deep inside. She’d done it for so long. When the jailers, the criminals who sold her like meat, had cut out her womb, she thought she’d never feel anything but sorrow ever again. But she moved past sadness into anger and let it make her strong.

Or so she thought.

Anjasa tried to speak but her lips trembled and she couldn’t force them to work. And even if they did, what could she say?

The silence was spoiled when Luscius spoke up.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he said, not directed at her, though he looked on her with concern. “Why are you hiding?”

“Observing, not hiding,” came Jaral’s smooth voice, the dark man, so tall and broad, somehow always managing to sneak in without anyone noticing. Anyone but Luscius on occasion, that was.

Anjasa startled and rubbed at her eyes, but a lump already formed in her throat and she knew she looked a wreck. She hadn’t slept in so long, and the day had stretched out for an eternity.

Yet still there was more to do, more decisions to be made that she simply didn’t want to make.

She just wanted to go back to how things used to be, before this gang moved in.

“What did you observe?” Anjasa asked, quietly, like a scolded child.

“The coming of our end,” his words came smoothly, simply. “Lest we find some way to raise more capital. I have glimpsed something of the resources behind our foes. And it is all but infinite, it seems,” he stated so simply. “They spend it poorly, haphazardly, as if they do not much care for efficient use. But they will indeed undo us with their riches if not their cunning.”

Jaral stepped forward, casting a hard look at Luscius as the two men stood side by side.

“We can beat them,” Jaral added, “but not without more funding.”

“We don’t have anymore,” Luscius butted in between gritted teeth.

“I know,” Jaral said. Turning his crimson gaze upon Anjasa, his expression softened. “I am out of ideas, I am afraid. This offer is our only one on the table at present.”

It was as close to endorsement as he would give to the idea, she realized.

“It means you’ll be out of business, Jaral. It’s not just my life I’d upend. It’s... everyone in this room, to one extent or another.”

And she had another option.

She just couldn’t take it.

“Then I believe our position here is precarious,” Jaral stated. “If we cannot find a way to strike at the leadership of this operation immediately and bring this to a timely close, we shall not be able to afford to fight this war to its conclusion. We can go longer, but it would only be a slow death. Hemorrhaging our workforce bit by bit until we have nothing left to defend our assets. It is the cold truth of the situation.”

Luscius looked at Jaral surprised, “So he endorses the plan too!”

“I did not say that,” Jaral interrupted calmly, a placid expression on his face. “I do not endorse anything that puts you at risk, my love,” he said to Anjasa affectionately. “And no matter the deal, it is a humiliation you do not deserve, nor would not wish to see you face it.”

Her lips pursed to the side and she shifted, uncomfortably. “It’s nothing new. Hell, it’s a cake walk compared to what I’ve been through before. If you go into any of the elven territories, I don’t suggest dropping my name.”

Anjasa reached out for Jaral, caressing the two of them with such concern, such devotion.

She was loath to give up what they had, this tentative family. Her support.

Her loves.

But what other options did she have?

Chapter 26

Anjasa signed her name.

In front of the lord prosecutor, the court witness, and even the chief constable; a man who she had personally put in her pocket not long ago.

Without pettiness or even a smug expression, Amarkum signed his name, then the witnesses theirs, and the confession was sealed away. He had his victory, but he wasn’t going to be a prick about it.

Did that make it better or worse?

The room was a dimly lit clerk's chamber in the government house, and rather crammed for how many of them there were. Even Jaral stood by her side, and he shunned the spotlight. Never usually let anyone see him if it wasn’t necessary.

Both men, Jaral and Luscius in kind, placed their hands upon her shoulders as she rose.

Just like that, it was done. It all felt so final.

So horrifically familiar. She held a strong face, a stronger posture, and didn’t even tremble as overwhelming emotions flooded over her. A lump was in her throat, but she nevertheless offered a cordial smile to Amarkum before she had to avert her gaze.

The clothes she wore were bought especially for this. Her downfall.

Anjasa always did have a flare for the dramatic, though Luscius had talked her out of the black veil she’d initially insisted upon. Her simple black dress still hugged her curves, but it hid them at the same time, and her jewels were modest and refined. Classy, she thought to herself. Mature.

Amarkum simply turned to the constable, “I trust this is enough then to mobilize your forces for a crackdown on the disruptive criminal element.”

The displeased-looking man smacked his lips and took his time, but nodded.

“They’ll be on the streets in full force tomorrow morning. With the information Miss Vilelight has given us, we should be able to break up their entire operation by tomorrow evening, as I see it.”

“There’s another operation that’s currently in the works as well. I only just was approached,” Anjasa added, lowering her voice a bit. She felt both of her men next to her, touching her, and she’d purposefully withheld this information from them. She couldn’t let either of them think that taking the drug deal was an option.

“Separate from this gang. Dealers, they’re looking to grow their market. The drug they’re selling, well... It seems bad.” She took out the pouch they’d given her, holding it in her hand for a moment and feeling its weight before handing it to Amarkum. “It’s extremely addictive.”

Amarkum furrowed his brow as he accepted the pouch and opened it up. A tentative whiff of the contents made him recoil a little.

“And where can we find them?”

“This is of lesser importance,” stated the constable.

“But something to get to in time,” retorted Amarkum.

“My manager can forward all pertinent information to you once the current issue is handled,” Anjasa said a bit slyly. It was an added incentive that she knew the prosecutor didn’t need, but it gave her a small bit of control in an otherwise powerless situation.

Amarkum stared into her eyes a moment but then nodded. He understood.

The two men at her sides escorted her away, out of the building and into the night where an armoured carriage awaited her.

“If only those damned guards would do their jobs without all this fuss,” Luscius cursed in frustration.

“If they were the type to put their life and limb at risk for such a massive, coordinated effort without such obvious motivation, they would have squashed our operations long ago,” Jaral added.

The waiting operatives at the carriage opened the door for them and Anjasa stepped inside.

She looked around the human city with new appreciation and heavy sorrow. No, it wasn’t home. It didn’t capture the ostentatious beauty of the elven lands, despite its elven influence, but it did sport a cruder, simpler appeal. And it had become her home, a place she was able to flourish for the first time since her banishment.

And now, this would all be gone. She could waste away in prison or go back on the run, wandering, lost in a bountiful world that held so many wonderful things that she didn’t desire any longer. She’d finally built the life she wanted, and now that was being taken from her.

Anjasa hated the person who did this to her, who had forced her hand so severely, but she knew that rage would do no good. She was bested.

It was over.

“We should buckle down tonight, weather this thing out while we wait for the guards to take action. We do not want this rival gang to get the best of us in some mad last outburst of resentfulness,” Jaral stated.

Luscius objected. “We should be ready to take advantage of this. Get to the Pixie and help the guards come tomorrow. Throw everything we have behind their offensive.” They were like two sides of the same coin.

“Enough of our people have gotten injured protecting our holdings, Luscius, and I think I paid a high enough price for the city to take care of it by itself. Have our guards on high alert at all the places we still hold, but we’re not going to stretch ourselves thin.”

He knew better than to argue with her; her decision was made.

Both men reached out to take her hand in curious synchronicity. Though it was Luscius who broke the silence.

“To the Pixie then, or somewhere else? The garrison?”

“Home?” Jaral asked.

Anjasa nodded, but she had to look away from the both of them. “Home. I can’t stand to be in the Pixie again, I don’t think. I have to get used to...” Anjasa’s voice lilted and broke. It was too painful to say.

Luscius ordered the driver to take them back to her and Jaral’s place, the three of them emerging out as he gave furthered instructions to the driver.

“Send word to all our outposts of a security lockdown this evening. Keep everything shut tight and safe,” Luscius stated before turning to Anjasa. “I’m staying with you tonight.” He gestured to the two operatives that came with them, “You’re on security detail here.”

Anjasa didn’t have the energy to argue over the added security. Instead, she felt grateful for the extra boost, though she’d never admit to the vulnerability that came with it. Still, she walked into the familiar old home with rounded shoulders and a lowered gaze.

This was where it had all really started for her. Where she’d remembered that she was destined for something greater than sleeping around from thrill to sexual thrill. Where her desire for building something had been restored, where her and Jaral had found something in one another. An answer to their individual emptiness.

How could some house hold so much of her life?

They entered through the reinforced doors, past the guard on watch. The large staircase was laid out before her, leading up to the hallway where she’d watched Jaral rescue her. The sight that had solidified her resolve to reclaim her former ability.

The three of them climbed up as the two added guards took their positions through the manor.

Anjasa found the thick door to her bedroom shut as usual. Jaral opened it up and unveiled the thick plush bed within, the rich curtains and lavish decorations. It was fortified, safe, but she’d made it look comfortable, warm, and welcoming.

Bittersweet as it was, it managed to crack her stony expression, her full lips spreading into a smile. She knew she had two choices, this time. She could enjoy the rest of her time there, and make another loving, lasting memory in her mind, or she could let the sorrow get the best of her once more. Allow this defeat to make her listless, bored, apathetic.

She’d be back where she was when she was first banished, and she knew she didn’t want that.

Anjasa pushed aside her worries, her fear, her burning questions, and instead glanced over her shoulder at the two of them, a singular brow raised in question.

At least this time she had her two men on her side from the start. If she was to begin again, she’d have quite the edge.

For they were with her, the two of them answering her raised brow with their touch.

Jaral’s dark hand landed upon her shoulder, then slid to her throat, brushing away her ponytail before leaning in to kiss her on the nape of her neck.

Luscius came at her from the other side, a hand on her lower back and rear, running her hand over it hungrily as the two men followed her into the room.

They put aside their animosity, their hatred, purely for her. She realized that it had nothing to do with anything but pure service to her. Perhaps she should have felt guilty about it, but instead she could only focus on the sensations of their hands on her voluptuous figure.

Her conservative makeup, her hair, the dress... they were all just a facade, playing into the role she had designed. These two men, they knew who she was and appreciated her all the more for it. For her desire to experiment, explore, push the limits...

Her fingers worked her hair free of its tight ponytail and sent the wavy tresses spiraling down her back, unleashing the soft scent of roses and lavender. She was aware of the tender touches, the passion that was tempered by their own sorrow. They were losing a lot as well, she knew. Because of her.

If they resented that, they never showed it while converging over her. The thick door slamming shut behind them as the two men laid both pairs of hands upon her, the tangle of touches becoming impossible to tell apart as they fondled her thighs, hips, waist and breasts.

Both Luscius and Jaral helped to undo her dress, Jaral’s mouth on her neck, kissing toward her ear, Luscius’s contending to kiss at her wet lips.

Regardless of whether they did it for her, they wanted her. At that moment, and for all times, they wanted her.

It was the high she’d been craving for so long, that had kept her hopping from partner to partner in a search for something more. And now she had it, twice over, and her mouth and hands were just as hungry as theirs.

She whimpered against Luscius’ mouth, her fingers running through Jaral’s hair as he kissed such tender spots. The areas on her neck were so sensitive, especially when his mouth touched them. Their history was etched into her body as well, and something about that thrilled her as she stepped free of the modest dress and unveiled her almost naked body. She still wore the jewelry, the simple pearls around her wrist and collarbone, and her thigh-high black stockings ended with lace just below her pert ass.

But those things just drew attention to her nude form, the voluptuous vixen standing tall and proud on her bare feet as her lovers doted on her flesh.

The lavishing of their affections was relentless, their hungry groping and kissing constant. Together their strong arms fondled and then lifted her up, her weight so easily hoisted by their twin pairs of bulging arms.

Together, they laid her down on the thick velvet bed. Luscius kissed her, fondled her, but Jaral stood back, stripping off his vest and cloak, shedding away the outer layers of leather to unveil the hard, brown muscle beneath. The thick bulge of his manhood before his leather pants were peeled away and that thick, venous girth bobbed free and open.

He was glorious. A man worthy of her, of her body, of her love. Hard and fit, strong and beautiful. She never did manage to understand how he could be such a contradiction, but it made her lick her lips and moan under her breath as her eyes worked over his body. She wanted to stay right there, to feel Luscius’ mouth on her collarbone, teasing her skin with such expert maneuvers while Jaral posed so magnificently in front of her.

Jaral lifted his leg, bending his knee and sliding it onto the velvety blankets as he lowered himself down to her. A strong hand tracing up over her firm tummy, across her smooth skin to cup a breast and squeeze that large mound tightly.

Luscius’s lips smacked with hers moistly before he pulled back, shedding his own clothes next so that his sleek golden flesh was on display. A more compact, leanly muscled man, he almost seemed to glimmer in the lamp light. Those twin cocks of his both throbbing with need as he brought his face down, kissing at the edge of one breast, then down to her stomach.

Anjasa’s back softened into the bed, the surrealism of the silence, of the glorious forms that surrounded her. Her lips parted and she dabbed them with her tongue, even as her breath quickened and her large breasts rose and fell against her ribcage.

They were perfect, each in their own unique ways, and she looked at them through the haze of lust that was already thick in the air. Her nostrils flared at their scents, the smell of masculine arousal and power teasing her senses.

Jaral brought his mouth down to nip at her shoulder, her neck, those sharp fangs teasing her flesh with the memories of those times he’d pierced and drank from her. The intense sensations of those moments lingering long after the fact, making her neck twinge in memory.

Both men peeled back her legs, raising her knees as they stroked along her inner thighs, over those stockings. Their strong touches so carefully moderated, reassuring and pleasant as they treated her flesh like an idol to worship at.

They were each so eager for her, but it was Jaral who first pushed himself between her legs, his girth throbbing incessantly as he loomed over her, staring down at her with those intensely ruby eyes. He was poised over her quim, the fullness of his rock hard abs and bulging pecs on display as he lowered himself down to brush the underside of his cock against her moist folds.

She was so wet. She hadn’t realized it until Jaral so easily glided over her, the throbbing veins teasing her own clit as he rubbed back down against it. Her nipples stiffened, her areolas tightening as her back arched. It was exquisite torture what he was doing, and her breath hitched as his cock ran over her sensitive cunny once more. Her inner labia parted, her clit swelling as he expertly played with her body.

Even as he loomed over her, Luscius swept in. His hungry mouth went for one of the teats atop her heaving mounds, lashing his tongue against the sensitive nipple as he suckled at her. The intensity of his hungry devouring only shadowed by the sensation of Jaral pulling back his hips and thrusting his thick cock into her.

That mighty shaft, so large and firm, splitting her sensitive folds in twain as he let loose a low, throaty groan and pumped his girth into her. The slow first thrusts so delightful merely because of how they stretched her cunny taut around him, adjusting her to his girth once more.

They worked so well together, her lovers. Teasing her body with passion and lust, and Anjasa let the sensations overwhelm her. The warm blanket that her shoulders pressed into as her hips lifted to meet Jaral’s cock, to take him too deep and feel that split second of pain. The scent of her own arousal hung so thick in the air. The warmth and security of the room, letting her body relax and enjoy their sensual touches.

Anjasa was a goddess in bed, and between the two of them, she really felt like it. Her fingers ran through Luscius’ soft hair and teased his scalp, begging him to tend to her nipple harder, longer.

He obliged, grasping her other breast in his strong hand as he tugged at her sensitive teat with his tongue and lips. He was ravenously hungry for her, but it was Jaral that held onto her legs and plowed his cock into her, making her whole body rock with the motions of his thrusting.

Those heavy, brown balls of his smacking against her thick round ass noisily as he pumped into her slick, wet cunt. Building up slowly to an increasingly intense pace, angling his cock and stroking her in such a way that was so perfect. His sensuality was every bit as refined as his finesse in combat.

Her legs pressed back so far, and the further they went, the further he could force his cock into her. She didn’t hold back her whimpers, her moans, her cries as her body writhed, alternating between trying to shy away from the intense sensations and trying to move into them, feel them more fully. She craved it all, and her body was so tense, so stressed but their adept motions were quickly unraveling her.

The crash of Jaral’s hard body against her ass, thighs and cunt, battering deep into her narrow little twat with each powerful thrust. He was grunting, breathing heavily as he took her, but it was Luscius who sneakily slipped a hand down across her belly to tease her clit, to stoke the fires of her loins even higher.

Those nimble fingers of his came so near to Jaral’s cock as it pounded into her, circling her sensitive bundle of nerves as that golden-haired beauty suckled upon her teat with a hunger that rivaled Jaral’s when he fed at her neck.

The erotic nature of his motions, of how close he was to touching Jaral’s cock... the thought of that undid her.

It started low in her belly, but in an instant, all of her nerves went alight with pleasure beyond anything she'd experienced before. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she gasped before exhaling it as a scream. Her body tensed as the orgasm raced through her, but they didn’t let up, even as she trembled and shook, even as she shied away.

Hot juices ran over Jaral’s cock, dripping down and splattering against Luscius’ hand as they forced her far past the brink.

They didn’t let her run from the ecstasy they were both providing, not until her mind was numb and silent of the doubts that plagued her, and she was left a moaning mess.

Together their hard, honed bodies relentlessly worked her flesh. From out of the powerful, all-encompassing mess of her climax, she could hear Jaral’s strained groans, see the way his shoulders arched back, his bulging musculature pushed out from his chest down to his lower stomach.

He was close, so close. The throes of her own climax tightened her cunt around him as well as coat him so much of her slick juices.

Then at the final moment he rammed himself in deep, battering against her utmost depths as he let loose a gruff moan, his whole body tensed and twitching as he let loose all the cum that nestled in his balls, bathing her pussy.

Even after her own orgasm had left her mindless and hazy, his final thrust brought her back to reality, her eyes wide and mouth letting loose another long moan. She was exhausted, and so fulfilled, but she was still greedy for more, and her eyes met Jaral’s as he came.

It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous.

Jaral lunged down for her, and Luscius got out of the way just in time.

Their lips met and he kissed her so deep, so passionately, tongues entwined, right before he pulled away, leaving her cunny lips gaping and drooling his seed. That lonely, empty feeling…

It didn’t last long. As Jaral laid on his side next to her, lips ravishing her, Luscius climbed into his place, holding her by one knee as he reached down, grasping his smaller cock. He slid it into the slick, sticky mess that pooled in her cunt after Jaral had blown his load.

He took his time, wetting his lower, smaller shaft before sliding back out. She knew what was to come then, but feeling that thick cock of his nudge into her pussy as the now wetted one squeezed between her ass cheeks was no less pleasant for it.

And she was in no place to protest. Her brain was fogged up and she couldn’t resist, even if she wanted to. The sensation of his wet cock rubbing against her tight hole, though, made her swoon and she was grateful for the bed beneath her. If she’d been standing, she knew her knees would have given out.

Anjasa’s hands wrapped around Jaral’s strong shoulders, grasping him tightly, as if for support as Luscius manipulated her body with such interesting sensations.

The scent of her feminine arousal mixed with their masculine musk and filled the room. Jaral’s thick bicep pressed up against her collarbone as he wrapped an arm around her, kissed her deeply, tried to steal her focus, even as Luscius slowly squeezed two cocks into her, filling two of her tight orifices with his twin-manhood.

It was overwhelming, but how she loved it! Having two such gorgeous men, so capable, so confident… completely committed to her, almost fighting over her, literally.

They vied for her attention, but she was able to give it to them both. Even as her tongue lashed against Jaral’s, as she kissed him so passionately, she squeezed her nether muscles, massaging Luscius’ cock and nearly making herself quake again. The sensation was so strong, so sudden, and she trembled before it subsided.

It was almost too much to feel herself stretched so wide, filled so deeply. She had to lower a hand to her clit, rubbing herself in a soothing motion to allow herself not to buck and shy from him.

Jaral wouldn’t suffer it though. He reached down, grasped her wrist and twisted it away, only to replace her fingers with his. That powerful touch brushing against Luscius’s cock as it plunged into her pussy, stimulating her clit as he kissed her.

Luscius slowly wedged his dick into her ass, and began the slow pumping into both her holes. The mess of cum and honey helping aid his motion as he rocked his hips and moaned loudly. He relished each moment inside her, his golden flesh shimmering as he moved at a rising pace, facing the resistance of her tight ass and her clenching cunt.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fluttered her lashes closed. Tiny gasps and moans and cries were silenced on Jaral’s mouth, and her nails dug into his back as Luscius worked up his speed. It was so intense, and her nerves were already so filled with sensation it was hard to not writhe and wriggle away.

Her dark lover held her in place, provoking her sensitive clit as Luscius pumped into her at a rising pace, the messy wet sounds of their rutting so noisy. They were committed to her pleasure, making her twitch and moan, squeal and cry. Her heavy tits set to rocking atop her chest as she went numb with dizzying pleasure.

Luscius’ golden flesh was coated with a thin sheen of perspiration as he bucked into her, his body growing tense as she brought him nearer and nearer to thunderous release. A loud gasp escaped his lips as he thrust with increasingly erratic motions, spilling over into the point of no return.

She gulped for air, pinned by two strong men and forced to take all the pleasure, past the point that she would be willing on her own. They made her push past her own limits and find that her body still had need, desire for more. She’d been so good about controlling her sexuality, but they reminded her of all the things she still craved.

Their combined power, their strong bodies worked in tandem to make her cum again and again. She lost track of where one ended and the next began, riding the waves of bliss as the blankets beneath her grew damp with her juices and sweet smelling sweat.

They never stopped until she was coated in sweat, dripping so much of their seed that she felt stuffed. Luscius panted atop her, the two of them having switched places repeatedly. She was worn down. They had put her every hole to use, making her lick and taste their members, coated in a mixture of all three of their fluids. And made her cum upon their cocks again and again until exhaustion finally claimed the trio.

Chapter 27

Anjasa and her two lovers awoke to the sound of a fist pounding upon the thick door. It was near soundproof, so the words on the other end went unheard. Both Luscius and Jaral sprang up and despite being in the nude, and they flanked the door before cautiously opening it up.

Luscius cautiously peered out to see one of the guards.

“There’s an urgent message for the mistress,” he gasped, sounding rather alarmed.

“Fuck,” Anjasa hissed as she stood from the bed, her body sore from the lack of sleep and the marathon of sex. “What?” Her long, wavy hair was mussed up, and she pressed some back from her face and behind her slender ear.

“One a yer folk from the Pixie is here,” he explained to her. “Says somethin’ about a kidnappin’. It’s urgent. He’s in a right panic, mistress.”

Jaral went and grabbed an outfit for her from the nearby dresser, and together Luscius and he helped dress her without so much as needing to be told.

“Hunkering down and waiting for this to blow over didn’t work,” Luscius murmured.

“Apparently,” she hissed. “Fuck, I should have just left town already.” What was she waiting for?

Even she couldn’t answer that, and as they did up the last of her leather catsuit, she grabbed for her purse. “We’ll find out who’s been taken and make a plan from there,” she said, looking to both of them to confirm. “We don’t want to get deeper in this than we have to. And, well...” she looked to Jaral, her gaze softening, “One of us will have to guard the fort.”

Jaral’s gaze narrowed. That idea didn't suit him. Though dawn was doubtlessly fast approaching, if not already there. It was impossible to tell inside that room, especially made for his security.

Luscius dressed in a hurry, “I’ll look after you,” he said in a tone that hoped to reassure the other man.

Dawn must have indeed been close, for Jaral didn’t argue. “Be safe,” he cautioned curtly before grabbing hold of her and kissing her deeply.

She kissed him back, filled with what passion and fire the two men had left her before pulling away. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she smiled, her fingers trailing along his jaw. “And I won’t handle anything I don’t have to. Not today. We’re going to do this right and let the city guards do what they’re paid to do, for once.”

Luscius and her swept through the hallway, but the moment Anjasa hit the main hall she saw exactly who had come to her. And judging by the complete state of distress he was in -- his usually beautiful blonde hair a mess, his eyes red and raw -- she didn’t need to ask who was kidnapped.

Aeulin paced back and forth by the door, kept from going any further by the two guards as he fretted and worried. “There’s no time!” he insisted to them, a manic tinge to his voice.

“Prim,” she stated, her heart feeling like lead in her chest. Sweet, innocent Prim. The girl who was always filled with such zest for life. It would have been easy to find her alone somewhere, vulnerable and trusting in her pregnancy. Anjasa went to her elven bartender urgently. “What happened, Aeulin? Where was she last seen?”

He was so panicked, so angry, and so fearful. Anjasa thought he might break down and cry.

“We were lured to an opium den on the upper side of town,” he sniffled. “I… I did a bad thing,” he stated, tears welling up in his eyes. “I should’ve known better than to-” he choked up, “than to do business outside the club.”

A moment of anger gripped her, but she pushed it aside. She’d deal with that later.

Anjasa reached out, touching his cheek and forcing him to look at her, emerald eyes upon him. “Tell me where the den is, Aeulin. The exact location.”

He nodded quickly, “I’ll take you there.” The elf spun on his heel and rushed to the door.

She followed after him with quick steps, glancing behind her to Luscius and the guards, who passively deferred to her. “Maybe it’s best you not go back to the place where you just got your girlfriend kidnapped...”

Her words visibly stung him, but he stiffened up. Shoulders straight. “I want to help,” he urged, some resemblance of control returning to his voice. “I need to do that much… at least.”

“You can help by not running, crying, into a building and haphazardly trying to save her. If you were able to do that, you wouldn’t have come to me. So tell us where she is and let us get her back. Why did you take her with you?” Anjasa shook her head, unable to resist making the comment of disbelief.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s no time! We have to go--” he stopped himself and looked at Anjasa, memories of her authority sinking back in. “I saw the place and it was so swanky and h-high class,” he stammered, licked his lips. “I wanted to show her… to impress her with my connections,” he stammered.

Shaking his head he added, “I’d never seen such riches before. Such wealth. She made even the riches of home seem modest by comparison.”

She?

Anjasa’s brow cocked, that dark arch so perfectly shaped.

“And who is... she? This... connection of yours that has such wealth and no apparent concern for pregnant women?”

He let his head hang back, tugging at his hair looking so clearly frustrated. “Can we go? I’ll tell you on the way! There’s no time! She has Prim!” he repeated, sounding so frustratingly worried for his lover.

But she wasn’t going to storm some opium den, filled with riches and maybe even the leader of this crusade against her without more information. That wouldn’t get Prim home, certainly not safe and well.

“Aeulin. You need to calm down and tell me everything you know if we’re going to save her. Tell me what you know of this woman, of what happened to Prim, and then I will bring down the wrath of everything I have upon her.”

He tore at his hair and stamped his foot in frustration.

“She has two guards there! The place is just a quiet drug den for the affluent! There’s never any fuss or violence! The place is out of the way, so there’s no need for a lot of security. Just two big guys in black wraps,” he stated, eyes bloodshot. He looked on the verge of breaking down.

“None of this would’ve happened if you just listened to my business proposal!” he bit at her out of frustration and despair.

Luscius stepped forward. “Ease off,” he cautioned in a deep voice, defensive over Anjasa.

Anjasa’s eyes narrowed at Aeulin. “No. None of this would have happened if you didn’t bring your pregnant girlfriend into a drug den to show off. And thaT wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t go behind my back and into the hands of someone who has tried to murder me. You don't get to put this one on me.” Anjasa’s words were cold, and she couldn’t recall a time she’d ever felt such loathing for the elf who had always been so sweet -- if not a bit smarmy -- towards her since they first met.

“Now you tell me where this is, and you will fucking sit right here with Jaral until we can rescue her from your fuck up.”

Aeulin collapsed into a heap upon his knees, sobbing as he blubbered out the location to her. She knew the address. It was indeed a place where the sublimely wealthy congregated. Though she didn't know it as an opium den. Apparently the nobility had kept some secrets even from her.

Her blood boiled as she looked to the others. They all knew what to do.

It was stupid, she knew, to go in without any plan.

But she’d always been a risk taker, and Prim didn’t deserve any of this.

Jaral came down and stood watch over Aeulin as Anjasa and Luscius gathered the remaining force of guards. “Good luck,” he said to her simply enough, though she knew there was always more simmering beneath the surface with him.

Anjasa, Luscius and four of their guards headed out into the dark, dawn just breaking beneath the rim of the town’s skyline.

Chapter 28

Luscius spent the entire carriage ride discussing potential plans. They knew very little of the situation, and one might think that’d lead to there being little to talk of. But based on what Anjasa knew of the manor’s front, Luscius came up with contingency after contingency to try and compensate for the lack of knowing.

“We’re here,” came one of the guards, speaking through a grate in the carriage door as it pulled to a halt.

Anjasa stroked Luscius’ hand as she looked it over. It was like seeing it in a new light, and not just because she didn’t think she’d ever been by it at dawn. Still, it seemed more sinister and foreboding as it cast its ominous shadow over everything. She didn’t like how heavy her gut was, how fast her pulse raced, and the strange sensation of arousal that panic always brought on in her.

Yet staring up at that towering stone building with its black-marble pillars, she knew acting fast was the best response. A young woman, one of her own, was at stake. So was that woman's child.

Together they all sprang into action. Two of the four guards climbing the fence and opening the gate from the other side. Two others immediately flanked the building to probe for side entrances, while Anjasa and entourage went for the front.

Aeulin had told her the den’s secret entrance was in the back on the third floor, and so instead of taking the front door, Luscius and her flung grappling hooks up onto one of the gargoyles positioned above the door itself.

Together they climbed up like two professional burglars, their guards following after.

From there, Anjasa used Luscius to boost her up to the next floor’s window sill and she in turn helped the rest of them up by attaching the rope to a metal grate over the window itself. It was all so smooth, so quiet, and she knew she had the best at her side.

At that point only the grate itself stood in their way. And Anjasa’s nimble fingers grasped hold of her pick, making short work of the iron gate, swinging it open with care to reduce its noise.

The building inside was dark and silent. The night’s festivities were apparently over. As Anjasa and crew crept in, she saw at the end of the hallway one young nobleman passed out on a sofa, a bottle of some expensive wine toppled at his feet. Her destination was past him.

Together they silently moved through the labyrinthine halls, meeting up with her other two guards who’d split off earlier. They shook their heads in silence, indicating they had found no other entrance into the secret den.

Following Aeulin’s description, however, there was little issue in finding the place. It was the kind of location that was easily overlooked, a door that blended into the wall; even if you noticed the thing, it would look more like an unobtrusive servant's door.

Withdrawing a hooked, thin blade, Anjasa picked that door as well, and when it popped open, the guard on the other side jerked to alert in surprise. Anjasa laid him out with a swift kick, and her two guards bound and gagged him.

As they entered into the den itself, the aroma of intoxicating drugs on the air, she realized he didn’t fit the description of the black-swathed guards Aeulin had warned her of.

There was more danger yet to come, but she tried not to let it unsettle her.

They passed through the lavish den, and one thing was right: its riches were beyond what she expected of the backwater human realm of Normevor. Rich silks and tapestries from far off lands, everything decked with gems, embroidered with gold and displaying lavish rarities more exotic still.

Yet instead of appreciating it, the room had but a few drugged-out men and women, most asleep, or unconscious.

How could a place like this exist without her knowing? How deep did this woman’s pockets run? For a moment, envy ran cold through Anjasa’s heart. This was why she was being run out of the city, why she had to leave everything she’d built.

Because her wealth was nothing in comparison to whoever owned this place.

Making their way to the back of the den, none of the denizens paid them any mind, except for one who asked them to refill his decanter, thinking they were wait staff. Luckily, he wasn’t lucid enough to insist upon it and drifted back out of awareness immediately after.

Finally reaching that place at the very back, she saw the guards exactly as expected.

They noticed her and her entourage just as quickly as she noticed them, but through the smoky haze, they reacted slowly. Quietly.

Instead of rushing to meet her or forming a defensive line, they calmly opened the door behind them, stepped into it, and closed it. Anjasa and Luscius reached it just in time to hear security bolts click into place on the other end.

Anjasa’s nose crinkled in distaste and annoyance as she looked over the large barrier.

Her and her entourage approached the door. It was solid and well protected. The kind of reinforced barrier she had in her room back at her manor with Jaral.

“This will take some time,” Luscius murmured to her softly, studying the wall, a few gentle taps revealing it to be just as solid all along over to the corner, where a servant’s laundry chute lay. “Think you can handle it though?” he asked.

“How many options do we have?” she asked, only half joking. As if she could just turn on her heels and walk away? Working a door like this wouldn’t be quick or easy, and it gave whomever was on the other side to better plan their defense, and all the while Prim was needing rescue.

Anjasa brought her instruments out, unsheathing the thief’s toolkit of lock picks and probes. She started on the door before her, working at the intricately involved mechanisms. Time ticking by with each moment, but knowing she couldn't hurry. Couldn’t rush it. Rushing would undo her work.

Luscius and their two guards explored the den until Luscius heard the secret door they’d entered through shut and lock. He tried it, but it was barred from the other side. “They’ve locked us in,” he called out to her, pressing his ear to the door. “I hear them… they’re barricading it from the other side…”

It would be up to them to handle that, though. She was trapped, but her primary concern was that looming door.

As Anjasa continued to calmly and methodically work the lock, working through the numerous tumblers on each of the bolts, she could hear a curious sound on the other side. Like her own door, it was near soundproof, but with her keen elven ears pressed right to it, she could hear the strange hissing noise on the other side.

Each click brought her closer to being done, while her other companions waited patiently, doing their best to assess the situation and find some other way out or through.

At last, Anjasa worked the final bolt open and waved her companions to her. The six of them prepared themselves before bursting the door open.

Upon the other side, however, they found nothing but a lavish room, devoid of people and laden with a strange, acrid tang in the air. If it was a drug, it was some sort she’d never encountered before. Its smoke clung to the ceiling.

Luscius and Anjasa went in and searched the room, and they found another door on the other side. But like the one she just broke through, it would take time to get through.

More disturbing was that strange smell in the air, and the hissing noise… the hissing noise…

Anjasa’s eyes studied the room, until she found the source of the noise, and the smoke. It came up from the edges of the room, as if something were burning up the place, but no fire was to be seen.

“What is that?” Luscius asked as he covered his mouth and nose with a cloth.

It was some chemical compound. And it was eating through the stonework like fire through wood.

They were locked in a room that was being gassed.

“Fuck,” Anjasa cursed. “It’s like acid,” she said as she pointed out the damage then quickly looked around the room. “There’s no way I can break through another door in time. We need to find another way out, Luscius.”

They searched the place, but before they found anything substantial, Anjasa remembered the laundry chute.

Rushing to it, she realized immediately it was tiny. Very tiny. She could squeeze through it, but the others? They were too big, too bulky from their muscle.

Luscius found her eying the thing, and immediately he calculated the same issues as her.

“You go,” he shouted through the cloth. Then immediately held up a hand to silence her, “Slip out through there, and find some way to get to the other side of this door we came through.” He pointed back to the secret entrance that was barred to them, “You can rescue us. I know you can.” Certainty burned in his exotic eyes.

Certainty that she didn’t share.

Not to mention, even if she could slide through the laundry chute, she did not want to. Couldn’t. She glanced back at it and felt her heart constrict, and her breath race. Her head became light as the panic gripped her.

But she knew it was the only way. That she was the only one.

It was hard for her to swallow as she opened it up, looking down it and seeing that small, confined space. Even without their bulk, she was curvaceous, and it would be a tight squeeze, and so easy to get stuck. Trapped.

But she was already trapped, and she knew that if she didn’t try this, that it would mean be the death of them all.

Luscius uncoiled the grappling hook and rope from one of the guard's shoulders. “Here,” he said, tying the end about her slender waist then securing the hooked end to one of the pillars. “In case you get stuck,” he explained with a reassuring smile.

The fact that he could see through her so clearly both comforted and scared her, and she touched his face gently. Again she ran her thumb over his scar with such love and concern as she nodded.

“I’ll be back for you,” she promised, giving him a quick kiss before climbing into the chute.

Her legs slipped down easily, but her hips… those same hips the men loved proved her biggest worry. The sides of the chute squeezed her in so tightly, and she had to wriggle her way down with care.

“It’s okay,” came Luscius' voice from above as the dim light from that drug den faded. There was no access on the next floor down it seemed, so it had to be the first floor. Down she went, shimmying her hips so that her leather gear groaned against the wooden confines of the chute.

For decades, she had avoided tight places. Even as a spy, she’d managed to work around her absolute dread of being stuck in a place just like this. A claustrophobic spy--the flaw she'd kept hidden for centuries. Here, though, her breath was shallow and panicked, and her vision went dark from anxiety.

She almost felt transported to a different time, a time when she’d been so alone, and so abused. Captured and enslaved. It was too much, but a strange noise came from above and she heard a long groan from the buildings stone structure which brought her back to the present.

“What was that?” she called out up the tunnel.

Luscius called back down, “I… I don't’ know. The floor just shifted.”

She swallowed nervously and resumed the descent. There on the first floor she saw it, the faint outline of a closed chute access port.

Again that loud groan came from the stone, but this time she felt the shaking, something that was quaking the whole of the manor itself and made the wood shake and creak all around her, showering her with some splinters and dust.

“Hurry!” came Luscius’ voice. “Get out of there now!”

She could do little more to hurry herself on, but she gave it her all. Squeezing downward, she kicked open the chute access and lowered herself through feet first. The whole of the manor was quaking, as if it was about to come down, and she felt panic threaten to take hold.

Squeezing her hips through the chute, she came into a back service area of the manor, a large mix of cooking and laundry services, devoid of servants as she slipped through. Yet before she could even untie the ropes about her waist, the whole building came crashing down around her.

Chapter 29

Luscius watched as the floor sank a few inches in the room Anjasa had unlocked. Whatever it was, their enemies used it to burn through stone, and it was carving its way through the whole of the floor, bringing the entire room down, literally.

He ran to the chute. “Hurry! Get out of there now!” he cried, though something told him it was perhaps too late.

A mere moment later the whole room teetered to one side, and then dropped. Luscius felt his feet lift off the floor as he tumbled to the plush carpeting. The crash of the room impacted the one beneath, sending everything into chaos as it all tumbled around him.

Anjasa heard the mighty crash above, felt it reverberate through the whole of the manor as the ceiling above exploded shards of stone down around her. She had to duck and cover her head, but still some of the jagged pieces tore through her outfit and cut her flesh. She smelled copper.

When the third floor collided into the second, however, it didn’t stop there. The whole of the buildings structure was compromised, and likely by design. She didn’t have time to untie the rope entirely, its knot was so secure. She scurried over the rubble strewn floor as she tugged at the knot, but then the second and third floors crashed through above her.

She managed to avoid being crushed beneath it as she ran towards the edge of the building, but as those three floors imploded upon each other, they sank further still into whatever basement the manor had.

It was then that her failure to untie the rope truly hit home, and she felt herself being yanked backwards by a sharp tug and pulled into the rubble of what was once the most opulent manor of Normevor.

Chapter 30

Anjasa would never be able to describe the sensation of being pulled into such a tumultuous circumstance. Not simply because she struck her head and blacked out either, but because the cacophony of destruction around her was deafening and blinding, dust choked the air as she found herself sitting at the bottom of an immense crater.

The light of early morning filtered down through the stone dust but only barely. As she untied the rope and prepared to check herself for any injuries, she noticed through the cloud of debris that the edifice’s remaining walls, were teetering. She could hear them verging on collapse.

She soon realized that the basement offered some potential relief, and she untied herself to scurry from the mound of rubble into the dark shadows of the manor’s cellar.

None too soon either, for the walls above fell and filled the gaping hole above, leaving her buried beneath mounds of debris.

Her legs wobbled, and she couldn’t help but fall to her knees on the rough floor.

Her entire body ached and she had to hold back a pathetic whimper and tears that stung her eyes. She’d tell anyone that it was because of the dust, but it was so much more. It was the pain, it was her cuts and scrapes and wounds. She knew she’d broken at least a rib or two, and her ankle throbbed in agony.

But it was also Luscius.

Her blurred eyes tried to take in everything they could through the dust, but she couldn’t focus. She was probably concussed again, and the brief thought instantly reminded her of Luscius’ tender affection.

Dust and tears stung her eyes, though she wasn’t destined to wallow in self-pity. She wouldn't allow it.

“You are as resilient as a nest of roaches,” came a curiously accented voice, rolling her R’s as the words grew louder with her approach. The clicking sound of heels resounding through the cavern of debris.

Anjasa blinked, but she couldn’t see the figure. The voice, though, made her blood run cold. It had too much confidence, too much power to be anyone but the person behind all this. No guard would dare speak with that much authority.

“Just give me back Prim,” Anjasa replied, though it held none of the calm confidence of the other woman. Her voice trembled, and as she tried to stand up straight and tall, she felt her body scream in protest. She had the psychological upper hand, Anjasa realized.

“Prim?” came the mysterious woman’s voice, so familiar yet so distinctly unique to Anjasa’s ears. “Ah, the girl,” she purred, her heels clicking closer.

The dust slowly cleared and Anjasa could see her. A woman not unlike herself, similar figure, but taller. Darker. Barely clad, draped in silks with a thick curtain of ebon hair about her head.

“She is free to go,” came the woman’s reply to Anjasa. “Now that the bargain is complete.”

Anjasa’s eyes narrowed, and a feeling of dread swept over her. “Aeulin did this,” she stated, and it came out with more of a pout than she’d intended. He was one of her own. He’d come from her homeland, all cute and chipper. He had exemplified everything she missed about the land of the elves.

Of course he’d betrayed her.

Anjasa took a step back and reached for her pouch, but it’d been lost to the rubble with everything else. She tried not to let her panic show as she sized the other woman up, noting the strange similarities to Jaral. Their skin, their eyes...

Anjasa’s reach for her pouch had not been lost on the woman, however, and she tut tuted her softly.

“It is over now, do you not see?” She came within just a few feet of Anjasa, her hips giving such an exaggerated sway with each step. Her curious scent somehow permeated the dusty debris, so feminine and alluring. She seemed to be everything Anjasa was. “Let us not sully these final moments with low brow brawling, hmm?”

She arched a perfectly sculpted and preened brow at Anjasa, as if in challenge. Mockery.

Anjasa had come too far in life to die like this. To be so utterly bested.

But for a moment, she couldn’t say she didn’t have the thought that it might be better. For how long had she chased death’s coattails, teasing it? When she’d first moved to the human city, she’d certainly embraced the most dangerous of situations, finding herself at the mercy of a sadistic vampire and an uncertain future.

And then she’d fallen in love with his Master, and she'd known it wasn’t the safest option.

Her life had gone on for so long, and a promised end to her suffering, and that had appealed to her.

Certainly enough to not let this woman walk in and take it, not without a fight.

Within striking distance, Anjasa quickly slipped a dagger from her thigh and lashed out. A swift, cutting move to slash at the mysterious assailant. Despite her injuries, it was a precise and impressively quickly maneuver.

The woman stopped it with ease.

Her dark hand clutched onto Anjasa’s fist, not merely deflecting it but stopping it, and then pushing it back so that the dagger sliced through Anjasa’s leather and slashed her own upper arm making her cry out.

Such extraordinary strength…

“Tsk tsk,” came her condescending response, the woman appearing so calm and collected. “I offer you advice and you spurn it,” she said like a parent lecturing a child.

So swift… she couldn’t be mortal. Could only be…

The eyes. The ruby tinge.

She was a vampire, like Jaral.

Anjasa tried to strike out with her other hand, but instead her nemesis deflected then struck at her right arm in such a tender place the whole of it shook with intense pain and numbness all at once. The dagger clattered to the floor before she shoved Anjasa over, making her fall back, a chunk of debris jabbing into her spine and making her cry out in pain again.

“I would have given you some options. Some dignity,” she taunted Anjasa. It wasn't enough to defeat her, she had to show her utter superiority to her. She didn’t even dress appropriately for a fight, let alone exert herself.

Though Anjasa knew… if she hadn’t suffered such wounds in the collapse, she could’ve held her own.

All the same, she could at least make this woman break a sweat.

“Options?” Anjasa spat out the word, her emerald eyes narrowed with fury and anguish. “Like die standing or on my knees, groveling like some pissant?” Anjasa pushed herself up and tried not to cringe at the blinding pain.

“Something like that,” she taunted arrogantly, a sly smirk upon her face as she advanced on Anjasa again. “I could have simply beheaded you, swift and painless.”

Anjasa snarled, kicking at her high-heeled feet, judging it to be the closes thing this woman might have to a weak point.

Though that was certainly true, Anjasa’s wounded state didn’t let her get the hit in fast enough, and the mysterious woman deflected the blow and instead backhanded Anjasa, knocking her to the ground once more. The blow was clearly intended to humiliate rather than injure.

“Did you even know who you were dealing with, hm?” she taunted Anjasa.

“A vampire? I’m so fucking scared, you don’t even know.” In her mind, this would be where Anjasa leapt to her feet and kicked the woman down, but in reality, it was where she cringed and struggled to stand up on wobbling feet, all of her bruises and sprains screaming in agony.

The mockery didn’t seem to faze the vampire where Anjasa’s lack of action failed. A jeering laugh peeling from the woman’s plush, violet-tinted lips.

“More than that,” she mocked, “and more than you shall ever know.”

She sprang to the offensive, her two arms moving with such speed and power. Jaral had trained Anjasa for such a fight, but with her body so wounded…

The vampire’s fist struck into Anjasa’s stomach, forcing her to double over as the wind was knocked from her. Her attempts to deflect failed against the furious strength of that inhuman creature, and she found herself unmercifully struck. Those long, dark fingers coiled into Anjasa’s thick hair and yanked her head back.

“You are not even worthy to offer me your blood,” she sneered at Anjasa so cruelly.

Her arrogance was her true weakness though, and those heels and her impractical getup -- while successfully showing disdain for Anjasa’s threat -- left her vulnerable to an attack from below.

Anjasa planted her knee between the vampire’s thighs with a hard crack of a blow. It made the vampire release hold of her and double over with a shriek.

There wouldn’t be many opportunities, not in Anjasa’s state, so she followed it up by fist into the vampire’s jaw and knocking her down to one knee.

The next blow was blocked, as the vampire raised a silk-draped arm to intercept Anjasa’s fist. Though the elbow of Anjasa’s other arm took the opportunity and struck her in the temple, sending her spiralling a few feet away in a mess of violet silks.

It wasn’t the ideal move, she realized. It took the woman out of her immediate reach, and with her body injured as it was, closing distances was not a strong suit of Anjasa’s. Yet it was the best move at her disposal.

Anjasa knew this was the end. Some part of her mind had prepared for it, and it made her push past the burning agony that filled her entire body. If she was going to die, she was going to make this woman work for it.

And no one would ever be able to say that Anjasa died like she lived: on her back.

She’d been trained by a vampire of immense strength and prowess, trained intentionally to face such a threat, should it ever become necessary. Trained how to deal with an opponent who was faster and stronger than you could be. And if she faced that nameless woman at her best, she’d stand a serious chance.

Instead, she was merely making her pay for each moment. Suffer for trying to humiliate her.

The silk-clad woman started to rise up, and deflected Anjasa’s next blow, then the next. But before she could strike at her, Anjasa’s leg came into play again, and she kneed her in the ribs, knocking her over.

“I will make you pay for this indignity!” she snarled, and when Anjasa came for the next round of blows, the woman struck out with terrifying speed and strength at full force.

She held off Anjasa’s two arms with one of hers and blocked her leg with her free hand. Before Anjasa could free herself, the vampire lunged into her, pushing her back then lifting her up. Anjasa’s shorter stature was a mere trifle to her unholy strength, and she tossed her aside.

Rolling along the rubble strewn ground, Anjasa could feel the terrifying agony of her sides pressed to those shards of stone. She screamed from the pain of her battered ribs as she rolled to the feet of two black-clad guards.

The odds of this fight were out of her favour, she realized. Even if she was at her full strength, the guard’s presence tilted the odds.

Even in her anger, that dark vampiress stood like a seductive monarch. She never seemed to let rage shake her to her core; she maintained that obstinate dignity and grace while striding towards Anjasa on ridiculously impractical high heels.

The two guards, who must have been vampires themselves, Anjasa judged by the speedy way they reached down, hoisted her agonized body between them like an offering for their mistress.

Everything burned, but Anjasa didn’t care. She was beyond caring how battered she was, and there was no way she was going to hold anything back. “So what is it, huh? Jealous about something? Did I steal Jaral from you, or is it some other bullshit reason you’ve concocted to build this whole pathetic life around me the past few months?”

It was a long shot, but Anjasa was fueled by hatred, and she wanted this woman to hurt. To feel as pathetic and small as Anjasa did.

Whether she hit the mark or not, it was close enough, as she narrowed her gaze at Anjasa and backhanded her again brutally. “You interfered with my plans,” she hissed bitterly. “That is enough.”

She grabbed Anjasa by the face, “Perhaps I shall have you carved into little pieces while you languish in agony.” She lifted Anjasa up, plucking her from the guards grasp as the strength behind her hold intensified, threatening to break her bones. “Or maybe I crush your fucking body with my bare hands.”

It would have all been over there, she certainly had the strength for it. But a blinding light filled the area and Anjasa felt herself tumble to the ground. The light itself hurt her eyes, but the shrieks of the vampires let her know it was something more intensely debilitating for them.

Desperately she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, scrambled to get to her feet and away from the spot the woman had dropped her. Though she knew only one person could have been responsible for her rescue.

Luscius’ glimmering, gold body came to her view first out of the dizzying whiteness. One arm dangled by his side uselessly limp, and probably broken. His golden hair was stuck to his head, and blood coated much of his face, but he stood over the bodies of two dead vampires.

His sabre in hand, he slashed for the vampiress’ neck.

She was not so easily felled, however, and before the blade could sever her head she lunged for Luscius, grabbed his wrist and stopped the blade. She rose up with seemingly simple ease, as Luscius fell down to one knee, quaking as he competed against her strength.

His sabre burned at her flesh, but she bent the tip back towards him.

“I shall feast upon you and make you my slave, Hunter,” she promised the serpentine man.

Anjasa advanced on them. “Luscius!” She called out, but there was nothing more for him to do.

The silken vampire plunged his own enchanted blade into his midsection, then shoved him away.

Anjasa barreled into the dark woman with a scream of rage, and the two of them rolled through the debris, adding more cuts and bruises to the mix as they brawled ruthlessly.

Anjasa managed to get the upper hand, pounding her fist into the woman’s face. The hard blows were doing as much damage to her fist as they did to the woman’s face, and so with all the strength she could muster she pounded into her throat, widening the unliving woman's eyes in alarm as she clutched at her caved-in trachea.

Hands wouldn’t be enough, though, and Anjasa scurried back. She went for Luscius’ prone form, found him laying there on his back, breathing shallowly as he stared upwards, gaze slowly trailing to hers.

“Take it,” he choked out, and she knew he meant the sword that still stuck out of him. The way it burned her, it had to be enchanted against vampires. A vampire hunter's prized weapon.

But she knew that removing it would do more damage to him, and he’d quickly start bleeding out. Her heart raced, but she knew that without the sabre, both of them would soon be killed by the vampiress. Anjasa kissed Luscius to try to give him some comfort as she quickly tore the blade from him, sparing no more time in telling him what to do. He knew.

Instead she ran at the woman to finish her off as Luscius tried to staunch the flow of blood from his torso.

She struggled to get to her feet, all that power and strength hobbled as she clutched at her throat from the agony.

Anjasa slashed at her, and the vampiress retreated, but not enough to spare herself the cutting sting of that blade across her collarbone. It seared her mocha flesh and made her reel in agony.

Twisting the blade around Anjasa slashed for another attack, and sliced away several inches of hair as well as leaving a long gash across the woman’s cheek to fester and bubble from the burning it caused.

She recoiled and sank shrieking to the ground, shrieking in agony from that slash.

It left her vulnerable, and Anjasa advanced, no time to spare. Not if she hoped to win. Not if she hoped to save Luscius’ life.

She raised the blade up over her and prepared for the final blow.

When she unleashed her rage, however… she found herself halted.

Jaral stood there, holding of her wrists, the pommel and guard of the sabre apparently enchanted just like the blade, as it sizzled and crackled upon his flesh. A pained expression marred his statuesque features.

“Do not,” came his strained voice. Not a command. Not an order. But a plea.

Anjasa’s lip trembled. Her entire body was so weak, and having him stop her drained so much adrenaline, leaving her woozy. She didn’t understand, and her head tilted to look at him with such horror.

“Who is she, Jaral?” she asked with a tremor to her voice.

The woman still writhed and screamed upon the ground, the damage that blade had done leaving her in agony.

“A part of me,” was all he could utter, slowly guiding her hands down and removing the sword from her grasp. “She is my responsibility now,” he announced, trying to steady his voice, though she could sense the pain. And sense that its source was deeper than merely the sting of the enchantment.

Anjasa looked at him with both hurt and confusion before she stepped back, her knees still weak as she went back to Luscius’ side. She knew he had to see someone, and quickly, and hoped to something beyond the mortal realm that help was called about the collapse of the building.

Jaral let the sabre clatter to the ground then bent over, by some entrancing method he stilled the vampiress’ cries and hoisted her up over his shoulder. He watched Anjasa desperately try to bandage the wound in Luscius’ heaving torso.

“I must go for a time,” came his smooth foreign voice. “See to it that she never darkens your door again,” he assured Anjasa, stepping over near her then crouching down.

He lowered his voice, speaking softly into Anjasa’s ear.

“You shall not see me for a long time. Even by how we measure such things,” he said quietly, almond-shaped eyes wide and sad. “I can do one last thing for you before I go. If you wish it,” he said, letting his eyes slip suggestively, almost reluctantly, towards Luscius.

He’d turn him. Make him immortal. Undying. Hers for all time.

But she knew Luscius would never forgive her that. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at Jaral, heartbroken. She knew there was nothing that would change his mind, yet she couldn’t simply do nothing. “Please don’t go,” she swallowed, trembling like a leaf. She needed him. She needed both of them.

Somehow the pain of potentially losing them both overshadowed all the physical suffering her body was wracked with.

“I must,” he choked, his once unshakable voice indeed shaken. He touched his hand upon her shoulder. “I owe a debt that could never be repaid. But we shall meet again someday,” he swore, rising back to his shaky legs.

The footsteps of others approaching came from a dark side entrance, perhaps some tunnel connecting to the catacombs beneath Normevor. The route Jaral must have taken under the light of day.

“Get him aid, and perhaps you might save your mentor yet,” he shouted to the guards, causing them to rush over to Luscius as Jaral himself began to walk towards the route they came.

Anjasa stood up, letting them take over. She followed after Jaral for a few steps, but she was too weak to keep up. “Jaral,” she whimpered, feeling so utterly pathetic and defeated. Her nemesis, saved by her lover. Her partner.

“Why can’t we just kill her and go on with life?” Anjasa stopped, allowing herself to sink to the floor. “The adventures... the things we could do. It would be all the better.” Every word faded as she succumbed to her exhaustion, her sorrow.

He stopped, but Jaral couldn’t bear to turn and look at her.

“Because,” he started, but found himself choking up, having to repress his own tears. “I already killed her once. And I have never forgiven myself for it. I am sorry, my love… I could never be the man you would wish me to be with if I betrayed her again and her thirst for revenge would never let her allow me to love. Please forgive me.”

It seemed to take him some great act of will, but his leaden legs began to carry him away again.

What more was there for her to say? Her body was battered, her mind hazy with pain, and her heart was torn to shreds. Still, she tried to force her way towards him, desperately trying to close the gap. “So let me! Don’t let her control your life and take away your love!”

Jaral didn’t turn, and he didn’t stop. He kept going, vanished into the darkness of the tunnels so that when Anjasa got there… she saw no sight of him.

The two guards came up behind her, carrying Luscius’ form carefully upon a sheet between them.

“It’s a good thing Master Jaral figured out what that rat Aeulin was up to in time,” said one of them to her.

“We’d have never got here in time if not for that shithead makin’ a move against Jaral, showin’ his true colours,” chimed the other. “Now unless you say otherwise, to the garrison, madam?” he asked her for guidance.

Jaral was gone.

Anjasa blinked away tears, letting them roll down her cheek in hot little beads as she nodded. “Save him. Quickly.”

Jaral was really gone.

And she might lose Luscius before the day was out.

Chapter 31

Six days.

Six days ago, Anjasa had bade her life in Normevor farewell and set off in a wagon in silence.

It was either that, or the possibility of an indefinite imprisonment. Or execution.

Without the support of her two talented lovers, she’d have only been able to hide from the law at best. Trying to manage what operations she could from behind the scenes. It would’ve been hellish. Instead, she opted to spare them all that misery, as the law ransacked her friends and employees homes continually, trying to find where she was hiding. Making them suffer for her continued stubbornness.

Travelling by wagon was rough going though, and she had to pause at a small village that seemed safe enough. Renting out a large room to hide away in for a while.

Huddled up there at the foot of the bed, she curled into a ball and reached into her pocket. There she felt the comforting presence of that note.

The last thing Jaral had left for her.

She knew its words by heart, having re-read it countless times since she left Luscius’ garrison to flee the city.

Yet she read it straight from the source again. Just because.

The lives of mortals are but short to us, my love.

Yet as we live eternally, so too can our guilt.

Had I stayed with you, that guilt or her vengeance would have haunted us to the end of time. Sullied our every moment.

Though in a mortal’s span, if your heart still burns for mine, know I will run from guilt and vengeance both if you are at my side. Until the end of time itself.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but before they could spill she heard the sound of someone stirring.

Luscius groaned softly, “Water?” His throat sounded so dry as he lay there on the bed behind her. His wounds were still severe, especially after the wagon ride far too soon in recovery.

She went and grabbed it for him, quickly hiding the note away once more. “Just rest back,” she chided him, trying to hide the trembling in her voice.

His midriff was still bandaged up, and judging by the tinge of red in them she knew it was time for her to change them again.

“Where to now, boss?” he asked weakly, not having near enough strength to go with the sly tone to his weary voice.

“I haven’t the faintest. Big place out there, though. Maybe we’ll go see your home. Unless you’re banished too, in which case we have more in common than I thought.” She was trying to make light of it, of the situation, but her heart wasn’t in it.

He turned his exotic gaze towards her, those slitted eyes watching her from the corner of his view.

“Hey,” he reached out to her, his muscled arm so strangely weak. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be a queen again before long. Ruler of some new, fancier roost. Champion of justice… in your own way, elsewhere,” he assured her, grasping her hand. “And I’ll stick by you through whatever comes.”

She forced a smile. “Yea, well. You’re only sticking by me because you feel you owe me one for not having you turned into a vampire.” She leaned down, kissing his forehead tenderly. “I wish I’d killed her for you.”

“Me too,” he whispered to her, squeezing her fingers in his weak grasp. “But it wasn’t your fault… he wouldn’t have let you,” Luscius coughed and she had to give him some more water. “The bastard could’ve easily overpowered us both like we were.”

She shook her head, coddling her lover’s body. “No. He wouldn’t have tried that. It was up to me, and I failed. I faltered. You know how I feel about him, my darling Luscius, but that isn’t tainting my view. He asked me to spare her, and I did. No more. No less.”

Luscius shut his eyes and enjoyed her comfort. Her warm presence.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he pleaded, his arm going around her weakly. “We’ll have a long journey ahead of us. And you gave more than I could’ve thought possible to beat her at all.”

His fingers lightly stroked the back of her hair, “I love you, Anjasa. You’re a special soul. And regardless of the wounds behind you… I know you’ll do great things from here on out.”

“With my guiding angel at my side?” she teased, looking down at him with affection. She was certain he knew how thankful she was to have him with her, to have him live through saving her.

Regardless of how she felt about losing Jaral, she’d never forget how grateful she was to have Luscius with her still. Alive. And in love with her.

His full lips spread into a warm smile and he gave the slightest of nods to her. “That’s right,” he said to her weakly. “And once I’m well enough to stand again… watch out,” he grinned just a bit, flashing his eyes wide at her in a sly tease. “We got a lot of years ahead of us, and we’ll do a lot of good together.”

A lot of years for him.

She smiled.

“You need to rest up while I look into where we’re headed to next,” she said, giving him a bit more water. “I need you healthy.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” he said to her, his eyes already shutting again. He’d be asleep before long she realized. Giving her more unwanted time to herself for the time being.

Epilogue – Many Years Later

Anjasa found herself strolling along a dark alleyway. The sort of space that nobody should ever walk alone. She was beyond caring about such things, though, and merely ran a hand through her thick blonde hair, loosening it up giving it a wilder look.

A slinky dress hugged her shapely form, and she walked with a confident sway to her hips. It was the sort of walk that could be touted only by a woman who wasn’t afraid of what hell could offer in a situation like that. That summed her up just fine.

So many lives lived, so many lovers behind her.

As she strolled down the damp alley however, the sound of something thudding dully against the cobblestone resounded behind her.

It drew her attention, and she came to a casual stop.

“If you’re here to rob me, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I’ve got nothin’ for you to take,” she dismissed brazenly, tapping one shoe impatiently. “If you’re after somethin’ else, well… you’re in for a surprise,” she twisted about on her heel.

The first thing that came into view was the limp body of a mugger, his glinting knife loosely held in his hand as he lay there. But over him… over him…

Her breath was taken away from her, stolen more deftly than any thief could have hoped to swipe a copper from her.

For she didn’t need to see into the shadows to know who it was – to recognize the man she’d waited so very long for.

“Does your heart still burn for mine?” came his words, smooth and dark, still tinged with that eternal accent which hinted of lands she’d yet to see.

Note from the Authors

Thank you so much for joining us on Anjasa’s journey. Anjasa’s story is ever evolving and growing. Though this is the end of The Vixen Trilogy, there will be more of these characters coming soon. Sign up for our newsletter at http://jmkeep.com/newsletter for our announcements and check out the rest of our catalogue at http://jmkeep.com.

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More by the Authors

Series:

Possessed by the Vampire:

Claimed

Hunted

Caught

The Warlord:

The Warlord’s Concubine

The Warlord's Queen

Her Master

Her Master’s Madness

Her Master’s Corruption

Novels:

Her Descent

When Dreamers Wake

Corrupted Hearts

Magic Academy

Vile

Outcast 1 & 2

Novellas:

In Her Dreams

Brutal Passions

The Enforcer: 1

The Enforcer: 2

The Fembot

Biography

J.E. & M. Keep love to combine fantasy, scifi, horror, romance and mystery into exciting and titillating novels.

They are long term, loving partners in a very happy relationship and because of this, they love to torture their characters. Dark romance touches all of their stories in one way or another, from elicit trysts to forbidden love.

Some of their work contains dubious consent and erotic pain, so it’s not for the faint of heart. Their stories are often called twisted and arousing – at the same time.

All work is 18+, trigger warnings available on the second page of every book. If you want to hear about new releases, sign up for the newsletter!

Owners of Darknest Fantasy Erotica, J.M. Keep has been writing smut as a pair for over 10 years.

Website: http://jmkeep.com

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