Possessed by the Vampire: Hunted (Book 2)

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 female promiscuity, risky sex, edge play, vampire sex/blood play, drugs, cheating, and a serpent male.

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Table of Contents

Note from the Authors

More by J.E. & M. Keep

Biography

Chapter 1

Her body moved with fluid grace despite the long session, tan flesh holding a bright sheen from the vigorous exercise of the evening. Few women could’ve kept it up like she had, fewer still could have brought the uppity young lord to two such climactic peaks in one night. Yet she did it with gusto.

The slap of her flesh striking his, her heavy breasts smacking against her chest as she rode the young noble resounded through the little brothel room. It was only outdone by the moans and groans of Loren Faro beneath her, as he voiced his struggles to remain in her luscious body while she pounded his cock, milking it expertly.

“Dam-dammit!” he cursed, “C-cumming!” But she knew that already; she could feel it in the twitch of his shaft inside her. She’d felt it not long ago, after all. She’d taken him through one orgasm and wasn't about to stop as she crested this next one.

“C’mon baby, give it to me,” she purred, letting her nails scrape along his chest, raising the other hand up to push back her hair and give him such a lascivious grin.

He was done for. His eyes rolled back and he arched his neck. He bucked wildly and his dick spouted off inside her with violent force. To think, he hadn’t even been in the mood for sex when he’d showed up to see her.

She’d taken that as a challenge.

Chapter 2

Dark as the night itself, the tall vampire Jaral made his way through the narrow alleyway. Not on the ground, but positioned two stories up. With unnatural coordination his arms and legs hoisted him up and held him suspended as he watched down below.

Town guards.

They were meeting with some of Zarach’s men – no, his men now – and by the looks of things, it was running according to plan. He’d managed to reign in many of Zarach’s flunkies in a short time, but one could never be sure if their loyalty was short-burning, he reminded himself.

From beneath his hood he watched, and listened as coin changed hand. Then the contraband.

Everything went according to plan in the dark recesses of the city. Just another discrete night time exchange.

Then the arrows fired. He heard them, whistling towards him, but it wasn’t the usual sound. Arrows? That was odd in the city. Why not crossbow bolts? His own curiosity drowned out his frustration at watching his own men fall dead, but… none of the guards. They were running. Had they taken off a moment too soon for coincidence?

He set aside his wondering. There was work to do.

The spry vampire moved nimbly, kicking from one wall to the next as he gained on the cloaked assailants. He’d make sure short work of them; it was hardly sport at all. Yet as he descended, one of them looked up.

His bow looked up as well

He had sensed Jaral’s approach… somehow. And aimed true. The tip pierced his torso. The first wound he’d suffered from a mortal in so very long.

It sent him crashing down into the alleyway in a spiraling mess.

Chapter 3

As they lay panting in the aftermath, his seed drooling out of her puffy folds, she bent down, kissed his neck and nibbled his earlobe. “It’s just how it is,” Anjasa cooed.

Loren was in a much better mood after her handling of him. The nude young noble still breathed heavily as he held her. “I just hate knowing some… some thugs hold my birthright in their hands, ready to snatch it away from me at any moment. I mean… was it really necessary to hire them to retrieve the will?”

She’d gone over this with him several times already. The fake story she and Jaral had invented to keep the noble in place. “Sweetie,” she assured with honeyed words, “you were mortally wounded in the crypt. Your… crazed cousin was going to kill you. It was all I could do to get you out of there and then… I just couldn’t bear to know he was not only threatening your inheritance but your life as well,” she said with convincing concern, biting her lower lip.

The noble gazed at her, and as he saw her expression, he appeared genuinely sorry for having brought it up. “I just wish they had taken out that bastard in the process. So I didn’t have to worry about them bringing him back to replace me if I didn’t do what these mafia thugs want.”

“Well, we just have to be patient,” she whispered into his ear, letting her swollen lips drag across his flesh. “In time, when things are calmer, we’ll get what you’re due.” Her dark hair tickled across his cheek as she pressed her mouth to his. “For now, let’s just enjoy this.”

With a deep intake of breath, he gave a soft smile, his hand stroking over the back of her hair. “Sorry for sulking,” he apologized. “It’s not fair to you, after all you’ve done for me. I mean…” he looked around the lavish room; Anjasa was already turning her new brothel into a much finer establishment. “Buying you this place with my new inheritance isn’t even close to enough. I owe you everything. I mean… everything! My life even.”

He could be such a boy, but Anjasa always managed to get him back on track. With time. And exertion.

Her lips twisted into an affectionate smile, hiding the predatory glint to her eyes. “Hush, dear,” she said as she stroked her fingers down along his jaw. He was such a handsome man. That was what attracted her to him in the first place, after all. “You’ll pay me back in your own due time.”

She could see the hint of excitement in his eyes, even after having milked him of it twice already. There was no denying her ability to draw out arousal in a man.

With a sigh he rose up onto an elbow, “I have to get back, though. I have an important meeting tomorrow…” he announced rather dramatically. He’d taken to his new title as Lord Faro with great relish, she’d noticed. “If I’m to see to what these thugs want, I’m afraid I can’t miss out on my duties.”

She pouted, even though she was proud of his vigor. Her red lips pressed to his, stealing his breath before she finally rolled away from him. She was shameless in her nudity, the way her large breasts parted against her ribs, and she drooled his cum between abundant thighs.

The elf was beautiful, there was no use denying it. With her tanned skin and vibrant green eyes, she looked half her age. Younger still, to the human gaze. Lord Faro never failed to be awestruck. “When will I see you again?”

Loren swung his legs over the side of the bed, and though he continued to watch her, he proceeded to dress. “As soon as I can,” he said wistfully, and she had little reason to doubt that with the still smoldering look of lust in his eyes.

“I guess it’s for the best, you not being here to distract me.” A teasing grin formed on her face. “If I’m to whip this place into shape, I can’t spend all the time getting whipped by you.”

He managed to grin through his blush as he pulled on a silken shirt and began to button it up. Whenever she was done with that young man, he seemed infinitely more confident.

“Part of me wishes you could. But then, if I really wanted that, I probably shouldn’t have bought you this place,” he mused, looking around the room with an appreciative eye. “Wouldn’t be right though, not after all you did.” Lord Loren Faro, despite his rise, he remained one part cocky, one part humble. The latter probably had something to do with her not only saving his life but his being in debt to the mob.

She shifted to the edge of the bed, leaning back so as to show off her breasts as she watched him dress. “Just... be careful, Faro. I can’t save you all the time.” Her grin offset her subtle reminder of his debt to her, and she looked sincerely concerned.

Chapter 4

They bid farewell, but her night was not yet complete. Brothels ran late, even by the standards of brash young lords. She headed down to the main room, the large hall bustling with activity. Patrons were watching the show on stage, listening to the music, drinking causing a general ruckus.

It was her place. Long ago, Anjasa had worked as a stripper. And a whore. And whatever else she desired.

The ability to express herself sexually and get paid for it was the biggest thrill in the world, and she still had that sparkle of excitement in her gaze as she took it all in.

By the bar a handsome young elf with long, flaxen hair caught her eyes. He stood out with his blue-grey eyes and pale blonde hair that went past his shoulders. A delicious-looking treat, not that men were much in demand at her club. Nevertheless, he was quite eager for her attention, in a way beyond the usual.

Before anything more could even be thought of it, one of the girls slid over to Anjasa’s side. “Madam, Bliss went and stole one of my clients right from under my nose!” The young human in her low-cut red dress looked utterly flabbergasted. She was distraught and a bit angry, which was odd for her. “He agreed to go up to one of the rooms with me, and when I went to get him his drink she… she went and stole him!” she protested with watery eyes.

Anjasa’s face fell as she tore her eyes away and looked up at the taller woman. “Sweetheart, always send a waitress for the drink. Now, how much money did this guy have, hm?”

The young woman was so flustered, “He was my best client, madam. I mean… he’s one of the nicest ones and he’s real generous too. And… and I would’ve sent for a waitress but the bartender never showed up tonight and so she’s been workin’ the bar!” she pleaded pathetically.

“What did Bliss say to tear him away from you? If you were his favourite, why’d he leave, hm?” She wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to the sweet girl’s plight, but she also didn’t believe in beating around the bush.

“I- I,” she stammered, trying to get her words out, “I dunno!” The human was taller than her, but that wasn’t uncommon. The humans of Normevor were often of an imposing height, but Amie was more of a middling by local standards. “I wasn’t there, I just came back with the drink and… she was takin’ him up the steps! I even paid for his drink out of my own coin!” she whimpered as the tears began to roll.

Anjasa took in a deep breath and even though she wore the veneer of frustration, this little spat was reminding her of her own days. The stress and the drama. She thrived on it, whether she was the angry one that lost a client, or the gleeful one that stole it.

“Here’s what do you, sweetie. You go up there, and you tell him that he wants both of you. He likes you, he’s generous, and he’ll do it. And Bliss will still get hers. Alright?”

The young woman looked on her with some confusion, “Y’think?” She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and didn’t wait for a response before she nodded. “O-okay,” she conceded. She began to turn before something seemed to hit her. “Oh! There were a couple of gents lookin’ to have your ear,” she chimed. “They’ve been hangin’ on a while hopin’ to speak with you.”

“Thanks, sugar. Go on and have some fun. Play nice with Bliss and he’ll be generous to both of you, alright?” The human woman had barely turned before Anjasa rolled her emerald eyes and grinned at the display. The rush of emotion, the desperation, the pure thrill of cash changing hands always made her long for something else.

Though she promptly reminded herself that now she has something better. Something more permanent, and far more profitable.

Her gaze idled through the club, looking for the so called gents.

There was a veritable sea of men, though few that Anjasa would describe as gentlemen. At the bar the young elven man downed a drink then tugged his vest into place. He wore a mix of human and elven clothing. The pants and shirt were obviously crude human make, but the boots and vest were fine elven filigree, clear as day, and it gave the outfit an edge of class that was as foreign in a land of humans as it was appealing.

He began to make his way to her, licking his lips and looking a bit anxious amidst the crowd.

“Evening, madam,” he greeted her with a bow.

She smiled up at him, leaning against the bar. Her black dress hugged her body, and a glittering emerald fell just above her ample cleavage. “Evening yourself.”

As he rose from his bow her gemstone caught his eye – or more likely the bountiful valley of breast flesh that lay about it – and he was set off balance on what was undoubtedly a well prepared statement. “I, ah… I was led to believe you are the owner of this fine establishment, madam?” He asked, and up close she could get a real appreciation for him.

Elvish children matured physically as fast as humans, of course, but since they lived so very much longer they were thought of as young for so much longer as well. This man? Was very young indeed by elven standards. His skin pristine, smooth, glowing golden in the lights of the evening’s festivities.

“Well, it would otherwise be a very silly thing to lie about,” she teased. Oh, this was what she loved. Setting men off balance. Making them lust for her. Need her.

Her body felt warm beneath the scandalous dress, and she swore she could pick up on his boyish scent in the air. “Why do you ask?”

Rising up, he looked to her with hopeful longing in his eyes, an expression she was intimately familiar with. “I am in need of a job, madam, and I heard tell you were one of the few Sylvarin women in the whole of Normevor that might help me. We are blood kin, after all,” he remarked, that familiar phrase so oft used by their kind away from the cities and glades of home.

Her lips quirked. “A man like you at the end of his rope? You must have a terrible attitude.”

With a bit of an awkward laugh he shook his head, the thick golden hair swaying. “No madam, just a spell of bad luck, I assure you. I ventured off on a journey of discovery, and my employer, well… the caravan went bankrupt, I’m afraid.” He gave a crooked half-smile at the brief tale of his misfortune.

“I see.” She tapped her fingers along the bar, drawing out his moment of shame and anxiety as she looked over his body. “Well. What are you not willing to do?”

Running a hand back over his hair, the confused look on his face betrayed just how inexperienced the young man was for one of their kind. There was no way he should have been wandering across the lands on his own. No self-respecting elven parents would’ve allowed it.

Yet there he was, in her bordello. “If you think it’s best, I can’t imagine it’d be too much for me to handle, right? We’re kin and all.”

Boy, he was naive.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “If you can’t imagine it, then you’re not going to be able to handle it when it happens.” She licked over her lips and stood upright, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “Do you know what alcohol is?”

He actually hesitated, “Huh?” Before she could react his eyes widened, “Oh yeah! Of course I do! What do you take me for?” He laughed and put his hands on his hips, standing straighter and smiling. “I handled drinks for the caravan along our stops,” he touted with confidence, his trim, lean figure on display.

“Well isn’t that convenient,” she mused as she looked towards the overrun waitress tending the bar. “I could use a bartender, if you’re up for it. Consider the rest of the night your interview.” He was a handsome one, she mused. If he could serve drinks he could survive quite comfortably on tips. Well, maybe. He didn’t have cleavage, after all.

With a glance back to the bar he then nodded. “Alright, I’m on it, madam!” He chimed with a bright smile, “And if you need anything else, I’m your man,” he added with a darling crook of his lips and a click of his heels as he bowed to her again.

She swept some of her dark hair away from her face as she motioned towards the waitress. “Hurry up. Last call’s in a little over an hour.” Luckily a good portion of the patrons were already drunk enough to ignore slip-ups, and she smiled sweetly at the man before swiftly moving past him, dismissively.

The waitress, already quite flustered, bustled off from behind the bar, relieved to be free of that duty, at least.

Anjasa, however, was focused on her own business. She knew there was another man waiting to see her, though before he presented himself, one of the club’s highest rollers strolled into her field of vision. The silver-haired noble was a new member of the club’s clientele whom she had lured into her newly refurbished web.

"Dashing" was the word for him. He wore a pristine suit that was almost never seen outside the wealthiest part of the city, and he checked the time piece in his pocket a bit anxiously.

He was the kind of person she loved to come around, so long as he was happy. He looked a little less than, and her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way over to him.

Even though she was the madam, the owner of the brothel, there was no reason for her to look anything but her best. The tight, black dress she wore was laced in back to nip in her waist and lift her breasts towards his vision as she smiled up at him affectionately.

“Waiting for me?” she teased.

Whereas he tensed up at first touch, the moment his steely eyes met hers he seemed to melt. “Ahhh, yes,” he greeted with the beginnings of a smile. “I was hoping to get a few moments of your time, madam. In private, if I could,” he glanced to the side at the bustling crowd of rowdy men and lascivious women.

“For you, it would be a treat,” she agreed, her hand lacing into his arm. “I hope the evening has been finding you well.” She was a madam, but she could also be cultured when she needed to be. Her family, so long ago, had been wealthy, and even though she’d turned her back on them, their lessons never faded from her.

The formal-looking lord led the way towards the stairs that led to the private rooms. “Ah, not quite. Though now that I have you with me, I can finally rest assured that it shall improve, madam. I cannot thank you enough for sparing me a bit of your time to address this aging man’s issues.” He gave a soft, weathered smile down to her.

She laughed politely as he led her into an unused room he shut the door behind them. “Please. I have to admit, you’ve piqued my curiosity, and that’s not always a very easy thing to do. Has one of my girls displeased you?”

Disentangled, he let his head sink a bit as he fidgeted with the extravagant ring on his finger. “Ah, no, madam. It’s nothing quite like that. I am most pleased to see that the women you have here are exceptional by the standards of...such places. And I’ve yet to whet myself upon all that have taken my fancy.”

Her smile broadened at his compliment. It was a personal thing, as she held very high standards for herself and those she employed. Yet that raised the bigger question.

“So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” She motioned her hand towards the lavish, deep blue couch, inviting him to sit.

Anxiously, the silver-haired noble rubbed at his beard then swept a hand back over his mane. She’d not seen the wealthy lord looking so perturbed before. “Ah, well… this is hard to explain you see, madam… and I hope you will forgive me for the… the…” he stammered, looking flustered. “My apologies, sincerely,” he repeated, looking up with wide, glossy eyes.

The look of fright that crossed his face was too late for her, though, as a strong pair of arms wrapped around her. Her mouth covered over, her arms pinned as she was pressed to a large, hard body.

“Go,” hissed the man behind her holding her in place with such an expert grip. “And see to it that we are not disturbed. Or elssse,” the strange voice of the man behind her speaking in such an inhuman manner, “you know what awaits your daughter. Get gone!”

The lord nearly fell over in his effort to get out of the room, but Anjasa could see the look of regret on the lord’s face. “Sorry,” he murmured before disappearing out of the room

Fear. It was familiar, almost too familiar. Anjasa had been in so much peril, so many situations that were so similar to this, and it numbed her. She didn’t struggle.

Even through that fear she’d picked up on the fact that this man... this inhuman male... didn’t want her dead. He wanted to talk. After all, there were so many better ways to kill her; so much more subtle that didn’t include frightening a very powerful client.

So then, what was it? Blackmail? Threats?

Probably.

She remained still, her breath shallow and rapid yet it was such second nature to her that she was still able to think clearly.

He’d been quiet since the lord had left. The only noise he made was the soft, gentle hiss of his breathing, yet she couldn’t place anything specifically about him. He held her in such a way that she couldn’t twist or get sight of him even if she tried, which she dared not.

At last he spoke, and she could feel the faintest flicker of something against her ear with his words. “I don’t trust that he’ll keep to his word entirely. He seems rather… enamored with this place… and with you…” he mused. “He might be willing to endanger his own daughter for a sspur of the moment whim to try and save you. So let us make the most of this time together, yesss?”

He inhaled again and said, “Nod if you agree to be a good girl for maior,” a strange word for ‘me’ used only in the exotic southern lands, “and converse only with those pretty lips of yours.”

He obviously didn’t know much about her.

She was always a good girl.

Her head nodded up and down. She hired many guards, undercover and on a frequent rotation so as not to be suspicious, but this was a private matter. Personal.

That strong grip slipped away from her so smoothly and fluidly, it was almost as if he had never been there, but for the tingle of his passing.

Anjasa was able to turn around and see her captor. What she saw wasn’t what she expected.

Tall and striking, he wore little. Reddish-brown leather pants, knee-high travel boots to match, and nothing but a harness over his coppery chest to compliment the cape that draped over one shoulder, obscuring little of his buff physique. He was quite the looker, though his face drew most of the attention.

Long blonde, shiny hair paired with slitted, feline eyes and a large scar across one cheek. “Congratulations on your new acquisition, madam,” he mocked with a cheeky smile and a suave sort of charm, despite his hissing voice.

Her tongue dabbed along her lower lip as she took him in, her eyes narrowed at him. “Thank you, though there’s no need for such theatrics. You're frightening my customers.” She didn’t really know what to make of him. Was he looking for a cut? Did he think she’d be gentler to deal with than the dead and rotting lord?

With one arm bent beneath his cloak, he tapped a gloved finger on his hip bone. “I beg to differ, madam,” he intoned in a warning voice as he brushed some hair back. “There is always a need for theatrics when it comes to exceptionally beautiful ladies. And men. And there is one of each here, so the need was double, you understand.”

Her dark lashes fluttered instinctively at his compliments as her hand went to her hip. He was right – on both counts – and his impression was made.

“So if you’re afraid of our private time being interrupted, what was so important you needed to accost me in my own club right before closing?”

“I’m a curious man,” he retorted in the self-important way insecure people do, unashamed in his barely-dressed state as he moved about the room as comfortably as if it were his own bedroom. She’d never seen anyone move that way who wasn’t a dancer, and never seen a man pull off quite that flexible sort of gait. “I was just wondering how such a ravishing elven maiden comes to so dreary a city, buys a chunk of it, and brightens it up so effectively. The true story. Not the one suitable for public ears,” he said with a touch to his lobe and a wink.

The gesture showed enough of his ear from beneath his hair that she saw a bit of a pointed tip, though it was nothing quite like an elven ear. In fact, nothing about him added up to any race she was familiar with.

How was he so... distracting? She struggled to hide her interest and forced a smile to her lips. “How cliché would it be if I said that if I told you, you wouldn’t be leaving this room able to tell another soul?”

Still, her emerald eyes kept trailing over his body. It was hard not to, and she was getting frustrated by just how strange he appeared. She couldn’t get a read on him. He didn’t seem like a hired thug. He definitely had too much power for that. Too much confidence, but it wasn’t the cocky ego of brutes. It was calm. Controlled.

Everything he did was controlled.

She realized he reminded her a bit of herself. Flexible. Adaptable.

Yet he surely couldn’t disappear so easily as she. Not with his mixed parentage. Where could he go to blend in? How could he blend into Normevor of all places? Such a dull human town, mired in the typical humanity of the north.

His coppery torso twisted at an almost impossible angle, his chiseled abs flexing delightfully as he smiled at her. No, there was nothing about him that would blend in easily. Not his skin tone, his dress, his face or eyes, and certainly not that big scar, the only imperfection on his otherwise immaculate form.

“Between you and me, madam. I swear it,” he mimed sewing his lips shut and crooked a grin at her. “On my honour. And lest you think I have none, I swear it on something more precious,” he slid his other hand from his hip and cupped the – sizable – package, nestled in ruddy-brown leather.

She hated how broadly she smiled, but she couldn’t contain it. She even licked her lips before she managed to reign her lust in, and even then, it was only just. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you to be told that it was gifted to me by a gentleman friend. I’m afraid there’s not much more to tell other than the fact that I’m quite popular with some very generous people.”

“Ohh, I do believe it,” he said in an intriguingly accented voice, his feline eyes trailing down over her in completely unmasked desire. “I suppose you mean that young pup you spent the evening with, yesss?” he hissed out in question, a brow raised as he picked up a bottle from the minibar, uncapped it and sniffed the liquor within.

How long had he been following her? She masked her surprise and gave a brief nod. “He’s rather lovely as a companion, and quite kind to me. I’m sure you know why.”

She hoped he didn’t. If he did, he could have either heard their conversation or knew far more about her than just Loren, her noble lover.

Recapping the drink, he nodded to her and twisted back around, that same curiously majestic movement. She’d almost call it feline, like his eyes, but it was too fluid for a cat, even. “He’s not bad,” he said in a confessional tone. “I’d do him myself if I thought he’d be a tenth as accommodating as he was for you. But then… I imagine your charms dig far deeper than mine, yess?”

“Given some luck.” And that’s what it had been, at least in part. Luck he’d been in the club that night. Luck that he needed her.

Luck that she was the very person he needed.

“I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Luscius,” he declared without hesitation, the name rolling off his tongue in an almost sensual manner. He gave a smooth bow to her with that same liquid grace. “And what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance, madam. Time with us grows short – for now – so I trust you won’t begrudge me jumping along in my queries. I’m a curious beast by nature,” he grinned, running a hand over his lower stomach as he eyed her.

His name was delicious and she gave a slight nod as she stepped closer to him. “So tell me what you want from me.” How was he still such an enigma? Was she getting old, rusty in her ability to read people?

“Answers,” he retorted, quickly attaching an addendum. “Honest answers. You see,” he remarked, holding up a finger as he spoke, though with how close she had gotten she could smell his curious musk on the air. Exotic, yet in a totally different way than Jaral’s.

“I am an admirer of yours. Truthfully,” he said in a perfectly believable manner, never dropping his outward appreciation of her. “And I do not wish to see any harm come to you. Harm that would inevitably follow consorting with the wrong sorts. You understand?”

“And are you the wrong sort, Luscius?” Her pulse quickened again as she watched him, and her body was twisted with that same, gut wrenching arousal that so often coincided with her rising fear.

He gave her a broad, uneven smile. “Undoubtedly,” he said with amusement. “In this case, however, I try to be the other sort. For you see, there is trouble coming. For you if you choose the wrong sorts, madam. I sincerely hope you can avoid issues. But would you promise me one little favour? A simple thing for an admirer.”

Anjasa’s nose crinkled as she stared at him. “What type of trouble? What favour?”

“The sort that gets people killed in the streets. Many people, before it’s all through. I shall not be one of them, nor should you. Nor shall you, if you heed my advice.” He smiled at her softly, “As for what you could do for me: please, tell nobody of me. Or at least what we spoke of. My warning is for you alone. Do not get involved with the seedy underbelly of this city. Leave it, no matter the pain it might cause. What I have said is too sensitive to be worth the risk.”

With a serene smile, he let his eyes flicker down over her again, “Can you do that for an admirer, madam? If not then… I would settle for some token. Something to touch and remember you by in my private moments.” The little twist at the corner of his lips was nearly imperceptible. Yet she saw it.

She might have had trouble reading his greater purpose, but she would never miss something like that. “If you’d seen everything with my companion then you would know I never wear more than I need to.”

Anjasa closed the gap between them, her emerald eyes intent upon him. “And unfortunately I’ve never been one to avoid the underbelly of any city. It’s a bad habit.”

The frown that crossed his face seemed so sincere. “That saddens me, madam. I was truly hoping that you might listen to reason, and that we might talk more when things settle down. Alas…” he sighed, then reached into a satchel on his belt with that same fluid motion.

“Here,” he said, offering her a curious little trinket. It was gold, shaped like a strange monstrous creature with wings, the body of a viper, the head of a lion, and the legs of a goat. Though despite the awful creature’s looks, it was beautifully made. “Something to remember me by. A token of one admirer’s affections.”

“I doubt I’ll forget you, Luscius. In fact, I imagine if I were to fall to whatever ominous thing is coming to strike me down, my last thoughts will be of how I should have heeded you. Can you give me a hint of what I can expect?”

He reached out, slipped the cool gold trinket into her hand as he spoke to her softly. “Just know that if you insist on consorting with the vagabonds that owned this club beforehand – and still do now, truth be told – that your life is in mortal danger. As is everyone who works for you. Please be wary,” he said.

There was barely any space between them, and there he lingered. Poised and ready to try and kiss her, she could feel it like she’d felt hundreds of men do in the past. Her fingers instinctively moved over the cold metal in her hand until one of her fingers pricked on the sharp metal fangs of the lion’s mouth.

“Ouch,” she looked down, saw the bead of crimson blood on her fingertip.

“Ah, my apologies, madam,” said the dashing stranger as he lifted her hand up. “I should have warned you of the beast’s dangerous inclinations.” His slitted eyes studied the pin-prick and her blood for a moment in what seemed like more than idle interest, then he bent down, kissed and licked the wound. Suckled it even, for just a moment before pulling back, leaving it free of blood and – oddly – no longer bleeding. “You’re clean,” he announced with some relief.

Her dark brow arched curiously. “What, pray tell, am I clean of? Because I know many people who would argue that.”

With a curious half-smile, he looked about to say something. Abruptly his eyes flicked to the door, the look of alarm making her glance back towards it herself and…

Nothing.

It was only the briefest of moments, and she looked back to him and –

He was gone.

His grip had slipped away so lightly that it almost felt like he was still touching her, despite his absence. The faint touch only now fading away.

She stood alone in the room with only a lingering scent of his musk.

As she pondered the curious visit, she began to hear the thud of footsteps approach quickly. Only for the door to be burst open and two of the club’s guards to brandish clubs as they looked ready for a fight.

“Really, guys?” Anjasa sighed as she walked towards the brutes. “Did he finally tell you something was wrong?”

They looked about confused, then back to her. “Is he gone?” one questioned.

The other added, “I was just standin’ over there, guardin’ the entrance. He musta gone upstairs! Let’s go!” he grabbed the other one’s shoulder, ready to tromp up the stairs and terrorize the rest of the brothel in search of the coppery Luscius.

“Stop this madness. You don’t want to cost those girl’s their end of night tips.” Anjasa pushed the thoughts of the meeting aside, the worries that he’d embedded in her saved for after closing. “Just go make sure they get paid.”

The club was already shutting down for the night, and she saw at the bar that the waitress and her new temporary-hire were shooing people away from the bar and preparing for close. “That’s all folks!” stated the cheerful young elf, performing a deft maneuver with a bottle after pouring the last drink. “If you care for more, you’ll have to squeeze it out of this lucky fellow,” he winked to the man.

Yet even with his talent, she was newly suspicious of everyone. Jaral hadn’t warned her about any outstanding debts, anyone who might try to harm her. Did Zarach have secrets that neither of them had uncovered? She shook her head free of the thoughts once more, but they troubled her still as she placed the gold piece into her purse.

“I didn’t hear any complaints about him. Did you?” she asked the waitress.

The ever-frazzled Teela looked to her with wide eyes. “Oh no!” she said over-loud. “He’s been great! People love him too,” she reported with a smile, almost blushing.

“Well, looks like you’re welcome back tomorrow, then.” And Anjasa made note that she’d look into the missing bartender in the morning. She’d written it off as just fickle fancies, of some drama that had come up, but now she wasn’t so certain.

“What’s your name again?”

The handsome elf continued to clean the bar top off even as he smiled to her and spoke in his cheerful voice. “A-ooh-lin,” he enunciated slowly. “Aeulin,” he repeated, then looked to her with some embarrassment. “Sorry, forgot I was speaking to a bloodkin for a second there. You get so used to spelling it out direct and slow for the humans… you forget.” He bit his lip with a bashful shrug.

“It’s fine, be here at dinner tomorrow.”

She still didn’t have a manager hired, and now there was so little chance of her trusting this place to anyone in her absence. Not until whatever Luscius had said was proven, undoubtedly, wrong.

The brothel was her baby, now, and she was going to take care of it and the girls that worked for her. “Close up out here. I’ll go check the rooms.”

Chapter 5

Part of the guard’s duties were to see the working girls home for the night; priority was on those who lived far off or in particularly bad parts of town. Last out was Anjasa. Not because she was least important, of course, but because she oversaw the closing up. The whores were not particularly obligated to tidy up. A few were allowed to rent space in the brothel itself, and they paid for the courtesy by providing cleaning for the rooms during off hours.

So it was that Anjasa, in the wee hours of the morning, was brought to Zarach’s former manor. Flanked by the two beefy guards – at Jaral’s insistence – she approached the ominous residence.

Tonight she was comforted by their presence, and as she slipped into the well-armed house she finally felt some semblance of security. Not much, though. She knew she wouldn’t find that until Jaral eased her mind about what the strange man had meant. Surely in all the vampire’s years he’d have heard of someone like Luscius.

The nightstalking vampire typically resided in the well-fortified room at the heart of the manor. It had no windows to the outside, and was perhaps the most secure place in the whole of the dark manor.

She was given her own room, separate, to use whenever she felt like it. A place that was lavish and rich, and increasingly full of expensive gifts from suitors at the club and Jaral himself. Though most often she was drawn to the dark killer’s lair.

As she climbed the steps, she saw a curious sight: blots of dark blood upon the floor creating a trail towards her room, then diverting to Jaral’s.

Fuck, she cursed silently. It wasn’t right, and the dark hair on the back of her neck prickled up. She clicked open her purse and removed the slender stiletto tucked away a hidden side pocket and quietly took off her heels.

She was trained in the art of killing, and if there was an intruder, she would know no pity for them.

Following the trail to its destination, she found Jaral’s door open. This was itself an oddity. She had only to peek around the side cautiously to peer into the dark abyss of his hideaway, strain to hear naught but silence.

Not even the faint sounds of breathing that might’ve betrayed an intruder.

The trail led right in though, and she had only to dare to move on in.

Before she could, that dark, unnatural voice emanated from within. “Come. I have been waiting for you,” his accented voice unmistakable.

She reached around the side and turned on the oil lamp by the door. The room lit up, and she saw the trail lead towards Jaral, who sat upon the posh, foreign-made seat as if he owned it.

The dark-skinned man sat oddly, she was slow to realize he held his side. All but nude, he wore only a pair of leather pants as he eyed her, looking almost weary by his standards.

“Who did this?” she hissed, padding towards him in her bare feet. She still held her stiletto in her grasp, but she was instantly more comfortable with him there. Injured, but present.

Though it begged the question. With his speed and ability, who could have laid a hand on him?

Even holding his wounded side, Jaral was a vision of strength and masculinity. His dark flesh bulging with muscle, his sleek black hair so glossy and shiny. He was a stunning male, immortalized by his vampiric affliction.

“Sit,” he ordered, “kneel.” He was slow to speak, and as she got close she could see just how big the wound was in his side. “I will tell you things.”

She placed the stiletto on the floor and knelt before him, her dress so tight that it inched up over her ass and pushed against the underbust corset.

For being such a powerful woman, she looked the picture of submission before the dark vampire. She dreaded what he would tell her, though she wasn’t certain why. Until she remembered how fluid Lucius had been, and how he’d spoken about the men who owned the club before.

The men who still did.

Her eyes focused on Jaral’s feet.

With his free and clean hand he reached out and rested his palm upon her head. It was a heavy weight, yet reassuring, for his grasp still felt so strong despite his wound. He stroked her own hair like tending to a pet.

“I was watching over a deal between my men and the guards,” he explained to her slowly in his gravelly voice, such delicious sounding words despite the fact that she knew it could not be good news. “There was an ambush. They killed most of my men. Would have had them all, had I not intervened.”

Her eyes narrowed and her breathing grew shallow. “How?” It didn’t make sense. Even if there was an ambush, the idea that Jaral could be wounded...

Slowly he shook his head, “I do not know. They were… not of this city. They fought as if they knew they would be dealing with me, which is…” he trailed off and looked aside. He’d obviously been pondering that very question. He paused his stroking for just a moment then resumed. “I killed some of them, but before I could investigate their bodies and see who – or what – they were, they made off with the corpses.”

He hid his curious disappointment, sucking on his teeth.

She in turn bit her lower lip. There was no way this was unrelated.

“Did they seem... different? Physically, I mean.”

Jaral looked down at her, his dark intense gaze studying her. “I could not tell. They wore black cloth suits and face-masks that obscured them. But… they carried bows. Not crossbows, but bows. And they used them very deftly. It is quite peculiar for city thugs, no?”

“Very graceful, almost inhuman?”

His smooth brow furrowed just slightly as he studied her. “No,” he began, seeing where she was going. “Nimble, obviously well trained. But nothing approaching me. They only got this hit on me because I underestimated them. Was not expecting so competent and prepared a foe.”

She took a deep breath and wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or not. “I see.” She paused a moment, her emerald gaze meeting his. “I received a warning at work.”

Staring a while, he demanded, “Tell me.”

“Someone, something I’d never seen before. I think he was warning me about you. About the ‘vagabonds’ that still own my club.” She took a deep breath, “He was strange. Southern maybe? He used the word maior.” She recapped everything for her lover, trying to work it through herself. There were so many questions she had, and finally she went back to her purse to show him the trinket.

“I pricked myself on it and he tasted my blood. He said I was clean. Does that mean something to you? Clean of drugs?” That would have been a stretch.

Jaral took up the trinket and studied the thing closely. He brought it close to his face, sniffed at it then examined it curiously once more. “I can detect nothing off with it, other than the faint trace of your blood,” he remarked, looking back to her. A wave of understanding slowly began to wash across his face then faded away. Perhaps he knew but didn’t wish to say, or too much conflict raged through him and he couldn’t quite make sense of it despite his best efforts.

She sat back on her haunches and realized just how tired she felt. It had been a long day, and after spilling everything to Jaral, she was spent.

Still, she trusted him.

Why?

It wasn’t like her. She would have suffered through, confused and without answers, without help from this frightening man. She would have tried to solve it on her own, and not shown her hand to the man who might be the cause of this fear.

Jaral could be the one they’re after, though, she reminded herself. So then, what? Why was she protecting him? Or her own interests?

The quiet killer shifted just slightly, and she was reminded of his wound as he looked upon her. “I would ask something of you,” he began in his curiously exotic voice, so full of charm and enticement, even when he wasn’t trying. “Something I have never asked of you before. And you are free to refuse me on this if you so wish, Anjasa.”

Refuse him?

Fuck, the fact that refusing him seemed impossible both terrified and delighted her. Had he really done so much already to chisel down her barriers? Or had her death wish just gone too far?

“What is it?”

Slowly, he dragged his tongue across that full lower lip of his. “Come up here,” he requested, reaching out and taking her hand, pulling her up to her feet and onto his lap. He was gentle with her, his strength in careful check as he watched her with such interest. “You remember Iridessa? How Zarach used her to feed upon before you saved her from the tomb?” His question conjured memories of the young woman, near death from blood loss and unconscious in a crypt. Only Anjasa’s insistence saved the poor prostitute; even Jaral had written her off for dead at first.

“Of course.” The woman was still recovering from her ordeal. It couldn’t have been easy, and Anjasa’s gaze dropped from Jaral’s at the reflection.

She’d recognized too much of herself in the caged girl.

His strong hand came up, rested beneath her chin, cupping it as his thumb stroked along her jawline. “I would not drain you so callously, like Zarach did to her. But…” he wet his lips again slowly, “it would come at a price, nonetheless. A price I believe you are capable of paying… but I leave the choice to you on this matter. As it is… a big step.”

To be fed upon? That was what he proposed to her. To be drunk from to slake his thirst. She knew he must do it, but he’d always done it away from her in the past. Out of sight, out of mind.

Her pulse quickened and she felt her body grow warm as her eyes went to his wound. It would weaken her, dull her senses. Make her less capable of running her club, of protecting her girls.

So why did the thought arouse such desire in her? Had she really become so fucked up, so twisted that even the thought of such horrific things could ignite such feelings within her? She squirmed and realized that her dress had pulled up almost completely off her ass and that her sex was plush against his leather pants.

Anjasa was far too aware of the sensation for comfort, and she took another deep breath to clear her mind.

But there was no clearing it. She was too curious, too brash, and too willing to protect the dancers.

“I won’t be able to protect my employees tomorrow, will I?”

His mouth was parted, and she could see the tips of fangs protruding from behind his lips, the rising hunger – the primal need – in him bringing out some feral part of his being that made him look more bestial. “I’ll give you a potion when we’re done. And you’ll eat richly tomorrow. You’ll be able to handle it… you’ll just not be at the top of your game.” He rubbed his hand over her hip, and she saw his hard, brown chest swelled as he watched her with excitement. “The sacrifice won’t be in being a bit light headed,” he remarked, his voice rougher than she’d ever known it to be. “It’ll be in how much you’ll crave it from now on.”

She told herself she knew what she was getting into, but the fact that she truly didn’t just made everything all the more enticing. The unknown, the dark promise.

It would be nothing to go find someone else in the slums to assuage his hunger, but she didn’t want that. She wanted him to need her.

It was sick. Anjasa understood her bad choices, and even as she nodded, she knew she was making another one. One she would regret, but that she couldn’t turn down. Disappointing him, refusing him, wasn’t an option, even if he allowed it.

She pulled her long black hair away from her neck as he grasped her by her hip and tugged her nearer to his chest. The ravenous look upon his face as he leaned in towards her was something she felt would haunt her for ages to come.

Those piercing eyes, no longer their beautiful brown hazel, but marred by a powerful red colour.

He had only the one hand free, but he held her tight as he moved to her offered neck. He approached slowly, though that didn’t diminish the sharp pain that first announced his entry. Those fangs of his piercing her flesh so terribly and then…

Then…

It was beyond words. The moment her blood flowed into his mouth, the pain was transformed. It was still there, still hurt, though the euphoria that came with it, the sensations…

It was as if her life essence was draining from her body and into his, and she could feel it. Feel every blood cell that ran from her neck into his mouth. It should have been awful, gut wrenching, and part of her acknowledged that, some higher functioning level of her mind. But her body…

Her body reacted as any would to such physical violation. The rush of adrenaline, the sweet euphoria. The sexual high that came from Jaral’s penetration.

She wetted against the leather that clung to his thigh and she heard herself moan lewdly into the air. The knowledge of how wrong this was, of how much it hurt, it only made her want his bite more, and already she knew she would crave it.

In the dark of the nights when she couldn’t sleep, when she needed something she couldn’t put her finger on, this would be it.

The whole event carried a sense of violation so whole and terrible it threatened to cripple her. Anjasa wondered if this was why Iridessa had stayed with Zarach. Or if he was so foolish that he couldn’t even let his beautiful dancer be a willing victim.

The pull of his siphoning lips grew stronger, and she felt his other hand leave his side. His flesh had knitted back together with her very life energy, and he clutched her to him. Squeezed her body, her buxom breast.

She felt him stir. His manhood rising so thickly beneath his trousers as they were bound together in that dark act.

It didn’t bother her that he ruined her dress. The only thing she wanted was more.

Years before, when she’d been experimenting with drugs, she’d been searching for this. It was pain, but it wasn’t the usual pain. It was euphoria and punishment rolled together in one, and she struggled to free herself of her tight, confining outfit. Her fingers managed to find the ribbon that held her corset together and she pulled it eagerly, letting that material fall away.

Still, there was the dress to tend to, and when she shifted to rid herself of that, she pushed into his mouth too hard. Too suddenly. Her world spun.

When she managed to get some grasp on the world around her again, she was clearly upon Jaral’s bed. The dark bloodsucking fiend was atop her, devouring her at her neck with animalistic relish.

Had she lost all focus? She could feel his hard pecs and abs, no longer a trace of a wound. And lower, she grazed that immense shaft of his, so turgid with blood. With life. Hers. Her own blood fueling his existence, filling him with such desire as he lowered his body between her legs and prodded for her cunt.

How long had he been drinking at her? Had he lost all control, all measure of time?

Was this it, her impending death finally come to call on her? For so long she’d chased it, dared it to take her, and was this it? In the arms of someone she, somehow, trusted?

She gasped as his cock split her, and it gave her focus once more. Purpose. He brought her back to the present, to reality, and she pleaded for more. She didn’t know if she spoke them but as tears pooled in her eyes, she knew that this was what could make her death what it should be.

Him, fucking her sore as he stole her vitality.

Time didn’t carry much meaning anymore. She felt buoyed on the waves of an ocean of euphoria. The pleasure so heightened, so overwhelming, like the great seas would consume her at any moment.

The swells of those waves were the thrusts of his cock, and she only came back to reality enough to realize how hard he was pounding into her cunt now and then. To feel the exquisite physical sensations that masterful, masculine beast did to her amidst the sensations of losing herself to his hunger.

It was what she had searched for, for so long. Agonizing euphoria. It was all one, and her worries were stripped away. No longer did she need to care about pretenses, about manipulations and caring for others. Fear slipped away from her. Beings like Lucius and Zarach and the other demons in her life didn’t matter. They couldn’t touch her anymore.

It was the end, and it was better than she’d ever expected. A smile came to her lips as tears dripped from her eyes.

A fitting death for a broken whore like her.

She forgot everything, lost as she crested the tidal waves of her own orgasms. One after the other as that thick cock pounded her into oblivion.

Chapter 6

She awoke feeling light-headed, her body still tingling as her head was cradled and some thick syrupy liquid was poured down her throat.

With a struggle she opened her eyes, the dim oil light almost blinding to her. Though eventually she made out the dark visage of Jaral, bare chested and beautiful in that way only he could look in his suspended undeath. “It is okay,” he husked to her, tipping back the glass so the rich concoction made its way down her throat.

The awareness that she was still alive slowly made its way into her consciousness, and the fact that she was disappointed terrified her. She clung to him with her weak grasp. She needed him in a way she would never ask for, never be able to lower her pride enough to request.

She hadn’t ever needed anyone to take care of her.

Yet she drank eagerly, some dribbling down her pouty lower lip as she kept her eyes closed.

There was a twinge in her neck as he spoke, the holes through which he’d drank of her seeming to call out at the sound of his voice. “You were sweeter than the finest honeyberry wine,” he remarked, kissing her forehead as her senses slowly returned. She could feel male essence drooling out of her. “And I already long for the next moment I might taste of you.”

“Me too,” she murmured weakly. There was no fighting it. The truth just tumbled out of her and she winced at the pain in her throat.

Anjasa was conflicted. So confused. What was she to do now that she’d seen to the depths of her own death wish? Now that she knew that she’d happily go all the way?

How could she protect people, truly protect them, if she just longed for her own death with such passion?

Chapter 7

Anjasa’s day started later than usual. She only awoke at the sound of insistent knocking at her bedroom door, and at that she instantly knew it must be late.

The shock of that realization made her heart beat heavier, and that in turn reminded her of just how much blood she’d been drained of. The sight of Jaral lying beside her, still and hearty, was only a further reminder. His sandy-brown flesh motionless, but so deliciously bare. He looked like some sort of desert god timelessly captured, nary a sign of the wound he bore the night before on his stony abs. Her life force had done its job and fed him well, healed his suffering. Yet the price of that…

Already she could feel it, for as she looked at him, she felt a twinge of desire. Not simply the carnality of her normal existence, the urge to rut and breed wantonly, unfettered. No, instead there was something deeper. Darker. And as her eyes trailed up his form to his motionless lips, she knew what devious fangs lay behind them. What a promise of exhilarating death they could offer.

The knocks came heavier, “Madam Anjasa?” The concerned voice was instantly recognizable. Iridessa was back, and worried for her. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” she tried to call out with the same commanding tone she usually bore, but it was hoarse and weak. She wasn’t fine. What she’d just done, so carelessly and casually giving in to be nothing more than a drink proved that.

She was beyond not fine.

Anjasa turned from Jaral as she slipped from the bed, but her body craved his, and she was slower to pull away.

She couldn’t imagine how bad of a shape she’d be in if not for the elixir he’d given her. Another awaited her by her clothes, she noticed, alongside a note:

“Eat well and hearty. The physical aches shall pass. The pangs, however, shall bind us.”

As she got ready, she heard the sounds of voices on the other side. It was difficult to pick up, as the door was so thick and reinforced, but Iridessa was speaking with one of the guards. The phrase “knock down the door” came up.

“Let a girl get ready,” she shouted back, her voice still quivering before she downed the elixir quickly. She searched for her outfit, pulling on a slinky black dress that was barely appropriate for this hour, but it did the trick.

When she opened the door, Anjasa saw the fretting red-head in question, shawl-wrapped about her, commanding two of the guards and instructing them on how to gather furniture to batter down her door.

“Iridessa, what is it?” Anjasa frowned, her arms folding under her chest. She could only imagine, of course. She’d saved the poor girl from a fate she just stepped into with little thought. Sure, Jaral said he’d never treat her like Zarach, but that was something she’d heard before. Men never wanted to believe how capable they were of hurting women.

How much she goaded them. How much she needed the pain.

The look of shock that swept over the red-head’s face was then wiped away by relief. She rushed to Anjasa and threw her arms around her neck. “You’re okay!” she said, as if she’d been fretting over her own mother on her sickbed.

Saving a woman’s life had brought with it some degree of attachment that Anjasa was not prepared for, it seemed.

“You didn’t show up at the club and I couldn’t get an answer, I was so worried for you!” she exclaimed.

“Shit, what time is it?” It was almost endearing and quite strange, having someone care so deeply about her well-being, and she gave the woman a brief hug back. Obviously the sweet young thing was doing well enough to worry about others, anyways.

“It’s nearly time for supper!” exclaimed the alarmed woman, pulling away at last and looking her over. “You have to take better care of yourself, mistress. You’re too important!”

The guards sheepishly put down the expensive table that was to be their battering ram and slinked off without making much of a scene. They, after all, were likely more afraid of her and Jaral’s wrath at that point.

But Anjasa could feel nothing but sweet, strange compassion and understanding. She saw much of herself in the young woman, and her thumb caressed Iridessa’s cheek. “I’m fine. It was just a long night yesterday. How are you feeling?”

Iridessa was a whore, no less than Anjasa. Yet she had a warmth and affection for the elder elf that was more appropriate for a daughter to her mother. “I’m fine, now that I know you’re okay,” she said, and as she guided Anjasa towards the stairs she cast a suspicious glance back towards the closed bedroom door. She was worried for her elven matron in the company of a vampire.

“You need to eat before you begin the day,” she stated with certainty. “You can’t burn the candle at both ends and the middle, mistress.” Her big, warm eyes spoke of genuine concern. There was no doubting the woman’s devotion.

It was refreshing and shameful all at once. She wanted to be touched, to feel that same affection, but her death wish had been given such renewed power. So much had happened in Anjasa’s long, elven lifespan. So many horrible, terrible things that she deserved to be punished for.

She didn’t deserve the affection of the younger woman, even if she had saved her life.

There was still some good there, lurking beneath the surface of Anjasa’s psyche, but it was muddled. She grappled with her conflicting desires as she sat down to the table, crossing her legs daintily. “Thank you for checking on me.”

Iridessa brushed it off and went into the kitchen, immediately beginning to prepare her something without the slightest hesitation. Luckily for Anjasa, the young woman was prone to serving her a bigger meal than she could handle on a normal day, so she needn’t even specify a hearty meal.

“I’ve met your new hire,” Iridessa remarked as she bustled about the kitchen. Anjasa had to admit that she was touched by the young and beautiful woman’s nurturing as she watched Iridessa move about the kitchen and tended to her in a far more motherly way than Anjasa could have mustered.

It was... odd, to say the least. Though the elven woman appreciated being doted on, especially as she struggled with so many foreign thoughts and worries. She kept thinking of Jaral, his gorgeous body and what he was capable of doing to her. The pain and pleasure he could inflict, all at once, was unmatched.

He didn’t only have an effect on her body. With his strange powers, he was able to bend her mind as well, and that was something she didn’t know if she was prepared for. No matter how much she wanted it.

She was lost in thought for so long it didn’t really occur to her what Iridessa had said, and then the details were foggy coming back to her. “The barkeep?”

“That’s the one,” she replied, dropping a bit of honey into Anjasa’s tea before bringing it over and resting it before her. “Handsome one, that,” she remarked with a bit of wry amusement on her pretty, human face. How much the woman had recovered from when Anjasa first saw her, dying in the catacomb. “He’ll be stealin’ hearts left an’ right if you don’t keep a leash on him,” she chided as she served up a plate of hearty human feed.

Their kind ate so much more than elves. Absurd amounts of meat and root vegetables. Eating like one of them for a single meal would be enough for Anjasa to feel herself again, she was sure of it.

Anjasa’s lips curled into a soft smile and she nodded. “Yea, well. You keep an eye on him.” She didn’t know why she said it, but Iridessa had been good to her. She’d been worth saving, and that was something rare.

She thought back to Loren and how easily she’d led him to his death and she knew the depths of her callous disregard for others. Maybe saving the dancer was a penance.

Iridessa gave a somewhat bashful smile, “I don’t think ya need ta worry about that.” She gave Anjasa a playful wink, “But I keep an eye on all of ‘em anyhow. Won’t have any of ‘em knickin’ coin from the till or misbehavin’ on my watch. I guarantee it.” She put the food down before Anjasa, and handed her a thick fork. “Now eat!” she chided in her own matronly tone, brooking no disagreement.

Chapter 8

The club had such differing phases, none of which seemed to resemble any of the others.

In the middle of the night it was packed and heated by a litany of horny bodies, the women moving about soliciting the clientele. Dance shows ran constantly.

At the end of the night it took on a different tone. The workers were tired, but the women knew their opportunities never got better, and they hunted their prey zealously. The customers were desperate to get in a fuck before they were forced to head back out to their homes.

The after-hours was when the cleanup occurred, and everyone was just exhausted and eager to get it done with so they could go home or pass out.

Then there were the early hours. Anjasa oversaw an orderly business during that time. The women and other workers were alert going about their tasks, rearranging furniture, preparing the drinks and supplies. There were few customers in.

Her newest hire looked downright chipper as he uncrated some brandy, stocking the shelves behind the bar. While he worked he hummed a beautiful melody that reminded her of home.

Iridessa oversaw the other women, taking more charge than usual. She ushered the late comers to the change rooms, hurried other half-dressed women from one area to the next and always kept an eye on the others so they didn’t swipe anything. Anjasa had no doubts that Iridessa’s efforts were intended to ease her burden.

It was then when Anjasa felt most alive, most in control. Working helped her regain some power over herself. Reign in the troubling thoughts that were boiling up to the forefront of her mind.

Did she really want to die? She’d known it for a long time that she had a death-wish, that she risked her life needlessly, over and over again. But did she really want to go through with it?

Or was it just the rush that she might that kept her behaving so rashly?

Anjasa leaned against the bar, noting a stain from the night before and cleaning it with her finger as she listened to an elven song. How long had it been since she was home? Too long, she knew, but she couldn’t face them. After she'd lost her career with the Royal Investigators, she knew she’d never be able to fall in with that crowd again. She'd been dismissed for getting too close to the criminal element, and by now she didn't care to go straight.

So she stayed away from her Elven homelands and the scrutiny of her people.

Without realizing it, her other hand had strayed to her neck, where she gently fondled the spot where Jaral had bit her. It was unblemished and smooth to the touch. Whatever elixir he had given her, it had healed his marks and left her as fresh as she was before.

“Madam?” came Aeulin’s voice, as beautiful and elvish as they came. “Can I ask you a question?” He looked at her as he wiped the dust off a bottle before shelving it. The curious expectancy on his face was quite endearing. He looked the very picture of blossoming elven manhood.

She smiled despite herself and she couldn’t quite figure out why. He was unlike the men she was normally taken with, but his youth held its own charm. “What is it?”

He smiled beautifully, perked up by her simple response to him. “How long have you been away from home?” He peered about the club briefly before looking back to her with his big, shimmering blue eyes. “It seems you’ve taken some time to really establish yourself here.”

She was always suspicious of questions, but she brushed her worry aside. “Awhile. I’ve been kept busy.” On the run, really. Same difference.

He nodded, his thick golden hair bobbing as he did, placing one bottle on the shelf after another then deftly topping one of the few patrons drinks off in between. “Do you get back often? For visits, I mean,” he asked again. Full of questions, this one.

“No,” she answered more curtly than she intended, her long nails running up along her neck and into her scalp, massaging the dark roots of her hair. She felt like she needed to get out of here, to run back to Jaral and beg him to drink her dry.

Somehow, she resisted.

“Oh,” the young man sounded like a beaten dog. “Sorry to pester. I was just thinkin’... if you did go back sometime, I might tag along with you. And earn my way, of course!” he insisted, sounding utterly desperate not to earn her disapproval.

“I don’t have many reasons to go back, honestly.” And, unlike most times Anjasa used the word, she was in fact being truthful. What did the elven lands hold for her but nostalgia and resentment?

“Oh,” came his whimpering tone again, eying her with innocent inquiry as he went about his work. “I guess you wouldn’t, seeing as you’ve got a whole life of your own here. With your business, friends, people who admire and respect you,” he stated with no small amount of admiration.

“I’m quite happy here, yes.” She hated being rude to the man. He seemed so sweet and innocent, but then, so could she when she wanted something. And who knew what type of caravan he’d been escorting before coming here. “You’re homesick already?”

With a light shrug he went about his work as he answered. “Seeing you waft in here this afternoon just made me think of the big, extravagant festival balls. Where the village matron or spring fertility priestess would sweep in,” he gave a big sigh. “Just took me by surprise I guess.”

Anjasa’s brows rose as she moved away from the bar, her arms folded lightly beneath her over-large chest. “Is that so, mmm?”

The blushing young man lowered his gaze, though she of course noticed how it lingered upon her presented bosom a split second before being torn away. “I–...” he struggled to answer, but fate intervened.

Or rather Iridessa did.

“You slacking off there, fella?” came the stern rebuke. “Now I know you aren’t pesterin’ the mistress Anjasa, because doin’ that would be just downright madness. Nobody pesters the boss lady. And certainly they don’t do it when there’s work to be done,” she added for good measure.

Aeulin’s face went blood red, and he looked up between the two women, dumbfounded.

And all Anjasa could feel was pride. What a delightful little bitch!

She’d have to keep her eyes on her.

“Well, we can chat about what it was in me that reminded you of the fertility goddess once your work here is done, yes?” Anjasa teased.

“Fertility,” Iridessa shook her head distastefully at that, arms still folded across her own chest. “Now shoo, back to work,” she said to Aeulin before turning her attention to Anjasa. “We’ll have none a that fertility around here if I can help it. Bad for business,” she decided firmly.

“Ah, how true. Though I’m not up for sale, so I suppose that it wouldn’t be that bad for business in my case. It would be bad for the figure.” And impossible, she added silently.

Chapter 9

The height of the evening turned the club into a furnace. It was a particularly busy night, and Anjasa could scarcely catch her breath, the air was so thick.

Even the upstairs was packed. Every room was full, the women lining up with their clients and the dance floor so packed one had to get aggressive just to move through it.

It was, simply put, the best night of business she’d seen since taking over. But it was also the most stifling. The oppressive heat, the constant noise pounding against her head. It was suffocating.

Even though she saw the back door open, none of that cool air was reaching her. Even worse, she could feel her pangs for Jaral beneath her skin. The site of his bite was itching, and no amount of scratching would relieve it. In fact, the more she touched her neck, the worse it got.

She’d known many people who had gotten under her skin, but none so literally. She wanted him like she’d never known and at the same time she wanted to stay away. To resist the call that her body was making.

Anjasa grabbed Aeulin’s attention and got a drink but she couldn’t even enjoy the bubbles of her expensive, sparkling wine. There was no relief.

Repeatedly her emerald gaze was drawn back towards the open service door. Though she couldn’t feel it, the draw of that refreshingly cool air kept calling to her. Or perhaps it wasn’t that at all. Perhaps it was her fiendish lover and their dark pact that made her yearn for the cold night outside.

Either way, she started moving towards it. That rush that danger promised her was already quickening her pulse. She was like a magnet in a compass, being drawn to her North. She poked her head out the door, unsure of what she even wanted to find there.

“You look ravishing as alwayss,” came that hissing, curiously accented voice from the dark alleyway, and she turned her head to see the tall stranger again. He dressed much as he had the night before; with but a harness on his hard, glistening chest, low-riding leather pants and a cape that draped over one arm.

When he smiled at her, the long scar on his cheek stood out further against his skin. . Though it didn’t mar his masculine beauty. Instead, it made him more real and gave credence to the idea that he was a man of consequence and experience. Without it he might easily have been mistaken for a pretty, vapid toy.

“Hello, Luscius,” she purred through her disappointment. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Especially not so soon.”

That unearthly grace in his movements, so animalistic, so raw and fluid. He drew nearer the light that blossomed out of the doorway behind her. His own coppery skin on display as he studied her with those slitted, feline eyes. “A man must sometimes be persistent in his pursuit of a lady. When the lady is worth it, that is,” he intoned in a pure, unadulterated attempt at flattery.

He stood confidently before her, his very pose suggestive. A thumb hooked into the waist of his pants, tugging the garment even lower, nearly scandalously so.

“You left rather abruptly last time,” she reminded him as her body instinctually mirrored his motions. Her emerald gaze blatantly traced the hard lines of his body before meeting his eyes. “And I had many more questions.”

With a graceful maneuver he extended one arm to her. “I hope you shall forgive my previous abrupt departure, so perhaps I might escort you on a fine evening. Dinner. Dancing, perhaps? Many questions, all to your heart’s content,” he promised with a charming smile that glittered in the light pouring out of the club.

“Ah, and save me from myself, is that it? You’ll protect me from whatever descends upon the club in my absence?” She had to admit, especially after the attack on Jaral, that she felt a lot more concerned about what this creature’s true agenda may be, and what he had warned her of.

He gave that peculiar half-smile businessmen often give. “You read much into men’s offers, no? Though I shall be honest with you.” He brushed his fingertips over his pecs and chest, as if dusting his nails off. “My primary motivations are purely selfish.” He gestured over her form, “You are ravishing. And I find myself smitten with you. Like a crushing schoolboy, I would to take you out into the city and work my charms as deftly as I may, that something might spring forth.”

“I’m sure something will.” The innuendo was intentional but had darker implications as well. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped towards him, setting her empty glass on the ground. “But I don’t trust you.” Not that that had stopped her before. But this time was different.

She didn’t stop to ponder why.

“What are you really after?”

He looked demure as he bowed his head to her at a gentle incline and let his eyes softly shut for a moment. “Do I seem so complex? Lust. Childish love, perhaps?” He smiled at her wide, offering his arm again. “Put me to the test. Come with me and I shall answer all for an evening with the loveliest of women I have met on all my journeys. Hardly a fair trade, but I offer what I can.”

With an expression of fawning, he batted his long lashes and watched expectantly.

“If I leave, something bad will happen here, won’t it?” she asked plainly, trying to seem unaffected by his flattery. In other situations she would have gladly run away with him, but she had finally felt like she was bringing some semblance of order to her life.

Even after Jaral's drinking from her made her feel more out of control than ever.

“No,” he stated without delay. “Your choice will not result in any such thing, either way,” he offered, sounding perfectly honest. Though how much could she trust the word of so suave and charming a man? He moved and spoke like no one she had ever met. She knew too little about him or what he was to be certain of anything.

“Wait here,” she requested, and without pause turned her back on him and headed into the club. Immediately she went to her head bouncer and warned him to be on the alert and to let the other guards know the same.

She lingered thoughtfully for a few moments before she went in search for Iridessa to tell her the same.

On an ordinary night, Iridessa was not needed to perform the usual duties of a whore. But on a night like this, her supervisory duties took a backseat necessity. When Anjasa found her in the bustling crowd, she looked dewy, her hair tousled from a night of fucking.

“We’ll be ready, mistress,” she told Anjasa, already peering about the place suspiciously. “You should go home. Get somewhere safe if there’s trouble afoot.”

“Send word to him. I’ll know if you don’t.” She gave a hard look to the woman but that was it before she left and returned Luscius. She’d repositioned her stiletto dagger to be more accessible, strapped to a harness on her thigh, and she was grateful the bottom of her black dress didn’t cling to her.

Looking relieved at her return, he extended his arm to her again. “Thank you for choosing not to ditch me here in the dark alleyway. The cold is so distasteful to me, especially when suffering it alone.”

“The cold?” She felt like she was on fire after being in the club and the cool air was a relief, not an annoyance. “Well you should have been inside, though I doubt you would have found somewhere private for us to go.”

“Precisely,” he said, lowering his arm after being rejected. “And I am a private sort of fellow, do not let looks deceive,” he said with a wry, humorous smile as he led the way down and out to the street. “Are you hungry? I have come to know some rather lovely dining establishments in the city as of late. Or should we simply retire to a nice quiet spot for you to pick my brain?”

Normally she’d still be stuffed from Iridessa’s meal and she’d never eat so late, but Jaral’s... snacking upon her had made her ravenous. She relented. “Somewhere we I might do both, then.”

“As the lady wishes,” he chimed with a hint of cheer.

Chapter 10

The place they chose was a club not just for the wealthy, but the nobility. It was one she'd heard Loren gush on often, but to which he had been unable to gain admittance.

More striking than the hoity-toity atmosphere and clientele was how starkly her ‘date’ contrasted with the crowd. His scandalous outfit stood out garishly next to their thick, formal suits. Yet nobody paid him any heed.

Even if he had worn their attire, his strange, inhuman nature should have garnered him a great deal of attention.

“Enjoy your evening, sir and madam,” welcomed the man that guided them to their private room, a beautiful spot with its own bar, dining area, bed and drug paraphernalia.

When Luscius handed the man a broken button and said, “Spend it well, my good man, and bring us a feast. Some of everything,” the attendant beamed as if handed a fat ruby instead.

“Generous as always, sir! Enjoy your stay.” He gave a deep bow before scurrying off and leaving them alone.

“A drink?” Luscius asked as he manned the bar.

Anjasa studied him closely, and would have been amused if not for the understanding that she was up against something far stronger than a simple thug. Magic was not something easily learned. She knew all too well, having attended the Mage Academy of her homeland for a couple of years before dropping out.

Now the only magic she could truly recall was how to create simple flames, and his illusion magics were far beyond her capacity. “Nothing to drink.” The last thing she needed was a buzz around this guy.

Luscius went through an elaborate process of mixing a drink, presumably for himself. “Have you been here before, my lady? It’s quite nice. A true den of inequity where the most powerful of this land come to indulge in activities that would have a normal man put to death. Or worse.”

He shook a metal canister before pouring up not one but two glasses.

She rolled her eyes. “Stealing from the rich and giving to yourself then, is that it? Your own little way of regaining balance in life?”

With a chuckle he brought the two drinks over, laying one down on the table before her. “In case you change your mind. And no, I am merely chatting,” he waffled with a broad, handsome smile.

A knock came to the door, and he called them in. A team of attendants entering with an incredible eagerness to serve, laying out a great smattering of various foods – including several elven dishes – and leaving a cart of desserts.

“Anything else, sir?” asked the head attendant.

“Leave us undisturbed,” he commanded, flipping one of the minor attendants an actual coin, she noted. After which they departed quite swiftly.

“What, pray tell, do they see you as here? Some bland, faceless noble?” She reached out for one of the elven food before thinking better of it and grabbing something nobles loved and she hated.

“Something like that,” Luscius mused, reclining upon the opulent sofa beside her, draping one arm over the back as he crossed his legs and smiled to her. “They think I’m the Queen’s son,” he remarked, then puffed up his chest, striking a profile. “Do you think I could pass for royalty?”

“No, not at all. Not here.” She leaned back and crossed her legs, eating the finger food in a refined and practiced manner. “What do they do with your precious buttons?”

With a shrug of his shoulders he said, “I assume they figure the gold coin was stolen and toss the useless button. The head attendant is well compensated for covering a lot of dirty secrets, however, so do not fret for him.”

With a fluid motion he raised his glass to his lips and drank the curious mixed drink he’d prepared. “I should tell you, the beverage is something from my home. I guarantee you have had nothing quite like it before.”

“I guarantee I’d like to keep my head with you around. I’m here for answers, remember? And I’d like to remember them when I get home.” Anjasa was frightened of the man, but only because she knew he held so much from her. Not that she could trust him to give her the truth, but if she got him talking...

“What am I clean of?” she started in almost immediately.

Brushing back his blonde hair he gave her a quizzical look. Perhaps he was just delaying. “The vampiric taint. This city has an infection of it. The fiends prey upon the living. The good. The vulnerable. They manipulate and destroy. Hunters that seek to destroy life, joy and goodness, all of them.” He tipped his head back and drained his glass. “They are monsters.”

Aren’t we all, Anjasa thought glibly. And so much for being clean.

She frowned, thoughtfully sucking on some other disgusting piece of food that the wealthy called high class. Squid penis, or something. The poor couldn’t be paid to eat this.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not good,” she finally quipped.

With an amused grin Luscius plucked up some food himself and ate what looked like a candy-coated plum. Though the motion had a way of drawing the eye to his immaculate chest, the way his coppery skin rose and fell with his breathing, his eating. “You are a vision of beauty itself,” he stated. “Beauty and good. These are things I cherish. That I defend. But I reserve my efforts for fighting the most heinous of evil, and protecting the most exquisite of beauty.” He smiled to her softly, “We all have our limits. It is best to manage our time effectively.”

“What does this have to do with my club? You come in and ask me to walk away from everything I care about. And I have walked away too many times to want to do it again.”

With another bite into the plum he pointed a finger at her. “Because your club is a part of a vampire den’s network. A criminal underground that seeks to extend its vile hold over all the lands. Perhaps you do not know this,” he mused lazily as he looked to his plum, twisting it about and studying it before biting again. “Though I seriously doubt that. You seem too clever to be so ignorant.”

“One can be both clever and ignorant.” She found herself staring at his mouth and she had to force her gaze away. She was still so ravenous, and the rabbit food the nobles ate simply was not cutting it. Neither, of course, would her kin’s food, so she instead reached for the dessert tray.

“What have these vampires done, hm? I know of none that are hurting my girls or clients.”

“That is surprising,” he stated, though he indulged her questions again. “They have slain the innocent in droves. They have claimed many of them, enslaved them, drawn them into their underground lairs and callously fed off them as less than cattle. Not even caring if they survive to continue producing blood for their pleasure.”

With a shrug he added, “The worst ones do. Leave the poor souls lingering after them. Their willpower draining with each feeding, leaving them more and more bereft of a mind. Of independent thought. Their soul leaking out of them with each new draining, until in the end…” he looked sad and put his plum back, unable to continue eating at the mental thoughts rolling through his head. “Until the end, when they are but soulless husks. Living in no real sense of the term. Lifeless, but living. Not even their blood holds the sustenance these parasites need, for it is bereft of the stuff that makes them truly of the living.”

“I’ve saved a girl who was like that, and she is certainly not a soulless husk now. And perhaps the reason none frequent my establishment is because I protect it well. If I left, as you suggested, who is to say what would happen to the poor women and men under my employ?”

“Then you are fortunate that you caught her early,” he advised, looking sincerely grateful as he draped his hand across his abs and smiled to her. “One feeding, or even a few, will not turn a mortal into a soulless husk. It comes with time. Though we have never been able to successfully rehabilitate a victim who had been fed upon more a few times.”

“She would have died if not for me.” Zarach had to have been feeding on her for longer than a couple of times. But then... she wasn’t the one who cured her.

Jaral was.

“Though I suppose she may have looked as if she’d been fed on for longer to the untrained eye,” Anjasa quickly added on, backpedaling.

The beautiful stranger watched her with passive interest. “How could you hope to keep your ladies safe if you do not know fully about these creatures? I assure you, there is no true defense against them. No way to fend them off without great knowledge. And even then…” he sighed, “this clan commands a sprawling underground network. They command a great criminal syndicate, and need not handle their villainy personally. The network commands many thralls and thugs.”

“And you hope to take them down?” Her lip twitched as she watched him, desperately resisting the urge to touch her neck. “I’ve kept them safe so far, and I plan to keep doing so.”

Luscius was already nodding to her first question as he lazily dragged his fingertips across his coppery stomach, the motion of his hand hypnotic. “My Order shall take them down. One den at a time. Slowly pushing them back. They are immortals, Anjasa, and to beat them we must recognize the lengthy timetable upon which they act. Which is why you have been fortunate thus far. They are only just settling in this city. Still setting up shop. They act slowly. Carefully. But they all slip. Let their brutality show from time to time. And in the end… we are all slaves to them regardless.”

“So why fight it?” Anjasa knew what it meant to be a slave. She’d been one for countless years, literally and figuratively. Even now, she thought she’d escaped it only to learn once more how foolishly, utterly wrong she was. Her neck throbbed and perhaps it was the fear of her desire that made her listen more acutely to Luscius.

“Because we can beat back the night,” he enunciated with calm certainty. “This will not be the first vampire clan that my Order has wiped out in its storied history. We have freed whole cities of slaves from the tyranny of their kind. And we will save this city from ever reaching that point. I assure you.” He looked down between them, his hard chest swelling as he thought, “My only concern for you was keeping you out of the crossfire until we’re done.”

“I’m sorry, Luscius, but I live in the crossfire.” That, too, had been true for as long as she could remember. “I won’t abandon my club and its employees until your mysterious order is done.”

He laughed and ran his tongue across his lips. “You are resilient and independent. That is something to admire. But in this case… I must confess it is troubling.” He gave a deep sigh then lifted her glass, “You are sure you don’t care for any? I made it myself,” he boasted with a wry smile.

“I don’t believe that only vampires wish to take advantage of me,” she purred, leaning towards him and letting her hand trail down over her exposed cleavage. “And I’d rather have my wits about me. Besides, what may be good for your kind may not be so for mine.”

His slitted eyes trailed her motions, not failing to gaze at her displayed tits. “There is nothing more I would care to do than spend a night or two with you in bed. But I shall try my best to control myself,” he stated, his voice breathy from sheer lust.

Why was she so fucked up? She loved men, but they were always the wrong kind. She was always suspicious of the ones that were kind to her, and accepting of the ones that terrified her.

She couldn’t pretend to understand.

“What are you, anyways? Where are you from?”

His eyes trailed away, and he gave a rather devious smile. “That… is one question I shall not answer you,” he denied her with an air of mischief. “Not with words, anyhow. It is something for the discovery,” he stated as he shifted back into his corner of the sofa, his chiseled body exposed on down to the small ‘v’ of his pants where it dipped so scandalously low.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she leaned back, dusting off her hands of the excess pastry. “Tease,” she murmured. Why did she always have to complicate matters? The money, the gold, it didn’t matter to her. She could move to a new town and start fresh. She’d done it dozens of times, with nothing more than the clothes on her back, and it earned her living.

She could run from Jaral, leave him and his vampiric ways behind. The danger, the terror, the erotic thrill... She could run from all that and lead a simple, peaceful life. Maybe even try settling down again.

But she knew she wouldn’t.

She was like an addict, and it wasn’t yet time for her to quit.

“No tease,” he retorted coyly before clarifying, “an offer.” He had such a devious grin and saucy glint in his eyes that it drove her a little wild.

“And you’re one of the good guys, right?” she asked as she leaned in, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Relatively speaking,” he replied with a strange hiss to his words. “Next to a vampire… certainly, but so would many people.” He leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice, “But I was always told I was a naughty boy, I confess.”

Her smile was part gentle questioning, part lust. She couldn’t help but want to know more, and the slut in her was dying to get out. She yearned for something she knew to be horrific, and he promised her protection from that. At least for a little while.

“How many other girls did you save tonight, Luscius?”

Taking his time he lifted one hand and counted out the digits quietly, doing some mental calculations. “You are my special project this evening,” he soothed with a sly smile at last. “The rest I shall leave to my compatriots. For the time being.” He folded his two hands over his abs and smiled, “You see? I may be good, but I am no saint. I over indulge.” A raise of his brows and a look to her breasts let her know exactly what it was he felt was indulging: spending time with her.

She was used to men fancying her. Even though she was middle aged, she took care of herself, and the aura of confidence about her attracted men like ants to honey. Though, mostly, it was the wrong sort of guys.

Or the right sort, depending on how much pain she felt she deserved.

Her biceps pressed against her breasts, teasing him as she leaned in, “I’m no saint either, Luscius.”

“I know you aren’t,” he shot back, making no effort to hide where his eyes were glued.

The curiously exotic man reached out, laid his hand upon her knee and stroked it. The simple gesture feeling somehow more sensual than most men could manage with far more erotic of maneuvers. Something about the way he moved. “Spend the night with me,” he beckoned, leaning in and speaking in a low tone of voice. “Simply agree, and I will make it worth your while. An experience you would never forget. I swear it.” A grin crept across his face, “Or simply agree to a quick tryst and see how deep my naughty streak runs with some rope and cuffs.”

“That does sound tempting.” Of course it did, she scolded herself. Letting herself be tied up by this man was likely the last thing in the world she should do. So of course she wanted to do that.

Even as her pulse quickened and she licked her lips, she cursed herself for being programmed by so many years of asshole owners and customers. Now, the more dangerous they were, the hotter she got.

Luscius leaned in closely, that curious musk of his, so foreign, so tantalizing as she tasted it upon her tongue. He parted his lips just barely, and took a breath, seeming to luxuriate in her own scent as his strong hand rubbed along her leg, up her inner thigh. It was there he brushed against her dagger. “I didn’t think you were the type to use protection,” he quipped slyly.

She cursed herself even as she smiled softly, “That’s why I bring it.” She felt so... warm. So ready for him, for his touch.

She never felt like she was cheating on a man, mostly because she would never commit to monogamy. Not anymore. The times she’d tried had ended... badly, and she never wanted that again.

So she kept herself... free to explore endless options.

For his part, Luscius was undaunted by her weapon, and he let his fingers trace around it and to the heart of her warmth. He let his digits touch upon her bare slit, and a visible trill of excitement washed over the gorgeous man.

“Never much cared for it myself,” he hissed lightly, closing in on her. That glistening physique of his hard and within but a couple of inches of her.

He was so delicious. She licked her lips, eagerly, before pressing in and tasting him. He was so gorgeous, and curiosity and lust had muddled her mind. Her body yearned for the feel of a man’s weight pressing down upon her, and it didn’t care who he was. Her tongue lashed against his and all the fury of a night of teasing and flirting came to the surface.

She almost didn’t even notice the odd feel and shape of his tongue as she did so, at least at first. Though even in the heat of the moment, its strange, slender but forked nature became hard to ignore. Even more so was the way it coiled about her own tongue and massaged it in a way no human or elf’s ever could.

Luscius pressed himself to her, his hard yet supple body melding atop hers as his fingers probed her wet petals and inserted themselves into her. They moved with more than an expert’s grace, teasing and encircling her clit even as others delved into her depths.

She didn’t know what to make of it, and at the same time she didn’t care. She’d never shied away from trying new things, and the snake-like tongue was... something new. Something she craved far lower.

Her mind grew hazy as his fingers worked her moist clit, teasing her cunny with amazing talent. He was an expert if ever there was one, and she ground against him, panting into his mouth.

The throaty moan he gave was deep and lust-filled as he kissed her passionately. When he at last pulled away from her, gasping for breath, he only did so reluctantly.

That is, until he lifted his fingers from her twat and tasted her honey. That long tongue coiled about his own slender fingers as he tasted the very stuff of her desire, lavished in its rich flavour. His delight came out in a faint hiss.

His slitted eyes flicked exotically as he lowered himself down, rubbing his other hand over her thigh until it met her dagger. A simple twist of his wrist detached it, so nimble were his hands. But he only laid it down beside her before lowering his head in its place, luxuriating in the feel of her smooth inner thighs, allowing his long, forked tongue to reach out flick at her sensitive bud.

She’d been with many men and women, but nothing like this. Nothing like him, whatever he was. Her back arched as her eyes went wide with shocked surprise. It was like something out of this world. Like the tap of a whip but so much more precise, more warm, more... delicious.

Her black dress hiked up as she shimmied towards him, her high heeled shoe digging into his back as she begged him closer.

It was utterly unnecessary however, as he eagerly devoured her. His lips meeting hers as his tongue coiled and slithered, provoking sensations in a manner no normal tongue could have. He stoked her flames and flicked her pleasure to soaring heights. It made any run-of-the-mill cunnilingus seem clumsy by comparison.

All while he stroked her thighs and he moaned with such gusto, it was as if he derived nearly as much pleasure from the act as she. His hard, muscular shoulders tensing and relaxing deliciously as he ate her out.

There was simply no comparison. He was so... precise. Even her deft fingers, which knew her body so well, were unable to tease herself to such intensity. Her mind was a fog as her back arched and her breasts bounced with each breath. Her hands went to the ribbon of her dress, freeing the heavy orbs from their confines and revealing tight, pink nipples that poked upwards seductively.

Those serpentine eyes of his locked onto her tits the moment they fell free of their confines. He dug his fingers into her flesh tighter, the whole of his body undulating in that inhumanly sensual manner as he tasted her, tongue-fucked her, relished her. The long muscle coiled about her clit and slid down into her, tightening its hold like a wet knot.

She screamed. The sensations were too powerful to hold it back any more, and she didn’t care if she let the entire hoity-toity club know it. Her body arched and spasmed. She was sure she hurt him as she bucked wildly atop the high class couch, held in place by that amazing tongue.

Even that strong grip couldn’t contain her out of control motions, and he could do little but steady her a little as he slathered his tongue about the luscious folds of her quim. That curious muscle feeling out the contours of the moistly pink flesh in all its flowered glory as she climaxed from his ministrations.

It took her a long time to come back down from heaven, riding out wave after wave of pleasure. He was sublime, and he wouldn’t stop, even as she tried to push him away, to free herself of his inebriating ecstasy. She thought she couldn’t handle any more, but oh, she could. He made her, and bolts of pleasure struck through her so violently she thought she’d go mad.

She bucked again and her cry caught in her throat as she felt it crash through her. That final, glorious, blissfully messy orgasm that streamed from her body, soaking his tongue and mouth in her heated juices.

With a desperate gasp he pulled away from her at last, his jaw and neck coated in her shimmering fluids as his tongue swept and coiled about, licking up her nectar from his face.

Flush with excitement and arousal, he rose up, his face covered in delight. Her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn downwards, over those rippling pecs and abs to the bulging sight of manhood that awaited her. More than that, those trousers he wore – with their devious little dip – betrayed the sight of coppery cock-flesh, throbbing free itself of its confines.

Anjasa had never really been one for foreplay, but she had no idea why not. At least, with him, it was worth it. Beyond worth it. She’d never experienced something like that in her life and tremors still passed beneath her skin as she gazed at his cock lewdly.

Moving sinuously, he climbed over her. His ripped physique was on full display as he gestured at his loins. “Unwrap your package,” he bade her with a wry smile. His tongue flicked out towards her, tasting her scent on the air before coiling back around to lick up some more traces of her cunt.

She had to obey and her hands moved to the black leather garment. Dexterous fingers undid the simple knot that held it in check and immediately the thick cock flesh burst free of its tight confines. It was stunning. So unique. It was sleek where it wasn’t bulging with veins. As her hand cupped its length and stroked down she found a more fascinating surprise still…

True to his serpentine nature, a second shaft lay nestled beneath the first. Slightly smaller, without the great bulging veins of the dominant one, it was still a breathtaking sight. For more than one reason.

Her hand retreated in shock, her mouth dropping open. She swore she didn’t have a drink. Not since the sparkling wine and that was hours ago.

So why was she seeing double?

And why was it having such a twisted effect on her body. “How?” she murmured, and even though she tried to look at his face, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

Those slitted, lusty eyes studied her curiously as his twin dicks throbbed. “Never met one of my kind before, yesss?” he hissed, a bit of humour playing on his face as those two cocks leaked their slick precum. “It’s perfectly natural, I swear,” he mused in that charming voice of his, one of his hands cupping her large teat and squeezing it.

“I told you I didn’t know what you are,” she breathed out, and she remembered his lewd expression when she’d divulged that. He was more than a tease.

Her cunny pulsed with raw need, even after her multiple orgasms. Her nipple hardened beneath his hand, the breast so much more than a handful. “Fuck...” she hissed, and excitement coursed through her once more. How long had it been since she had two cocks at once?

Too long, she knew. And never had both been attached to the same man.

With a characteristically sinuous motion, he dragged his lower cock along her slit, teasing her over-stimulated clit as he drenched his shaft in her juices. “And I told you you’d have to explore to find out just what I am,” he reminded her while leaning down. That coiling tongue of his wrapping about her free teat, suckling her nipple as he let his smaller prick dip inside her as the larger rubbed over her clit, throbbing thickly all the while.

She wanted to shoot back a retort, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. Trying to be wittier would only distract her from this strange, new set of ecstatic sensations. It was like trying sex for the first time, and her body was alight with tingling nerves and prickled skin.

Her hands went to his shoulders, coaxing him into her, begging him to feel her out and teach her something new. Her cunny squeezed his cock, and she knew what he’d do, but that didn’t diminish it. Not at all.

His hand squeezed her breast tighter in response, the flesh swelling between his digits as he moaned and throbbed inside her. “Yesss,” he hissed, pumping his shaft into her twice – that thick dick rubbing against her clit – before he pulled back out, glistening and ready.

“I know you’re dying for this,” came his raspy voice as he lifted her one leg up straight into the air, raising his head and licking along her calf as he lined up his twin shafts with her two holes, nuzzling each bulging crown to her folds or ass cheeks.

He was made perfectly, as if he were crafted for her pleasure. She nodded eagerly. She wanted to know what it felt like, what he felt like. Even her ass was soaked in the juices of her orgasm and her heated body begged for his.

With slow pressure, Luscius began to force his cocks into her. The larger one slid into her sodden, over-ready cunt, while the other took greater strength to wedge into her ass. The slickness aided and with a grunt and a hard push, he forced himself into her. The well-shaped crown popping inside her sphincter so that he had her in both holes at once. The stuff of a horny girl's fantasies come true as he wedged himself in deeper with great relish.

He was a thing of dreams.

Her mind was deliciously blank, filled with nothing but lust for the incredible sensations he was filling her with. She already felt that buzzing excitement begin to build again and she could hardly believe it. She'd already lost count of how many times she'd came, but this experience was something so fresh and new, she simply couldn’t hold back. Her body began to quake and she inhaled deeply, holding it in her lungs as she quivered.

Luscius took that opportunity, ran his hands up her body, grasping her wrists to pin them over her head and began to pump his twin cocks into her. His hard, supple body undulated so incredibly sensually as he fucked her, plunging into her ass and cunt as he moaned and breathed out his heavy satisfaction with each new thrust.

An expert lover, he held nothing back, fucking through her climax with an ever increasing vigor. Pound of flesh on flesh, the wet slap of their bodies striking one another as he built up speed, increasing his rutting growing faster at an apparently uncontrollable rate.

There was nothing left of her but the bliss of existence, of being wholly in the moment and enjoying his body. He wasn’t brutal like so many of her past lovers, he wasn’t cruel or unkind, or selfish. He was just... enjoyable, and she groaned so loudly as thanks.

She lost count of how many times that tensing in her stomach spread to her limbs before recoiling and repeating, but soon everything was a beautiful haze of orgasmic pleasure, like a painting where the colours run together and into each other.

That coppery form of his, undulating and writhing in such sensual majesty, glistened with perspiration as his breathing hitched. She could feel his cocks twitch inside her, not simultaneously but out of time. One, then the other.

The two organs were separate, yet one, and as he thrust inside her, holding her arms over her head. He tensed as she felt it arrive: the rough, sudden buck as he craned his neck back and let loose an intense moan. The spurt of his virile seed arriving first from his smaller organ, flooding her anal cavity.

Each thrust brought more of the fluid, pouring into her, filling her. Then the second shaft joined the first, and her cunny became the recipient of his inhuman cum. Two dicks throbbing, spurting and swelling inside her as he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her passionately.

It was unlike anything. There was simply no way to compare what they’d just done to what she’d done with the dozens of men that had come before him. Even those rare times when she had two or three men at once, it just wasn’t the same. His body, the way he moved, or even just the fact of two huge dicks inside her, it was all made for fucking her.

When at last he broke their kiss, he breathed in heavily and locked his eyes with hers. Those curious, exotic eyes. Not feline at all, but serpentine, yet still so sexy.

“You’ll stay the night with me,” he stated with casual confidence. “And maybe the next,” he added with a lick of her lips and a throb of his shafts.

As he released her arms to slide his hands down over her flesh again and cup her heavy breasts, she could feel the taut bindings that held her wrists together.

She tested it, though truthfully she was too exhausted to fight against them. To fight against him. Her eyes were already descending as she felt that cum begin to drip out around his cocks, her sensitive nipples teased deliciously by his touch.

She didn’t even have any quips for him.

He'd fucked her mind numb, and that was just what she needed.

Chapter 11

The club had only gotten worse since Anjasa had left, and Iridessa was forced to deal with it herself. How so many customers had got in was beyond her. The bouncers should have stopped letting more in long ago, but now there were new faces and old milling around in the crowded club.

“What the hell are those bouncers doin’?” she growled irritably to the new bartender, Aeulin, and one of the weary waitresses. “Have you spoken to them recently?” she turned her harsh stare upon them both.

The waitress melted beneath the look and shook her head, but Aeulin said, “No ma’am. They haven’t even come in for a break like they’re supposed to.”

A dark chill went down Iridessa’s spine, which she hid while casually adjusted her red hair. “Come with me,” she ordered softly, the two of them following after the manager, shouldering their way through the crowd together as they headed for the doors.

An unsettling feeling began to fall upon the trio, as it seemed throughout the crowd they were being watched by malicious eyes. Though whenever they looked to the patrons around them, it was nothing but laughs and smiles as they enjoyed the entertainment.

The door was within sight, but there was no sign of the bouncers on duty. “Something’s wrong,” Aeulin muttered, stating the obvious.

“Get ready to run,” Iridessa told them both quietly. “I don’t think this place is ours anymore.”

That got the two employees feeling anxious, though it was better that than unprepared, Iridessa thought as she led them to the door.

There, true to her prediction, things were not alright.

“Get out of here,” she turned to say to the two of them, but already out of the crowd two dark-dressed men with hoods and face scarves came towards the waitress and Aeulin. “Get away!” she cried, and her stiletto came out of her hair as she lunged for the one grabbing at the waitress.

A shriek filled the air as the waitress was grabbed, blood spurted. The music stopped and everything changed abruptly.

There was no longer a great sea of random bodies in the room, but instead countless masked villains seizing the staff. This was planned.

Iridessa freed the waitress from the captor’s grasp, but then the two of them came for her. Aeulin, as unprepared as he looked, went to her side, looking ready to leap into the fray with bare hands. Though the red-headed whore shouted at him, “Get her out of here! Get word to the Mistress Anjasa’s manor! Go!”

The command was hard to brook, and Aeulin took hold of the cowering waitress and began to run out the door. It was none too soon as more of the infiltrators raced to the exit, spilling out into the night to give chase. When the doors to the club slammed shut, Iridessa was on the wrong side of them.

Chapter 12

The feel of silk and satin against her skin was total. It was everywhere. A silk hood even covered her face when Anjasa awoke, and each squirm, each movement brought her flesh into caress with more of the rich fabrics.

When she tried to pull her arms to her face to remove the hood, she found herself bound. Though the bindings were tied perfectly, the material so rich and soft that it was all but imperceptible until she tried to move beyond the reach of its confines.

Panic knitted in her stomach, but this wasn’t an unusual thing. You trust shady characters, sometimes you woke up tied to a bed.

She swallowed, tasting the remains of the night before and shifting subtly to test her bindings.

Her makeshift prison was a large bed, Anjasa determined, and with the bindings that held her arms and legs in place, she couldn’t reach the edge of it. No blankets covered her, but the room was so comfortably warm there was no need for it.

To her surprise, she felt well-rested. Relaxed. She must have slumbered for quite some time, because there were no aches in her bones, no weariness in her flesh. She felt whole and full of energy, as if Jaral had never fed upon her at all.

Somehow, that was the largest concern. Maybe it was the fact that Luscius had deemed her ‘clean’, that he somehow knew of the vampiric taint...

Maybe it was just that she missed the numb, painful reminder that she still lived.

Either way, she wasn’t in the mood to be tied to a stranger’s bed.

Her efforts to free herself were interrupted shortly after they begun by the smooth, charming voice that she had so recently gotten to know.

“You’re awake,” Luscius greeted her, and his motions were so silent she was only aware of his approach by the feel of the bed shifting ever so slightly with the weight of his body upon the edge. “So sorry for the hood,” he remarked, pulling it off and letting the light flood in. It was a bright day, and the lavish room’s windows were opened, letting it all stream in from a balcony and windows on opposite sides.

The handsome captor was all smiles for her, wearing but a simple robe that dangled open over his chest, bearing his coppery abs and pecs, before tying off loosely at his waist. “I didn’t wish the sun to wake you. You seemed so weary.”

“And the ropes were to help my arms keep from trashing?” she quipped, looking at him suspiciously. This certainly wasn’t the room she’d last remembered, at the very least. And she couldn’t remember being ‘transported’ either.

“It’s for your own protection,” he assured smoothly with that unfazed smile, returning his hand to her cheek where he stroked it tenderly and affectionately. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “You slept longer than I thought, but I can have you something hearty and healthy in a moment’s notice.” Those curious eyes of his slipped down over her nude form, as if unable to help being drawn to her.

“I’d like to be untied so that I can go home, Luscius.” Her voice was half hard, half seductive, as if she were torn between anger and desire.

“And end our time together so prematurely?” he said plaintively, a brow seductively raised as he grazed his knuckles over her cheek and on down along her neck as he appreciated her form. “That would leave me heartbroken, dear Anjasa. Would you truly do such a thing to me? When we have so much left to experience together, you and I?” The suggestiveness there was subtle only by their twisted standards.

No matter how much she wanted to succumb, and find that blissful numbness once more, she felt herself grow cold. He wasn’t going to untie her.

Her fingers twitched as she glared up at him, her mind reeling. How was she going to get out of this mess?

“Don’t be like that,” he pleaded, leaning over her and bending down, placing his shapely lips to her forehead with a sweet kiss. “Once this is all over, you’ll be free and I’ll make amends. Somehow,” he promised gently, sounding so sincere as he gingerly re-arranged some stray hairs. “We’re not enemies, sweet Anjasa. Despite what you may think right now.”

Mother. Fucker.

She felt her hands begin to tingle, that latent magic that she’d neglected for so many years beginning to well up within her. When she was younger, she’d studied at the mage academy and only too eagerly dropped out.

But she still remembered enough to be able to burn her way out of the ropes.

Her eyes narrowed at him as she focused her attention on the casting, feeling almost outside of herself as she spoke. “What have you done, Luscius?”

“We’re making the city--the world--safe for women like you. For everyone,” he remarked with absolute faith in his statement. The handsome, serpentine man placing a kiss on her cheek. “Once it’s done, you’ll be back at your club. The women there will have all the less reason to fear the night. Then, if you wish, you’ll never see me again. I’ll even pay you for the lost business time. I swear,” the promise made with no less than the same commitment his words spoke over his cause.

She could feel the rope begin to heat as her eyes narrowed at him. “Would I have gone home with someone like you if I wanted the world to be a safer place for me? Huh?” She felt her anger begin to boil along with the spell. “What the fuck have you done to my club?”

“We haven't hurt any of your employees,” he promised. “The place will be waiting for you when we’re done. There’s no need to be upset. Once we’ve finished, you’ll not only be back where you were, but you’ll be free and have more control over the establishment than ever before. You’ll see.” He gave a regretful sigh, “I know this is unpleasant for you, but I hoped we would have some fun while what needed done was completed.” He gave a light quirk of the corner of his lips, “I rather like you.”

The bind gave way, and so did Luscius’ smile.

Her hand lashed out, that burning heat still apparent in her flesh as she struck him. “Go fuck yourself. You certainly have the equipment.”

The heated blow cracked against his jaw, and with the practiced force of her strike he was sent reeling.

For all his power with magic, his own guile and trickery, he was unable to see her strike at him. His neck was wrenched to the side violently as he struck the dresser next to the bed and slumped to the floor.

She’d laid out countless men with a move like that over the years, though it had been so long since she’d needed to break out her old training.

It felt... good.

Really good.

She knew he wouldn’t stay unconscious long, and even though she wished she could tie him to the bed and leave him, she didn’t have time. Instead, after freeing her other limbs, she clocked him again with practiced precision, seeing to it that he’d have a nice, long rest.

It was only then she noticed that she’d bruised his cheek right over the long scar he sported, placing new wounds upon old.

Quickly her emerald eyes scanned the room for her things.

She was in the mood for a fight.

The place was immaculate. Scrolls and books arranged above a neat desk where Luscius seemed to have been working by the window in the light of the sun. A quick look at the parchments there showed nothing of interest; the writing was invisible to her eyes, if indeed there were any.

She searched the dresser that Luscius lay against and found her things there, along with an assortment of many other beautiful gowns, dresses, skirts, tops and any number of other outfits that seemed eerily well-tailored to Anjasa’s own sense of taste.

She snatched up the familiar dress she’d arrived in, but greed got the better of her and she nicked another dress as well. It was the least he could do. Then she picked up a quill, scrawling across the page.

I’ll be back for the rest of what you owe me, with interest.

She slammed the quill back down before tugging on the slinky, black material that was certainly not made for daytime wear. She grabbed her stiletto knife and shoes before quickly making her way to the door.

Magic - true magic - was something long abandoned by the middle aged elf, but some of its branches were not. Stealth, for instance.

The light, though, was too bright, and hindered her as she made her way for the door.

Peering through the keyhole, she found a corridor, and much like the room she was in, it was well lit. Though dissimilarly, the windows were only upon one side.

Finding the door locked, she considered searching for the key, though it occurred to her it was likely upon Luscius’ person. Instead of resorting to touching her captor once more, she picked the lock – a skill she’d mastered long ago – and slipped out quietly.

Her magic was able to allow her to weave into the shadows beneath the windows. Her flexibility let her to crouch and move in that narrow gap between the light and floor faster than one could expect.

At the end of the hallway was a stairwell, and she followed it down. It was hard to stay hidden there, for the windows were on every side, the beams of light leaving little refuge for her. Yet with care she descended and met no one.

Not until the end, at least, when she came to a large hall and realized just where she was.

The temple was well lit from all sides. Though there was no sermon ongoing, she could see more than a few parishioners in the pews or standing by the doors and windows. It was an odd sight, for they were all garbed in dark clothes with hoods and face wraps, though most of them wore theirs down.

Some prayed, though most seemed to have weapons at the ready, including bows on their backs. Not crossbows, as was usually the case in the city, but the sort Anjasa was accustomed to seeing back in elven lands.

Vampire hunters, Anjasa thought. Most of them seemed to be elven, as she was.

She didn’t understand these do-gooders, nor did she want to. She led what she thought of as a simple life. Sex and money. Those were the two things she could understand. This "saving the world" business the hunters were about?

Well, maybe it didn’t deserve saving.

Her eyes scanned the elves in the church, looking for gaps, but she knew that wasn’t likely. Still, she held out hope as she planned her escape.

Anjasa lingered too long though, and she almost didn’t hear the man approach her from behind.

He had to have come from one of the adjoining rooms above, as she’d checked everywhere else. Regardless, as he began to notice the odd displacement of her hiding in the shadows, she sprung against him.

A stab of her stiletto at his gut made him lurch to the side to dodge and deflect, but that had been her intention. Her other hand swung around and struck his throat with a brutal impact that knocked the air from him.

With a spin and a kick she flung him against the wall, and there he collapsed. Unfortunately, it made a bit of a clatter as the stained glass window beside him rattled.

“Did you hear that?” came a voice from the church’s hall.

“We’ll go check it out.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Anjasa muttered beneath her breath. She was fast, but so were most of her kind. Spry. Capable.

That was why she’d run away from them, after all. Well, one of the reasons.

There weren’t many options left to her, and the elf felt her heart pound in her chest as she looked up at the window. It all happened in an instant. Magic coursed through her, and instead of hot, it burned cold. She threw the spare dress up in the air and by some miracle of muscle memory, it fluttered in just the right spot as her ice-hard body slammed against the stained glass.

The shower of coloured glass created a dazzling effect in the daylight, but she was in no position to appreciate it as she plummeted a story towards the ground.

She spun and rolled into the fall, landing uninjured upon the grass grounds of the church. She took but a moment to look around and place her whereabouts.

Her captor had taken her beyond the city proper, to the area where people lived outside its protective walls. It was a relatively well-to-do place, and traders from afar often setup at the bazaar there. But it quickly devolved into poverty near the outskirts.

There was no time to ponder her direction. As the shouts of her pursuers at the window came from behind her, she saw one of them holding an arrow to his bow from above.

She sprinted towards the temple's gates and the city wall in the distance.

The numbness, the deadened sensation of pleasure that Luscius had brought to her the night before, stood in such contrast to the adrenaline fueled high she got from running. Running from her doom, from her captors, and towards something that she was certain to be much worse.

But despite all of her bravado, all of her assurances that death would be welcome and that she cared for nothing and no one but herself, she still ran.

Ran to save her employees, her girls, her club. She ran because that brothel was her calling, and she’d let it down.

An arrow whizzed towards her, but she weaved out of the way. It struck the ground before she vaulted up and over the temple fence, avoiding its pointed spikes as she careened toward the freedom of the streets outside.

A fleeting look back gave her a glimpse of copper-skinned Luscius, in the broken window, ordering the others to stand down and lower their bows. Yet she knew he wouldn’t give up so easily.

He just wanted her all to himself.

She couldn’t say she blamed him.

The feel of the wind pulling back her dark hair and caressing her tanned skin was sublime, even if her dress was hiking up further and further with each long step. She was grateful that she’d managed to stay in shape, but the ache in her muscles reminded her she’d been less than diligent lately.

Ever since she’d left the Elven city those months ago, she’d just been drifting, lost in a sea of nothingness. She thought she’d found the things that made her feel alive, but it was all so muddled. So disappointing.

It was like a drug induced high that consumed her and then left her hollow.

She had to start setting herself straight again. To do the things that mattered.

She had to save her employees.

Chapter 13

The Prancing Pixie looked fine, albeit quiet. It tended to look that way most of the day, she thought fondly. Though by the point in afternoon that Anjasa arrived, it should have been showing some signs of life at least.

It was a relief to see it was in better shape than her dress, at least, which by that point was not only sullied but also tattered and torn.

When she went to the door she found it unlocked and ajar, though inside…

A huge mess was the only way to describe it. A huge, nearly vacant mess. Tables and chairs toppled over, hardly a one up-right. The crunch of glass as she walked in said that many of the lanterns and glasses had also been smashed. Though she heard some voices coming from the kitchen area.

As she approached it, she saw within two of the club's workers.

The plainclothes workman, Lucas, was handing a steaming cup to Prim, one of the club’s youngest and daintiest dancers. She more than any fit the club’s name, though she shook like a leaf as she accepted the cup.

Anjasa cursed herself. She thought she’d been playing Luscius, feeling out some weak point, but she wasn’t. She was being played by him. That, more than anything, pissed her off. She was smarter than this. Better than this.

Her libido was just numbing her brain and fogging everything else.

The elf's hands tensed into fists and she silently observed for a few moments, glancing around for a trap. It had to be another trap.

Prim’s cutesy little voice was wavering from the tension that obviously strained her delicate body. “Is… do you think this is it then for the club, Lucas?” The teacup shook in her hands and the kindly Lucas helped steady it for her, lifting it to her lips so she could drink a sip.

“Nah, there’ll always be need of a place like this, lil’ miss,” he reassured her in a calm and steady voice. He was a day worker mainly, helping with the loading and unloading of goods, tidying up and preparing things each morning. There was a good chance he missed whatever happened over night. “You won’t need ta worry ‘bout bein’ outta work.”

“But you don’t know what it was like!” she cried, eyes big and glassy. The poor young woman must have been traumatized by the thug’s events of last night. “They searched and in… in… interrogated us all! Gave us each a prick with some needle-thing!”

Anjasa’s nose crinkled at the memory of Luscius’ token and the prick it had given her. Sneaky fucker.

“S’alright,” he assured her, helping her take another sip of the steaming tea as he cupped her hands, keeping them steady for her.

“They… they took some of the girls away,” she added meekly, sadness filling her voice.

“Who?” Anjasa interrupted, her arms folded beneath her bust. “Which girls?”

Prim nearly jumped out of her seat, and if it hadn’t been for Lucas holding her hands and the cup itself, it would have went to the floor. Instead, some of the scalding liquid just splashed onto the workman’s top.

“Damn, miss!” cursed Lucas, wincing at the burn. “Ya snuck right up on us!”

The young dancer, however, got up, letting Lucas take the cup as she ran to Anjasa and threw her arms about the older woman. Tears sprang to her eyes as she clutched onto the elf. Words came forth, but they were indecipherable through the blubbering sounds of sobbing.

“She’s had a rough time,” Lucas offered, trying to excuse the dancer’s behaviour.

Some part of Anjasa still longed for family, for children, and the motherly nature found its way to the surface as her hands ran along the small woman’s back. “It’s fine,” she reassured the both of them. “This won’t be the last of us, or the club. But I need to know what has happened so I can fix it, alright?” she asked Prim gently.

With some sniffles and a few failed attempts, the delicate Prim regained control. “They took Ellen, Mira, and… and oh my,” she bit her lower lip, tears welling up again as she pulled back to look at Anjasa. “Miss Iridessa tried to protect us. She did! I saw it myself. We all did!” She swallowed down as the tears flowed, showing more control than Anjasa would have given her credit for. “She pulled out a knife and cut some of ‘em up. That made ‘em real angry.” She shook with the memory.

Cutting people tended to have that effect. “They didn’t kill her, did they?” Surely if anyone tested positive for, what was it, the vampire taint? It’d be her. The way Zarach had used her was a total disregard for her life, and it had gone on for who knew how long. Anjasa had not dared ask.

The elf could only hope that they cared more for saving the innocents, like Luscius had tried to tell her, than getting revenge on an overzealous protector.

Prim nearly choked up at the question but shook her head, “No ma’am! Iridessa fought with ‘em for some time, but finally… they got her pinned down. It took a dozen of them to do it, ma’am! I swear to heaven! But they did it. Then they administered the test they had. She was the first they said that failed.”

The delicate dancer’s lower lip quivered. “Is she gonna be alright?”

“She’s fine. They’re going to be trying to cure her.” That was what they did, wasn’t it? Why else would the reminder of Jaral’s feeding have disappeared?

Jaral...

She’d barely even thought of him. Perhaps it was simply that she knew he could handle himself. It must be. After all, she’d turned down a morning romp with a man who had two dicks out of some strange sense of loyalty to the vampire.

Still, she knew she’d need his help this time, and with another caress of Prim’s hair she pulled back. “I’m going to find them, but until then, I need to know you’re safe. Lucas, you find all the staff and dancers you can, and reassure them that I won’t leave them high and dry. I’ll take care of their expenses for their time off, so you tell them to enjoy themselves a bit, alright?”

It would cost her, but not so much as losing the loyalty of the staff would.

The command – both firm and thoughtful – seemed to stiffen his spine and get the normally casual Lucas looking quite serious. “Yes miss, I’ll get the place in order too. Everythin’ll be fine by the time you’re done what you got to do.”

Though Prim grabbed at Anjasa’s dress and shook her head. “Wait!” she chirped urgently. “They… that new fellow you hired, the elf like you!” She began, “And Teela, they’re both missing. Nobody knows what happened to the two of them! I asked around.”

“Alright. Lucas, if you can find them, do. I’ll be looking for the others that are missing, okay Prim? Now you just relax, and maybe head up to the spa for a day. You’ll need to look refreshed when we reopen, right?”

The sweet young Prim wiped some of her tears away and gave a shallow nod. “I’ll stick around and help Lucas out first. But then… maybe I’ll do just that, ma’am. Thank you,” she said, a soft smile forming on her porcelain face that lit it right up, despite the puffy redness around her eyes.

It was no wonder Prim was so popular with the gents. Anjasa almost wanted to take her home and make her happy for the rest of her life.

Those creeping, lustful thoughts began re-emerging and Anjasa angrily pushed them aside. There was no time for that.

She gave another brief smile before turning on her heels and striding confidently back out the door and towards Jaral’s manor.

Chapter 14

The manor looked just as she had left it, dark and ominous.

She didn’t have the key on her, but with Jaral’s blessing she had a means of gaining entry. A few subtle flicks of her nimble fingers in a tight crevice and a key was loosed from its hiding hole. That of course only got her through one layer of protection if someone were inside with the door barred.

Someone was.

She was forced to use the knocker to try and gain the attention of whoever was within.

The answer was slow to come; it wasn’t like the Jaral’s guards to be so tardy. They were motivated not just by loyalty, but fear. They jumped to work the moment it arose.

“Let me in!” she shouted to the shut eye-slit.

It took a while more but then it opened and a pair of very familiar eyes greeted her. “It’s her!” came the shout, and the fumbling of the lock on the other side followed.

When it opened, it wasn’t the big, burly bodyguards she expected to see that greeted her. Instead it was a pair of her own shaken employees. Teela and Aeulin stood there, looking on her with wide, shocked gazes as if she stood before them headless.

This wasn’t good.

“How’d you get in?” she asked as she pushed her way past them and looking around the manor. “Where is he?”

The two of them took a moment to gather their senses, but Teela spoke up first. “We brought word to him of what happened at the club. Just like Iridessa told us too,” she stated quickly. “She fought to buy us time to escape.”

Aeulin nodded dumbly. “He gathered up his bodyguards and said he was going to go rescue you.”

Rescue her.

She was torn between anger and appreciation. “Where were they going to rescue me?” He didn’t know what he was up against. “Who did you tell him captured me?”

The two looked at each other in some confusion, Aeulin spoke up first. “When we told him all Miss Iridessa said to say, he wasn’t worried about the club. He just wanted to go after you, he… he seemed to have some idea of where you might be, I guess.”

Teela added, “Yeah, he just… he took what men he could and… and stormed off. We didn’t know who exactly he thought had you.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to calm her rage. “Is there anything else?”

The two of them still looked like they were staring at a ghost, though Teela managed, “Are… are you okay? You didn’t need rescuing after all?”

“Of course not,” she pointed out sternly. “I rescued myself.” Kind of. When it was already too late. From a man she’d chosen to go home with.

There was a bit of awe in their surprised faces as they stood there dumbfounded in the dark building.

It occurred to her then that if Jaral had left for her – and he hadn’t found her by the time she escaped – he was outside in the middle of the day somewhere.

Damn it.

She moved towards the stairs, shouting back to her employees as she walked, “They’re looking for you back at the club. Be careful. Prim and Lucas were there when I left and it seemed clear. Does anyone know you’re here?”

“Just Iridessa,” they responded in chorus. This was troubling in itself, since the woman had been taken by Luscius’ forces.

“This place isn’t safe. Get back to the club, protect each other. Your wages will be taken care of.” Anjasa slammed the door to her bedroom harder than she’d expected, locking the door behind her. She gave the room a once-over for spies, checking all of the places she’d have thought to hide if she were going to kill or kidnap, but found no one.

She kicked off her shoes, which were already half broken and badly scuffed, then stripped out of the black dress. She hadn’t bothered with any undergarments and she was blissfully, carelessly nude, save for the stiletto strapped to her toned thigh.

She had grown a bit softer with her sloth the last few years, but she still looked great. Especially for her age. Especially compared to a human woman. Her breasts were a bit larger, her legs a bit thicker, but still she knew how to take care of herself.

At least, she hoped so. This was the first time in many months she wanted to do anything to actually save herself, after all.

Taking off the stiletto, she instead changed into a fitted leather outfit. The sides were laced, allowing her a bit more freedom, and she swiftly tied it along her thighs and stomach. Her dagger went back around her thigh, another two safely tucked in her boots, and she pulled back her long mane of black hair into a dark hood.

Finally she covered most of her face beneath her eyes with another strip of leather, leaving her entirely hidden but for that vibrant, green gaze.

Anjasa was back in business.

Chapter 15

The light of day was searing. Jaral felt it even through his layers of dark clothing. Nothing could keep out those energy-sapping rays entirely. Not his hood and cape, nor the leather vest and trousers, and not the thin layer of cloth beneath that. The light of day would not be stopped by so a flimsy thing as garments.

It leached the preternatural power that undeath had gifted him, made him vulnerable in ways that he would not confess to any mortal. Certainly not those who spoke of him as a sort of demi-god, capable of astounding feats.

Like the thugs and hired-mercenaries who accompanied him on his expedition.

“Several of us tracked those blighters back to here,” stated Berro, formerly one of Zarach’s men, but who had become a loyal servant to the vampire after having his life spared in the transition. “This has gotta be the place, boss.”

The chapel gleamed in the sunlight, its multi-colored glass reflecting the light majestically. Just looking at it hurt Jaral’s eyes even more.

“That’s it,” he replied. It was too fitting for would-be vampire-hunters. How could it be any other place? A holy site, a focal point of light itself. It was near suicide to even think of assaulting such a place manned by professionals like those Jaral had fought a few nights prior.

“How should we do it, boss?” came the inevitable question.

The answer wouldn’t be one any of them would like.

Looking over the assemblage of thugs, thieves, enforcers, mercenaries, hit men and simple brutes, Jaral knew they were no match for a professionally trained group of fighters like the bowmen he’d fought.

“Split into three groups, you lot,” he pointed to one bunch, “take the back door. You five,” he indicated the cutthroat burglars he had worked with on prior occasions, “go through the low windows on the dark side of the building. The rest, you go for the front door.”

They were fodder. A distraction, albeit a costly one. Even if they survived, many of them would not wish to work for him again, others might do it but would no longer be particularly reliable.

“I’ll enter into the top of the chapel, take out their leaders and disrupt them from behind so we can clear up and get them out of this city for good.” It was a lie, of course. His priority lay with a woman, and once he had her out and safe, only then would he concern himself with the lives of these henchmen.

They split up according to his orders, the oafish sort of confidence about them that came from running the streets uncontested for so long. They had no idea of what was coming.

Chapter 16

The boom of wood doors being thrust open, the crash of glass. Jaral could hear them, even in the light of day where his powers were so greatly diminished. The assault had begun.

At night, he might have climbed the side of the chapel with his bare hands in moments. In the light of the sun, he had to rely on climbing implements like any mortal, and his dark muscles ached from the exertion as they had when he was a mere man.

Few vampires honed their bodies as he had. They were masters of the night, gifted with powers beyond any other; to struggle and exert themselves daily to keep their more mundane skills and strengths up seemed wasteful to them.

Jaral never was like most. Not as a living man, not as an undead fiend.

Climbing the rope was exhausting with the sun leaching his power, but progress came, albeit slowly. Further and further towards the top of the chapel where an open window beckoned him in.

The ruckus in the chapel below was his distraction, and as he made it to the top he took only a moment to compose himself before he stuck his head into the luxurious room and hopped inside.

He had no idea how, but amazingly the glass of the chapel seemed to almost amplify the light from outside and make it even more agonizing to tolerate within. He struggled to put up with it, wondered if even the holy nature of the site was what was disorienting him further.

There was no time to waste though. The sounds of the fighting below were his power, his control, his distraction bleeding away by the moment.

A quick look about the lavish room showed there was nothing there, and he moved on.

In the bright hallway outside there was one of the elven archers lining up a shot below. A quick stab of Jaral’s dagger into the man’s back, up in under his ribs, and the man was done. Jaral moved on.

The doors that lined the hallway were all locked, and he had no time to pick them all. Normally a quick boot to the door would have been enough to knock each in, but with his powers diminished he had to instead get creative.

He pried open one door with his dagger and kicked at the hilt to pop it open.

Nothing inside but some empty bunks.

The same trick on the next door broke the dagger, but popped the door opened to unveil storage supplies. Nothing more.

His patience growing thin, he went to the next and pulled out a new dagger. The moment the blade tip entered the lock, he heard the click of machinery from within.

It was nothing like the ordinary sort of lock trap, and the smell of sulfur took him by surprise. An explosion of flame centered upon him, and his black clothes lit up like a torch.

He fell back, one of the glass windows smashing open as he nearly toppled outwards. He righted himself in the very nick of time, throwing his cloak to the side then rolling onto the floor.

In the light of day, his flesh was vulnerable. A wound from flames could be severe, even permanent. He’d known some vampires cursed to walk the earth as an immortal cripple thanks to wounds suffered in the light of day that would never heal, a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone.

When he recovered, he found his breeches and leather vest singed, but his smooth brown flesh unharmed. “You’ll pay for that,” he complained irritably to the lock, repressing the anger at his own mistake. He’d not seen such a magical trap in so long, he had grown careless.

To disarm it in the shroud of night would have been simple for him. Instead he had to resort once again to old skills. He steadied himself with his dagger, not letting a single stray muscle on his honed, hard body twitch out of order.

Whatever was behind the door had to be important, and he only had so much time to manipulate the locking mechanism while avoiding setting off the trap. To do so he had to conjure up magical powers that did not come easy in the light of day, and exercise refined muscle coordination that was arduous with the still stinging feel of sun and fire upon his flesh. The feel of his own perspiration was strange and unfamiliar. The door clicked open and revealed the woman tied within.

Anjasa was gagged and strapped to a column, looking quite unconscious as she dangled from bound arms.

He went to her, lifted her face, saw those beautiful, dark eyes look to him as he severed the rope and cut her free. She fell into his arms, and he…

The illusion gave way. It wasn’t her. It was the whore she had saved from the catacombs, and the sorcery that had been used to disguise her was melting away.

Suppressing his rage, he yanked the gag from the woman’s mouth and demanded in his low tone of voice. “Where is she?”

Though she looked exhausted, the redhead managed an answer in an almost haughty voice, “I haven’t seen her here. They said she was here, but she got away.” Her determined eyes glared at him, “Get me out of here.”

Jaral was no hero. He came for one purpose and one purpose alone, and it wasn’t to save every damsel in distress. It was to save his damsel in distress.

Letting Iridessa slump to the floor, he turned to leave. If Anjasa got out, she might be in danger still. He had to track her down immediately and –

An arrow caught him in the chest as he stepped out of the room.

Chapter 17

It was mid to late afternoon by the time Anjasa returned to the Chapel, and in so short a time it was already looking very different from the state she’d left it in.

There was more than the one window smashed out, she noticed. In fact, few of the beautiful stained-glass windows were left intact.

The front doors were open, one of them looking busted.

More than that, there was a calm quiet to the place. As if nobody occupied it any longer.

She wanted to break into a run, but she knew that was too risky. Her pace slowed, and she forced her breathing to keep steady, relaxed. The light still hindered her ability to hide, but she was no fool. Even though it looked abandoned, she approached cautiously, her weapons always at the ready.

Anjasa had to make amends, to get revenge for being so totally, utterly careless.

For most it would be strange to think of the daylight as the enemy, but Anjasa had been a whore, a thief, and an assassin in the past. The dark of night was her friend in all her walks of life.

So she exercised great caution as she slipped in through a side entrance, careful of any traps, any–

The bodies upon the floor explained the silence. There were so many of them! Some bludgeoned, some stabbed or slashed, many pierced with arrows. The place was a macabre charnel house, and the whole change had occurred in but the brief few hours she was away.

With so much shattered glass lingering in the windows, or strewn about the floor, the light created a curious spectrum all about as she crept through.

Nothing stirred.

As she got to the top of the chapel, she saw the doors there were flung open too. Though each was empty as she inspected them, leading to the last. The room that she had awoken in with Luscius.

The place was empty but for the finer things that filled the lavish bedroom.

When she turned to leave again, he was there.

The dashing vampire hunter stood, one arm hidden beneath his half-cloak, his face a bit red on one side from her harsh blows, but otherwise… the bronze beauty of a man was looking as good as ever. Certainly as confident as ever.

“You came back,” he remarked with a tinge of surprise.

“I lost something here. I’ve come to retrieve it.” Anjasa’s face was impartial as she stared at the man. Still she had to push away the delicious thoughts of his hands on her, his cocks...

It was hardest to push that memory aside. Never had she been with a man like him, and she didn’t know she’d soon forget it, if ever.

“Your employees are returned to you already,” he pointed out, strolling into the room, his high boots tapping upon the floor as he moved. “Even that one with the especially strong taint. There’s no need to keep her with us anymore,” he explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You’re truly gracious for returning the victim of a terrible attack to me,” she bit at him. “But not everyone's accounted for.”

“Well, we felt it necessary to hold her until we were sure she was free of the vampire’s influence,” he explained calmly, compassionately. His graceful, fluid movements hypnotizing as always, “But that will no longer be an issue. Whether she wishes it or not, she shall be free of the vampire’s influence now, thanks to our good work here.” He lifted his brow and looked across the room at her.

“That vampire is dead. He has had no influence over her for some time.” Her words were cold, but her stomach flipped as she remembered that moment of pure bliss when she realized she was tied up. Before she was conscious enough to know it meant that something was terribly wrong, before she realized she couldn’t remember most of the night...

“Oh? You know that he’s dead then?” he questioned with a bit of surprise, walking slowly closer as he strode across the room. Never moving directly any nearer to her. “Then you’ll be happy to know we have no official reason to stay here. That I shall take my remaining forces and go… lest you wish it otherwise.” The offer laid to bare boldly after so harsh a claim. Luscius didn’t know of Zarach before Jaral. He only knew of the one vampire in the city.

Her heart pounded. “Your forces seemed a little scant on the way up here.” She was grateful he couldn’t see the way her lips contorted, but she couldn’t hide the twitch of her eyes, the way the leather groaned as she flexed her hand around her blade.

“Not as numerous as they once were, at least,” he confessed glumly. “He was a tough one, I’ll confess. Even in the daylight he put up more of a fight than vampires millennia old, and we suffered losses bigger than when we took on whole clans of the fiends.” His eyes dipped low, and he looked nothing but sincerely sad at the notion of the lost hunters that worked with him.

Anjasa sneered in disbelief and rage.

Jaral couldn’t die.

Not because of her fucking some stranger!

Not because of her!

Her mind was racing but she took a deep, calming breath, letting the silence stretch out between them. “You didn’t know he was dead, did you?”

With an arched brow he said, “Of course I did. I was here for the fight, after all. I wouldn’t leave such an important task to my hunters without my support, Anjasa. Though I’m sad to say you left me with more marks of our fight than he did of ours,” he rubbed his swollen cheek, flashing his eyes at her with a bit of a grimace.

“Cute,” she exhaled.

Her thoughts, her memories of Jaral, of their short time together came rushing back to her. Of how she’d led a man to his presumed death because of him. Of how he’d helped her save Iridessa. How he’d somehow managed to provide her what she needed to satiate her lust, if only for a while.

How she’d fucked it all up by having a craving for someone new. Someone dangerous.

“Where is his body?”

“We had to destroy the vampire's flesh immediately,” he answered without missing a beat. “Their foul taint has to be purged from the earth to help eliminate the scars it left,” he explained as he stroked a finger along the outline of his strong jaw. “I’m very sad you feel the urge to try and protect such a creature, Anjasa. You are a special woman, and I wanted to protect you from all of this.”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of her. She’d been a slut and a whore for almost as long as she could remember, but so few men managed to make such a lasting impression on her as Jaral had. Or, well... she thought it would be lasting. The night he’d bit her, it had opened up new and terrifying doors for her.

And he’d come to save her.

“I dislike getting people killed, Luscius.”

“He’s not a person,” the retort shot back, a harshness to his voice. Though it melted to charming calmness almost as quickly, “I hope you won’t resent me for it. And in time can accept what I did was not wrong. Nor harsher than need be. But a necessary, even heroic, thing.”

“Killing someone who was here to save me from your clutches is not heroic,” Anjasa hissed back angrily, the sound muffled by her facial covering.

“I would hope by now you realize you weren’t in need of saving from me. I only kept you here to protect you, Anjasa,” he sighed. He looked weary, but none of it impeded the way his hard, supple body moved about the room so sensuously. Each little motion subtly drawing attention to his hard pecs, abs, biceps or the bulge of his groin that she now knew so intimately.

Too intimately.

If she had ignored her longing, her curiosity, just stayed at the club...

Things would have happened the exact same way, only she’d probably have a lot more bruises and a lot less guilt.

Her grip on her dagger changed subtly, the weight balanced differently in her hand. “Cut the know-it-all crap. You had no idea about him. About what he was keeping at bay. You’ve unleashed something far worse on this city.”

His seamless brow furrowed, “What do you mean?” She had him. His exotic eyes locked upon her with a burning curiosity as he stood but a few feet away.

“Jaral had the slime balls of the city on a leash. They worked for him, they were loyal to him. He kept the worst kinds of people in line, and killed those who were too driven by power. He killed the vampire that nearly drank Iridessa to death, because he’d lost control. Now? People like that monster? They have no one to fear anymore.”

His eyes dipped low, and he seemed to be seriously troubled by – or at least thinking over – the matter. “Perhaps there’s a solution then,” he offered. “My remaining hunters and I could stay a while. If we had the guidance and support of a knowledgeable lady such as yourself,” he added with a hopeful smile, extending one bare, muscled arm towards her. “What do you say?”

“How willing are you to kill the humans in this town, Luscius? Because vampires are not the only things threaten the well-being of people.” Anjasa’s heart was racing, and she didn’t even know what she was hoping to accomplish. She just wanted him to slip up, to confess that Jaral had escaped, unscathed.

“We don’t kill mortals casually,” he said in a confessional tone. His hand slowly lifted from beneath the half-cloak he wore, his longer, smooth fingers reaching out to stroke her cheek so lightly she couldn’t even feel it through the mask. “But with some guidance and careful consideration, we could become arbiters of fair justice. Especially if you stand beside me to help.” His every word was so honey sweet in that curious voice of his.

She wanted to kill him. To wipe that self-righteous look off his face, to punish him for distracting her from her duties. Her body began to tremble and she had to struggle to keep her breath regulated beneath the tight confines of her leather outfit. It felt too warm, suddenly, and she felt a bead of sweat begin to run between her large breasts before getting stopped by the material.

“I want to see his remains.”

His hand paused its stroking over the black fabric atop her cheek, and the seductive man stated, “I told you. There are none. Burned to ashes, split up, then cast to the sewers.” An ignominious end for a brave and capable man, who had set out to rescue her.

Her knees trembled for a moment before she bounded towards him, her dagger poised for his throat. It was blind passion at that moment, rage building in her. She didn’t want to believe him, she couldn’t. But there was still that nagging thought.

The thought that it was her fault if he was.

Her blow struck true and… she passed right through.

She had to struggle to stop herself before she crashed into the wall. When she spun about she saw the visage of him, still standing there. He hadn’t… teleported away or whatever it was he had done the first time she met him. She had simply passed through him. As if he weren’t there.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he stated, turning around, and her blurry eyes saw a strange effect. A sort of distortion.

“Shit.” Anjasa darted towards the door, rolling low for a moment in hopes to elude him.

Instead of chasing after her he paced out of the room slowly. “Let’s not fight,” he urged calmly, and she saw him stand there in the doorway. Though again, something seemed… off.

She was about to dodge out of the way once more, but instead she focused her latent magical abilities. Not a spell, as such, just honed that basic ability all elves had, combined with the mysticism she used to cloak herself in shadows.

It became apparent to her then. What she saw before her wasn’t real at all. In fact, there was nothing there. He was a figment of her imagination. A product of a spell.

Yet she didn’t know where to go. Instead, she just began running for the exit, her heart pounding so hard it blocked out her thoughts. Her self-loathing.

There was more... nothing. Was she all by herself in this cathedral, talking to herself the entire time?

She knew it was a spell, something Luscius was playing on her. But why? Why would he project some illusion of himself to wax philosophical at her? He hadn’t tried to trick her into doing anything immediate, he’d just talked… talked to her as if everything were normal.

He was keeping her busy, stalling for time.

Just as that realization hit her, she noticed some long streaks of blood that led back around behind the pulpit of the chapel.

It would have been missed in the great mess of gore if she hadn’t opened her senses to the magical. For some of the blood was darker, infused with some kind of dark magic.

Vampire’s blood?

Her eyes widened and her legs pushed her faster and faster and for a moment it seemed like she had ran through time, appearing a few steps ahead of where she last was.

She found a dead body, definitely one of those elves that worked with Luscius. He died clutching his stomach and had fallen right in front of a hatch, which was where the trail ended.

She pulled the hatch open and descended immediately into the darkness beneath. Most would have been daunted by the lack of light, but it was there in the basement of the chapel that she was more at home than she’d been in a long time.

She was able to meld into the shadows, be safe in its comforting, cold embrace.

The basement was almost empty, just a few pieces of furniture about. The only thing of note was the trail of blood, which ended at one of the walls as if something had passed through.

Moving over to it, Anjasa touched her hand to the wall, only to have it pass through, just like Luscius. Another illusion, albeit it was far less effective than the last. He must have been in a rush.

As she poked through and started down the tunnel, it occurred to her: even in a rush, would he have wasted his powers on such a lackluster illusion? Something so easily seen through?

Heading back into the basement’s main chamber, she concentrated her sight more and found the whole area was alight with magical energy. Illusions were at work, and not just the fake wall she had peeked through.

Crouching down, she tried to discern the real blood trails from the fake, but with so much magical energy at play, it was impossible.

Instead she resorted to more mundane forces.

Tugging down her mask from her nose, she sniffed one of the blood trails. Nothing.

She moved to another.

No aroma but the must of old basement.

The next, and she detected that coppery tang of blood.

It led to another wall and she followed through there, and certainly, it led to another wall.

Past the room of illusions, she could see the trail again with her keen magical senses, able to run down the catacombs, the rows upon rows of sarcophagi as she sought out her wounded lover.

She had no way of knowing where Luscius was, but rage and fear pushed her harder and faster than she’d moved in many years. She hadn't felt this kind of drive since she was with the Royal Investigators back in her home city.

Purpose was restored in her, more than fucking, more than making gold, more than finding the next warm body. Or cold body.

The maze of catacombs was enough to get lost in and quickly the blood trail disappeared. Jaral must have staunched the bleeding at some point during his escape. Or else it was concealed by Luscius.

She had little more than intuition to go on for a while, until she realized she was following a sound in the distance...

Water?

The immense chapel crypt must connect to a natural underground reservoir at some point, she realized as the sound grew louder. Eventually she found the carved stone of sarcophagi replaced by smooth, polished stone and damp floors.

It was naturally hewn by water over a long period of time, not the hands of humans.

If Jaral had been fleeing, it was likely he went this way. He’d want to get out of the chapel’s crypts, wouldn’t he? Find some way out of here. That was the best solution she could think of, and if he were in as dire straits as she suspected, it was likely the best he could do too.

So she followed it onwards, though quickly found the cave channels split off as well. It was yet another maze!

She stopped to ponder, and just as she had decided to try one at random, an echo carried down from another. Some faint voice off in the distance. “Found him!” it carried to her.

Anjasa swore her heart stopped and she tried to place the voice with her keen, elven ears. She began moving, her leather boots softening her footsteps as she ran.

The tunnel was long, but eventually she managed to reach the end of it-- more of a large, open cavern than an end in any conventional sense.

Water pooled about the floor of much of the cavern opposite her end, and more importantly, the sight of a singed and wounded Jaral, clutching his side with one arm as he held a dagger with the other.

He was crouched down on one knee, bereft of cloak or hood, his dark, sandy brown flesh on display as his clothes were ripped, torn and burnt. He was facing off against two very unharmed hunters. One of whom was Luscius.

“Let's end this fiend,” intoned the righteous serpentine man, and the hunter behind him raised his bow, nocking an arrow.

It was as though time slowed relative to how quickly Anjasa closed the distance and buried her blade in the bowman’s spine. It made a cruel crunching sound before he slumped to the ground and she leapt from him towards Luscius, her eyes wild with rage.

This time it was no apparition, and the illusionist saw her only just in time to dodge out of the way. Or more precisely, stumble out of the way. She had taken him by surprise for him to do much else.

“No!” shouted Luscius in anguish, either at the death of his hunter, her attack, the spoiling of his hunt, or all of them. “He’s a monster!” He shouted, eyes wide, “Think of the innocents that we can save!”

“Think of the innocents you condemn with his death!” she screeched, even as she continued to slash at him. He’d already spoken too much, and every time he did, she fell further and further into his traps.

She came at him with such a frenzy that he was forced to pull out a scimitar of his own to deflect her blows, though still he staggered away, barely able to hold his own in the face of her assault. “Why are you doing this?!” he cried out, eyes-wide with panic. “I would never have harmed you!” His words didn’t hold quite the same amount of charm when he was gasping for breath and back-peddling from her attacks continually.

“You’d harm him! You’d terrify my employees! You deceived me!” Anjasa was breathing harder too, the leather tight against her chest.

Despite having a blade with a longer reach, he couldn’t keep pace with her assault. His attempt to deflect her next blow instead landed the blade directly where she wanted it.

A deft twist of her wrists and she pried the scimitar from Luscius’ grasp and sent it spinning into the pool of water.

“Don’t!” he cried out as he fell back to the wall on the damp stone floor, his own bare pecs heaving as he was disarmed before her. “I’m not your enemy!”

She stomped after him, her legs spread on either side of his as she loomed over him. “But you’re his. And I’m not going to let you kill him.” Her breasts heaved with each breath, her body still primed for more.

But in the end, she knew.

She’d never been good at assassinating men she liked.

And had things been different, had her lover not been his target, she’d have really liked him.

With one arm held defensively out, Luscius looked surprised by the halt in her assault. Breathing heavily he looked between her and the wounded vampire, that even then was hauling his injured form closer at an inching pace.

“He’s clouded your mind,” Luscius hissed desperately. “You’re a good woman. You care, I’ve seen it in you. You don’t want blood-sucking creatures feeding upon the innocent, upon women like you and yours, do you?!”

Time was running low, Jaral picked up the scimitar and forced himself to his feet. “We have to kill him, or he’ll never let us be.”

Her gaze went to Jaral, down over his myriad of wounds, and she wanted to rush to him. To heal him.

It would be such familiar release. But there was something more immediate, and she looked down about Luscius. How she longed for it to be different. For her to be able to feel his body again, to share in that passion and lust.

“Save yourself, Luscius. Tell me I can save you both,” she pleaded, her voice dropping as her grip changed on her bloody blade.

Every moment the fast-talking vampire-hunter delayed was another moment the injured Jaral inched closer.

“I’ll call off my hunt,” he bargained at last, reluctantly. “For now… but–” there just had to be a 'but,' didn’t there? He was too damned righteous to let it go at that. “If more vampire attacks occur on innocents, nothing will stop me from protecting them.” He swore it to her, a pledge made with his intense eyes as much as his fiery words.

She took a deep breath, exhaling against the leather mask and feeling the condensation along her cheeks. “Jaral, you need to feed.” She let that hang in the air, her intense green eyes down upon Luscius.

Her next motions were smooth, controlled, as she pulled away her hood and mask, revealing her throat to the vampire.

A look of sadness, disappointment, and disgust crossed the vampire-hunter’s face, though as Jaral drew closer, he knew better than to linger.

Luscius pushed away from them, moving towards one of the exits.

“We can’t trust him,” growled Jaral in a deep, gravelly voice, even as his eyes trained on the supple curve of her neck. His mouth was watering at the very sight of it.

She knew he was right, and she had to wonder just how soft she’d gotten, but she tugged the collar of her top down further. “Shut up,” she demanded quietly, her blood-covered hand drawing his head near, “and drink.”

Even before Luscius had left the room entirely, her tantalizing present had defanged the vampire in a sense. Jaral dropped the scimitar and lunged for her, the offer too much for the injured vampiric fiend to refuse.

His dark brown hand grasped her hip tightly, squeezing it as his full lips pressed to her neck, and those twin fangs pierced the skin and plunged into her flesh. That sudden stab of pain sent a jolt through her body.

Though even as she felt the euphoria of being fed upon flood through her again – whatever dark magics that fuel the vampire’s feeding giving her such a twisted thrill from it – she knew she wasn’t doing this because of his magical charms. She wanted to do it, plain and simple. For numerous reasons, all her own. It was a choice, not a compulsion. Not coercion.

To feel his strong hands upon her flesh, clenching her hip and pushing up beneath her heavy bust… the suckling tug of her lifeblood rushing into his mouth and all the accompanying sensations with it. It was a high like no other.

Luscius paused at the tunnel exit, looked back at her in that moment of bliss. A defeated man.

Her fingers waved to him just as her eyes descended as she was overcome by the joy. This was carnal and wrong, and it was something so right. For her, this was life. Always walking on the edge of a tightrope, never knowing when she was going to fall.

She knew she’d see Luscius again. If not in the flesh, then certainly in her dreams. In her fantasies. She knew she’d lay awake once in a while, wondering if she’d made the right choices. Both wistfully imagining and dreading his return.

Jaral’s grasp filled with strength as he drank from her, the power he wielded returning to him. Returning the man she knew to be with each tug of her life essence in that dark, ritual feeding.

The euphoric high was already so sexual for her, but he made it more so. His hand cupped her bust, squeezed her breast through her leather as he ground his hardening manhood to the round swell of her ass.

Her dark, cold vampire lover wanted her. Even then. In that dark hole, when his life – such as it was – had been mere moments from extinguishing. He craved her flesh.

And she craved him. Adored him. She hadn’t truly appreciated how close she’d gotten to him, how much she wanted him, until it was very nearly stolen away. It wasn’t that he was a vampire. She’d felt this way even before he’d fed from her that first time. There was no compulsion, no magic driving her to lust for him.

It was just his calm, cool, capable self. His sexy body, his gorgeous face, his silent power. She felt for him respect and lust in equal measures. That happened very rarely.

“I’m sorry,” she painfully uttered, her throat tight against his fangs.

The growl that erupted from deep within his chest sent a rumble through her flesh, and he accepted her apology in his own way.

Blood and carnage had exacted a high toll in recent days, yet the two were quickly getting lost in each other. Despite the setting, despite danger that could still threaten them.

His cold, hard hands nimbly undid the lacing of her leather jerkin, each loosed lace allowing the garment to pop open a little further. A little further. Each undone ribbon bearing more of her ample breast flesh, until he was reaching in to clutch his hand to her nude tit and squeeze it tight in synch with each grinding of his loins.

Chapter 18

Jaral had been badly wounded, and both he and Anjasa were more concerned about it than before. Despite his initial feeding, Anjasa noted that the marks were slow to dissipate, his health slow to recover. Though as he clasped her from behind, pressed against the banister overlooking the manor below, his vigor was fully restored. She had no doubt.

They’d been nearly inseparable ever since she’d found him in that cave. He’d even insisted on staying close to the club business while she tended to its restoration, getting things slowly back to normal. She felt a new sense of craving for his body again, but it paled in comparison to her more natural desires. The vampiric pull was just an extra nudge.

She was half-dressed, her skirt hiked up around her hips and her blouse undone to her belly button. They didn’t have patience for full nudity, not then. There was no taking it slow. They were like ravenous beasts and she simply needed him, as quickly as possible.

Needed him as bad as he needed the invigorating rush of her life-essence.

The feel of his hand leaving her hip was a momentary loss, for she heard the shifting of his cloth belt as he pulled down his breeches. Jaral wore no top, leaving his gorgeous, dark chest on full display. Those hard muscles outlined so crisply, pecs to abs, with a lovely little trail of dark hair that went from his naval down to his groin.

He was undead, she knew. His very flesh was cool to the touch compared to her own heated skin. Yet the way that throbbing cock sprung up and slapped against her puffy folds, nobody could claim he didn’t burn with fiery life for her. Not as he ground his brown manhood to her peached femininity.

She wanted him to be inside her again, to fill that deep yearning.

Despite her trysts, despite her very nature, she knew she’d return to him for a long time. Everything about him made her yearn for him, and that deep sense of fear and sorrow she knew when she thought he was dead was... new. Different.

He was special to her, and she arched her back to try to give him a glimpse of how true her feelings were in one of the few ways she knew how. Her little black tuft of hair didn’t extend to her puffy lips, and she pried them apart lewdly, begging for his cock.

Jaral was a great man, in every sense of the word.

Powerful. Cunning. Gorgeous. Tall and exquisitely sculpted. More than that, he had proven an attentive lover since she intervened to save him. Not even mentioning her failure to kill Luscius, though she knew it had to have bothered him.

No, he let that failing go, and instead enjoyed their time together. He suckled the blood from her neck even as he angled his hips and guided his thick, dark cock up into her cunt with one smooth, slow motion.

He was filling in a way so few men were, far more than Luscius even, and her tight, wet grasp rolled back the foreskin from his shaft as he entered her so that the bulging crown could bloom and pulse deep within her. A low, gravelly groan rumbled from his chest, his tongue lapping over the two wounds in her neck.

The loss of blood was pleasant, like doing some exotic drug, but somehow... more. She didn’t feel ashamed about enjoying it. For her it was just another kinky sex thing, and a new, refreshing one at that after she'd tried so many.

“Jaral,” she moaned out, her hand grasping for his thigh as if she could coax him in deeper even as she felt so full.

He did his best to accommodate, but that thick, throbbing organ of his could go no further. Pushing into her harder, he merely pressed upon the depths of her cunt, strained her cervix as ground against that last barrier.

Grasping her hip in one hand, and one of her large, supple tits in the other, he squeezed and manhandled her flesh in a way only a doting admirer would. Lavishing in her physical beauty as he slowly drew back his hips, letting her clinging cunny lips tug back with him before he thrust in again, filling her once more.

She whimpered in pleasure, her body trembling. There was so much blood and death in her past, and so much of it was by her own hand. This coupling was a coping mechanism, a way to momentarily push all of her sins out of mind and instead luxuriate in celebrating life. In feeling good.

Still her lover drank from her, but it wasn’t the death promise she’d once yearned for. Instead it was a reminder that she was still alive. That she was vibrant and capable, that she had so much to offer the world.

Offer Jaral.

Her cunny tightened around him, embracing him warmly into her body as they both found something impossible in one another. A chance for love, and life, and hope.

Or perhaps it was just sex.

It both mattered more than anything and not at all when their bodies were joined like that, the slap of his hard physique crashing against her supple ass cheeks. They were one body, unified by feelings so strong they couldn’t comprehend. Or just better off not trying to.

He gripped her breasts in his digits, as she let him toy with the soft flesh, the nipple stiff and protruding betwixt two of his strong, clean fingers.

Another crash of his loins to hers and he broke the seal of his lips on her neck to groan out her name. His dusky voice making it sound like the sweetest thing ever. “Anjasa,” he throbbed within her so thickly. So deliciously.

She loved the way he said her name. It was like a rare delicacy, the way it rolled off his tongue. The way he savoured the sound of it. A thrill went up her spine and she arched her body.

Her arms were shaky, her legs trembling, but the sensations only brought her back to the moment and made it seem more real. For so long she’d sought pain to remind her of her life, but he was able to grant her something so much more intangible and indescribable.

How someone who was undead was able to make her feel so alive was ironic, and the perversity delighted her.

Her fire was enough to light them both up however, and he pistoned his cock into her harder, faster, more fiercely. The lewd slaps of their loins as his balls swung up against her damp labia and sensitive clit resounded throughout the whole of the manor below. Spiced with the grunts and groans of the powerful man behind her.

Her black hair lashed her back as she arched her chest forward, nipples tight with arousal. Her breasts swayed with each pounding, slapping against the banister as she tried to keep herself upright against his strength. A line of perspiration ran down her spine and sent a delighted thrill through her nerves.

The sound of his rasping moans in her ear were a delight, the sheer satisfaction he got from each thrust into her tight, warm depths announced so completely. She warmed him, brought life to the cold killer in a way he hadn’t known in so many years prior to her showing up in his un-life.

With the familiar twitch of a male organ approaching its climax inside her, he dove his mouth back to her neck, pulling more of her blood through those wounds. Licking up what had run along her collarbone. All while he pounded into her with an increasing frenzy.

It was ecstasy. She cried out his name, her voice hoarse from the drawn-out fucking. Her muscles went stiff and wobbly, and her body cried for rest, but it was such an enjoyable sensation. She forced herself onto her tip toes, coaxing him in further. “Cum in me!”

There was no denying her command, and Jaral grabbed hold of her chest and hip with an iron grip as he quaked. His final moments were a series of sharp, hard thrusts, and she felt it all. The way he bucked erratically, the way his dick swelled and disgorged its rich seed. Spurt after spurt of the pearly essence flowing from his dark brown shaft into her pink womanhood as her taut canal milked him for all he was worth.

Those strong fingers of his sunk into her supple flesh as he pulled blood from her one last time before yanking his head back and letting loose a roar of exultation.

Her head felt light and he was wholly responsible. Her moans and panted breath filled the room as she pushed herself up and against him. His cool flesh was so welcome against her heated skin and she clenched him tight so that he wouldn’t slip out. “You’re a miracle,” she gasped.

The two of them were breathless as the last moments of their coitus played out, their bodies entwined over the railing. The last of his fiendish seed pooled within her.

Jaral clung to her no less tightly then. His hard, brown body wrapped about her, holding her close as he licked over the wounds he had created, staunching the blood flow. The feel of his cool breath upon her ear as he spoke in such a low, husky tone, “A more perfect mortal was never formed.”

Her lashes descended and she moaned her appreciation at his compliment. Her hands ran across his, feeling him out in their entirety. They always got so caught up in their desires that foreplay barely even occurred to either of them.

“I could stay here all week and still want more,” she murmured back.

The usually stoic Jaral couldn’t help but grin, and he ground his manhood into her as he kissed down then up her neck once more. “We've barely left in a week,” he retorted with some wry amusement.

“Has it been that long already?” It barely felt like a couple of days. The severity of his wounds came into focus for her for a moment before they once more left her. “Well, fuck. See, I was right. I still want more.”

The deep chuckle he gave as he groped her flesh and passionately kissed her neck and face betrayed a depth of relaxed humour she had not seen in the normally impassive vampire.

The knock at the door meant they had tarried too long, and Anjasa was late for the club again. There were no more guards at the manor to answer it for them. The few Jaral had left were busy with other tasks these days.

“Duty calls, hrmm?” he remarked.

“Doesn’t it always,” she groaned as she pulled away from him, feeling him slip out and the trail of cum begin to wash down her thigh. She lowered her hand, scooping some up and licking her fingers clean as she hiked down her skirt. “It’s kind of nice having the place to ourselves.”

A hint of some troubled expression crossed his smooth, handsome face, but it was replaced by a light smile for her immediately. “It is,” he started, reaching out, placing his hand back upon the round curve of her ass and squeezing it. “I’ll have to let you go it without me this evening. It’s about time I saw to some issues of my own,” he explained, leaning in and placing a kiss to her cum-stained lips, heedless of their salty tang.

She paused, lingering so close to his mouth as she breathed in. The moment broke when she started doing up her blouse once more, but that worry was shared. “Be careful.”

He flashed her a grin as he did up his own pants, tucking that hefty member back inside the tight britches he wore. “It’s night now. My time,” he remarked with casual confidence as he returned to their shared room to claim his things.

Her lips quirked as she tucked in her blouse, looking as professional and sultry as she ever did. When she went to the door, she didn’t find the usual sternly-concerned face of Iridessa waiting for her, but instead the dainty and sheepish visage of Prim, her eyes casting downwards immediately. “S-sorry to disturb! Miss Iridessa sent me over. Says you were sick of seeing her face getting you out of bed by now,” she repeated what was obviously instructed to her to say, each word sounding so awkward from the pretty young thing’s pink lips.

Anjasa couldn’t help but laugh, welcoming the woman into the manor, “Well, that much is true. You’re a ray of sunshine here, Prim. How was your spa day, anyway? I never did get a chance to ask.”

Though it was getting late and dusk was fast approaching, the delicate young Prim wore a sky-blue dress that spilled down to her knees, shorter than the fashion of the city, but modest by the standards of her work. Especially paired with the tall, thick stockings she had on.

“I never did take that,” she confessed bashfully, as if ashamed. “I got so caught up with helping get the place in shape that it just never happened…”

Anjasa busied herself in the mirror, brushing her long, dark hair into smooth waves, “Well that’s an absolute shame. We’ll have to make a girl’s day out of it sometime. Still you look as radiant as ever,” she complimented the younger woman easily.

Her fair-skinned cheeks lit up with a bright smile at that compliment, Prim looking absolutely buoyed. Anjasa saw the girl open her mouth to speak, but instead she bit down upon her plush lower lip and tucked her head down in embarrassment again. She stood quietly there, squirming a bit as she obviously had something to say but seemed too nervous to spit it out.

If Anjasa were still working as a whore instead of a madam, she’d have known that Prim was the competition. Even if they were as different as night and day, Prim had a universal charm about her that most men yearned for. She looked so innocent and sweet, though Anjasa knew there was far more to her.

“Spit it out, Prim,” Anjasa chastised as she fixed a button that had been wrongly done up.

Prim was so easily swayed emotionally. “Oh it’s nothing!” She blurted out, eyes wide. “It’s just…” she seemed about ready to brush it off, but the woman at least knew not to deny Anjasa what she demanded. “Aeulin asked me out,” she confessed with a squirm and a nervous flutter of her long lashes. “He really seems to like me. And… well…” How could a whore be so bashful?

“I see,” Anjasa responded thoughtfully. “You’re worried about how it would be, working together while dating?”

“No,” Prim backpedaled too quickly before correcting herself. “I mean, yes, but… well he’s very hot and...” she confessed with a bright red burn to her cheeks, appearing mortified. To be fair though, it wasn’t purely her adorably profitable bashfulness that accounted for it entirely. Interracial fucking was a kink, taboo to the people of the city, but one taken lightly. Actual romantic involvement, though--dating, marriage? A scandal waiting to happen.

One that Anjasa saw as a delightful challenge. Not that she dated much.

“I see,” she repeated, finally finishing fussing with her looks and turning to Prim. “Well, what do you want to say to him?”

Prim wrung her hands together over her dress, obviously anxious as she took a moment to answer. “I want to say yes… very much so,” she said with a faint smile and a look that said to Anjasa the interest was quite real and quite carnal. “But there’s, well… it’s nothing I guess. It’s silly,” she silenced herself dismissively.

“I doubt you’d have mentioned it to me if it was,” Anjasa chided, lifting Prim’s chin and forcing the younger woman to meet her gaze.

The young woman’s eyes widened, such a pretty, round shape. They were like rich fountains in a garden. It was easy to see men losing themselves in them.

“I’ve spent a lot of time with Lucas as of late,” Prim confessed. “It’s… it’s nothing romantic. Just… I like spending time with him. He’s very sweet and kind,” she spoke about the worker like she would a dear friend rather than a romantic interest.

“And?” Anjasa prodded, not letting those blue eyes drop.

Put on the spot so, Prim seemed lost in the problem, as if what she thought was so complex was stupidly obvious and she was a fool for not getting it. “I… I dunno. I mean… what would you do?” she asked the older woman, that wide-gaze staring expectantly, waiting for the answer to all her problems.

“If I had a male friend, a male romantic interest, and a job that required me to have...” Anjasa softened the blow, despite herself, “to be affectionate with others? Well honey, I don’t think you’d do what I would do. But I think you know what you want to do and you just want me to say it’s okay. And it is.”

Prim was caught in her gaze, her slender neck bulging as she swallowed down. “Lucas is my friend,” she rephrased her words, accepting them as she voiced them. Then her cheeks puffed a little, dimpling as she announced, “Aeulin is pretty hot…” she licked her lips quickly and tried to look away, “I’ve never had a customer half so handsome as him. I mean… he’s hot even for an elf… right?” she queried, brows raised.

Anjasa let her fingers finally fall way from Prim’s baby-soft chin and nodded. “Even for an elf. And there’s nothing that says what you have with Lucas has to change, hm? If Aeulin isn’t fine with you having friends, you shouldn’t be fine with him, hm?”

The weight lifted off Prim in a very real way, her slender shoulders rising up from their slump as she smiled at Anjasa. “Thank you so much, miss. You’re brilliant,” she beamed, stars in her eyes as she peered up at the elven madam as if handed spiritual wisdom from the deities themselves, and appearing all the stronger for it.

“I’ll make sure you don’t work together often. At least for the first bit, okay?” Anjasa’s fingers trailed over Prim’s jaw before she started towards the door. “It always makes things harder.”

Prim smiled so widely her cheeks looked ready to burst, as if the elder woman had solved all of her problems for her. Perhaps Anjasa had, because as the dainty young woman followed her out, dress flowing behind her, she looked utterly carefree.

Chapter 19

Iridessa guided the dapper young noble up to Anjasa’s office, for that’s what it had become: a genuine office. The large, plush bed was still there, but it was pushed to the side, and her stunning oak desk had center stage, stacked with officious documents and parchments. It was hardly the ideal she had envisioned for herself as madam of so large a brothel, but nevertheless, it was the center of her new operations.

“Here he is, madam,” Iridessa introduced with her usual deference to her saviour and superior. “Also, Prim says you gave her permission to cut out of work early tonight? Insists it was given a week in advance,” the stern redhead arched a brow at Anjasa as the white-knight of a lordling stood waiting anxiously.

“Yes, that’s correct. She had plans and will be taking the early shift in two days to make up for it. Thank you Iridessa, that will be all.”

Anjasa’s long, dark hair was pulled back into a bun that looked stern and professional. Her image was enhanced by the tight, black catsuit. She was still seductive, sexual, yet somehow... her general aura was inaccessible in a way she usually didn't convey. She stood from her desk and motioned her dexterous fingers to the maroon, leather chair across from her.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Loren dear. It has been far too long,” she smiled.

Loren certainly looked the part for such a formal meeting, though he hesitated then sat himself down a bit disconcerted. It wasn’t what he had expected, that much was certain.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on the club,” Iridessa stated to Anjasa before shutting the door and going about her business.

With a deep release of a sigh, Loren laughed, “Whew. That was so… serious,” he remarked, his eyes flashing about the place, soaking in the changes since he had last been with her. “You’re really doing things with this club, aren’t you?” he remarked, sitting much more at ease after Iridessa had left.

Anjasa smiled as she sat, but there was still an air of formality surrounding her subtle motions. “I have been. It has seen some hard days and grows stronger still. I think it could be much more than what it is, truthfully.” Her emerald eyes lit up as she spoke, her smile becoming more genuine, “And as you know, when I see potential, I don’t let it go to waste.”

The words struck home for Loren, one of the few signs that the noble-born wasn’t so simple and sheltered as he often appeared. He looked about like a young boy being chided by his mother.

“That you do not,” he mused, soft and low in agreement, not begrudging her that admission. Entitled nobleman he might be, but he was under no illusions as to whom he owed so much. “I’ve missed you,” he added softly.

Her shoulders softened at his sweet admission, but the rest of her posture stayed rigid. “I’m glad. I’ve often found myself wishing for more time, but with the club the way it is, it’s hard to break away. We lost a fair number of guards recently, and I’ve only just noticed the lot beside us is up for sale.” Anjasa pushed herself out of the chair, walking around the desk and leaned against it, perilously close to the noble. She was sure he could smell her perfume.

“It would certainly free up a lot of my time if you could quicken negotiations with the old owners. The club could then expand. Have more beds. More dance stages. More bar space. More customers.” She paused, smiling at him, “And with it, more money, and more time for fun.”

His nostrils flared, and she had his interest. Loren sat a little stiffer as he watched her with rapt attention. “That’s a tall order,” he muttered softly. He reached up and tugged at his white jacket collar about his neck, his tall black boots shifting and fidgeting against one another as he leaned forward. “I mean… I can absolutely help expedite your negotiations, I’m sure. And certainly…” his eyes trailing down over her form in that helpless way young men do, “I want to do all I can for you.”

Even in her formal attire, she would still be considered scandalous to most humans. The tight, black material hugged her every curve, over her large breasts and firm thighs. Her fingers were bare and she stroked one over his human ear, so different from her more pointed ones. “I believe in you, Loren. I believe you can do this for me.”

The striking young man was in a daze, no longer looking the part of the confident noble despite still bearing the clothes of one. He leaned in towards her, wanting to meet her lips so desperately it seemed, licking at his own, and leaving them moist and shiny.

“I’ll do all I can. For you,” he urged like a doting son, eager to impress his mother, rather than a randy boy wanting to bed her. There was certainly equal measure of both, Anjasa could see, judging by the swell in his groin that tented his white pants.

Yet Anjasa was fighting her own urges, and she was grateful that being a woman afforded her such luxuries.

She never thought she’d see the day where she would turn down her own desires, but something within her had snapped. Her trysts had gotten people killed. People she could have protected. So she squirmed and ran her finger down his jaw, feeling that masculine skin and letting the muscles between her thighs contract before she moved away from him.

“Thank you, Loren. Once we have the paperwork finalized, you’ll have to take me out and we’ll celebrate. I’ll get started on it right away,” she purred, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs tightly to quell the throbbing of her clit.

For his part, Loren hesitated, but pushed himself to his feet. “O-okay,” he said, trying to straighten himself up even though he stood like a foolish boy, with his cock pushing out his pants so awkwardly. “You’re busy then. I’ll… I’ll get things in motion immediately, Anjasa.” His spine stiffened a little, “Or should I call you madam now?” he inquired with a faint smile.

She couldn’t tell if he was afraid of her saying yes, or eager.

Anjasa’s lip quirked into a pleasant smirk as she leaned back in her chair, folding her hands lightly on top of her pile of paperwork. The light filtered into the room through a crack in her heavy curtains and it made her look more sinister. “I do like how it sounds on your tongue, Loren.”

The blood flushed into Loren’s face, but he nodded, “I’ll do all I can, madam.” He stepped back and his heels clicked. “I won’t disappoint you,” he offered as he fumbled unsuccessfully for the doorknob without looking.

“Thank you, Loren. I’ll be dreaming of next we meet,” Anjasa purred, leaning back in her chair and feeling that sense of satisfaction make her cheeks warm. She’d done it again. Resisted the lure of her loins, the urge to throw caution to the wind for no reason.

Sure, it wasn’t a life or death situation. Not then.

But one day, it might be. She had to control her body, or else it would continue to control her.

Chapter 20

They walked together down the dark streets of the city, Aeulin and Prim side by side.

The dashing elf was dressed in a suit from his homeland, which to the eyes of the human’s they passed was both exotic and expensive looking. A black, shiny vest that came up high on his neck, with intricate filigree, and a beautiful shirt with fine stitching all along its arms. The shined-up pair of travel boots and dark trousers were both worn but well-kept and his bright smile made it all look like a finer package than any noble of Prim’s imagination.

“That was a great show--the food wasn't terrible, either” he chimed to her, hand reaching out, the smooth touch slipping into hers as they walked. “I didn’t know the people here had such funny songs to sing!”

Prim had finally loosened up a bit towards the end of the show, but now that they were alone and nearing the end of her date, her stomach was knotted and twisting again.

Her hair was carefully brushed down along her bare shoulders, her light pink shirt-sleeves only covering part of her bicep as if they were cuffs. She’d fretted about what to wear all day but was glad she opted for something cool.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so warm in her life.

“I’m really glad you liked it.” Prim could barely remember any of the play, truthfully. She’d been too lost to her glee, excitement buzzing through her veins. She did remember the dessert being delicious, though.

Watching him eat it, even more so.

His sleek blonde hair caught every glimmer of light the night had to offer, and with that broad smile across his handsome face she swore he was the finest looking man she had ever seen. Even her imagination couldn’t conjure up a finer specimen. Certainly not amongst her own kind.

With a gentle squeeze of her hand he pressed in against her shoulder, side by side. “Did you wanna come up to my place?” he offered casually, everything seeming to come so naturally to the confident elf. “I could show you my instrument I told you about at dinner. The miraquai. An elven flute.”

She was grateful for the reminder. A slight flush came to her face as she realized that she once more had been paying more attention to the way his lips moved than what he said. He was just so... handsome. Gorgeous. She smiled brightly and nodded, but her stomach fluttered and she inhaled deeply. “I’d love that.”

The place he rented was in a nicer part of town than the club. It was a hub for traders and travelling workman, so the accommodations were decent at the least. She couldn’t imagine the price of staying there long term was very feasible though, but he seemed to be managing.

Aeulin led her up into the building and unlocked the door, welcoming her in. “After you, miss,” he swept her in with absolute grace and charm, a graceful bow showing off the sinew of his legs through those tight pants.

The place itself was spacious, several rooms in fact, which was more than she had. The living room sporting a couch and table for sitting around and talking, and then a view into the bedroom, where she saw a few of his elven things arrayed upon a dresser; a carving of some creation of fae aesthetic, and a wind-chime at the large double-window.

Awe filled her and she smiled openly while taking the place in. There was no jealousy or malice in her expression, just pure appreciation for his personal space. “This is gorgeous, Aeulin.” She meant it, and – more than that – thought he deserved it.

He shut the door behind them and said, “It’s just a place to stay. I wish I could show you my old place back home.” He took her hand once more, lifted it gently and guided her over to the bedroom. “You can take a seat, I just have to get things ready,” he remarked with a kiss of the back of her hand and a playful wink.

Her date went to the windows, and pushed them open, revealing that it was actually a doorway onto a small little perch. The curious elven chimes jingled in the night air as he went and took a beautiful carved box from the dresser.

“This was given to me by my father upon my coming of age,” he explained, holding up the slender little instrument, intricately carved, with a few dangling bits of metal. It looked far too tiny and frail to produce any sound worthy of music, she thought instinctively, yet it was still simply magical to behold.

She had such limited experience with elves, but they fascinated her. He fascinated her. She knew of the taboos, of the things people would say, but she was simply too delighted to be with him to care. She smoothed out her skirt as she sat down, crossing her legs at the knee. “It’s lovely,” she murmured.

Placing the box aside he smiled beautifully as he brushed back his hair and held the instrument in hand. “This is a song for you, dear Prim,” he said with the same air of confidence and eagerness to please he would put behind a concert performance. “Excuse me please if I make any errors, this is my first time playing the tune for an actual audience.”

Without delay he placed the tiny flute to his lips, and all her expectations of what were to come were flooded up in a waterfall of melody.

Magical did not describe the sounds. The lustrous, haunting melody tugged at the heart, recalled longing and love, of courtship and caring. All the while he swayed and moved his supple, gorgeous body as a proficient dancer might manage.

Though the flute itself was marvel enough to behold! The dangling metal bits from the holes flickered and flailed, then danced about as if tiny miniature performers upon the surface of the flute. They swirled and vibrated as if they had a life of their own, all in tune to the beautiful music.

Prim saw his eyes open, that emerald gaze seeming to bore through to her heart as he played the personal melody, and she could read the message not only upon his notes but his eyes: he wanted her. Of all the women in the city - no, from across the lands on his travels - he wanted her.

Her heart skipped a beat and lunged into her throat. Her blue eyes were wide and glossy, the music touching her so deeply that she couldn’t help but dab away a tear. Everything had gone so perfectly, and he was just such a relaxing joy to be around!

With a slow yet stunning flourish, he slipped to one knee before her and the song came to an end. The melody seemed to linger in the air even as the dancing metal slowed and came to a halt.

“My Harmony of Desire,” he explained to her with a warm, brilliant smile, “for you and you alone, lovely Prim. Fairest of all the land. Sweetest in all creation,” he stated in a soft voice, reaching out with his free hand to touch upon her knee. “I hope you enjoyed.”

“I’ve... never heard something like that before. Ever.” Her throat was constricted and she swallowed to clear it, her pulse still racing. “It was like something out of this world.”

Her fingers swept through her blonde hair, brushing it over one of her bare shoulders and revealing the beautiful lines of her throat and collarbone. “Who taught you?”

“Every true man of music composes his own Harmony of Desire,” he reminisced fondly. “Though it was my mother who taught me to play, so long ago.” With a gentle touch, he laid the flute to the side and rubbed his thumb over her knee, just beneath the hem of her skirt. “You’re the first beside myself to hear that special tune.”

She bit in her lower lip and stared up at him with such awe and appreciation. He was the whole package. Someone too fantastic to even be real.

“Really?” she whispered. “The first?”

Lifting his free hand up, he cupped her jaw line and stroked his thumb over her smooth, blemishless cheek. “Indeed you are, fair Prim. And even if you care not to pursue a romance, I would not regret my choice. You are more than the finest of your people. A rare and special gift from the Above. And to bask in your presence but a while is worth the offering of my song. The risk of my heart,” the last words rolled off his tongue as if that very heart panged with the saying of them.

She hadn’t entirely understood all of the implications, but at that her blue eyes widened and twinkled with lust and affection. Her stomach fluttered and she had to avert her gaze from his gorgeous visage.

He really, truly liked her! A smile flitted along her lips and she squirmed on the bed, at a loss for words.

Letting his fingers move back from her jaw and comb through her beautiful hair, he leaned in so very near to her mouth. “I had a lovely evening with you, sweet Prim.” His soft breath grazed her lips as he spoke. “So much so I wish I could travel the world with you. My fair dancer, and me your minstrel, performing wherever we went,” he almost sang the words, so affectionately, even as he guided her nearer to his waiting kiss.

Her mouth trembled and she wanted so badly to lean forward, to close that distance and taste him, but nerves held her body taut. Her naked collarbone rose and fell with short, shallow breaths. His words were just a pleasant haze without much discernible meaning, her mind too full of desire to properly digest them.

She needn’t have worried though, for he gently took the lead, guiding her into him as he closed the distance, his soft lips meeting hers as they kissed. His gentle aroma of elven oils and woody scents filled her nostrils as he slid his tongue along her lips and tasted her. His hand upon her knee squeezed and rubbed her bare skin a little more firmly.

It was everything she hoped it would be. Tender and warm, and it made her tingle knowing how taboo it was. It added a little thrill of naughtiness to what was otherwise something so affectionate. Her hand rested atop his on her knee, her thumb running over his skin as she kissed him back.

Prim had a way of bringing out tenderness in men. Nearly all of her clients found that sweet charm irresistible. Yet this was something special, as that gorgeous elven man kissed her so tenderly and he stroked along her knee, and down to her inner-thigh.

His moist, warm tongue pierced her lips slowly, entering her mouth and lapping gently against her own as he pushed in closer. His warm body touching to hers and creating such a stark contrast to the cool night air coming through the balcony doors.

He had a way of making her feel so warm already, but that touch of such tender skin made her feel molten. She pushed in against him a little firmer, encouraging his exploratory motions. Her skin was so silky smooth against his hand, her inner thigh lean and strong yet so soft to the touch. Somehow it was like he’d found a hidden part of her that no one had ever noticed before, though she knew it wasn’t true.

He just made it different.

Each little swirl of his tongue, each rub of his hand as it moved up into her skirt, along her smooth, young thigh, it was all so special. So unique. Like nothing she had ever experienced, and yet like a culmination of everything before.

He broke contact with her lips only to push them back together moistly, his thumb so near to her womanhood. “Will you stay the night?” he asked her, his eyes but narrow slits of emerald as he gazed upon her.

His breath tingled against the saliva on her lips as her heart leapt to her throat, and her mind was hazy, but she nodded, her nose brushing against his flesh gently. She hadn’t intended to, certainly, but she’d hoped to spend the night, pressed up against his body. Held in his loving arms.

She’d spent the past week picturing the various scenarios, but this was the one that woke her in the night, filling her with hope.

“Yes,” she managed to finally verbalize.

A broad smile crept across his handsome face at her acceptance, and he kissed her again, licking along her lips before murmuring to her in his delightful voice, “You won’t regret it, sweet Prim.”

And with that he wrapped his one arm about her body, clutching her close to him as he let his tongue wriggle deeply into her mouth. That other hand of his sliding back around her pert little rear and cupping the supple cheek as he mashed their bodies together vigorously.

It was if her heart was hosting a party with the quick pitter-patter that made the rest of her nerves stand on end. She shifted into him, seeking out his masculine, slender body, her fingers moving delicately to his biceps as she savoured his kiss. Her tongue probed against his, tasting the remaining flavour of their dessert, as her feet moved around his knees and locked him against her.

Aeulin tipped her back onto the bed, still holding her as they kissed so passionately, her skirt upturning and sliding towards her waist as he laid atop her. It was such a sensual, fluid series of motions that led him there, rubbing her flesh as he pushed it back and his throbbing groin pressed betwixt those smooth inner thighs of hers.

A soft little groan rolled out of his throat as he held her, pinned her to the bed so lovingly beneath him.

Despite herself, she ground her hips into him, her petite frame so dwarfed by his more masculine body. It felt good, though. She trusted him, and despite her excitement, she trusted herself with him. That was, for her, the most important thing.

Her spine arched and she pressed her small chest against his, her mouth becoming tingly as they continued to make out. Her hands went over his shoulders, stroking the muscles, simply reveling in the way his body felt up against hers.

Aeulin was a lean man, as was the typical for his people, yet he was still the taller between them. Prim had been the runt of her family, which were themselves a short lot.

He had a way of holding her as if he were shielding her from the world, protecting her as he felt out her form. He squeezed the smooth flesh of her bare ass cheek until he let it snap back into place with youthful suppleness.

She could feel those neatly trimmed fingertips of his trail up to the waistband of her panties, hook into them and begin to gently tug them downwards even as he gyrated his hips, grinding himself to her. Their lips locked in a seemingly unbreakable bond.

Every nerve ending came alive as he unveiled her sex. She’d worn her favourite pair of panties-- light lilac in colour, ribbed with black lace and a bow in the centre. Yet they still revealed her sweet little ass cheeks and she angled up to let him pull them all the way down her thighs.

She pulled away for a moment, gasping for breath as her fingers went to his shirt, starting to hungrily, feverishly strip him as well.

His shirt and vest peeled away to reveal a beautifully muscled chest like no other she’d laid eyes upon. The muscles well defined, the skin a rich shade so much darker than hers and completely smooth.

“You’re beautiful,” he gasped out as he let her panties dangle from one of her ankles, his hand sliding back up that pristinely smooth skin to find her dainty womanhood. Those nimble fingers of his stroking over the puffy folds of her quim and nestling between them to find her sensitive clit, which he teased and stoked with expert care.

They’d been making out so long, teasing one another with subtle, yearning touches, but it all seemed to happen so fast. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her blonde hair pressed into the bed. An elf was touching her.

Aeulin was touching her.

She moaned softly, and her body felt electric against his touch.

The delicate swirls of his fingers as he prodded such sensations out of her were pure delight, each subtle motion betraying the exotic elven heritage that made his kind so dextrous and nimble.

Aeulin’s other hand rose up over her chest and he tugged open the string that kept her top closed. His lips trailed down her neck, closing in on the freshly revealed breast and kissing upon her clear skin. He chased down her teats with his mouth and tongue, catching one of her dainty nipples with his mouth and suckling the sensitive bud in time with his exquisite fingers below.

Her nipples were soft and supple, but the moment his warm mouth moved along her skin they instantly tightened into twin peaks atop her small chest. She arched her back into him, coaxing him on as she whimpered and mewled her pleasure. She still touched him, caressing his flesh, but the pleasure he was paying to her body was so distracting and delightful.

The flicks and swirls of his tongue and fingers in such marvelous alignment stimulated her small body beneath him. A low little groan of desire set him to trembling against her teat as his breathing grew so heavy between hungry bites.

Deftly, he slipped his hands to his pants, undoing the buckle and pulling them open without neglecting her body. It exposed what had to be the most beautiful male organ she had ever laid eyes upon. By no means the biggest, but so marvellously shaped, with just a gentle curve upwards to it, before coming to its well-sculpted crown nestled in its foreskin. He was so very hard for her, and the thought of an elf – the fabled most beautiful of people – lusting for her, a lowly human woman, gave her such a thrill.

She hadn’t really intended on going all the way. She hadn’t thought he’d be interested, in part, but she also wanted to pursue something more with him. Something meaningful. Something lasting.

But when she saw his body, that caution started slipping away, and she desperately had to grasp onto some of her sanity. Her big, blue eyes turned towards him and she spoke so quietly as if to not interrupt the moment. “Will we go out again?”

His sparkling eyes met hers as he lifted his hand from betwixt her legs, and pushed the glistening tips of his two fingers into his mouth. He took a moment, suckling her nectar from his fingers before he leaned in and kissed her mouth again.

“As often as you let me take you out,” he promised in a low tone, pushing their bodies together so that his cock throbbed against her slit, the veins prodding her clit as he kissed her passionately upon the lips, then down her neck once more.

She swallowed hard, her entire body excited for him. Craving this. Telling her mind to be silent, but it wasn’t. “I really like you.”

His hips rose and fell as he ground his manhood to her tiny slit. Through his heavy breathing he kissed her collar bone, along to her bare shoulder. “I like you, Prim,” he mirrored, dick swelling thickly with his excitement. She could feel him draw back, letting that cock slide along her puffy folds until the crown was positioned right at her opening, nestled up against it. “Really, really like you,” he husked before moving back to her lips and placing a kiss upon them.

“And that won’t change?” she whispered back, following it with another quick kiss. Her body shouted at her to quiet down, to just let him slide into her body and finally let her live out her fantasies. To finally just feel him take her over entirely.

He stroked a finger along her cheek, being so gentle and tender even as his body throbbed and screamed at him to just plunge in. “We won’t let it,” he declared defiantly before he gave into desire and sank his pulsing shaft into her warm, wet little canal, his lips parting with the eruption of a deeply satisfied groan from the tight of her quim.

Her blue eyes fluttered shut as her mind finally calmed. All that remained was their bodies, meeting with affection and lust. She wrapped her arms around him as her wet cunny grasped him tightly.

Her body was so slender, and so inviting to his elven form. Without wasted time, he lifted his hips and began to pump his length into her. Each time pushing a bit deeper, until he was hilting himself with each new thrust.

Through his heavy breathing and pants, she heard him say “You feel so good, Prim,” in a lust-laden voice, his two arms going about her to clutch her closely. That natural elven grace she so admired was put to magnificent use as he lifted his own hard ass into the air and plunged down again, letting his smooth, veiny girth sunder her cunny again and again.

Her legs were agile and lean from her work, and they came up around him effortlessly, hugging that firm ass with her calves and inviting him in deeper and deeper. She couldn’t believe she was having sex with him on the first date, but he was everything she had lusted for ever since she could remember. There just wasn’t a way she would have turned him down--could have turned him down--and she was glad for it.

A gasp escaped his lips unbidden, and experience taught her what it meant. Her beautiful elven hunk was getting close to finding his release within her, and he shifted just slightly, maintaining his pace but bringing his hands to her chest and hip. Those nimble thumbs of his stroking her nipple and prodding her clit.

The slap of his sac striking her moist loins filled the lovely room as he picked up his pace, growing a bit more erratic as he went.

Excitement spiraled down her spine. Not just physical, but mental, and she arched her body into him. She wanted this. Him. More than anything she could think of in the world, she wanted to share this bliss with him. One of her hands dipped from his shoulder to join tis finger and her throbbing clit. She put more pressure on it, moving his digit just how she liked it as he approached his release.

Aeulin took the guidance and used it well to stimulate her tiny, slick bud, even as his own jaw dropped and he gasped out his coming pleasure. “Prim.” Her name rolled off his tongue as she felt him throb within her, his balls tightening and the slapping tapering off as he was perched so near to release.

It took but the slightest more effort to teeter him over that edge, and he arched his spine and thrust into her, a wild and intense orgasm causing him to erratically hammer his shaft into her again and again. Each new thrust the harbinger of another thick strand of his elven seed that lanced into her tight little vaginal canal, coating it in a stream of pearl.

She gasped and gulped, and though it wasn’t perfectly timed, that stimulation and rough pounding toppled her over as well, and her crescendo of a cry joined his harder groans. Her voice warbled as she pressed his finger against her clit harder before quickly slapping him away, the sensation becoming too much suddenly.

“Aeulin!” she finally cried, all of that lust and emotion pouring into the word.

The elf kept her pinned beneath him, his shaft lodged deeply within her as he watched her petite body flail and quiver with her own climax. He leaned down and kissed her fondly, repeatedly, ushering her through the intense sensations with his soft words, “You’re beautiful. So wonderful, sweet Prim.”

She was at a loss, simply curling up towards him, pressing her body to his and enjoying the feeling of his warmth. Her heart still raced, but she felt so relaxed, so at ease.

Aeulin cradled her to him as their bodies lay wrapped together on the bed, her skirt and top bunched about her waist, his pants down to his ass. It was in that serene position that she noticed the beautiful chirping.

The sound drew her eyes to the balcony, where she saw the most exotic of birds she had ever laid eyes upon.

With a plume along its spine, the dark bird seemed to try and get their attention as it hopped along the railing.

“What is that?” she marvelled in their post-coital bliss.

He rose up and looked to the bird. “Oh, sorry,” he laughed, and he reluctantly slipped from her, leaving her puffy little slit full of his creamy cum. Moving towards the balcony the bird blossomed into a rainbow of shimmering colours at his approach, a magical display. “It’s a messenger bird,” he explained as he took a tiny scroll from its leg. “That’s all,” he explained with a smile, as if this fantastical bird were nothing to be astounded by.

She couldn’t stop staring in wonder, in a state of absolute awe of him, his bare ass as he stood at the window, and the life he must live that she was glimpsing. It was nothing like her mundane, routine world, and it made her want to be even closer to him.

Taking but a moment to read the message, he crumpled it up then smiled back at her as he shut the twin doors. “Now where were we, sweet Prim…” he said as he came back to her, snuggling against her, coddling her form against his bare chest atop the bed.

Chapter 21

Wandering the low-class streets of Normevor alone was asking for trouble. And that’s just what Anjasa did.

Desperation had a smell in those streets, and she knew that the needy there would do what they must to survive. To eke another day of existence from a robbery. To force another moment of excitement from an unwilling victim.

She was unbothered, however. They posed no great threat to her. Not with her years of training, so recently put back to use at long last.

Besides, she had a silent protector, even if his presence wasn’t necessary.

“Are you going to hang around these dark alleyways all evening, madam?” came the familiar, smooth, exotic voice. It had been so long since she had heard it. Not in the weeks since returning home to nurse Jaral back to health, nor the following month of putting her plans into action, using Loren to help her expand her operations.

She saw him at the end of the alley, silhouetted in the dark, the moonlight gleaming off his bronzed skin and hair so delectably, even amidst the filth of the impoverished streets.

An excited thrill went through her despite herself, and she smiled coyly at the man she’d so nearly lost everything to. All for a chance at that body. Regret nagged at her, but it was two-fold. Regret she had abandoned the club, and regret that she hadn’t fucked him again.

She stepped lightly towards him in her pliable leather boots and seductive dress, her posture so casual. Her long hair had grown even longer, nearing the middle of her back with its cascading waves, and it tickled her naked spine. Her outfit was practical and sultry, all at once, and her stiletto blade was obvious on her upper thigh.

“I’ve found what I’m looking for,” she finally responded.

He wore much the same as when she last saw him: the scandalous leather harness, the tight pants that hung so deliciously low on from his hips, the half-cloak that obscured one arm and hand. “I thought you might be looking for me,” he replied smoothly, his eyes roaming over her in the darkness, some hurt to his voice. “Though I’d be lying if part of me didn’t worry you were off finding victims for your… your ‘friend’.” He made the word sound like a curse.

His silken voice made her skin prickle and his scent excited her further, but she managed to take a breath and get her thoughts back where they should be. On business. On the future.

“He’s far more respectable than that,” she chided. “Now come. I don’t wish to discuss this where wanton ears linger.”

“Where, then?” he asked, taking a step closer, letting her see him and his striking visage more clearly in the pale moonlight. He was as stunning as ever, his muscles as bulging and defined as they were when she had fucked him. Or when she had fought him. Though somehow that scar upon his cheek seemed more pronounced. Or was it just the thought of how she had struck him there repeatedly?

Either way, she thought it only added to his looks rather than detracted from it, and she motioned her head. “Come with me a ways.” She started walking, her footsteps totally muted with her refined step. Every day she had been training, honing her skills back to where they had been at her peak, and every day she was reminded how much she missed this.

“How have you been?” she asked, a cordial tone drowning her suspicion.

He as quiet for a while before replying. “The world is a lonely place without one’s calling and comrades to buoy you,” and there was some hurt there. She knew, of course, he had to have lost quite a bit. With the battle against Jaral’s forces and then her, he seemed to have none of his dark hunters left with him.

She nodded and walked in silence for a long time before she finally spoke again. “I’ve been there many times. It doesn’t ever get easier. I am sorry things went the way they did.”

“Are you truly?” he asked without delay. Could she blame him for being sore?

“I am. I enjoyed your company. I don’t like that our interests clashed so... violently.” She didn’t quite stop, but with a subtle motion she seemed to disappear behind a solid, stone wall. She knew that he, being so good with illusions, would see through it, but what could she say? She wanted to impress him a little.

Luscius hesitated a moment before stepped through, following her into the simple brick room. He inspected it carefully, eyes darting about before resting back upon her. “I don’t think our interests clashed at all,” he remarked with a hint of a defensive tone, as self-righteous as ever while he stood before her. She had to give him credit, he stood tall and proud despite his defeat. “Just your perceptions.”

“I like Jaral remaining in my life. You don’t. That seems, to me, to be a rather large conflict of interests. Though regardless of that, I find myself wanting you to remain in my life as well.” She smiled, moving towards him instinctually before forcing herself to stay still. “You are clearly still interested in that. Despite the beating I gave you.”

She could see his nostrils flare as she had approached, and his muscles tensed. The reactions were so faint and mild, but she could detect the disappointment that she had stopped short.

“I am an emotional individual,” he stated in a self-reflective manner. “That much you must have seen was true from the beginning.” He forced himself to look away and brushed a hand over his half-cloak. “Why else would I have tried to warn you specifically in the beginning?”

“I had half hoped it was because you thought I was too much of a risk to have around, though I know that isn’t true.” It was her more sensual abilities, not her combat ones, that mattered to him. “You’ve stayed around long past the time when you could have fled. Found a new army.”

“It is not so simple,” he stated with some hesitance, his exotic eyes trailing back to her as he refused to be meek about it. “My Order will not look kindly upon such a tremendous failure here. A total loss of all but myself shall be… difficult to explain, and more difficult to recover from,” though something about his gaze told her that was only a half-truth.

She stepped forwards, yearning to caress him. To feel his flesh, to soothe his pains with just a simple and intimate touch, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. It was a distraction from the agony of living, and she didn’t want that to be her life any more.

“And why else don’t you want to leave, darling Luscius? There are other cities you could have gone to in order to hide.”

He stared at her, or perhaps through her, “You make a convincing argument. Perhaps I should just leave. There is not much more I can do to protect the people of this city from the scourge of the undead anymore, is there? And what else holds me here? Certainly not reason. Or practicality. My enemies now know I am here, and weaker than ever.”

She took another soft step forward, looking up at him with her intense, green eyes. She wasn’t intimidated or small, despite her stature, and seemed every bit as confident and imposing as someone much larger. “Stay for me.”

It was obvious her words took him by surprise. His curious eyes widened, and he inhaled a sudden, deep breath, savoring her feminine scent upon his tongue. “You don’t need me,” he responded, the moment seemingly lost in his malaise.

“But I do, Luscius. You are incredibly useful.” She left everything else unsaid, but it hung thickly between them in the air. The memory of their tryst, of the ease with which they flirted. Her nostrils flared in return and she swallowed the emotions down. “I need someone who I know will look out for my best interests.”

Something inside him softened at those words, but he was too prideful, too hurt, to simply give in so easily. “What would you need me for? To run a brothel? I am not fit for that. To serve a vampire’s schemes? I am not willing to do that. Even for you,” and she knew, despite his resistance, he was still hung up on her. He did not want to let go.

“I run the brothel. That won’t change. He handles his... vampire schemes, whatever they may be.” She finally reached out, touching over his scar lightly, and there was such loving tenderness there. It wasn’t the lustful, excited sensation of months before, but something much more intimate. “I need someone who will help and protect me.”

He flinched just the tiny bit from the gentle touch on his scar, that one solitary blemish on his otherwise flawless masculinity. “Why? What do you aspire to do that would require talents such as mine? I am no sell sword, Anjasa. I am a man of noble deeds, if not noble blood.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said there are people worse than Jaral in this city. He... is not all you think him to be, but I know I can't convince you that easily. I hope you can realize, however, that I need your protection from things equally dark, if not worse, in a certain light. My brothel may seem seedy to you, but we provide honest employment to people who enjoy their work. I need to protect them, and others like them. Is that not noble?”

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged, his bare chest expanding with his deep inhalation. “Perhaps it’s not enough,” he added sadly. “Not on its own.” He looked aside then back to her, “I will help you. As long as your efforts are noble, I will stand by your side. Or at your back. Wherever you prefer me,” a faint look of hope tugged at the corners of his lips.

Her smile back was soft and genuine, and she knew the tables had turned. When she met him, she had been out of control. Desperate and drowning her sorrows in men.

Now she felt more self-assured, more capable, and he was the one struggling. Her thumb trailed across his skin again and nodded. “The workers of the city need someone to stand up for them, Luscius. You’re one of the few I could ever trust to care about the regular people.”

He lifted his arm from beneath his cloak and put his palm atop her hand, cupping it to his cheek. “If what you say is true, and they face perils greater than the undead… there is little I would not do to save them… and you from it.” He tilted his head to the side and laid a soft little kiss on the inside of her wrist, their eyes locked all the while.

This was what they had been missing last time. A connection, without pretense or games. Anjasa smiled and licked along the seam of her full lips.

She was ready for what would come next.

A melodious chirp came from outside the hidden room, and through the illusionary wall came fluttering a dark bird. It was somehow not fooled by the magic that hid them, that took Luscius by surprise.

No less so when the strange avian changed its plumage from dark shades to brilliant, alternating colours.

Anjasa had but to hold out her arm, and it fluttered up onto it.

“This is yours?” Luscius asked with surprise.

“She is,” Anjasa replied, petting the bird’s head and neck where once a curious plume was, but had been removed in years long past to make the creature less conspicuous. “If ever I need you, I can send her to you with a message. If you allow. She’s not fooled by friendly magic,” she said proudly.

“It’s an elvish bird?” he asked, studying the beautiful creature as it nuzzled into her touch.

“Yes, but more than that,” she cooed at the creature in admiration. “Only a few elves ever have access to such messenger birds. And so she represents a phase of my life long gone.”

“And what was that?” he queried, a singular brow raised.

She met his gaze, and remembering their moment of honesty and lack of pretense, she felt compelled to share with him the truth. “An assassin, Luscius. Only elven assassins use such birds.”

Note from the Authors

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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

Newsletter: http://jmkeep.com/newsletter

Publishing Site: http://pathforgers.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jmkeep

Twitter: http://twitter.com/jmkeep | http://twitter.com/jekeep