The Sylph Hunter (16 page)

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Authors: L. J. McDonald

BOOK: The Sylph Hunter
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We’re safe now,
Airi said quietly.

Devon rolled over and sat cross-legged, his hands dangling in his lap and his head hanging. “Yeah, we are,” he mumbled and closed his eyes, trying not to think of anything for a while, especially not about how many people weren’t safe at all.

The Hunter roused as it saw the dome closing over part of the city.

It wasn’t surprised, but it was irritated as it saw a large percentage of its food supply wall itself away. That annoyance was tempered by all the rest of the food still walking around.

It had dropped in altitude during its doze, lowering fifty feet or more back toward the ground. It was still high enough that it would need to unravel its tentacles to almost their full length to reach the ground. That was fine. It was still tired despite its sleep and didn’t want to hunt. Nor did it want battlers stumbling across it just yet. They were hunting for it, spreading over the city in their hundreds, but none were high enough to be any sort of threat, not that they ever were. They’d always hunted for it close to the ground, since that was where it fed from. Even the heavy tentacle it used for an anchor was wrapped around the roof of a building above the level where they searched.

The Hunter twined its tentacles closer to its core and settled down to watch them complete the hive. The walls looked thick and solid, stronger than it could smash through. Still, it had found its way into more than one sylph hive in the past. For the time being, it would concentrate on the food still wandering around unprotected. The solid human creatures weren’t as nourishing as the sylphs, but they had a certain flavor to them that was almost addictive. If only it had known that human energy held it in the world, the same way a master held a sylph.

It would need to husband its feeding, it knew. It still didn’t like the look of those great deserts as something to cross and it had no good memories of those oceans. If it ate all of the food here, then it would have no choice but to try the deserts and had no great hopes for how successful it would be. And then what? Another city if it was lucky, followed by another quest for food? This world was much sparser than its home had been.

Below it, battlers ranged through the city, searching for it and calling out to each other. The only way they could find it was by having one of them stumble into its tentacles and the others realize that he’d been eaten when he stopped calling. It was an inexpert science, but they had no other choice. Finding it wouldn’t do them much good, since they wouldn’t be able to do much damage to the tentacles they always targeted, but fear of a lucky strike to its body had driven it away from more than one hive. It watched a battler fly directly below it, passing obliviously within only a dozen feet of its anchoring tentacle, and let the creature pass unmolested. It was only starting to get hungry and wasn’t in the mood for the taste of angry battlers anyway. It wanted some of these funny-tasting humans instead. Too bad none of them were close. It could sense them though, and there were more of them outside that protective dome than within. It cast a hundred eyes upward at the floating palace, hovering high enough that the Hunter’s crest was actually even with it. There were humans there as well, all tasty, helpless, and conveniently easy to reach.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
hey owed a great deal to the battle sylph One-Eleven.

Zalia wandered across the floor of her new home to look out the window at the artificial sky. To simulate nighttime, or perhaps just to take a break, only a few fire sylphs were up there and the sky was a lot like the normal night sky, except with only a few, larger than normal stars lighting it. Or perhaps it was better to compare the sylphs to small moons. They gave just enough illumination for those on the streets to see by, but not to interrupt anyone’s sleep, and the air wasn’t as cold as it usually was either. It wasn’t anywhere near as hot as during the day, but it wasn’t frigid either. She felt comfortable standing there at the window with her arms wrapped around herself.

It was more a tremendous sense of uncertainty that had her hugging herself. In her entire life, she’d never lived in any place larger than the hovel she and her father used to share. Now she was alone in a suite so large that it took her a dozen steps just to cross the living room she was in. Her father had one just like it all to himself across the hall and Devon was two floors down. Whoever once owned this place, they were gone now, leaving more opulence in the apartment than she would ever have imagined. It had everything she ever could have dreamed of, and she didn’t have to share it with anyone. All because One-Eleven brought her and the others here and essentially gave them the apartments.

Zalia rubbed her arms, her skin covered in goosebumps even though she wasn’t actually cold. Perhaps she wasn’t going to be living here alone. She couldn’t imagine just being given a home like this for nothing and she already knew what One-Eleven wanted. She’d seen it in the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye, along with the anguish in her father’s when he’d looked at her for a moment before accepting the apartment. It meant that he wouldn’t be sleeping in the cold sand hoping a snake or scorpion didn’t try to curl up with him for warmth. It also meant his daughter wouldn’t be living her life out in abject poverty and that they could stay in this safe place that was apparently only for sylphs and their masters.

She hadn’t looked at Devon’s face. She hadn’t dared.

Now she stood at the window and waited, not sure if she was waiting at all, or what exactly she was waiting for, though she had her suspicions.

Those suspicions made her tingle, her nipples hard against the arms she had crossed over them, and she swallowed, remembering the sensations that One-Eleven was able to invoke in her. What he’d done to her in her employer’s office, how he’d made her feel when he found her bathing at the stable…She was still a virgin, she told herself. She wasn’t sure that what they’d done was anything less than sex, but her maidenhead was still intact.

How much longer would she be able to say that, she wondered with something that might have been despair, or could have been excitement.

Zalia closed her eyes, not sure what kind of decision she was making and if she had any choice in it. Then again, what kind of choice did a woman in Meridal ever have? All the freedom she had now was due to One-Eleven. She had a debt there, even if the sight of him didn’t make her toes curl and her breathing speed up.

She was falling in love with Devon Chole, she had no doubt of that, but part of her loved One-Eleven as well, with all the fiery passion within her, and she knew already she couldn’t be shared. Even if either of them were inclined that way, she didn’t want to be that kind of woman. Did she? She thought of Devon’s warm brown eyes, his nervous determination, and his smile, and sighed. If she was going to be completely mercenary, and she wasn’t sure that was the best way to look at affairs of the heart, what could he give her that One-Eleven couldn’t? Devon had nothing except the coins in his purse and his air sylph. He couldn’t even gain an audience with the queen to do what he’d come for and eventually he’d have no choice but to go home. He might even leave sooner, to warn his own people of this Hunter. He had no reason to stay, she thought miserably, while One-Eleven had no reason to leave.

Was every woman faced with this sort of choice? she wondered and wished for the first time in a long while that her mother was there to talk to. Her mother had been beautiful, so achingly beautiful, and when she hadn’t been able to pay her debts, she’d ended up sold to the harems. She would have understood what it felt like to have the attentions of a battle sylph, Zalia thought bitterly, and how nearly impossible it was to say no.

Her mother was long gone though, and when the slaves were freed, she hadn’t returned. Zalia didn’t expect her to anymore.

Would One-Eleven remember her mother? she wondered. Would he remember a single beautiful woman among all the hundreds he’d had access to?

None of whom he was with now, she thought with a sudden blush. Out of everyone in the harem, out of everyone in the city, he’d chosen her.

“You’re blushing.”

Even though she’d been expecting him, Zalia jumped. Outside her window was a ledge only about a foot wide that circled the entire building. Elaborate architectural details she had no name for were sticking out from them at intervals and One-Eleven stood on the end of one, leaning on one foot with most of his weight. Zalia’s first thought was that he’d fall, but that was silly. He’d just change shape if he did, though she doubted he’d fall. He was far too graceful for that.

One-Eleven’s smile widened into a grin and her blush deepened. “Can you hear what I’m thinking?” she blurted.

“No,” he told her, shifting his weight onto both feet and gesturing for her to move back. She did and he leaped forward, landing on the windowsill for a moment before he hopped down into the room. Zalia stared at him, her heart pounding furiously again.

“I only feel what you’re feeling,” he explained. “That’s it. But I can usually guess what it means.” The grin flashed over his face. “Or what I’d like it to mean.”

Zalia ducked her head, blushing furiously, even as she felt her nipples hardening even more than before and the muscles between her legs tightening to the edge of pleasure. He hadn’t even touched her! she thought.

A moment later, he did. Zalia felt his rough hand stroke her cheek and slide down to cup her chin, gently forcing her face up. She found herself staring into his beautiful brown eyes, gazing down at her with so much desire that she trembled.

“Tooie says I should talk to you,” he whispered. “I think talking’s overrated.”

He kissed her. Zalia gasped as his mouth pressed against her own and his tongue flicked past her lips, brushing lightly against the end of her own tongue. The feel of it shot right through her, straight to her toes, and she had to put her arms around his neck before she fell. His strong hands closed around her ribs, just firm enough to not be ticklish, and his thumbs brushed upward against the lower swell of her breasts.

She’d never thought she’d be so sensitive. Her entire body felt charged and every part of it that he touched ached. She tightened her grip around his neck, not resisting as he kissed her, and the lust and desire were so strong it was as though he was inside her head. Maybe he was, admonitions that he couldn’t read her mind aside. He could certainly control what she felt and she was as helpless against what he was doing to her as she had been before. She could stop him, she told herself. She’d stopped him twice now. She could trust him to stop again.

It was just, at this exact moment, Zalia didn’t want him to. She couldn’t even quite remember why she’d been so resistant.

One-Eleven sighed happily against her mouth, his hands sliding around from her ribs to cup the side of her breasts, his thumbs stretching farther to circle her areolas. Zalia rose up onto her toes, aching for him to touch her nipples, but he just kept circling them, his soft lips working ever so softly against her own, the tip of his tongue flicking out occasionally to taste.

It was wonderful, if only she could breathe, if only he’d
touch
her. He seemed content just to circle her nipples and run his hands along the swell of the rest of her breasts, his body strong and warm against the length of her own.

Gently, One-Eleven’s hands moved, sweeping under the curve of her breasts, still without touching her nipples, and up between them to undo the topmost of her dress’s buttons. He kept kissing her and she let him, her eyes closed in a haze of desire. One-Eleven undid the button and pulled the pieces of fabric wide, caressing the patch of bared skin between them for a moment before he moved down to the next one. She had six on the front of her dress in all and he undid all of them before he pushed her dress open, his hands returning to their position cupping her breasts, rough against the bared skin and so incredibly warm.

Finally, he touched her nipples, pressing them into her, and she cried out into his mouth, pleasure sparking through her. It felt as though he’d touched lightning to those two points and she was weak from it.

“Good,” he whispered against her lips, reaching his hands up for a moment, just long enough to pull her arms from around his neck and down by her sides. Her loosened dress slid over her shoulders and pooled by her feet, leaving her naked from the waist up. One-Eleven leaned back to take a long, appreciative look. “My gorgeous girl,” he said and stroked one hand down from her breast to the top of the undergarment she wore.

How could she be so calm with him, she wondered, though
calm
was perhaps the wrong word for the fire within her. Any other man seeing her this way would have sent her diving for cover, even Devon, but One-Eleven had buried her shyness underneath his overpowering need. All she had to do was go along with it and he’d…oh he’d…

The battle sylph grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off to expose his own chest. She gaped at it, her mouth hanging open in desire until he bent forward to roughly kiss her lips and dropped to one knee, fingers undoing the tie of her undergarment. Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he pulled it down to her feet in one move. Zalia squeaked at that, but he buried his face in the hair of her mound and gave her core a soft lick that made her screech instead as her knees buckled. One-Eleven rose instantly, shedding his own pants as he did, and caught her before she could fall. His body was hard and perfect against hers, his gaze catching hers and never leaving it, his smile grabbing her breath and causing her to hold it without thinking as he held her with one arm and reached down with the other to the source of the heat that was burning her.

Zalia bucked, pleasure exploding through her with the force of her orgasm. One-Eleven chuckled against her mouth and his hands moved down, grasping her buttocks and abruptly lifting her up against him as he strode forward, his erection pressing almost painfully against her belly, though it felt tantalizingly erotic as well. Zalia tried to get enough breath into her gasping lungs to ask him where he was taking her, but he only took a few steps before he lowered her, and her buttocks and back came down on the rough fabric of a chaise that stood in the center of the room. She’d been sitting on it before walking to look pensively out the window. Now she lay on her back and One-Eleven came down on top of her, his knees wedging her legs wide apart, his mouth crushing down on her own. She was in a haze, burning inside, and in one motion, he pressed the tip of his erection against the part of her that burned the hottest and pushed his entire length inside.

Zalia gasped, her eyes flying wide open. She hadn’t thought…she hadn’t expected him to just…A moment later, she threw her head back as she wailed in the throes of the strongest orgasm she’d had yet, just from the feel of him inside of her.

One-Eleven sighed in true happiness, his hand caressing her cheek as he started to move, pumping his hips back and forth as he slid in and out of her. Zalia lay with her legs spread wide for him on the rough fabric of the chaise, her breasts jostling back and forth as he rocked her. Seeing them move, he purred appreciatively and ducked his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, never slowing the speed of his thrusts. Zalia gasped again, helpless against what was building inside her yet once more. The feel of him was uncontrollable and all she could do was gasp for breath, hanging on to the edges of the chaise for support as he moved against her, his passion bringing her to ecstasy again and again, until she had nothing left in her and he finally hugged her close to him, holding her tight as he finished with a sigh that said that everything was finally right with the world.

They’d moved to the bed.

Rather, One-Eleven had carried Zalia’s sleeping body to the bed and tucked her in. He lay beside her now, watching her. He didn’t normally sleep and hadn’t since long before he left his own world. He didn’t really understand why humans needed to do it so much, but he’d figured out the necessity. Zalia wouldn’t be too happy to have him wake her up now, no matter how badly he wanted to sink into her warmth and love her again. And again and again and again. He never wanted to stop.

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