The Vixen Torn (2 page)

“Well,” she leaned forward thoughtfully, her finger
rubbing along the seam of the wineglass. “Can your friends do
anything to help you out?” Her foot brushed against his pant
leg casually as she recrossed her legs. “Surely they would like
for you to be back in that other bar with them.”

He forced his gaze away from her in some measure to maintain
control in his melancholy. “I doubt it,” he said. “I
thought of plans to get that testament away from my cousin, but,”
he shook his head sadly. “I couldn’t do it. And if I were
caught... it’d be worse than my current predicament.” He
peered about distastefully at that, though looking back at her soft,
supple body soothed him.

“Well,” she mused thoughtfully. “You’re
not alone anymore, are you? You’ve fallen into the lap of a
guardian angel.” Her lips spread into a smile, and she ‘absent
mindedly’ pressed her breasts together for a fleeting moment,
fanning herself. “It’s warm in here, don’t you
find?”

The blatant stare he gave to her breasts as he nodded would’ve
been embarrassing for anyone. “Aye,” he tugged at his
collar just a bit then drank some more of the wine, finding it far
more agreeable than the ale. “You’re... you’re not
like other women, are you?” he asked her with a curious gaze.
“I mean, not even the Elvish women I’ve met.”

“Well, everyone starts to look the same if you only spend
time in the same places,” she grinned as she tipped back the
rest of her wine. “But no, I doubt I’m like the other
elven women you’ve met.”

He managed to tear his eyes away from her tits to stare into her
emerald gaze. “You’re probably like... a princess back
home or some such I bet.”

“An ambassador to Normevor?” he guessed, rather
incorrectly. She noticed his free hand rubbing at his thigh
instinctively, unable to get to what it really wanted to touch, she
had no doubt.

She smiled calmly as she shook her head, “No, nothing so
glamorous. Just here trying to experience new things. You don’t
realize how different humans and elves are until you surround
yourself in their culture intimately.” Her words were like
honey as her foot stroked up his leg again, lingering. “So what
types of things did your father disapprove of? Drinking?”

His leg twitched just a bit at her touch, but then pressed back to
her foot. How he wanted her! It practically oozed out of his pores.

“Aye,” he nodded then grimaced a bit. “And...
women,” he admitted with another blush of his cheeks. “He
didn’t care for me associating with anyone but the most prim
and proper noble ladies,” and she could tell from his tone that
he didn’t share the sentiment. “Obsessed that one would
woo me and I’d plant my seed in her and there’d be some
bastard to contend with.” He rolled his fetching eyes.

“Well, I imagine that’d be your problem and not his,”
her lips quirked, her brows rising slightly. “Did any manage to
disappoint him so?”

His brows rose and he stared at her wide eyed. “Huh?”
Then getting her meaning he shook his head, “Oh, no no.”
He drank down more of the rich wine, “I was not so daring as my
father seemed to think I was. He took the clubs reputation a little
more seriously than he should have.” He cleared his throat and
lowered his face, glancing to her from the corner of his eyes, and
she could tell he was desperate not to embarrass himself further in
front of her.

“Then that’s an even bigger shame,” she lamented
for him. “I can’t have any more children, but if I could,
well, I’m sure there are other arrangements than taking off
with an entire inheritance,” she smiled coyly. “Still, if
I were you, I’d just be filled with spite. You’re taking
it quite well considering.”

Loren looked a little overwhelmed but he took the compliment with
a half—smile and a nod. “Thanks,” he said. Then looking
to his empty glass he said. “I, uh, please, excuse me if you
think this rather forward of me, madam Anjasa, but,” he cleared
his throat yet again, seeming to have developed quite the habit. “But
would you care to join me for an evening with some more fine elven
wine as I seek to enjoy the last of my privilege before being cast
off?” The hope in his beautiful amber eyes was palpable, and
stood in contrast to his strong jaw and masculine good looks.

“Are you a poet as well as a noble?” she smiled
amiably before giving a soft nod of her head. “And I think
that’d be delightful. Do you have a place nearby?”

Her acceptance seemed to nearly floor him, and he delayed a moment
before nodding abruptly. “Y yes, I do,” he said then
stood up and quickly ordered another bottle. “It’s just
down the road,” he said with a pleasant smile. “It’s
my family’s townhouse; it’s mine... for the time being.”

Taking the bottle of wine he extended his arm to her in a
gentlemanly fashion.

She threaded her arm through his, and even in her heels she was a
good half foot shorter than him, “I’m sure your father
can be made to see sense.” Her fingers stroked his arm,
touching brazenly against his wrist. “You’ll be back to
high class soirees before you know it.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late for him to change
his mind,” he said regretfully as he led her down the
cobblestone street of the city. It was night and the people they
passed by her of the respectable sort, thanks to the merchant class
status of the neighbourhood. “He’s been unconscious for
days. The healers say he’s not likely to come out of it
before... before he passes.”

“And what of your cousin? He doesn’t happen to have a
fatal illness just itching to get out in the next day or so?”

The building he took her to was one of the nice, rectangular
structures. Old, by human standards, with some lovely carvings. He
led her inside and it was dark. She judged immediately that even
before this incident he was definitely out of favour with his father,
for there were no signs of servants and what furniture there was laid
beneath protective cloths.

“He is hale and hearty,” he said with some sadness as
the heavy door clicked shut. “Sorry for the state of things,”
he said as he guided her towards the stairs. “I’ve only
kept the room up above set for myself.”

She followed after him, her hand still touching his forearm as she
schemed. He was a handsome man, and she would have eagerly spent the
night with him at any other time. But a man that was down on his luck
was easily manipulated. Should she save him from his sorrows, his
gratitude would be enough to buy her a small villa...

Anjasa’s smile widened at the thought, “Well, just who
knows about this deal?”

The townhouse was still in good condition, despite its obvious
disuse, but when he took her up to the main bedroom she could see the
antique furniture was clean. Any one piece would be worth more than
most peasants made in a lifetime. As turned on the lamps she caught
sight of a large canopy bed and double doors opening onto a balcony.

“My cousin and I,” he said glumly, setting the bottle
down on a dresser which contained a number of glasses and previously
emptied bottles. “He plans to humiliate me by springing it
unannounced after my father passes, I’m sure,” he said
heavily.

“Well, if three know a secret, there’s only one sure
fire way to keep it hidden,” she offered morbidly as she looked
over the bed with obvious interest. It had been a while since she’d
been in such an opulent room, and the sight made her smile.

Meanwhile the young nobleman blinked and stared at her, a little
surprised at her remark. Obviously having trouble reconciling such a
harsh statement with his preconceptions of her, it was perhaps only
that generous hourglass figure that distracted him enough to let it
go without question. “Wine?” he asked, turning to uncork
the bottle.

“Absolutely,” she agreed and she spun about to look at
him with a light expression that belied her previous statement. “So,
do you have copies of the will?”

Popping the cork off with a bit of carelessness, undoubtedly
brought on by too much drink already, he began to pour up the
glasses. “Copies?” he said with some confusion, loosening
his collar then handing her the one fluted glass. “Oh yes. One
for me, one for my cousin,” he said before taking a sip. “Not
that having a copy does me any good. All it says is I can’t
have any damn thing. The fewer copies of that the better. Preferably
none copies,” he remarked dryly.

“So I think we should make it so,” she agreed as she
sipped from her glass. “After all, his word against yours won’t
carry much weight. You’re the son. His true heir.”

He stared at her, looking a bit surprised by her idea. “Take
it?” he said with a furrow of his brow. “I mean... that
would sort of solve everything, wouldn’t it?” he mused,
his collar undone low enough to show a bit of that chest hair so
common on human men. “But they would never let me near it,”
he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed facing the balcony.

“Well, it’s not like they know me. And I do look like
quite the diplomat, you know, once I get out of these clothes,”
she teased, her lids descending part way and making her look even
more enticing. She’d been drinking the entire night, but she
knew how to handle her liquor and had only a slight buzz.

Sitting there mulling over her words, he looked a bit dubious. Or
perhaps it was just the fact that his mind—judging by the bulge
in his crisp pants—was elsewhere, and he had come there with
intentions on her that didn’t involve conspiring.

All the same he brushed his hand through that thick head of hair
again and said, “Well... maybe. But it’ll be locked in a
safe or something, I’d imagine.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking a step towards him and let her
hand fall to his exposed chest. “I’m sure in the morning,
when we’ve sobered up, we can come up with a plan. After all,
you must surely know your cousin well, and he must seem so
predictable to you. He probably uses his own birthdate for his code
or something.”

Loren blinked and his eyes trailed up her curvaceous form, resting
at her breasts yet again rather than her emerald gaze. “I...”
he laid his glass aside, the feel of her fingers upon his chest only
troubling his ability to think even further. “You’re a
very special woman after all,” he said with some astonishment
in his voice.

Anjasa’s smile grew and she shook her head modestly, “I
simply hate to see something so cruelly stolen from someone. Your
cousin did nothing to deserve it,” she said with affection,
ignoring the fact that he’d done even less.

He blinked repeatedly, as if doing so could chase away the fog of
alcohol. Though coupled with the tantalizing stroke of her fingers on
his chest, moving through his peppering of brown hair there, he
couldn’t seem to focus entirely. “If I can get my
inheritance back,” he began and licked his lips, staring
blatantly at her rather generous breasts, “I’ll owe you.
A lot.”

“For now, how about we just chase the worries aside,”
she purred smoothly, her eyes half lidded. Her stare was seductive,
cunning, but most of all, it was hungry. She wanted him, for all his
upset, for all his fears and worries.

Anjasa had never been shy about chasing what she wanted, and
wasn’t above sleeping with men—and women—for money.
Yet this was pure, manipulative desire on her part. A swank place to
stay for a night, and a new, rich, boy toy. “You just lay back
for me.”

The crisp white and black trimmed outfit he wore had weathered his
drinking well. It creased slightly as he reclined back immediately,
as if her very words had kicked out some suspension beneath him.
“Gods,” he swore as he looked up at her with his amber
eyes, “if Father knew what an Elvish vixen I’d met...”

“He wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to stop you,”
she finished as she straddled his hips, leaning over him and letting
her large breasts fall towards his face beneath that stunning red
dress. Her black, full hair framed her exotic, tanned features and
she licked over her lips slowly.

With that longing gaze of his on her bust he nodded. “He
couldn’t stop me,” he reiterated and very brazenly he
lifted a hand. He was not a small man, did not look the type to be
meek, and perhaps the way he reached up and squeezed one of those
large mounds then was proof of that true self poking out of his
melancholy.

She gave an exaggerated gasp of pleasure as she pushed her plump
chest down into his palm. Her hips rocked slightly as she nodded
eagerly. “What right does he have to control you? You’re
a grown man,” she urged him. “You’re strong, and
virile, and deserve to have beautiful women fall for you.”

Anjasa could see it. The spark of something in his eyes lighting
up right before her. That large, human hand squeezed her sumptuously
large bust with a hard tightness, as if he were re inflating back to
the man he—she assumed—was. “Even
Elvish women,” he added as his eyes widened.

“I saw you at your worst, and I still wanted you, didn’t
I?” she asked smoothly, bending down over his body and kissing
just below his ear. “I couldn’t wait to be in private
with you, could I?”

Her clever words worked, she felt his manhood swell beneath her as
she sat atop his groin. The pleasant thickness grew so very fast to
throb up against her. While those fingers of his clenched her teat
tight, too tight, causing her a twinge of pain. “That’s
right,” he husked back to her and inhaled her scent deeply, the
rich aroma of lavender and sex such an excitement.

She traced along the seam of his ear with her tongue, groaning at
his brutality. “You’re so rough,” she panted, but
there was only pleasure contained in her voice. “What a bad boy
you are,” she said as her hands worked over his chest, freeing
him of his shirt in a skilled, eager manner.

Seeing him without his shirt on showed him to be in better shape
than she would’ve guessed. He might have spent his time
drinking and whoring away his inheritance, but he must have spent at
least some of that time training. For his broad chest was toned and
strong, even for a human. She could see where the roughness of that
grip came from, because his biceps swelled nicely.