The Vixen Torn (5 page)

“Can... Can I come with you?” she asked, her hand
gripping the back of the chair, struggling to stand up. She paused
and drew in her lips, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t be suspicious of you...”

He hesitated just a moment but stood aside, holding open the
curtained doorway for her. “Certainly,” he said, sounding
at ease.

The kitchen was tidy and clean but obviously used regularly.

She brushed past him a little too closely before bending down to
remove her right shoe. “I don’t know where I lost the
other one,” she murmured half apologetically as she slowly
worked her body in front of him. It was practiced, the way she tilted
her figure just so, revealing a little more of herself as the hem of
her red dress rose up as she set her shoe aside, leaving her barefoot
in his home.

“You’re so kind... This place doesn’t seem like
they have a lot of people like that.”

Dressed in a pair of tall boots, he set a kettle upon the stove,
and lit the fire as he casually set about the tasks with practiced
ease. “It does and it doesn’t,” he said as if that
were wisdom. “They have kindness for those they know. But
anyone outside of that? Well,” he gave her a light smile as he
set up the cups, “caution wins out, Miss Anjasa.”

“But not with you,” she observed, watching him with a
certain curiosity. She was a gorgeous woman, even dishevelled and
worn out, mostly due to her elven heritage.

The kitchen possessed a small table with but two seats, and he
pulled one out for her. “I suppose I’m a more curious man
than I am a frightened one. And your arrival so early in the morning
was certainly something to pique a man’s curiosity,” he
explained, easing her to the table.

She let out a dry laugh as she sat herself down more primly than
before, her face slowly losing its flush and returning to its natural
shade. “Your security guard contrasts you nicely, then,”
she observed as she leaned forward against the table. “I still
don’t know how I got here.”

“Well,” he said with a handsome, pursed lip smile,
“we’ll find that out eventually. But he’s not my
guard,” he explained just before the kettle whistled, and he
poured up the water into the two cups. She heard the opening of his
tea leaf container almost at the same time she smelled it, a lovely
aroma that wasn’t local, but not one of the expensive or exotic
teas she was used to.

“Friend?” she asked as she tried to relax her body
enough to look casual but natural enough that it still looked tense.
She was an expert at manipulating the slight things about her body to
suite her ‘role’.

He made the tea for her with a practiced hand, she noted. Adding
in a tiny bit of syrupy sweetener he looked at her, eyes alight even
in that dark room as he watched her. “Cream?” he asked
simply, his body looking quite appetizing twisted at the waist as he
was to see her.

“Yes,” she answered and was a bit taken aback by how
breathy it sounded. It had only been a few hours, she chided herself.
She had more control than this.

Where he had been miserly with the sweetener, he gave her a
generous helping of the rich milk, stirring it in before bringing the
two cups over. “Here you go,” he said smoothly, slipping
into the seat across from her at that small servants table. “What
brings you here from the elven lands and into tragedy, Miss Anjasa?”

She laughed a bit, accepting the hot cup graciously and taking a
sip. She winced at the heat, but it felt cleansing at the same time.
“Curiosity,” she answered simply.

Seemingly at ease in the small kitchen with her, he sat back in
the chair and crossed his legs as he took a sip of the tea,
unperturbed by the hotness of it. “Curiosity did not kill the
elf. Not today,” he said with a bit of a wry but friendly
smile. “Fortunately.”

She cracked a smile and tried to hide it, demurely, beneath her
mass of wavy, black hair. “You never told me your name,”
she said softly. “I’m guessing this place is yours?”

His exotically shaped eyes moved about the place, as if it were
new to him. “Oh, I own it, yes,” he stated, taking
another sip. He placed down the teacup though and touched a hand to
his chest, “My apologies, Miss Anjasa. Quite rude of me to
neglect introductions. But you can call me Zarach.”

“I’m the one that came pounding on your door at such
an early hour,” Anjasa bit her lower lip. “I really owe
you big time. Who was your friend, then?”

He shrugged his shoulders casually and smiled. “Just some
worker from nearby. Occasionally I pay him to take care of some
things for me. With this much property it helps to have an extra pair
of hands now and then,” he said before taking another sip.
“Where are you staying, Miss Anjasa?”

“I have a room in the trade district,” she said
lightly, finishing off her tea. She rubbed the back of her hand over
her forehead and tried to tidy her hair. “Oh, I must look such
a wreck.”

He rested down his own teacup and gave her a half—smile.
“Nonsense,” he said, “you look lovely.” He
wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb, “Especially for
a woman who has just braved such a harrowing set of circumstances.”

She laughed, the sound coming off as bitter. She looked down, her
eyes hidden demurely, “What you must think of me to be so
foolish as to accept a drink from a stranger.” She sighed
before her gaze rose to his face and she gnawed on her lower lip.

“Hey, Zarach... do you mind if I stay here a bit? Just until
I calm down?”

He stood up, “You’re a brave girl to accept a drink
from a stranger so soon after what you’d been through.”
With a soft smile he said, “And I would let you stay, of
course. But I’ve some business to tend to. Ah,” he looked
her over then smiled, “perhaps you should come with me. You’ll
be in safe company—the safest, in fact—and I’ll see
to it you get whatever you need.” The offer presented so
tantalizingly, his face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile.

“I watched you carefully,” Anjasa promised him, but
she looked hesitant. “Where do you have to go?”

“Oh, not far at all,” he said pleasantly. He extended
one arm, “I realize you’ve lost your shoe, but I think
there’s something here we can find to do you. At least until we
come by a clothing store of some sort.” The wry smile he gave
her was so disarmingly charming, the crook of his arm extended
invitingly.

“Do you have a wife?” she asked as she slowly forced
herself to stand, growing a bit more cautious as he became more
friendly. “And... I don’t have any money on me.
Obviously. I’m pretty sure they stole my purse, because it
wasn’t nearby when I came to.”

With a shake of his head he said, “No, I do not. And you
needn’t worry about money. Not today at least, Miss Anjasa.
What kind of man would I be if I forced a damsel in distress to go
without after coming to me for help?”

“Well, you’d be a lot better than most,” she
offered. Her hand snaked in around his arm and she tilted her head
back to look at him curiously. Sure, she’d told Loren she’d
not be long but, well, these things sometimes took time. If he
couldn’t be patient enough for her to work her magic, he didn’t
deserve the money anyways.

With her hand upon his firm, strong arm, he guided her towards the
front door once again. He opened a closet door beside the main
entryway, and she saw there a strange assortment of coats and shoes.
Women’s and men’s, bizarrely. “Help yourself,”
he invited. “I have a lot of night time parties. A lot of...”
he smiled wryly, “Successful night time parties. As you can
see, last night’s left a lot of guests... disoriented by the
end. I’m sure you’ll find something that fits adequately
for now.” He gave her a bit of a courteous bow, “I’ll
be right back.”

She laughed a bit, and was surprised to find the sound genuine.
Ah, if only she could get the two to reconcile...Both cousins were
appealing in their own way.

She dug out a pair of simply black heels that were close to her
size, and slipped them on before looking around the entranceway.

Unlike the secure bars on the home, the place itself was much
older. The style classic and understated, but she could see fine wood
craftsmanship. Not the stonework of the wealthiest neighbourhoods,
but it was obvious even to her that the humans who had built it did
so with great care and dedication.

She was interrupted from her study as the silent man appeared
behind her, lowering a white as snow shawl about her shoulders, the
fur so soft and delightful she barely felt it against her skin at
first. “To replace your missing coat,” he said, and she
saw he wore a large, simple black trench coat that covered his form
in stark contrast to his pale hair and face.

“Well, I wasn’t at your party last night, was I? I
swear this fur is mine,” she teased. Brushing some of her dark
hair from her face, she looked up at him curiously, “So what
type of business are we off to do then?”

He secured a hat from a rack nearby, a particularly wide brimmed
hat that matched his coat. “Oh, just your typical sort of
thing,” he said, tugging gloves on over his hands before
opening the door, letting the bright outdoor light stream in.
“Restaurant, inn, entertainment. You know the sort of place by
now, I’m sure.”

With his arm extended again, he invited her to take it, a warm
smile upon his face.

“If the order of those things was slightly changed, I’d
assume you were asking me out on a date,” Anjasa teased,
slipping her hand into his arm lightly. Her work could wait. She
could spend all day looking for that piece of paper, or have him so
smitten he told her all about it.

Either way, she’d win.

The Lord to be laughed, escorted her out, locked his door and gate
then took her down the street from whence she came. She even passed
off the little cafe, where she saw the rather morose Loren staring
into his coffee. Suddenly the young man didn’t look as
appealing as he had before, not when compared to the confident and
dashing man at her side, whom bore a pleasant smile as he guided her
down the street.

How fast he faded without her compliments to perk him up. “So,
I guess you’re a businessman, then?” she inquired gently,
probing him.

The large hat he wore kept the midday sun out of his face, but she
could see him much clearer all the same as he smiled down at her. “Oh
yes,” he remarked. “Something of an entrepreneur, you
might say. I have multiple business interests that range across the
city.” He shared the information with ease, not seeming to care
to hide anything with how easily he answered her.

“So why... do you live where you do? I mean, surrounded
by... ruffians.”

He gave a deep, amused laugh. “Oh, multiple reasons,”
he said, patting her hand atop his arm as he guided her along,
approaching a rather curious building. It was built into—or out
of?—the cities old wall, and bridged both sides of the divide.
Part poverty, part simple working class commoner. “I believe
it’s important a business person keep close ties to the
foundation of their wealth, primarily.” He flashed her a wink,
“Never lose perspective, Miss Anjasa.”

She laughed, genuinely. “A hero of the working class, is
that it? With your rich night life and rescuing damsels in distress?”
It made her green eyes sparkle with a bit of excitement and life that
she hadn’t felt in a while.

With another hearty chuckle he guided her on towards the strange
building, with its weirdly angular rooftop that sprouted out of the
stonework of the old wall. “Not quite,” he stated,
opening the door for her in a courteous fashion. The sound a piano
playing emanated from inside.

Once beyond the doorway she could see that she’d entered the
most curious club she’d yet to visit since entering the human
lands. The floor had numerous tables and booths, a massive bar, but
multiple stages as well. The clientele was sparse, but she could tell
it was no simple inn and restaurant. Some of the customers ate or
drank, but obviously the true nature of the place had yet to kick in.
Even the piano player seemed to be idly passing some time rather than
performing seriously.

She drank it all in inquisitively, feeling something deep in her
stomach warm. She didn’t move away from him, but her eyes went
everywhere; over the patrons, over the room. Finally, her gaze
returned to him, curiosity and some apprehension lingering there.

Loren and she had a late start to the day, and it was already
about noon. With so large an establishment and so few customers
around at lunch time, she could guess that the true business of the
establishment had to be concentrated in the evening. The lingering,
faint scent of exotic aromas with a tinge of perspiration even gave
her a sense of familiarity.

The dashing Lord to be on her arm, however, simply guided her to
the far end of the bar. “Here, Miss Anjasa,” he said
cordially. “Take a seat and order whatever you care to. Food,
drinks. Whatever.” He gestured to the bartender behind the
counter. “Anything she wants,” he commanded simply.

Her worries dimmed a bit as she looked to the barkeep and gave a
small smile. “I don’t imagine you really do coffee and
bread?” Her voice was a bit quieter, as if she didn’t
want to disturb the mid—day gloom.

“Of course, missus,” said the man, wringing a towel
between his hands.

Zarach reached out and touched her chin ever so gingerly, guiding
her gaze back to his smiling facade. “I just have some business
to take care of in back. I shan't be long. Indulge to your heart’s
content,” he added with a smile. “The breakfast special
is close to decent. And they make it all day... for me,” he
added with an uneven grin.

She fought back the urge to lunge for him, but something about
that presumptuous and kind motion knotted her stomach. It was
possessive and gentle all at once, and she even felt herself begin to
flush.