The Vixen Torn (6 page)

It wasn’t like she had any real loyalty to Loren. At least,
not in so far that she actually had genuine compassion for anything
other than his money. From what she could tell, this man deserved it
far more. At least he worked a little, Even if it was seedy.

Perhaps especially because it was seedy.

“Enjoy, you’re safe here,” he said at last,
walking behind the bar to one of the back doors, giving her a
momentary glimpse of a hallway beyond, a room full of mirrors and
little else.

She hadn’t been sat there long before the meal was served up
to her. Coffee, bread—both toasted and not—with eggs and
bacon on a separate plate. “In case ya wanted ta heed the
advice o’ the boss man.”

“Boss man, hey?” she laughed, taking a bite of the
toast before smearing it with some fruit jelly. She pushed back her
hair away from her elven ear and tilted her head to the bartender,
“What’d you do to get stuck on the day shift here? I
imagine this place is a riot at night.”

Despite her allure—or perhaps because of it—the man
shifted a bit awkwardly. “I work here day and night, mostly,”
he said. “If’n ya need anythin’ else, ma’am,
just give a knock on this here bar, an’ I’ll come from
out back.” With that he promptly scurried into back as if
terrified of her.

It took only a moment to calculate it wasn’t her he was
scared of. The way she was escorted in by the ‘boss man’
and treated special, it was clear some bonds of ownership had been
laid upon her in the eyes of the wary old worker. He was near
petrified that he might say or do something that’d offend and
get himself in trouble.

She didn’t know why it amused her, but she did understand
the terror that ran in a current beneath her ribs. She knew to be
wary of men that frightened others so thoroughly. More importantly,
she knew how rarely she was able to listen to that instinct. The same
behaviour that others found frightening, she found irresistibly
alluring, and she squirmed in her seat as she drank her coffee.

Distracted as she was, she didn’t notice as one of the
patrons who had only just entered walked up along the bar. He was an
ordinary looking sort of fellow, dressed in work breeches and shirt.
A commoner. He gave a distinct whistle as he eyed her with the sort
of lewd appreciation the bartender would only have dared in his
dreams. “I ‘ad no idea the ol’ Puss’ had
hired on an elven dancer,” he remarked, eyes wide with devilish
thoughts as they roamed down over her.

“Hold it in your pants,” Anjasa crooned. “I’m
not hired yet.” The compliments made her glow inside, and she
realized how much she’d forgotten about her past. Sure, she
could never forget what happened to her, but she had forgot how good
this part of it could feel. The chase. The desire. The need that went
above just lust.

Something about bringing money into the picture just made it seem
so much more primal, in its own way. It made it seem real. It
quantified the lust and determined just how far it ran.

“Also, that’s a horrible nickname. Ol’ Puss’?”
she chided.

The man gave a big toothy grin and laughed at her remark. “The
Pixie’s Puss,” he said wryly. “Leastways, that’s
what she used to be called. These days it’s the Prancin’
Pixie’s. Public indecency laws or some such.” He rubbed a
hand off on his pants, “But you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout
gettin’ hired, missy. I say you’re a damn shoe in.”

“Well, maybe you could be my first customer when I am,”
she teased, going back to her toast and finishing it off daintily.
“Isn’t it a little early for you to be lookin’ for
pixie’s pusses anyways?”

With a sleazy sort of looking grin he replied, “With all due
respect, missy, ain’t never too early for that.”

The little interlude was interrupted by the sound of some loud
thud from the doorway Zarach had gone through, and quickly after the
bartender came out, wide eyed and alert. Looking to her then the
ogling patron he said, “S’Lucas!” he brushed over
towards the man, muttering lowly to him. She couldn’t make it
out but judging by the way the patron’s eyes went to her with
wide eyed alarm then trailed away sheepishly, she could surmise the
gist of it.

“Come ‘round back here,” the bartender beckoned
the man. “Got a barrel ya can haul out for us.”

Wow, wasn’t even dating the man and already he was cock
blocking her. Still, she was on a mission so it was probably for the
best. Besides, she was still supposed to be traumatized from the
night before. She grinned as she took a bite of some meat, the grease
only appealing to her because of the coffee at her side.

She ate away in peace, the other patrons buried in their own food
or drink, the bartender and ‘S’Lucas’ too busy in
the kitchen to pay her any mind. She could hear more sounds coming
from that back door though. Another thud, some raised voices. From
where she was she couldn’t make out anything clearly though. It
was clear Zarach must have gone into that hall and vanished into one
of the many rooms beyond, after all.

Spirits, if he was boning some other woman while sending away her
only source of amusement...

She finished half of her meal and downed the coffee with some
amount of grace before standing up and slinking towards the door. She
was as stealthy as them came, with her light footsteps and elven
grace, and her slender fingertips went to the doorknob.

The sounds of talking carried through the door, though not clear
enough for her to make out exactly what was being said. She turned
the knob carefully and slipped in.

The rooms lined with mirrors made a lot of sense, knowing what
kind of entertainment the place boasted of at night. More interesting
to her were the voices from the room down at the end of the hall.

“You know what, Mervin?” and she recognized the voice
as Zarach’s right away. “You’ve convinced me. I
believe you,” he stated with such cool control as always. “You
don’t have the money.”

The response he got was from someone decidedly less calm, who also
sounded like they spoke through a mouth full of gumballs. “Oh
f’ankyou sir. Oh gods...” he sobbed. “I swear it’s
the troof!”

Anjasa bit down on her lip, and she felt the adrenaline begin to
pulse through her. She knew what happened next. it was the same thing
that always happened next when you pissed off someone like Zarach.

Nothing good.

She slipped forward for a better look, situating herself with
practiced care.

Even in the new heels she wore, she managed to creep into position
without a sound. The sight that greeted her was of the brute she’d
first met at Zarach’s holding the arms of a portly man, sagged
down onto his knees. Blood and saliva drooled from the limp man’s
swollen jaw into a pool on the wood floor, which was littered with
broken teeth.

“But you know what that means, Mervin?” continued
Zarach. And she saw him, standing there with his coat and hat off,
but those leather gloves still on as he flexed his hands. He bent
down so the beaten man could look him in the eyes, “It means
you’re a dumb asshole who can’t earn a decent income off
the finest tits and asses the city can provide, lubricated with some
strong ass liquor. And how fucking pathetically useless does that
make you, huh?”

The battered man sobbed again, but Zarach snapped an immediate
punch into the man’s gullet. Lightning fast, was the only
descriptor she had for such a quick move. Mervin didn’t even
seem to feel it right away it struck him so fast, though soon after
it was withdrawn he vomited onto the floor.

Her nose crinkled in distaste, but her heart pounded. Anjasa was
afraid for a moment that it would give her away, that fast little
thump thump, thump thump. It terrified her and thrilled her, all at
once, and she caught herself thinking back to Loren. To how sweet and
dejected he was. How he’d led such a simple, pampered life.

And then there was this man, who was so much more familiar to her.
So much more dangerous for her. She knew she should flee, get back to
Loren, and tell him whatever he needed to hear for him to pound her
hard before she disappeared into the night. Her lips parted and she
struggled to suppress a moan.

Anjasa was fucked up. She knew that, and she knew she shouldn’t
feel such a heat between her thighs at the scene before her, but she
couldn’t help that. She hadn’t been able to help that in
a long, long time.

It was clear with how strong and capable Zarach was, That his
henchman wasn’t holding Mervin up for the sake of restraining
the battered man. No, he was holding him up for sheer convenience, as
he seemed to have long ago lost his ability to stand up under his own
power.

The dashing beast of a man looked almost unperturbed by the whole
thing. He brushed back some of his long, white hair, looking again
like a civilized man. “Dump him out back, Berro. I’ll
have to find a new manager to entrust this place to it seems.”
Then with another move that seemed quicker than Anjasa’s
ability to perceive it, he grabbed what little hair the portly man
had, held his head then kneed him in the temple, knocking him
unconscious before the thug dragged him off towards a back entrance
opposite her.

Anjasa bit in her lower lip, even as she tried to slink back to
her little barstool. That was where she should have stayed. If she
had, she wouldn’t feel such an uncomfortable, gnawing ache deep
inside her. As soon as Zarach had opened the door, she’d felt
that same, familiar pang in her. Familiarity. History. Desperation.

It wasn’t long before he rejoined her, though seeing him
again in his coat, hat in hand, she would never have guessed what
he’d been up to had she not seen it with her own two emerald
eyes.

The pure smile he gave her managed to overpower the scar that ran
from his chin across his cheek, making him look only pleasant and
handsome as he touched back upon her arm just beneath her shoulder.
“I trust old Bert tended to you well, Miss Anjasa?” The
words were caramel smooth and sweet.

“He was a peach,” Anjasa agreed as she lowered herself
off the stool. “Quiet here during the day,” she said as
she leaned in towards him. His touch, it was capable of such horrors,
of such power, and it made her heart pound harder. “How was
your business?”

So at ease with her closeness, he even let his hand slip from her
arm to beneath along her torso. “Business is business,”
he said, adding plainly, “tedious and messy.” Though one
could never have guessed looking at his clean clothes and near
unblemished features. “I trust you weren’t kept waiting
too long. I know it’s been a harrowing day for you thus far.”

“It’s been getting better,” she reassured him,
unintentionally adding a bit of a seductive edge to her voice. Her
dark lashes fluttered and she took in a deep breath. She had to keep
it together. “Is that all you had to do?”

His arm tightened around her and welcomed her in against his hard
form.

“For now,” he responded. “We have some time to
go tend to your needs,” and the words sounded so rich and
enticing, even though he didn’t change cadence or pitch at all.
Was she just reading into it? “I can escort you back to your
hotel, or...” he smiled so pleasantly. “You can remain my
guest for a while. I’ll take you to the shops, get you whatever
supplies you need, and you can stay the night at my place.” He
gazed down at her and for the first time she noticed what a curious
shade of red his eyes were. Perhaps there was some mixed parentage
further back… “What do you say?”

Her breath quickened and she cursed herself for being so obvious.
Her face dropped away from him and she felt that familiar throb
between her thighs. “I couldn’t think of anything I’d
enjoy more,” she admitted. She was, after all, broke. That was
why she’d slept with the noble born in the first place.

But no matter how much she rationalized it and told herself she
didn’t have a choice, she knew she did. A woman like her always
did, and should always take the option that wasn’t so
dangerous. Still, as her gaze slowly worked its way back over his
body and to his face, she knew that for her, there was no other way.

“Come along then,” he said simply, and though his
fingers never dared to touch upon her round ass, he guided her to the
door with gentle, controlling pressure on her lower back.

He might have lived and operated his business in the working class
areas of the city, but when he took her shopping, he’d brought
her straight to the luxurious end of town. He’d already bought
her much in several shops, ordered the shop keeps to send the
purchased goods over to his place at a precisely planned time, but he
didn’t seem to ready to stop even then. “What say you to
one more stop before we head back, Anjasa?”

“You’re certain?” she grinned, and her eyes
twinkled with exhilaration. She hadn’t had such a shopping
spree in a long while, and even that drove a sexual current through
her body. Everything about him was everything she knew she should
avoid, and everything that her body craved.

Becoming indebted to a man, whether by his generosity or not,
rarely led to happy endings. Yet as they passed a jewellery shop, she
couldn’t help but pause at the emerald set in the display. The
teardrops that so matched her eyes beckoned her, and she squeezed his
arm. “You really don’t have to spoil me.”

He was too keen an observer to miss out on even a subtle cue, let
alone one so obvious. Yet with a simple smile he said in his gravelly
voice, “I have a feeling you’ll make it all worthwhile to
me. If only with your lovely smile.” He guided her into the
shop and insisted on the necklace without delay.

Her mouth opened as if to speak, and she would have dallied if not
for that firm hand on her back. The constant pressure, a reminder of
his presence and of what he’d done so recently with those
hands.