by J. E.
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 Mervin didn’t even seem to feel it right away it struck him so fast, though soon after it was withdrawn he vomited onto the floor.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.
Chapter 3
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 rea
lly 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.
Was he trying to manipulate her? She tilted her head at him curiously, and for a second she wondered who it was in control.
“Should I box that up for you, sir?” asked the clerk.
“No,” Zarach responded, picking up the extravagant chain then holding it up as he smiled to Anjasa. “Allow me, m’lady,” he said, bringing the necklace down to her as she moved her hair out of the way. With steady hands he guided the fat emerald down between her generous breasts, reaching his fingers down and adjusting it perfectly without nary an inappropriate slipup. In fact, nothing he did crossed that border to indecency, not in the slightest. But oh, how tantalizingly close he always came.
Her breath caught as she felt the metal warm to her flesh, and she swallowed. Touching it gingerly, her eyes fell modestly. “This really is too much, you know.” Her voice was so genuine, so honest for once in her life. It was too much, but only because she feared repayment.
Feared and craved it.
“Nonsense,” he said simply, his long index finger trailing down the chain and rubbing the glimmering emerald without so much as a brush against the thick mounds of breast flesh at either side. “Now come. It’s growing late, and much awaits us back at my place.”
Chapter 4
During the day, the barred up manor had looked dark and ominous. As the pair approached following the sunset, she could see light glowing betwixt the bars on each window, the place lit up from inside. It did not, however, detract from the fearsome nature of that iron shod fortress.
“Your new things should be awaiting you, my dear,” he said smoothly, guiding her from the gate towards his door, a hand on the back of her shoulder beneath that luxurious fur that kept the growing chill at bay.
Anjasa knew that playing along like this was bringing her deeper and deeper into danger. She didn’t know what she was getting into, and that lack of information was likely to get her killed in every worst case scenario she could think up. Better options weren’t much brighter.
Yet she felt enchanted with him and almost grateful for that sense of fear that he was bringing back into her life. It shouldn’t have, but it left her with a warm, familiar sensation she had difficulty turning away.
“You certainly know how to spoil a damsel in distress.” Anjasa grinned up at him, and knew how much control she had lost.
Zarach had only a casual smile for her, moving up and opening the door without a need to unlock it, apparently. Once inside she could see the place much better, for an overhead chandelier was lit. The dozens of candles on it shed light upon the expansive main hall.
“Allow me,” he said cordially, taking the fur wrap from around her and stowing it into the closet, along with his own things. “How about some wine, sweet woman? I’ve got a few nice vintages here in house,” he stated affably, his ruby eyes trailing down her form to the large emerald on her chest casually for a moment.
Her skin flushed and she nearly accepted before she paused. Her finger swept some hair away from her face as she lowered her eyes demurely, “I probably shouldn’t tonight. I don’t want to... become trouble again.”
With a soft laugh he reached back to the door and slipped on heavy lock in place after another. “Nonsense. See?” he gestured as the last bolt slid into place. “Safe as could be in home, dear lady.” He smiled widely, took her arm and guided her towards the stairs gently. “There’s a lovely spot upstairs I think you’ll enjoy relaxing in. Wine or no.”
The cool, practiced calm. The charming facade. She knew what treachery and pain lurked beneath it, yet it didn’t stop her from allowing him to lead her body wherever he wished. Anjasa had always been a slave for men, especially charming and powerful ones.
Charm was optional.
The more afraid he made her, the hotter her body flushed, and the more she needed to see what he’d do next.
“So are you having another party this evening?”
“Not quite,” he said with an uneven smile, taking her up the stairs. “We’ve some time to ourselves, and then an associate or two might drop by. Nothing big,” he remarked, guiding her down the hall and opening up a door onto a spacious room, lined with rich, luxurious sofas, cushions and a bar. The only other notable features were the opening onto a balcony and the fact that one wall was lined entirely with mirrors. “Why don’t you take a seat, my dear. I’ll make you a drink.” He guided her towards the most lavish looking sofa, taking her hand and helping her to it. “If you have no preference I’ll just take it upon myself to provide something you’ll love.”
“Host’s preference,” she smiled as she looked around, finding it strangely unnerving just how familiar this room was. “You enjoy mirrors, I take it?”
Casually he walked over to the bar and began to take out some bottles of very fine looking alcohol. “Oh, mirrors just multiply beauty, after all. So a room in which you concentrate beauty seems ideal for them, no?” He said with a playful smile to her as he mixed some drinks.
She was still feeling haggard from the night before, but being around him gave her new life. Even in that worn, red dress, she looked vibrant as she glanced to her reflection. Her skin had taken on a warmer hue, and that gem between her breasts was exquisite.
He brought one back to her in a curious looking glass, “You’ll love this. It’s a bit sweet,” he said.
“And I won’t wake up not knowing where I am?” she asked as she accepted it. She crossed her toned legs and shifted to make room for him.
She’d seen him mix the drinks and pour them from the same decanter, and he drank from his own glass before smiling and nodding to her. “Unless you’ve a very low tolerance for alcohol, Miss Anjasa, I dare say your memory shall be fine.”
Zarach sat down beside her in the space she provided, a hand resting itself casually upon her ankle as he watched her with a smile.
“Unfortunately for me, I am not a cheap drunk,” she teased as she took a sip. It suited her just fine, and she smiled broadly, “Thank you. You make quite the bartender. And tea maker, by the way.”
“A man has to be prepared to entertain a lovely lady without notice,” he responded with light humour, his strong hand squeezing her calf. The drink was certainly strong, but not beyond her experience to handle. “Are you peckish at all, hun? A bite to eat perhaps?”
Her head tilted to the side and she felt her cheeks warm, “I imagine you must be. Have you eaten at all today?” Her black waves spilled over her bare shoulder, and her leg moved towards him of its own volition.
“Your concern for me is touching,” he said as his fingertips lightly trailed up the back of her calf towards the hem of her dress. He downed the rest of his drink then laid the empty glass aside. With a smooth motion he leaned towards her, the intimidating man, so pale and yet strong, looming over her with his lips moistened. Yet before anything more could come of it they heard a knock from below and he froze. “He’s early,” the words spilled out of his mouth as he retreated back just a bit.
“Wait right here, hun,” he said as he rose up, adjusting his vest.
She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he stood up, and it was though the momentary spell had broken. She could still feel the lingering sensation of his fingertips on her smooth legs, and was amazed at how primed she felt.
Powerful men were definitely her weakness, and she nodded a bit dumbly, “Of course.”
He gave her a smile then retreated, shutting the door behind him after he left.
So close. She felt it, he had been ready to move upon her and the moment was ruined by someone’s errant interruption.
She wasn’t surprised by the annoyance she felt burning beneath her skin, nor the rage. Anjasa was not a woman that looked kindly on things being taken from her. Especially not moments with gorgeous and troubling men.
She was also not someone used to idling around, and once more she stole to the door, her footsteps quiet on the wood floor.
Despite the fact that the door was far below, and a hallway separated her from it, she could hear murmured voices as if they were far closer. It sounded like the dark soon to be Lord was but a few feet away, though she could not make out what was said at all, except for an, “Are you sure?” in that now familiar voice.
When he returned back to the door, it confirmed for her just how close he was, for she didn’t have time to slink back to her sofa before it swung open and he looked to her with raised brows, finding her out of her position.
She gasped and laughed it off, shaking her head. “I guess I don’t have time to top up my glass before you return, then.”
“Allow me,” he said, moving towards the bar, taking up the decanter and topping off her glass. He stood quite close to her, more so than before he’d been interrupted with her. “So impatient,” he remarked, filling a second glass, presumably for himself, though as his gaze trailed back down her face towards her chest he seemed uninterested in anything but her as he slowly put her between him and the bar.
That heat, the pressure of a strong body against hers made her lashes flutter and her loins warm. Her breathing caught again as her large chest swelled against him, and she forced herself to exhale. “So that’s all for business?”
He extended one arm past her waist as if he were about to hold her, though he rested it upon the edge of the bar instead. But a few inches from her face, his hard body touching hers, he eyed her through narrowed slits. “Curious if just pleasure remains, hmm?” he remarked with a wry smile, his free hand moving up to her face, fingers lightly touching upon her jawline.
