A Lady of the Realm (House of DeDe)

by Sharon E Mamolo

  “So I’ll be the third most powerful woman in the Realm?” I asked.

  “Yes, you will,” he said with a smile.

  I stared down at my hands, focusing on my question. “Why are you willing to place me in such a position?”

  He smiled and touched my cheek lightly. “I like you. You haven’t lied to me, yet. Besides, as far as the public and law are concerned, I may kill you whenever I wish,” he said.

  “Nice to know,” I grumbled.

  He laughed, mussing up my hair. “Why do you trust me?” he asked with a smile.

  “’Cause I have to,” I said swatting at his hand.

  He stood up, picking up the empty pizza boxes, and turned his back towards me. I sat back, leaning the stool on its two back legs. He wiped the counter with a cloth and placed his hands on the counter. He wasn’t looking at me when he spoke.

  “Why won’t you sleep with me?”

  I stifled the snort that threatened to escape. He was good at getting answers. I settled the stool on the floor and gave the question considerable thought. You’d think it would be an easy question to answer. We were essentially business associates and generally, I wouldn’t have a problem with the idea. The elf was a walking wet dream. I stared at his bent head as I formulated a suitable answer.

  “I’ve never had a friend like you before. I like it. I like you,” I said.

  There was no point lying. I wanted his trust so I gave him my honesty. Besides, he’d smell any lie, and then question me about it.

  My mom swore my witch blood detached me from human emotions. I used sex as a … commodity. But, I liked him. I didn’t have to guard my words or thoughts around him. He accepted me, and it was nice.

  The elf wasn’t just a useful ally any longer. He was my friend, and friends were harder to maintain if you fucked them. At least that’s what I gathered from my observations of the humans. I didn’t have friends because my observations also found that friends tended to be needy.

  He turned around, his head tilted to the side. “You don’t say?” he grinned.

  “Weird huh?” I said smiling broadly.

  “I’ve never tried having a friend from the opposite sex. It’s a novel idea. How much do you like me?” he asked, coming forward, his eyes blazing with mischief.

  I ran my hand up his broad chest thinking. “I think it’s that sugary smell from your pores I like, you slut.” He made a jabbing motion towards his chest, and I giggled. “Tell you what, keep it in your pants for two weeks, and we’ll discuss your rewards,” I said coming to a decision.

  Two weeks should be long enough for him to forget about it. I was just a challenge. But, if I couldn’t find a damn man in two weeks, I’d use him like a toy. He wouldn’t mind.

  “Fourteen days?” He gasped in true horror. “Can I count the last two evenings?”

  “You’re funny.”

  He was an elf. I asked for the zebra to change its stripes. At least he wouldn’t broach the subject again for fourteen days. I needed to get out and find a man soon.

  Sasha took my hand and pulled me to my feet. He walked to the couch where he promptly fell in the corner. I huddled up on my side, a throw on my legs. He loved musicals; flicking the remote to the widescreen, some corny movie started.

  “Come lay your head, pet,” he said indicating his lap.

  I scooted closer, laying my head on his lap. My arms encircled his waist, and I inhaled deeply. His fingers played with my hair, smoothing it back away from my face. Elves and their aphrodisiac scent were impossible to describe. Everything I loved emitted from his skin: chocolate chip cookies, a salty ocean breeze, chicory coffee, coconut suntan lotion, I snuggled closer my tongue licking him softly.

  Energy coursed through my body as I continued to inhale. Relaxed, sated, and tired from today’s lesson, I drifted to sleep. The last moment of clarity vanished when his lips pressed my temple with a chaste kiss.

  Chapter Three: Fat Tuesday

  Fat Tuesday had finally arrived. I glared at the foot traffic streaming underneath the balcony. The men guzzling on a beer bong were Exhibit Number One. Anyone walking around with his body hair braided and not cowering in shame was here for a party. The women baring their breasts for the cheap plastic beads thrown to them were Exhibit Number Two. I think there should be an age limit, possibly a weight limit also, on anyone wanting to show off her prized hooters.

  “Why do you want to go?” Sasha asked.

  I took a sip of the drink in my hands. The sweet, citrus vodka cocktail slid down effortlessly. “It’s Mardi Gras,” I said.

  I didn’t throw a temper tantrum when Sasha told me to come home early last night. I did throw a glass when he suggested, rather strongly, that I needed to stay in today. I wanted to go to the club. I like bartending large events. Plus, I was tired of being cooped up in the mansion with no one to talk to and nothing to do.

  “I can’t believe you would rather work than talk to me,” he said. He was behind me; his breath teasing the nape of my neck as his tongue skimmed the surface of my skin. His hands came up and cupped my breasts, fingers pinching my nipples softly.

  “We’ve got tonight,” I said.

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” he asked.

  I ignored him, the subject, and the intoxicated tourists playing leapfrog on the street, in favor of getting dressed.

  I donned my favorite work attire for the evening. Black jeans, a white t-shirt and biker boots with the cushy gel inserts for comfort. Sasha had given up trying to persuade me to stay. He ushered me out the door instead. I planned on working until midnight if I didn’t inadvertently kill anyone in the process.

  We reached the club in plenty of time. Sasha’s eyes had gone dark by the time I turned around to kiss him goodbye. I reached up and stroked his face.

  “Go have a good time somewhere else, okay,” I said, smiling into his dark eyes.

  My fingers curled around the small black phone he pressed into my palm. Only the very rich were able to afford the license fee for a personal cell phone. He was very rich. Obscenely rich.

  I sighed and tucked the phone into my pocket. It was his stipulation after I all but threatened to castrate him if he stayed at the club. I didn’t need a babysitter for the day. And I didn’t want Sasha, a walking aphrodisiac for anything that drew in a breath, sitting at the bar.

  “I shouldn’t have let you win,” he grunted gazing at the people milling on the streets.

  “Go, Sasha,” I whispered and pushed him gently out the door.

  An apron hit my back as my eyes followed his back weaving through the thick crowd in the streets. Sasha didn’t turn around or slow down for the various catcalls and pleas to join in the day’s festivities.

  “Ahh, Beth. Tell me he’s just getting you some Sushi,” Hai said.

  I turned around with a smirk to find the second bartender making a round of Jaeger Bombs for a group of bearded nuns.

  I tied the apron around my waist with a grimace. “He’s a busy guy.”

  The girls at the club thought Sasha was community property. I didn’t blame them one bit.

  “But elves love Mardi Gras, and Cindy was counting on him.”

  Cindy, my boss, had offered all kinds of incentives for him to spend the day. Preferably half-naked. Couldn’t blame her either. He was a Lord. He was sexy. He was good for business. Elves were celebrities in the Big Easy. No one could party as they did, and they were easier for the tourists to spot than other non-humans. It was the eyes, always the eyes.

  “He’s got stuff to do,” I said over my shoulder as I headed towards a Teletubbie customer. “What can I get ya?”

  “Large Jungle Juice.”

  I stayed busy for most of the day. That played in my favor ‘cause I was able to ignore all questions concerning Sasha. I stepped outside just after sunset for some fresh air. I wanted to enjoy some of the sights, and people watch while I had a moment to myself. I loved New Orleans and the endless festivals. The city gave people
like me an infinite parade of human specimens to observe.

  Leaning against the side of the club smoking a questionable smelling cigarette was a young shifter girl. After polite introductions, I knew her name was Tiffany; she was from Utah, and she had come down to enjoy the party with some college friends who had quickly ditched her in favor of a booty call.

  “Ten bucks that someone will slip in the puke in the middle of the street within three minutes.” I checked my watch as we kept an eye on the spot in question.

  Tiffany, seeing the slimy green goo on the street, was gauging the probability of just such an occurrence with all the proper attention to detail that one gives to CD options.

  “You’re on,” she said leaning further back onto the building.

  Within thirty seconds, a rowdy group came barreling down the street. The leader stepped into the muck and slid feet first on to the pavement, his head bouncing on the paved street. His friends laughed boisterously, never stopping to help him up or check if he was conscious. The boy, now covered in goo and wet in places that should always be dry when out in public, was obviously totaled. He jumped up after several seconds with an attitude of ‘I meant to do that’, dusted himself off as best he could manage, and walked away as if nothing unusual happened.

  “Damn humans,” Tiffany said, her horizontal slit—like pupils dilated as she reached into her pocket for my winnings.

  I giggled. “Fun huh?” With a warm farewell, and hopes that she would stay safe, I walked back in.

  The buzz of the bar continued. I popped bottles open, mixed drinks and cleaned up without much thought. I didn’t enjoy working, per se, but I loved the bar. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle, the constant change in scenery. I registered what customers asked for as I sang ‘Achy Breacky Heart’ under my breath. It never got old.

  In the middle of my groove, some dude had the nerve to grab my hand when I handed him his drink. It startled me. There are certain etiquette rules at strip clubs. Manhandling the staff is a no-no. I glared up ready to let loose a string of obscenities. I never had the chance to use them.

  It was as though I was looking at Sasha. His facial features were eerily similar. His eyes were the same stormy violet from this morning. His physique, from what I could tell, was leaner. Slim hips, an athletic tone to his wiry muscles, much like a pro tennis player. His hair was unfashionably long also, but it was jet black. So dark that it sparkled blue in areas.

  My skin felt numb where he touched it; like the day I made snow cones with my hands instead of using a scooper. He looked appraisingly at my body as I crossed my arms and glared.

  “I can smell Alek’s scent all over you.”

  I didn’t respond. My orders, if an elf should question my relationship with Sasha, were simple. Say nothing and report all.

  I understood the orders. My House was presumed extinct, my title infamous, and when the head of the witches found out about me, he wasn’t going to welcome me home with open arms. Money was the one thing everyone understood. Under current laws, I was entitled to a piece of the pie, which I would share with Sasha when he inherited his title this summer. No one liked sharing his or her pies.

  “A friend told me about you. I wanted to meet you first without the cub or that half-breed sidekick of his.” He took a sip of the drink. Straight whiskey. The good kind.

  “I’ll let him know you stopped by,” I said.

  “I’m sure you will.” His eyes blazed violet, his fingers tapping persistently against the half-filled tumbler he held. There was a whole lot of interest in his gaze.

  “Damn freak,” I said. He raised one eyebrow. He looked a lot more distinguished than when I tried to do it.

  “Tell him Trystyn will be in touch. Take care,” he said.

  He slid a hundred dollar bill on the counter and walked out, disappearing into the crowd outside the club without drink or change. I stared at the money on the counter.

  Hai laughed. “Are you going to ring it up?”

  “No go ahead and take it. I need to sit down or something.” My mind was spinning with questions. First and foremost was how did he find me?

  “That guy was an elf. Do you know him?”

  “Uhm -- no.” I rubbed a hand across my eyes. “I’ve had enough for today. I’m leaving.” With the huge tip that had just passed her way, she better not say a word.

  Flinging the apron under the bar, I stepped into the bathroom to count the bulging wad of cash in my pockets. I smiled sheepishly. I’d made enough to last through the summer. I stuffed a couple of twenties in my front pocket, and the rest of the cash went into my boot.

  I dug out the cell from this morning and grimaced. I couldn’t tell Sasha I was upset. It would just add fuel to our never-ending battles of what I could do on my own. Flipping the phone open, I dialed Sasha's number and ran the water in the chipped sink. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, I’m off early. Where are you?”

  “At the doors.” He hung up.

  The cold water I splashed on my face felt good. Glancing into the broken mirror above the sink, I frowned. I pinched my cheeks a couple of times to bring some color back. I straightened out my hair, which was slipping out of the haphazard knot of a ponytail. I dropped a couple of eye drops into my bloodshot eyes hoping it would clear them up. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I walked out of the tiny room. As soon as I reached the front of the bar, I spotted Sasha.

  “Pet?”

  He could say the endearment in various ways, conveying thousands of meanings. ‘Pet, are you okay?’ ‘Pet, I’ve missed you.’ ‘Pet, what are you saying?’ ‘Pet, who needs to die?’ ‘Pet, don’t you dare!’

  His eyes scanned the club, piercing the patrons in their motions. A hush fell, the only sound the clueless DJ in the audio room. I frowned. This is why I didn’t like having him around all the time. I couldn’t even have a bad day without his going nuts. I wasn’t sure if elves were temperamental or if it was a Sasha trait.

  “Chill,” I said.

  Hai, who was eyeing his ass from behind the bar, beckoned us to sit. Jake, the bartender with the obnoxious habit of hitting on me every other second, was throwing hostile glances in our direction. This was just uncomfortable.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  Grasping my hand he propelled us through the noisy, drunken crowd. Revelers in bizarre costumes were everywhere counting down the last hour of Mardi Gras. We made it to Canal Street within minutes and started walking towards Convention. Sasha was quiet, walking briskly through the crowds, never letting go of my hand. I slowed my pace when the crowd ceased to be claustrophobic. He turned towards me in irritation, his eyes practically black.

  “Trystyn stopped by.”

  The shock on his face was unmistakable. “Woah?” he said slowly, drawing the one word out for at least two seconds.

  “An elf came into the bar and told me to tell you ‘Hi,’ and that he’d find you later. What?” I asked because his face contorted in rage.

  His nostrils flared, and he stood stock-still for several seconds. Shaking himself, he continued walking, dragging me along the way.

  “Not now,” he grumbled as I tugged at his shirt in hopes that he would slow down.

  “Why?”

  He continued hauling me down the street as I kept asking him to slow down. He pointedly ignored me seemingly deaf and dumb to the English language. To avoid the tourists that had strayed far from party headquarters, we ended up behind the Hilton on Convention. It was a short walk from where we were to the car Sasha had brought. I was fuming beside him now, walking with my head down in angry protest.

  I bumped into Sasha unexpectedly when he froze midstep. His free hand reached for me as I steadied myself behind him. I peeked over his shoulder to see what had made him stop. Some dumb ass was trying to rob us.

  I stamped my foot a couple of times in annoyance. I wanted food, several drinks and a warm bath. I didn’t feel like dealing with foolish humans today. I nudged Sa
sha but he didn’t move. An angry energy storm gathered where we stood, and I panicked. The man, now that I focused, looked more like a boy. He seemed mighty unsure as to his next move since Sasha wasn’t acting as a normal mugging victim should. This was going to be bad. I didn’t want the kid to be hurt because of a misunderstanding.

  “Sasha?” I said, tugging on his shirt again but this time in anger.

  “Will you stay put and quiet for once?” he growled. He had turned halfway towards me to glare. The kid must have noticed the violet eyes, which were glowing in anger, in the dim alley light. The gunshot exploded.

  Chapter Four: A Rectified Matter

  I stepped back as Sasha doubled over, going down on one knee and splashing into some murky sludge in one of the infamous potholes that the city was known for. A dark red stain formed, spreading on the back of his ivory linen shirt. He slumped forward completely and fell motionless on the street. The gunman ran down the alley, stumbled over his falling oversize pants and unlaced shoes, and fell with a sickening thump. I didn’t have time to wonder why he didn’t move.

  I gazed towards Sasha’s unmoving body. Damn. I didn’t know what to do. We never went over a contingency plan for this type of scenario. I reached for him. Life, it seems, had a personal vendetta against my happiness.

  “Sasha, can you hear me?” I asked the still and filthy form. I bent over him, carefully pulling his hair back from his face.

  Another voice intruded on the scene. “He’ll be fine. Let’s get him home.”

  It was Malachi. The half-breed always had exceptional timing. He walked casually to my side and nudged Sasha’s body with the tip of his polished boot.

  “You have a funny definition of fine,” I said.

  Malachi grinned. “He’ll be right enough. Damn me but it was a fine shot. Did you catch that? Straight through the heart it was. Lucky it was a human bullet. Let’s get you both to the car.”