One-Eleven studied her, tilting his beautiful head to one side to regard her while his smile continued to play around his lips. Oh yes, she thought with something that might have been excitement as much as it was despair. He’d have her if he came on her alone again.
Ilaja tapped her shoulder and she jumped. Zalia hadn’t been aware of the woman leaving or coming back, but she’d regained her composure. “Orlil wants to see you inside,” she said with a smirk.
Zalia’s heart sank. Of course Orlil would show up now; he couldn’t have possibly seen her in a worse light than standing in the middle of the patio, ignoring all her customers while she stared at one man as though she wanted to tear his clothes off.
“What’s wrong?” One-Eleven asked, his smile gone.
“Wait here,” Zalia murmured, waving him down when he started to stand. She was so frightened that all of her ardor was gone. She was so terrified she could even think about Devon again, and wondered a little guiltily if, when he did find the queen, he’d be able to ask her to give Zalia a new job.
She walked across the patio toward the kitchen, her tray still held against her breasts like a shield. Probably sensing what was coming, the other customers laughed as she passed, though a few had the dignity to look sorry for her. No one said anything; there wasn’t anything for anyone to say. There wasn’t even anything Zalia could say to defend her case, not without looking like a harlot, and that would still get her fired anyway.
She walked through the wide doorway and into the kitchen. It was swelteringly hot inside, the heat of the day’s sun combined with the roaring fires of the cookstove. Pots bubbled on the stoves and cooks shouted at each other, somehow producing food out of the chaos. The cool water she served was kept below, deep underground where the heat didn’t reach.
That was where Orlil had his office. Zalia made her way down the steep steps in the dark, one hand on the dry wall as she made her way. Orlil carried his own lamp down with him and didn’t want to waste money lighting the stairs. Anyone else who came down here for the water always risked a broken leg or neck. At the bottom of the stairs was a large cistern that held their water, the liquid dark inside the well. Zalia saw something move in the shadows that might have been a rat and crossed the room toward the office on the other side. The cellar was at least ten degrees colder than the patio outside and she shivered, though that might have been from fear.
Orlil’s office was small, the battered desk covered with the abacus and wax tablets he used to keep track of the restaurant’s sales, as well as those of the other businesses he owned, most of which she didn’t know anything about. Zalia suspected that, even with the chaos in the city, Orlil was still a very wealthy man.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a kind one. Orlil was bitter, scrawny to the point of looking starved, and his head was shaved to show his free status, not that it mattered anymore. Theoretically, everyone was free now, but Orlil had enough authority over Zalia that he may as well have owned her. He directed what hours she worked, what money she kept from her tips, what she could wear, and how she was to behave whenever she was at the restaurant. Zalia had always suspected that he would have been raping and beating his waitresses if it weren’t for the battlers. Any violence against women resulted in an instant response from them, though they’d always couched it under the rules against disturbing the peace before and taken the transgressor to die in the arena. Now they’d probably just kill the man. That reminded her of One-Eleven upstairs and she bowed deeply to hide her sudden blush.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” she said.
Her head down, she couldn’t see him, but she imagined Orlil frowning and lacing his long fingers together on top of the desk. “I don’t want whores working in my restaurant,” he said flatly.
Zalia’s head came up, her heart hammering though she’d known this was coming. “I’m not a whore!” she protested.
Orlil’s frown deepened, glaring at her through the light of the oil lamp. “Ilaja saw you whoring with a man last night and I saw you with that man when I came this morning. I don’t want women selling themselves here and ruining my reputation.”
Her heart sank further. “I haven’t been selling myself,” she promised. “Please, sir. I haven’t done a thing.”
He looked away. “All women are whores. I don’t want to see you here again.”
Zalia fell to her knees, tears in her eyes. She’d starve. Her father would starve. There weren’t any jobs in Meridal anymore, not with so many people leaving and so much confusion. Her father was too old and frail for this to happen to them. “Please, sir!” she begged. “I can’t lose this job! I’ve never been late before. I’ve never failed you!”
“You failed me this time and I’m not in business to deal with failure.” He regarded her for a moment, his gaze making her feel slimy even through the terror. “Perhaps I can use you at one of my other businesses.”
Zalia clasped her hands together before her breasts. “Sir?” she asked hopefully.
“I have a massage parlor down near the docks,” Orlil told her. “I can use another girl there.”
Zalia’s heart fell. He was firing her for being a whore and offering her a job in a massage parlor instead? “But I’m not a whore,” she repeated in a whisper.
“All women are whores,” he said again. “Take it or find someone else to sell yourself to.”
Zalia started to cry.
Orlil glared at her in disgust. “Stop crying, you stupid little—” He looked up. “Who are you?”
Zalia looked around. One-Eleven was standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame and the other a fist against his hip as he looked in, so much in shadow that he was hard to see. The shadow of his face turned toward her and she felt something from him. Not lust this time, she felt comfort instead, covering her as though it were a blanket. How could he affect so deeply what she felt? she wondered. She clung to the comfort, suddenly wanting to go to him.
“Please go upstairs, sir,” Orlil said, obviously mistaking the battler for a customer. He rose to his feet. “Someone will be there to serve you.”
One-Eleven’s face turned toward him, indistinct in the darkness. “You made her cry,” he said.
“Oh, yes, well, just a little discipline for—”
“You frightened her and made her cry.” One-Eleven walked into the room, his face emerging into the light as he came in, his inhuman beauty revealing itself as he stopped beside Zalia, one hand trailing down to lovingly touch her hair. He never took his gaze off of Orlil. “You called her a whore.”
“Well, I’m sorry if you misheard, sir—”
One-Eleven’s eyes suddenly changed, swirling to red ball lightning as his mouth filled with flame. “I don’t like the way you talked to her.”
Orlil screamed, throwing himself backward in terror, his eyes huge. There was nowhere for him to go in the small office and his back slammed into one of the wooden file cabinets he kept there. One-Eleven was on him an instant later, one hand holding him down by the throat while the other drew back, fingers changed to vicious claws.
Zalia shrieked and threw herself at him, grabbing that arm and trying to hold it back with all her strength. Orlil was gibbering in terror, scrabbling at the hand that held him by the throat while urine stained the front of his pants. Even in the poor light, she could see how terrified he was.
“Stop!” she wailed. “Please stop! Don’t kill him!”
One-Eleven looked down at her, his expression puzzled. “He hurt you,” he pointed out.
Zalia shook her head frantically, pulling on the arm while she pressed her side against him, trying to move him away. He let her, stepping back and releasing Orlil. The scrawny man dropped to his knees, choking.
“Don’t hurt him,” Zalia told him. “Please. I just want my job back, my job here. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” One-Eleven
looked at Orlil. “So?”
The man looked up in terror. “Yes, yes! She has a job as long as she wants!”
One-Eleven’s nose lifted. “For more money. I hear that stuff’s useful. And better hours. I want time to play with her every day.”
“Yes!” Orlil agreed, nodding frantically. “She can work half days for twice the money!”
“Good,” he nodded. “Double that.” He gestured to the door. “Get out.”
Orlil fled, his sandals slapping against the floor as he fled to the stairs.
Zalia gaped after him, not really grasping yet what just happened. She just stood there, staring at the doorway with her mouth hanging open, too numb after everything to even think yet. Orlil would want to kill her for this humiliation, but if he did, One-Eleven would kill him. She was safe.
Or not. Desire spread through her again, flooding her despite her stress. “Zalia,” the battler breathed, standing behind her as his fingers touched her shoulder and traced down her arm. His warmth moved against her back and his mouth pressed against the side of her neck, his lips burning hot. “Zalia,” he whispered again.
Zalia shuddered, lust she wasn’t sure was her own flooding through her, making her nipples perk and her belly tighten almost painfully as she stood there, head tilted back with eyes closed and gasping for breath. The cold of the room suddenly didn’t seem to be cool enough as he reached around, fingers carefully undoing the buttons of her dress.
She should stop him right now, tell him no and get out. She didn’t want to be the lover to a battle sylph and she was falling in love with Devon Chole, she was sure of it. She didn’t want to be taken by a sylph in a place where anyone could walk in, without even agreeing to it, without even knowing anything about him other than that he wasn’t human. The pleasure of his touch had her though and she only managed to gasp again as he fully undid the dress and pulled it back over her shoulders, letting it slip to the ground.
Zalia wasn’t wearing a wrap for her chest, her small breasts brown and quivering. One-Eleven stroked them, cupping them in his hands and swirling his hands around them, his fingers touching her nipples and pinching them gently. She jumped with a tiny squeal, afraid to make too loud a sound, afraid to do anything. She wasn’t participating, she told herself. This was all being done to her and oh, it felt so good. It wasn’t her fault though and she wasn’t a whore. She could say stop at any time, no matter how badly her body wanted it.
One-Eleven stood behind her, kissing her neck on each side while his hands massaged her breasts. Trailing his kisses around to the back of her neck, he worked his way down, bringing his hands down to the tie of her undergarment and undoing it. She drew in a breath to stop him then, but the fabric dropped to the floor along with her dress, and his hand cupped her mound, his long fingers curled around to sink into her dampness.
Zalia’s sudden orgasm bucked through her, making her shake with pleasure, even as her knees gave out. One-Eleven caught her and lifted her up, and she found herself suddenly lying on her back on Orlil’s desk, staring hazily up at the battler as he stripped off his shirt and dropped his trousers, his eyes never leaving hers. She looked down nervously to see the erect length of him and he leaned forward, kissing her aching nipples again before he looked at her.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered.
Zalia gasped, the core of her clenching, screaming for him. Her hands tangled in his hair, lost, even as he spread her legs wide to either side of him and kissed his way back down to the untouched land between them.
“You smell so good,” he breathed and dropped his head to taste her deeply.
Zalia almost choked holding in her scream, her head thrown back over the edge of the desk as her back arched with a second orgasm, every muscle inside her tightening with pleasure. One-Eleven was nuzzling her, licking her with her legs up over his shoulders, and in seconds, yet another orgasm flooded through her, making her fingers grab his hair while her legs clenched on either side of his head. She shuddered uncontrollably, but he held her hips still, slowly licking her and gently pressing his warm soft tongue against a small hard knob of flesh above her opening until a fourth orgasm rocked her, making her buck on the desk until her back hurt.
This last rush of pleasure also drained her, clearing her head enough to think again as he pulled back and kissed her inner thighs, sending more tingles through her. Still, a flush rose to her cheeks at seeing herself lying nude and wanton there, ready to let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she had been, hadn’t she? All while just lying there and giving the responsibility all to him. It wasn’t her fault, then. Only it was, wasn’t it? She was just as much a participant as the battle sylph and she was lying to herself to think otherwise.
The only problem was, she didn’t know if she really wanted this at all. The pleasure was overwhelming, but how much of it was her and how much was what he was making her feel? She didn’t know anything about him at all and she was interested in Devon as well. Was it fair to him for her to make love to a battle sylph? Was it fair to One-Eleven to suddenly back out now, after he’d already made her feel so good, and after he’d saved her job?
She did know, however, that she definitely didn’t want to lose her virginity lying across her boss’s desk while everyone she worked with was upstairs, possibly talking about the two of them. She didn’t want to feel ashamed later either. One-Eleven definitely didn’t deserve that.
Zalia took a deep breath, her fingers tightening over the edge of the desk as she braced herself to tell him, even while the pleasure grew inside her again. Ultimately, she didn’t need to say anything as the battler lifted his head, looking at her for a moment in exasperation before he sighed.
“I should have spent less time on foreplay,” he said ruefully and straightened up. Leaning over her, he pulled her up until she was sitting on the desk and kissed her. It was the first time he’d actually kissed her mouth and Zalia relaxed into it after a startled moment. It was definitely easier than what he’d been doing before and her arms looped around his neck, her chilled body enjoying the warmth of him as he moved his lips against hers, his tongue gently touching hers. She was still sitting on the desk with him standing nude between her bare legs, but the lust was eased, One-Eleven backing down. Ultimately, Zalia felt a lot of gratitude at that.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered at last, when he finally pulled away. “I just…” Her lip twisted. “I just don’t know anything about you! I mean, what do you like?” He grinned and she blushed. “That’s not what I meant. I just…I can’t make…love to someone I’m not in love with.”
“You don’t love me?” he asked.
“I don’t know you!” she cried. “I’m so grateful for what you just did about my job, but I don’t know you. I’m not like this.”
“Okay,” he sighed and kissed her forehead gently before running the back of one finger down her cheek. “I want to get to know you too. I just figured I’d really get to know you first.”
She blushed again. It felt as though she’d never stop. She wasn’t really too embarrassed to be sitting there with him though, not after what they’d just been doing and how he’d made her feel. “I’m sorry,” she said again. He raised an eyebrow. “You…I mean you made me feel fantastic and I didn’t…I mean…”
He smiled. “I can feel what you do. Trust me, I enjoyed it.” He kissed her forehead again. “I can feel you’re getting cold too.”
She was. One-Eleven stepped back and Zalia hopped down, grabbing up her dress and undergarment and dressing as quickly as she could. One-Eleven ducked in to kiss her neck again and she touched his cheek for a moment, still not sure how she felt about their intimacy. “I have to go back to work.”
“I got you shorter hours,” he pointed out.
“I know…” She looked down. “I have to think.”
“Okay.” He kissed her forehead again and her eyes flutt
ered closed. “I have to go on guard duty in a little while anyway.” He walked her out, following her up the stairs. Once there, Ilaja looked over at her in amazement while Orlil hurried over, his face still pale, and counted out more money into Zalia’s hand than she’d ever seen before. One-Eleven watched critically while he did.
“Your shift is until the noon hour,” Orlil told her, looking at One-Eleven for confirmation. The battler thought it over and nodded.
“Plus she gets every third day off,” he added.
Orlil winced. “Every third day,” he repeated.
“Starting tomorrow,” One-Eleven smirked and walked away. Orlil bleakly watched him go and then looked at Zalia for a moment, his expression blank. Turning, he went away, leaving her standing there holding a handful of gold and wondering if she should feel bad about finally being paid enough to live on. She could pay for a real home with this, and afford good food for herself and her father, as well as clean clothes and actual baths.
Ilaja edged up to her, her voice laced with contempt. “And you said you weren’t a whore,” she growled and walked away.
Zalia gripped the gold so tightly that her hand started to hurt and it was a while before she went to re-collect her tray.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It took them a long time to get back to the surface. Gel, Shasha’s master, didn’t fully regain consciousness, only staring numbly at them for a moment while Devon and Xehm put his arms over their shoulders before his head dropped down again, sagging limply. Devon wasn’t sure if he was injured or just deep in shock.
At least Shasha didn’t need help. Devon wasn’t sure he could have moved the other sylph at all if she hadn’t been able to walk. She trudged slowly ahead of them, obviously tired, but determined to keep going. He hoped she could get herself to the surface since he doubted that Airi would be strong enough to carry her. She’d have enough trouble just getting the humans up there.
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