The Sylph Hunter

by L. J. McDonald

  One-Eleven’s smile widened into a grin and her blush deepened. “Can you hear what I’m thinking?” she blurted.

  “No,” he told her, shifting his weight onto both feet and gesturing for her to move back. She did and he leaped forward, landing on the windowsill for a moment before he hopped down into the room. Zalia stared at him, her heart pounding furiously again.

  “I only feel what you’re feeling,” he explained. “That’s it. But I can usually guess what it means.” The grin flashed over his face. “Or what I’d like it to mean.”

  Zalia ducked her head, blushing furiously, even as she felt her nipples hardening even more than before and the muscles between her legs tightening to the edge of pleasure. He hadn’t even touched her! she thought.

  A moment later, he did. Zalia felt his rough hand stroke her cheek and slide down to cup her chin, gently forcing her face up. She found herself staring into his beautiful brown eyes, gazing down at her with so much desire that she trembled.

  “Tooie says I should talk to you,” he whispered. “I think talking’s overrated.”

  He kissed her. Zalia gasped as his mouth pressed against her own and his tongue flicked past her lips, brushing lightly against the end of her own tongue. The feel of it shot right through her, straight to her toes, and she had to put her arms around his neck before she fell. His strong hands closed around her ribs, just firm enough to not be ticklish, and his thumbs brushed upward against the lower swell of her breasts.

  She’d never thought she’d be so sensitive. Her entire body felt charged and every part of it that he touched ached. She tightened her grip around his neck, not resisting as he kissed her, and the lust and desire were so strong it was as though he was inside her head. Maybe he was, admonitions that he couldn’t read her mind aside. He could certainly control what she felt and she was as helpless against what he was doing to her as she had been before. She could stop him, she told herself. She’d stopped him twice now. She could trust him to stop again.

  It was just, at this exact moment, Zalia didn’t want him to. She couldn’t even quite remember why she’d been so resistant.

  One-Eleven sighed happily against her mouth, his hands sliding around from her ribs to cup the side of her breasts, his thumbs stretching farther to circle her areolas. Zalia rose up onto her toes, aching for him to touch her nipples, but he just kept circling them, his soft lips working ever so softly against her own, the tip of his tongue flicking out occasionally to taste.

  It was wonderful, if only she could breathe, if only he’d touch her. He seemed content just to circle her nipples and run his hands along the swell of the rest of her breasts, his body strong and warm against the length of her own.

  Gently, One-Eleven’s hands moved, sweeping under the curve of her breasts, still without touching her nipples, and up between them to undo the topmost of her dress’s buttons. He kept kissing her and she let him, her eyes closed in a haze of desire. One-Eleven undid the button and pulled the pieces of fabric wide, caressing the patch of bared skin between them for a moment before he moved down to the next one. She had six on the front of her dress in all and he undid all of them before he pushed her dress open, his hands returning to their position cupping her breasts, rough against the bared skin and so incredibly warm.

  Finally, he touched her nipples, pressing them into her, and she cried out into his mouth, pleasure sparking through her. It felt as though he’d touched lightning to those two points and she was weak from it.

  “Good,” he whispered against her lips, reaching his hands up for a moment, just long enough to pull her arms from around his neck and down by her sides. Her loosened dress slid over her shoulders and pooled by her feet, leaving her naked from the waist up. One-Eleven leaned back to take a long, appreciative look. “My gorgeous girl,” he said and stroked one hand down from her breast to the top of the undergarment she wore.

  How could she be so calm with him, she wondered, though calm was perhaps the wrong word for the fire within her. Any other man seeing her this way would have sent her diving for cover, even Devon, but One-Eleven had buried her shyness underneath his overpowering need. All she had to do was go along with it and he’d…oh he’d…

  The battle sylph grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off to expose his own chest. She gaped at it, her mouth hanging open in desire until he bent forward to roughly kiss her lips and dropped to one knee, fingers undoing the tie of her undergarment. Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he pulled it down to her feet in one move. Zalia squeaked at that, but he buried his face in the hair of her mound and gave her core a soft lick that made her screech instead as her knees buckled. One-Eleven rose instantly, shedding his own pants as he did, and caught her before she could fall. His body was hard and perfect against hers, his gaze catching hers and never leaving it, his smile grabbing her breath and causing her to hold it without thinking as he held her with one arm and reached down with the other to the source of the heat that was burning her.

  Zalia bucked, pleasure exploding through her with the force of her orgasm. One-Eleven chuckled against her mouth and his hands moved down, grasping her buttocks and abruptly lifting her up against him as he strode forward, his erection pressing almost painfully against her belly, though it felt tantalizingly erotic as well. Zalia tried to get enough breath into her gasping lungs to ask him where he was taking her, but he only took a few steps before he lowered her, and her buttocks and back came down on the rough fabric of a chaise that stood in the center of the room. She’d been sitting on it before walking to look pensively out the window. Now she lay on her back and One-Eleven came down on top of her, his knees wedging her legs wide apart, his mouth crushing down on her own. She was in a haze, burning inside, and in one motion, he pressed the tip of his erection against the part of her that burned the hottest and pushed his entire length inside.

  Zalia gasped, her eyes flying wide open. She hadn’t thought…she hadn’t expected him to just…A moment later, she threw her head back as she wailed in the throes of the strongest orgasm she’d had yet, just from the feel of him inside of her.

  One-Eleven sighed in true happiness, his hand caressing her cheek as he started to move, pumping his hips back and forth as he slid in and out of her. Zalia lay with her legs spread wide for him on the rough fabric of the chaise, her breasts jostling back and forth as he rocked her. Seeing them move, he purred appreciatively and ducked his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, never slowing the speed of his thrusts. Zalia gasped again, helpless against what was building inside her yet once more. The feel of him was uncontrollable and all she could do was gasp for breath, hanging on to the edges of the chaise for support as he moved against her, his passion bringing her to ecstasy again and again, until she had nothing left in her and he finally hugged her close to him, holding her tight as he finished with a sigh that said that everything was finally right with the world.

  They’d moved to the bed.

  Rather, One-Eleven had carried Zalia’s sleeping body to the bed and tucked her in. He lay beside her now, watching her. He didn’t normally sleep and hadn’t since long before he left his own world. He didn’t really understand why humans needed to do it so much, but he’d figured out the necessity. Zalia wouldn’t be too happy to have him wake her up now, no matter how badly he wanted to sink into her warmth and love her again. And again and again and again. He never wanted to stop.

  For now, he was content to watch her sleep and feel her exhaustion and satiation. When she woke, he’d take her to the queen and have her become his master. Then he’d never be alone and could get rid of the five feeble men who were his feeders right now. All of them were half-crazed things wandering the alleyways of the city, never getting far enough that he’d have to worry about something happening to them, not that he cared beyond their necessity as a food source. As with a lot of the battlers, he’d stopped the healers from growing their tongues back, and once
he had a true master, he could get any of his brothers to destroy them for him. The only orders he wanted coming his way would be from sweet Zalia.

  He watched her sleep, her long hair falling over her face with dark strands that he kept brushing back so he could see her. She’d been resistant for so long, but he could tell she’d enjoyed herself. How could she not? He’d given her every ounce of pleasure he could, flooded her with it to the point where she had to be exhausted now. Tooie had said to talk to her, but what was there to talk about? He didn’t care about her past or her future, beyond how it would be with him. He loved her; that was all he needed to know, and now he’d been with her. They had a lifetime of lovemaking ahead of them. What else could they possibly need?

  Another strand fell across her face as she shifted in her sleep and One-Eleven brushed it away, wondering what her name for him would be once she was his master. Whatever it was, it would be perfect, just as she was perfect.

  In the back of his mind, a call came, a summons warning about an incoming storm. One-Eleven looked down at his sleeping lover, not needing to sleep himself but not wanting to leave her. Still, duty was an absolute for his kind and she would be waiting. As soon as he could, he would be back for her.

  Careful not to wake her, One-Eleven slipped out of the bed and away, gathering up the clothes he used when in human form. He didn’t put them on, instead stowing them inside his mantle as he changed to his natural shape and slipped out the window. Hovering outside, he looked in at her for a moment, his lightning flickering in happiness, and then flew away, leaving her behind and alone.

  Airi was feeling much better. She’d snoozed, perhaps even sleeping a bit from time to time, and sipped at her master’s energy all day, slowly replenishing herself without exhausting him. She’d never been so tired before, what with navigating that chaos of twisted metal while carrying people and especially with feeding so much energy to Shasha.

  Now she was lying on Devon’s chest while he lay on his bed, partially trying to play his flute in the prone position but mostly drifting toward sleep himself. She nestled against him, feeling his emotions as he floated away. He was tired, hating this place with its heat and dangers, and loathing himself for his own failure to make any kind of difference. She felt bad for him for that, though she wasn’t surprised. Nobody had ever been able to make a queen do anything. That was just the nature of queens. At least they were safe now in this new hive, and the tension she’d been carrying flowed out of her. She felt happy and light again.

  Devon’s attempt at music petered out entirely and his hand, still holding the flute, relaxed down against his chest, settling through her. Carefully, she squirmed free and rose up above him, looking to see if she’d woken him. Devon just rolled onto his side and started to snore, the flute tumbling out of his hand and over the side of the bed to the floor.

  Airi looked at it. It was really one of the few things they owned here. Devon hated this city, but he did love Zalia. Airi could feel it in him and feel it in the woman as well. She wasn’t jealous of either of them. Airi wanted her master to be happy, to live long and well and have children who would become her future masters, since no matter how much she loved him, she couldn’t make him live forever. She wanted Zalia to make him smile.

  The temperature in the room was dropping; not as badly as outside the hive, but still more than would be comfortable for him. Airi flew over to an ornate cabinet against the wall and solidified, becoming a translucent girl that, though Devon didn’t know it, looked just like his grandfather’s youngest sister had when Airi first came across the gate. She could open the door in her usual form, but she was still young, even after decades in this world, and the likeliness that she’d wake Devon was high. So she opened the door the way a human would have and lifted out a blanket from inside. Bringing it back to the bed, she covered her master with it and picked his flute up off the floor, setting it on the bedside table. Devon mumbled something meaningless and continued to sleep.

  Now she had the rest of the night to entertain herself without him. Back home, Airi would have visited her sister sylphs, gone to the classes they took to learn to read and write, or just socialized. Here, she was a little unsure of her place or her welcome. Shasha seemed to like her well enough, but she was undoubtedly still recovering from her own exhausting day and Airi didn’t know where to find her anyway. It was so much more difficult when she wasn’t part of the hive pattern.

  Perhaps Zalia was still awake. Airi liked the young woman, from the texture of her pattern to how she made Devon feel. He’d always been a little stupid around women, but Zalia was made for him. Airi could sense it.

  She flitted across the room and out the open window. Zalia’s apartment was on the other end of the building and a floor up. Airi didn’t know if they’d get to keep these rooms, but they were certainly better than anything they’d ever stayed in before.

  Airi floated upward and along the length of the building, scanning carefully for Zalia’s energy pattern. She could find Devon anywhere in the world, but he was her master. Until his death, she could find his father as well, even though he’d given her away, and she’d been able to feel his grandfather even after he did the same. Devon, she was confident, would never give her away, not without her consent.

  Zalia wasn’t obvious to her at all, except by the natural ties of interest and affection that were already binding the young woman to Devon. As with all humans and sylphs, her pattern was unique and the little air sylph only took a minute to find her.

  She could tell the instant she did that something was wrong. The woman was awake, frightened, angry, regretful, and filled with a morass of despair, desire, and fear that was hard to sort through. Airi hesitated for a moment. As with all sylphs, she was empathic, but her compassion was usually limited only to her master and hive mates. For a moment, she wanted nothing to do with Zalia’s confusion, but then she remembered. This was the woman that Devon was falling in love with and her pattern perfectly fit with his own.

  Airi flitted up to the open window letting into the woman’s apartment and inside. Zalia was sitting on an ornate chaise in the center of the room, nude but wrapped in an embroidered sheet. Her hair was a mess framing her face and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her lips quivered as she tried without success to hold in intermittent sobs. Her hands shook as well, holding the sheet closed over her breasts. Invisible, Airi went unnoticed.

  This was very wrong. Airi thought for a moment, wondering if she should go and wake Devon to come and deal with this, but somehow she doubted he’d know what to do any more than she did. This might even scare him away and she didn’t want that to happen.

  With a little sigh that was no more than a whisper of wind, Airi took on solid form. She wasn’t good at it—only healers and battlers were naturally good at changing shape—and she never could make herself stop being transparent, but she did look human and even had a semblance of clothing, as translucent and wispy as the rest of her. It wasn’t comfortable for her. She felt terribly vulnerable around anyone but her master and forced herself to not show it as she took a step toward the young woman, her hand outstretched.

  “Zalia?” she called. “Zalia, please don’t cry.”

  Zalia jumped, turning with a gasp to gape at her and nearly losing her grip on the sheet in the process. Her tear-blotched face turned white, red flaring high on the cheeks. “Who are you?” she gasped, desperately wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand as if she could hide what she’d been doing that way.

  “I’m Airi,” Airi reminded her. “I heard you crying.”

  Zalia’s eyes widened. “Is Devon with you?” she asked in horror.

  Apparently waking him would have been a bad idea after all. “He’s asleep. I came to visit.”

  “Visit?” Zalia repeated stupidly. “Me? Why?”

  Airi shrugged, her head tilting from side to side. “I like you.”

 
To her surprise, Zalia’s eyes filled up with tears again. “You like me? Well, I guess that makes sense since not being liked isn’t my problem.”

  Airi gaped at her, knowing exactly what the woman was feeling but not understanding any of it. Hesitantly, she moved closer, reaching out a gossamer hand to tentatively pat Zalia’s knee. “What is your problem?” she whispered.

  Zalia’s lip twisted. “Your kind like me too much and now I’m ruined.”

  She was liked by an air sylph and that ruined her? “I…don’t understand?”

  Zalia gave a bitter laugh and rubbed her face again, smearing the fresh tears everywhere before she took an edge of her sheet and dried her face. She tried to drag her fingers through her tangled hair and gave up with a wince. “I’m surprised he hasn’t shouted it to the whole world. He left fast enough.”

  “He…who?”

  The woman sagged, tugging the sheet even closer around herself. “One-Eleven. His name is One-Eleven. He was here and…when I woke up he was gone. I feel like such a fool.” She buried her face in her hands.

  Airi felt a chill that should have been alien in such a hot climate. Human men weren’t the ones with numbers instead of names in this place. It’s not fair! she wanted to scream. Devon loved Zalia. Airi could feel it. Why did a battle sylph have to come interfering with that? Devon was shy and silly when it came to women. A battler could make Zalia orgasm with a look. How was Devon supposed to compete? How was any man supposed to compete?

  Unaware of Airi’s emotions, Zalia dug her fingers into her brow, her eyes and nose still hidden by her hands. “I don’t know why I did it,” she wailed. “I’m a good girl! How could I do that? I barely know him! And he didn’t even stay around!”