She thought she had him figured out, but the strange expression lurking in the depths of his eyes showed he played a game with her. No, he was not as easily conquered as he let her believe. She wondered again what game he played. Aislan could not help it. Propriety warred with curiosity, and she felt herself drawn in helplessly, incapable of controlling what her body craved. Her pussy throbbed and gushed in response to her excitement.
"Show me how delicious you are,” he insisted and brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her wet fingers. “Mmm. Come, darling. Taste with me."
Aislan did not need any more persuasion. Pressing her fingers against his mouth, she reached over and alternated between licking his lips and her own fingers. He pushed her finger into her mouth and then followed with his tongue. It aroused her as she tasted herself, the muskiness filling her senses and driving her wild with the raging need to take him back into her body.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face. Before he could kiss her, however, he went still and listened. Without further ado, Lucien grabbed his baldric and jumped to his feet, also pulling her up with him.
"Wh—” She gasped.
Adjusting his weapons in a flash, he then pulled her tunic over her head just as quickly and grabbed her about the waist. “Hold onto me."
He stopped only to snatch up her cloak and their bag, and Aislan clung on for dear life as everything whizzed past her in a blur. Lucien ran so fast she could not even think, let alone see. Her ears buzzed. He stopped after a moment and stood still. She watched him, but he had a meditative look about him and did not even glance at her. He burst into another run, another meditative break, and several more runs. Finally, he stopped and put her down.
"What happened?” she asked.
"It could have been someone after us."
"Could have been?"
Listening, he looked about. “Not anymore. When in doubt,” he met her gaze, “just run."
Aislan thought about the wolves, grateful to have avoided the possibility of another bloody incident. Lucien focused on himself again, so she waited. Once he finished, he went to the river and she followed.
He also looked relieved about having avoided another confrontation, and Aislan realized that, despite his physical prowess and violent lifestyle, he appeared to not like to fight. She remembered his defensive movements with the man Nadan who kept attacking while Lucien merely fended him off. She remembered the wolves he kept at bay, striking only when they attacked, except when he had killed one to save her. She also remembered how quickly he had killed Hayton without bothering to drag out the swordfight.
Lucien glanced at her, and then looked away, his face stony. She wondered what he could be thinking. An image flashed in her mind quickly, that moment several days ago when he had picked her up to run from the wolves, when he had paused long enough to look back at the dead shape-shifter. She had seen the torment on Lucien's face, but she had been too preoccupied with her own pain at the time. He still thought about it. She could see it in his expression as he studiously avoided looking at her. Bending over, Lucien splashed water on his face. Aislan looked away to give him a moment of privacy.
"We need to keep moving.” He stood up. “We should reach Maligan soon."
"Where is that?"
"'Tis a port town. I'll carry you. Come."
"I can walk."
"Not in your condition.” He picked her up easily and began walking.
"Milord—"
"You weigh nothing."
Bringing up the awkward subject probably would involve a discussion, so Aislan kept quiet. After a short while, she asked, “What were you doing on those meditative breaks?"
"Regenerating."
"What is that?"
"Replenishing my energy."
"You have to replenish your power?"
"Yes."
"I thought ‘tis a part of you."
"No one runs indefinitely, sorcerer or not. You need to stop and rest. Can you stay underwater forever? You need to come up for air."
She nodded. “I never thought about it that way."
Aislan envied his tireless, physical endurance. At first, she hesitated, and when she thought about it a little more, she came to a decision. She had been fixated on Victania, where established structures and hierarchy would probably give her a purpose and let her set goals to develop her power. Her other option would be Narisse, provided she could find the sorceress, and that Aislan would not be killed on sight. Fate had delivered her into the care of this man, a powerful sorcerer. He had shown generosity in using his power to heal her. She did not know his true intentions, if he was driven by infatuation, or honor, or other motives of his own. Aislan had always known what she wanted, and she would eventually get it. Lucien and she would be together for a while, and she wanted to become less of a helpless burden.
Since he had the ability to help her if he chose, it made perfect sense for her to ask, “Will you show me how ‘tis done? How to regenerate?"
He looked startled.
"Will you train me in sorcery?” She pushed forward with full conviction. “I want to learn how to use my power."
He stared at her hard, and right before her eyes, she saw his withdrawal from her. His eyes, like clear silver molten liquid, turned frosty.
"No."
"Why not?” she insisted, confounded by his refusal to help her with something so simple. “What is wrong with training me?"
"'Tis too late for that.” His voice was cold. “I am no longer allowed to do so."
Aislan could not bear to be in his arms right now. She struggled for freedom, and he put her down. “Why are you no longer allowed to?” She looked at him, dogged.
"This conversation has become tiresome.” Giving her no chance to reply, he grasped her by the waist and ran. When he stopped to rest, she stared at him mutinously, but he did not look at her. He rested his requisite moment before running again. In four more sprints, they left the forest.
The port city of Maligan sat at the foothill of the Balican Mountains. Faint outlines of ships docking in the harbor dotted the far horizon. Supposedly, because he did not want anyone to see him running fast, Lucien lifted Aislan in his arms and walked at a brisk pace. It did not take long before they reached town.
Chapter 9
The Brothel
Lucien moved quickly through the crowded main square. Having never been inside a bustling city, Aislan paused often to look about the rows of shops and street vendors. The inhabitants seemed mostly poor people and flocks of raucous, foul-smelling sailors, shouting and laughing drunkenly, coming in and out of restaurants. Girls in various stages of undress hung out of balconies, and Aislan quickly revised her opinion about the ‘restaurant’ inside. Brothels flanked almost every corner. The sweaty smell of humanity overwhelmed her.
As she bumped into people in the crowded street, Aislan was thankful for Lucien's hold about her wrist. She would have been lost in the crowd if he had not pulled her along with him. Shouts erupted from somewhere, and a body went flying through swinging doors. Aislan gasped, and Lucien muttered his usual profanity as he pulled her out of harm's way, wrapping an arm about her and shielding her with his solid body.
The man thrown out of the brothel landed on his backside in front of them, blocking their path. Steadying herself by holding onto Lucien's arms, Aislan peered around him. The man just lay there, looking drunk out of his mind. Three more men came stumbling out after the first, cursing at each other. One of them tripped over the one already on the ground, and all hell broke loose.
Cursing some more, Lucien picked her up about her waist and dodged nimbly around the melee to avoid the brawl. Even as he danced away from swinging arms and fists, Aislan saw a filthy beggar grab at his weapons. The gem-studded scabbards would tempt a saint. Before she could shout a warning, Lucien had swung around, grabbed the beggar by the collar with his free hand, and sent him sprawling across the street. The beggar cursed as he sat up and shook his fist a
t them. Another tried to grab Lucien's sword.
How can there be so much trouble just walking through a street?
Lucien dispensed his own justice quickly with what seemed to be a heartless slap across the thief's face that sent one tooth flying. Once they gained enough distance to resume their pace, Aislan pulled free.
"'Twas unnecessary to slap him so hard."
"I barely touched him. Not my fault if his teeth were already loose."
Aislan thought about it and realized he had only tapped the man on the face with the back of his fingers. Remembering how well he checked his strength when handling her, she relented, but not completely.
"You were still too harsh,” she scolded.
"If he had touched either scabbard, he would have lost his fingers."
"For touching?"
"'Twould not be of my doing."
Aislan immediately understood. “Oh.” She stared at the sword and the dagger in awe. “They are enchanted. Not just anyone can touch them."
When he leaned closer, Aislan thought he would kiss her. Even though she would readily accept his apology for treating her so coldly, it seemed a bit inappropriate to display affection in the middle of a busy street.
"Refrain from talking about sorcery. We need no further attention,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath making her shiver in pleasure. Aislan had expected him to use the opportunity to brush his mouth against her skin, but he pulled away without a smidgeon of affection in his expression, apparently still miffed with her.
They walked nearly a dozen blocks before he stopped in front of a huge, ornate building that rose several stories above them. The walls had colorful paintings of nude, dancing girls.
Aislan dug in her heels.
"We stay here tonight.” Unremitting, Lucien dragged her through the doorway. “'Tis private and much more pleasant."
"Pleasant for you, mayhap.” Customers cluttered the brothel. “Private. Huh!” she muttered, wasting her breath in the din of music and laughter.
A stage took up an entire side of the huge room. Six scarcely dressed young girls strutted and swayed in unison on stage, their dress made of something diaphanous that showed their bare breasts and nipples. On first glance, they seemed to be wearing some nude material between their legs in a mild attempt at modesty. Upon closer look, Aislan realized they had shaved as bare as the day they were born. On the floor, young girls served drinks. Dressed in the same manner, most of them sat on men's laps, laughing and talking while they allowed their bottoms to be pinched and their breasts nuzzled.
Aislan could not believe Lucien would consider indulging in such debauchery, especially with her along.
A young girl hurried towards them, who looked at most about twelve. Dressed colorfully, but unlike the other girls, both her top and her bottom were decently covered. Even thought she had smoothed colors over her eyelids, cheeks and lips, she still looked like a very young girl beneath the assortment of vulgar necklaces and bracelets. Aislan was revolted at the thought of a child working in this repulsive place.
"Welcome, milord.” The girl curtsied and glanced at Aislan. “Milady,” she said, then batted her lashes coquettishly at Lucien. How could such a child be so full of guile, or was she not as young as she appeared?
"A room for the night,” Lucien said.
Aislan pulled her wrist free. “Could we not stay at an inn?” she asked petulantly.
He looked her way, his expression aloof. Forsooth, she only asked him to train her. He only had to say no, which he did. With all his power, how selfish of him to become offended at the mere thought of providing training for someone in need. She would receive training eventually with Victania, so why could she not ask him?
"Yes, milord.” The young girl curtsied again. “This way.” She led the way upstairs.
Lucien took Aislan's wrist rather than her hand, as if not to touch her too intimately. He followed the girl, and Aislan had no choice but to come along. On stage, the dancers turned their backs to the audience, flipped up their flimsy gossamer skirts, and bent over. The bare bottoms wiggling at the spectators were a sight Aislan had certainly never imagined she would see.
At the top of the stairs, the girl turned right and walked halfway down the hall before stopping at a door.
"In here, milord, milady.” She pushed the door inwards, and Lucien entered first. Aislan resisted his pull, expecting him to drag her in if he wanted her here. He glanced at her, then simply dropped her wrist and left her standing at the door. Aislan sighed. His infatuation barely had time to scratch the surface, and he stood ready to toss her aside in favor of a plentiful brothel. Aislan had nowhere else to go when it came down to it, not tonight anyway, so she went into the room, stewing.
"Bring a tub for our baths, then our meal,” Lucien said. “Also bring the madam."
The girl straightened in surprise. “Milord, madam is not seeing visitors this evening. Mayhap in the morn...” She stopped when he withdrew an ornate, red coin from his pocket and gave it to her.
The girl turned it over. “Yes, milord.” She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.
Aislan turned on him immediately. “Why have you brought me to this place? Is this why you captured me, so you can sell me here?"
He looked into her eyes. “Should I?"
She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “You dare!” But she knew he could if he wanted to.
"Then do not ask such a ludicrous question."
"'Twas not out of the question. You owe me no obligations."
"True. None.” His tone was too calm.
The doors opened and in came a couple of boys. They dragged a huge, oblong tub to one side of the room. A maid came with bathing essentials, and soon followed another boy carrying pails of hot water to fill the tub.
Aislan turned away and went to a chair by the bed to sit, turning her back to everybody. After a while, she began to look around the room. She noticed the bed, an ostentatious affair with drapery all around. The chains and bracelets built into the posts at each corner of the bed caught her attention, and she leaned over for a closer look. Well, she would never! Aislan turned to find Lucien watching her. The servants moved about busily and filled up the tubs.
"Come, Aislan. Take your bath."
"I—I have no need to.” She had bathed in the river several times already the past few days, albeit fully clothed. Those should be plenty enough baths for her.
"Make use of a nice tub filled with hot water. There may be no meal or bath readily available come the morrow."
Turning, she looked at him. “Why not?"
He walked towards her to look out the window. “The walls have ears,” he said in a low voice, then took her by the elbow. “Take your bath now."
She stood beside the tub and looked at the open door, refusing to undress in such a public place where everybody came and went. She also refused to undress in front of Lucien, knowing he was up to no good in this place.
"What is the matter now?” He looked annoyed.
"I need privacy."
"Why? Oh, by the saints, I have already fucked you and seen everything you have to offer."
Aislan hated it when she cried, but hot tears scalded her eyes. She tried not to blink so the tears would not fall. “Why are you so cruel to me?"
"Enough of your wiles!” He looked furious.
Before she could reply, in walked the little girl and a fat, old woman with a heavily rouged face, wearing a gaudy outfit. She appeared exactly as Aislan imagined a madam of a whorehouse would look. Turning away, Aislan quickly wiped her eyes.
"Milord, you summoned me.” The madam curtsied.
"Take your bath. I'll be only a moment,” Lucien told Aislan as he walked away. “Madam, my apologies for the late hour."
"Time is no concern when it comes to milord,” the woman said without inflection, sounding like something she parroted all the time.
"If I could have a moment of privacy.” He walked towards
the door.
"Certainly, milord.” The woman paused to look Aislan up and down before she left.
Aislan stood there confounded. Obviously, he had not been in this brothel before. He and the madam showed no recognition of each other. Sighing, she pondered again at his change of heart. He blew hot and cold too unpredictably for her comfort. Aislan still stood there fretting when the little girl from earlier came in with another skimpily dressed older girl.
"She will assist your bath, milady,” the little girl said as she looked at Aislan's filthy clothes with barely concealed distaste. Aislan had never cared to conform to convention. She wore clothes that made it easy for her to run and to climb in and out of windows or up and down trees. After the younger girl had left, the older girl undressed her. Stepping into the tub, Aislan loudly sighed in relief as the hot water covered her. The girl wet her hair.
"Tell me,” Aislan kept her voice low, “what do you use to prevent a babe?"
The girl did not even blink. “Milady wishes for a potion?"
"I do not want to become with child."
The girl nodded. “Have you taken your dose?"
"Not for the past few days."
"Yes, milady, I'll have tea prepared for you."
Aislan looked at the girl gratefully, who smiled and continued to wash her hair.
* * * *
Madam Isabel poured brandy into a glass and placed it in front of Lucien. “Welcome, milord. Lord Fulfill shall be pleased with your decision."
"Do you know who I am?” He doubted it.
"No, milord, but with Lord Fulfill's coin, you are most welcome. Your will is my command."
Lucien set the matter straight. “I have no interest in being recruited into the Fulfillment. I only seek information."
She gave him a sharp look. “I have no liberty to alter my master's conditions as you see fit, milord. ‘Tis a waste of our time.” She made a move to get up.
"Madam, kindly sit.” Lucien tried again. “Payment is no issue."
"Only invited guests seek information, milord. No one else."
"I doubt everyone who buys information has to become a recruit."
Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] Page 9