After manically sliding the outside latch of the manhole cover shut, Boras rolled onto his back and breathed deep, airless breaths of relief. He was stinking of sweat, sewage, and grim.

  But he was out and alive. A bit banged up and chewed on, but alive.

  He laughed. It was a strained and frightened laugh, but better than nothing at all…

  He pushed himself upright and looked around.

  He noticed that he was in an alley, somewhere in the city. Possibly one of the more central districts. It was still deep into the night, and the bright moon shone with great strength onto his eyes and the alley in which he sat.

  Violet was gone, nowhere to be seen. She must have fled as soon as she could. Boras was grateful that she did not close the cover on them as she escaped. He wasn’t so sure that he would have been so gracious with deranged, ravenous rats on his arse.

  Fucking rats.

  He glanced down at the cover where the beasts hid. Fucking rats. He truly thought he was done seeing rats ever again. He hated rats then and he hated rats now. Fuck them and everything they stood for.

  He made a mental note. That after this shit with the Bodyhunters was dealt with, he would form an extermination guild to specifically hunt and destroy every rat in the city. Fire, acid, traps, and Sarki. Anything would fucking do. Maybe he could get the guys to help him with that, maybe Sitra could—

  Sitra!

  He stood up and turned around. He feared that in his mad dash, she was left behind. But she wasn’t.

  She was keeled over on the other side of the alley, away from him. She was curled up into a ball, breathing heavily. She had her back to him.

  Boras was struck by this sight. This was not the Sitra he had grown to know. The Sitra he knew as brash, confident, and sharp. Not this small, frightened girl weeping.

  He chastised himself. They had just survived death by rats. A death no one would suffer. She nearly died. And he had reacted with just as much terror and panic as she did when he had his first brush with death.

  “Sitra?” He said.

  The whimpering she made paused.

  He leaned to a side to see her face. But she kept that hidden from him.

  “Sitra? Look at me.”

  “Stay away…” she whimpered.

  “What?”

  He frowned until he realised that his right hand was clenched on something soft. He brought up his hand and blinked. It was Sitra’s satin mask. It must come off her in his grip as he pushed her up.

  Which meant…

  “Sitra. Are you alright?” He asked her. “It was pretty scary. But we’re okay now.”

  Sitra said nothing.

  Boras rubbed the back of his head. But he spoke through the silence. “I have your mask.”

  He saw her body freeze instantly.

  “Honestly, you have nothing to hide from me.” Boras spoke softly. He figured that was perhaps the best way to go about this. “You don’t need to be scared of hiding something. I’ve seen worse.”

  Sitra hissed. “You have no fucking idea of what ‘worse’ can be… Give me my mask.” A hand shot out from under her arm, a hand practically arched into a claw. “Now.”

  “Sitra. Just tell me why. You don’t have to show me. Just tell me.”

  “Boras. My mask. Mask. Now.” The words came from her with a stabbing of syllables.

  “Okay. Okay.” Boras relented. He approached her. But stopping short, he bungled the scarf into a ball before throwing it into her hand.

  Like a retracting viper, Sitra’s hand caught the satin mask and whipped it back into her folds. With a feverish struggle, Boras watched her flip her blonde hair to one side to allow her scarf to be tied around her neck.

  And that was where Boras saw the scars. There were viciously deep lacerations reaching towards the nape of her neck like spider legs, crawling from her hidden face. Faded with time’s healing, they were still thick and pinkish against her Caucasian skin. They looked bad and Boras dreaded the thought of how bad they were when Sitra received them.

  A very large piece of the convoluted puzzle that was Sitra fell into place in Boras’s mind.

  But with that hint, a host of fresh questions thundered through his mind. How did she get the scars? Who gave them to her? Why did she hide them? When? Why? Who?

  All these thoughts and more raced through at such a speed that Boras barely had time to register a newly masked Sitra twisting around with a dagger in her hand and lunging for him with a feral scream.

  She crashed into him, sending the pair into the ground. Spitting curses, Boras kept his eyes fixed on the dagger in her hand as she wrestled him. He caught a glimpse of her jade eyes as she mounted him to trap him under her legs.

  Her eyes blazed. Not with irritation or anger like in the sewer.

  They blazed with animalistic hate. Even murder. She wanted to kill him. That could not happen.

  Boras’s body kicked into action and muscle memory saved him.

  With a deft twist of hands and fingers, the dagger was clearly knocked from her grasp and sent skittering across the alley.

  But Sitra was by all means, not any less of a danger without a dagger. She scrabbled and scratched like a feral mongoose. Her hands reached for his neck to throttle him.

  Boras growled. “Stop!”

  With a heaving twist, he pushed up his pelvis and threw Sitra to the side. Following her fall, he landed on top of her, pushing his legs between hers and grabbing both her wrists to hold her in place. She snarled and writhed. But Boras held her down and stared into her eyes.

  “Stop!!” He barked, face inches from hers.

  Sitra stopped her movements. Her blonde hair was splayed out under her head like a burst of sunlight. Her eyes shone with hatefulness as she returned the emotional glare. Her chest heaved with short, raging breaths.

  Boras lowered his face to hers to really look her in the eye. They were close enough that their chests barely brushed against each other.

  “Sitra.” He said slowly and unblinking. “I’m sorry for taking your mask off. I’m sorry for that, it was an accident. I’m sorry for joking around. But I have to, because my friends are going through all manner of hells and they need something to make them smile. I’m sorry for putting you in danger. I am sorry for it all. But don’t you ever - and I fucking mean ever - come at me with a dagger again. I will not hold back a second time. You are my friend and I don’t want to hurt you. And I know you got scared down there, I was too. But you don’t need to be such a dick about it.”

  Sitra said nothing. She still breathed heavily. Boras could smell the smoke and drink on her breath. He breathed it in as he had no other option being so close. It was an intoxicating scent.

  Sitra’s eyes blinked slowly. Her breathing slowed.

  Boras also felt his breathing slow.

  Their eyes remained locked against one another.

  Boras suddenly realised that he had put himself in a rather worrisome position. He was mounted on Sitra, in the middle of an alleyway where anyone could walk down and see. His hips were set against hers. Her legs propped on her boots but pressed close against his thighs.

  And more horrifying than anything that could happen this night, Boras felt his body react. He hardened against her pelvis. After all, it had been a while since he had laid with a woman.

  Oh gods. No. No. No. NO. Not now, not now for fuck’s sake!

  Sitra’s eyes widened. She felt his body’s reaction too. She blinked a couple of times.

  Ohh fuck… Boras groaned in his mind.

  He needed to get off. He needed to get off her right now. But she could still try to kill him. What else could he do?

  Without a moment’s pause, Sitra moved. She moved her hips. It was a slight shift, a grind against him. A subtle one. But one that sent a single message to him.

  Boras froze. His face was a picture of shock. What the hells was happening?

  Sitra remained there, unmoving after that shift of hips. She was waiting for his response. Her eyes blazed with fury. But there was something else there, hiding under the surface of anger.

  And for some reason, call it tension, stress, pain or fear from death, exhaustion from the fights and travels of the last half of the year, or maybe it was a burning need to enjoy something amidst all the bullshit he had waded through, Boras stopped waiting.

  He dropped his face like a hammer and pressed his lips against the satin fabric that hid hers.

  It was not a gentle kiss. It was powered by hunger, pain and lust.

  “Fucking took you long enough…” Sitra hissed against his face.

  “Yeah… sure…” Boras breathed as he released one hand to grab her hair as he pressed his body against hers. He thrusted his body, dragging sweet friction against her sensitive areas with his. This drew out a throaty groan from her as much as it did for him.

  With her hand free, she grabbed at his back and dug her fingers into his clothes. “Gods, you smell like shit.” She growled.

  “That’s the alley we’re in and the sewer you put us through. And you still smell like flowered whiskey and smoke.” Boras replied with a half-smirk.

  “You- You- You’re shit at kissing…” Sitra bit back, her resolve cracking.

  Boras laughed, sending shivers down her spine. “You need better insults.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  She clamped her hand on the back of his neck and pushed his face into hers. Their lips mashed against the satin until the fabric was a sodden rag.

  Boras groaned with his mouth pressed on her cheek. “I suck at kissing because this fucking thing’s in the way.”

  “Tough shit. It stays on.”

  Boras pushed away from her to see her properly. With one hand still on her wrist, his other was used to prop his body correctly so as not to crush her.

  Her eyes were shining brighter now, but with unbridled lust.

  He breathed deeply. His eyes roamed her body. He could see the rise and fall of her chest and the pair of small swells that were her breasts beneath the shirt and jacket.

  He looked down to her waist.

  Her hand traipsed down to that area and playfully danced around her belt and the zip of her trousers. Then without warning, her hand jumped up to grope his crotch.

  “Oh gods…” Boras groaned.

  Sitra made a humming sound. As if she was appraising a weapon. Which she was, in a certain sense.

  “Hmm… not bad.”

  “Not bad? Not bad?” Boras felt himself bristle at the cruel remark.

  Sitra giggled. Actually giggled. Boras was deeply concerned with how much he liked the sound of her laugh. He was in deep shit now.

  “So touchy.” She purred. “I wouldn’t be so concerned with size. It’s all about how you use it.” She groped his restrained length again.

  Boras cracked his neck as he threw back his head. “Fucking hells, you’re so… feral…” Gods, he wanted her now. Such an arrogant woman.

  “Why thank you…” Sitra released her grip on him.

  And before he knew it, Boras was thrown off his balance and sent crashing to his side.

  “What the-!”

  On his back, he blinked in shocked silence as Sitra raised herself up and patted down the dirt from her clothes. After that was done, she turned to him and grinned with her eyes.

  “Who’d have thought that the best way to distract a man was to stroke his cock? Obvious answer.” She laughed.

  Boras was struck dumb.

  “Oh wow…” Sitra tittered. “No pithy comebacks? Today’s a special one.”

  Staring at the girl who had so easily manipulated him, Boras suddenly felt something roil in his stomach. It bubbled up and before he could stop it, it exploded from his mouth in the form of a cackling laugh.

  Sitra blinked in confusion. “What the hells are you laughing at?”

  Boras wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he pulled himself to his feet. He then gestured the air between them.

  “This!” He laughed. “You said that there wasn’t a chance in all the hells that this would happen. And you’re the one who made it happen!”

  Sitra put her fists on her hips and stared him down. She worked her mouth to say something, anything, but the words would not come.

  Eventually they did. “I am amazed.” She hissed. “I- I really am. I just used you to get myself free and you think that means you won? Your ego is beyond the realms of reality, Cutter!”

  “Still got a kiss. And would have done a whole lot more if you’d let me.” Boras replied with a cocky grin.

  “Oh really?” Sitra stepped towards him, arms now crossing her chest. “And what else would you have done?”

  Boras scratched his chin, making a show of thinking about something. “I don’t know… well firstly, it’d been in a safe and warm bedroom, not a dirty alley like this. Warm fire lit nearby. Sheep carpets and thick pillows.”

  “Go on.” Sitra took another step. “What else?”

  “Why do you want to ask?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. Intrigued to see how you handle a woman.” She allowed the words to roll off her tongue like melted silver.

  “I would kiss you. Passionately.” Boras paused before flashing his best grin. “Then I would rip the clothes off your body and fuck the living hells out of you.”

  Sitra paused her breath. But she powered through. She took another step, which brought her chest to chest with him. “Would that be on the floor… or the bed?”

  “Floor first, because I’m impatient as hells. Then the bed, because I like soft sheets.”

  “Oh. I see.” Sitra looked up at him. “That sounds… deviant… Good thing we’re not in a bedroom.”

  “Yeah. Good thing we aren’t.”

  They remained standing there, facing eachother in silence. One daring the other to make a move.

  A silence that was oddly calming and not tense like before. Then it broke with the pair bursting into tired, nervous laughter.

  “What the fuck just happened tonight?” Boras asked with another short burst of laughter.

  Sitra sighed with a bitter chuckle. “I know…”

  Their laughter over the stranger conversation and the near-death experience slowly petered away.

  Boras looked down at the sewer cover. He shuddered. “Don’t know about you, but I am never going into those sewers again. Never again. I’ll take my chances with the guards, Lawgivers and Bodyhunters all together, any day.”

  Sitra rubbed her arms with a shudder. “Fair fucking enough. I’ll tell my dad to get the tunnels cleared. We have some ratter teams on hand.”

  “Good thing we found out now than later, I suppose. Hey, where did Violet go?”

  Sitra thumbed over her shoulder. “Sprinting in the direction of the hospital, just like I told her.”

  Boras grunted. “Not even a goodbye, huh?”

  “So much for your trust…”

  Boras shrugged. “Well, what can you do…”

  They remained quiet for another moment. Then Sitra spoke softly, far more softly than Boras expected from her.

  “Look… Sorry for attacking you.” She did not look him in the eye. “I was scared, you’re right. I thought I was going to die. And then you caught me. Got me away.”

  “Of course.” He rubbed his clammy hands on the side of his thighs. “Don’t worry about it. It was terrifying.”

  “You don’t like rats?”

  “I fucking hate them. Who the shit likes rats?”

  “Fair enough… But… when you had my mask… I panicked, Boras. And when I panic, I get angry. I thought you were going to see…”

  “The scars?”

  Now she met his look. “How-?”

  “I saw your neck, there were some peeking around the back. So I assumed.”

  “Yeah.” She reached up to pull the mask tightly across her face, making sure it was in place. “Only my parents and Vanto have seen my face. It’s- it’s not something I want strangers to see or know about… No offence.”

  “None taken.” Boras raised his hands. “As you said, we’re business partners.”

  “Right… business partners…” Sitra said that with some strange level of remorse or confusion. Boras was unsure.

  This dynamic shared between the pair had shifted wildly like a swing. At first, they were barely functioning allies at eachother's throats. Then they were business partners with a single goal to survive. And then there was the kiss, the grinding, and the socially inappropriate discussion of bedroom activities. Boras’s mind was flung around between the understandings of this strange and wonderful young woman before him. She was a brilliant puzzle with a lot of skin-cutting edges.

  Sitra blinked with a cocked head. “Business partners, you say?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, as business partners, rewards for services rendered keep relationships like ours healthy and strong. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would say so.” Boras nodded. “What rewards did you have in mind for my friends?”

  Sitra furrowed her brow quizzically. “Your friends? No, no. This is for you.”

  “How come?”

  “For saving my life. Close your eyes.”

  It was Boras’s turn for furrowed brows. “Huh?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  Boras sighed, but he closed his eyes. “Now what?”

  “Be patient. Don’t open them.”

  In the self-imposed blindness, Boras heard her moving close to him. “You’re not going to pickpocket me or stab me or do something untoward to me, are you?”

  He heard her huff. “You want the reward or not?”

  “I do. I think.”

  “Alright. So shut up and let me give it.”

  “Sorry.”There came an exasperated sigh. “Gods, you should be. But I know that won’t happen anytime soon. Now hold still.”

  Boras suddenly felt a soft fabric pressed gently across his eyes and nose. Her hands wrapped around his head, tying the fabric across the back of his head.

  “Okay. Now you can open your eyes.” Sitra said.

  Boras did so and was momentarily surprised by the darkness he was greeted to. He reached up to touch the fabric and realised with deeper surprise that it was Sitra’s satin mask. Which meant that Sitra was standing before him unmasked and exposed.

  “What type of reward is this, Sitra? I mean, it’s got a certain kinky vibe to it, but-”

  He heard a rush of movement and a warm body pressed into his chest. Boras yelped, then stumbled backwards until his back bumped against the alley’s brick wall with the force of the body against him and trapping him.

  He smelled smoke and whiskey, Sitra’s scent.

  He felt her hands on his chest and shoulder.

  And then her lips, bare and unveiled, pressed hard against his mouth.

  A lightning bolt of emotion shot through his mind to his feet.

  His lips moved against a rough, bumpy landscape of scarred and smooth flesh. Her hidden scars mixed with the undamaged parts of her face. Her chest pressed hard against him. Warm air blasted from her nostrils, passing over his stubbled chin.

  “Fuck…” She hissed. “I missed this…”

  “Kissing?”

  “Yes. I don’t kiss.”

  “Been a while, huh?” He grinned against her mouth. “Let me guess… No one met your high standards? Or you're not a fan of kissy-kissies.”

  “I don’t kiss, Cutter. I fuck.”

  “Oh. Lucky me…”

  Sitra chuckled, sending pleasured goosebumps down his neck. “Oh, shut up, Cutter.”

  Boras did not question this anymore. He would not waste any time thinking about how gods damned lucky he had just become. He just shut the fuck up and allowed himself to fall. And fall he did.

  His hands latched onto her waist and dug into the clothes that hugged her toned form. He pulled her further into him, as if he wanted to merge with her.

  She sighed against his mouth with the tugging grab. She responded by pushing her tongue between his lips and over his tongue. He felt her tongue lap against his mouth.

  Gods, she devoured him. And Black help him, Boras wanted her to.

  His hand draped down to her arse and grabbed it forcefully.

  He tried to kiss her face, to feel the scars. To try and imagine what they looked like.

  But her hands jumped up, roughly grabbing the sides of his face and forcing him to stay on her lips. No, she would not allow him that.

  Their lips refused to part as their hands roamed over their bodies.

  Hands grabbed at chest and breast, thighs and arms were stroked and squeezed.

  Aroused sighs were exchanged when his leg pushed between hers.

  Boras’s mind started to get lightheaded. His mind swam with thoughts of her breasts and her legs and her mouth. What did they look like? When would he have the opportunity to find out?

  They seemed to never tire nor seeking to ever stop. They didn’t want to stop. The world could end outside the alley, but they wouldn’t care. It was this moment that mattered. And it felt it would go on for an eternity.

  Until Boras started to grab at his belt. Sitra froze at that.

  This brought Boras to a standstill as well. In that frozen state, the pair remained in that tangled mess like an erotic statue. They breathed heavily through their nostrils and mouths as Boras slowly pulled his mouth back from her, trailing saliva and hot breaths.

  Boras still couldn’t see anything. He wondered what she looked like in that moment. What was her face showing? Disdain? Anger? Lust? Regret? Why did she stop?

  “That’s enough.” He heard her say. “That’s… enough.” She breathed heavily and was shaken. Her hands pressed gently against his chest, attempting to push away from him.

  “I… I…” Boras struggled to find the words. “I liked that reward.” His hands were still on her waist and his thumbs stroked her body deeply.

  Her short laugh came amidst the heavy breaths. “You’re welcome… I liked that too.”

  He felt her forehead press against his.

  “Can we do that again?” He asked.

  There was a pause.

  “Sitra?”

  She spoke at last. “No… That was a one-off.”

  “You sure?”

  “…We need to head back. I don’t want to worry the others. They’ll be out searching for you.”

  “Okay…” Boras could not help feeling crestfallen. He really wanted to hold her close to him. But he relented as he released her waist, allowing Sitra to step back.

  But he brightened again as he pressed his hot palms against the cold brick wall. “What happens if I save your life again?”

  “What? You get another make-out session with me, you mean?”

  “Yeah. That’s pretty much the idea?”

  Sitra laughed. Gods, Boras really enjoyed hearing her laugh. “That’s very opportunistic of you.”

  “I mean, I am a mercenary now.”

  “Indeed. Well, I think you will find that I am a very capable fighter and survivor. I rarely find myself in bad situations. Tonight was a fluke and will remain so.”

  “Ah, you said ‘rarely find yourself’. So you are saying there is a chance.” Boras grinned.

  He heard the sigh through the teeth, the exasperated one that was Sitra’s signature expression.

  “In your dreams, Cutter.”

  “Was I good? You have to admit it, I am a good kisser.”

  Sitra tutted. “You’ve had practice. That’s all.”

  Boras grinned wider. “I’ll take that as a yes and as a win.”

  “Gods, give me strength…”

  He heard her steps coming towards him. He straightened up as she felt her hand on his cheek.

  “Seriously though… Thank you, Boras. You saved my life.” Sitra said with an earnest tone that belied her sharp nature.

  Boras swallowed. “You’re welcome, Sitra Sade.”

  “Good.” She sighed deeply but contentedly. “Good… Close your eyes. I need my mask.”

  Boras nodded without protest nor jibe.

  He closed his eyes and allowed her to reclaim her protection.

  When she was ready to travel again under her guise, the pair moved silently out from the alley across the city’s dark streets back to the safety of The Four Claws tavern.

  Boras wasn’t really focusing on their journey back though. He was too busy grinning to himself and admiring Sitra’s back and arse where his hands had just been.