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Sneaking around the back of the manor, I walk out of a side exit, only to bump into Turon when I come around a corner. At the sight of me, he chuckles and reaches out to touch my hair. I push his hand back.
“Stay away from me,” I hiss.
“Baby, come on. Don’t be like that. I was a bad boy, no doubt, but maybe I need some discipline – Ugh!”
His face winces in pain as I push my knife deeper into his liver, a small gasp escaping his mouth as I then twist the blade. His eyes roll back as life leaves his body, collapsing into my arms. I drag him into a bush and leave him to rot.
I take a quiet route out of the khuzuth estates, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The journey back to the loft allows me to let off some steam, each leap exerting force and energy.
I jump over the busy streets of the city, spectating the rampant nightlife below. This city is filth, full of dark elf scum. I have two kills under my belt already, but it’s not nearly enough.
After some time, I reach the rooftop of the warehouse, deciding to camp up on the rooftop for a while. The city sits in the near distance, its bright flashing lights full of life. The shouting of drunkards rings out through the air, too unclear to hear what’s being said.
I sit on the edge of the roof, my legs dangling over a thirty foot drop below. I remove the knife from my sheath, running my eyes along its tip. I wish I was seeing the dried blood stains of Denve Thuvrol, but tonight wasn’t my night.
To come so close and yet still fail makes me question my abilities. Why is this mission proving to be so much harder than I originally thought? I imagined this being a simple job.
Denve is a noble, so getting to him was always going to be tricky, but I hesitated far too much for my own liking when I had him in my trap. Given my hatred for the Thuvrols, I should have been able to pull this off, no problem.
Now my head is getting wrapped up in all of this bullshit. On top of tonight’s failure are the voices of Sythar and Callista telling meI told you so.
Were they right in the end?I wonder.They told me my emotions would get in the way. I just never expected to be feeling something for Denve.
I toss my dagger up in the air and catch the hilt with a perfect grip. One thing is for certain, I’m going to need to adapt and evolve from tonight’s mistake.
In the academy, I was taught that assignments can grow more complex once you’re on the job itself. That was certainly proving to be the case here in Vhoig. My emotions are putting a fog over all of this.
I need a good night’s rest to refresh myself. Before that, though, I have to come up with a new plan. Sheathing my knife, I hop over the edge of the building and slide down a pipe until I come to the level with my bed.
Climbing in, I throw off my clothes and slip into something more comfortable. I place my knife on the desk as I take a seat there. Pulling over a loose piece of parchment, I dip a quill in some ink and begin brainstorming a new approach, scribbling whatever ideas come to my mind.
I know he wants me, and no doubt my sudden disappearance will make him wonder where I’ve gone. For him to see me again will draw him to me like magic.
I need to find a way to get to him again, this time in a private place. I can’t imagine the royals having another ball anytime this week, and I can’t afford to hang around in Vhoig for longer than that. I need to get creative.
I recall how I saw him in the pub district one evening, remembering how he’s a noble who travels around with no bodyguards. At least I have that going to my advantage. Aside from his friends, he seems to travel alone.
But I need to be certain about this. I make a note to get in touch with Esra and see if he frequents any one place in particular. I want a plan that will work with no risk of failure.
I’ll send word for information first thing tomorrow,I think as I yawn.It’s time for some rest.
As I crawl into bed, only one thought ravages my mind.
I never thought I’d be attracted to another Thuvrol, let alone a target of mine.
The presence of Denve in my mind continues distracting me, even as I toss and turn in an effort to sleep. With nothing to take my thoughts away from him, my hands unconsciously drift between my legs, my eyes remaining closed as I imagine what could have been.
I hear his moans echo in my mind, thinking of what he would have felt like had he made it inside of me. Why is it that I’m not opposed to the idea? The fantasy only makes me touch myself with more intensity.
I become aware of what I’m doing, but I don’t stop. If I leave it now, I’ll be in a worse mood than I was before. I recall the warmth of his hot breath on my neck, wondering how it may have felt between my legs.
I fantasize about his tongue running up my clitoris, and it’s then my body surges with a wave of pleasure. I grab the bedsheets in my hands as my moans echo between the walls.
Fuck… Why did I do that?
I feel awful. Grunting, I clean myself off and pull the blankets up. I shouldn’t have done that. It only just validated my attraction to Denve. But what the hell else am I supposed to do with all these emotions?
Shoving them down certainly isn’t working. This contract only grows more complicated by the hour.
