Thief and Healer Archived

Title: Thief and Healer Back to page

Current tags: Tiefling rogue[F]/Human healer[M], fantasy setting, combat, blood, teasing, handholding, stripping, sensitive tiefling ears[F], lewd undressing, lapdance, body touching, foreplay, oral, tailjob, lipstick marking, blowjob. >New: Standing sex in the baths, leg lock, creampie, afterglow cuddling. And an upside-down kiss!

Summary: Adventuring is dangerous work. This tale is about a bookish healer, split off from the main party by the wiles of a horned rogue, and his efforts to avoid getting himself or her killed while they forage through an ancient ruin in search of treasure. He's pretty new at this adventuring business, but he has his guidebook and a positive attitude. Meanwhile, the hooded tiefling keeps trying to tell him how she feels, but she speaks street-rat and he's a noble-blooded graduate of a prestigious university. While he was studying medicine, she was burgling houses and performing in strip clubs to make ends meet. He has a rather pure outlook on the world. She's performed political assassinations to pay bills. They make a good team, and both are well aware of that, but every time they try to turn that into something more it never works out right. Tonight, though... tonight might just be their lucky night!

Chapter List
(Use CTRL+F to jump to the chapter of your choice.)

1. Splitting the Party (~1300 words) 2. Back Through the Arch (~1800 words) 3. Not a Necromancer (~2300 words) 4. Skeleton Fight (~2100 words) 5. Lost Without You (~1700 words) 6. Hardback Books (~2100 words) 7. Hiding and Hard-ons (~1500 words) 8. Pushed Away (~2500 words) 9. Alize the Stripper, Alize the Ripper (~2300 words) 10. Shock to the System (~2100 words) 11. Alize on Top (~3300 words) 12. Forced Confession (~2600 words) 13. Pure Healer (~2500 words) 14. Flighty Rogue (~2200 words) 15. Maid Fantasy (~2000 words) 16. Wholesome Thoughts, Punishment (~2800 words) 17. Saying No in the Past (~1700 words) 18. Begging Yes in the Present (~1400 words) 19. Sky-pirates (~2800 words) 20. Wanting Force (~2400 words) 21. Predatory Offer (~1800 words) 22. Opera Dress, Dirty Stripper (~2400 words) 23. Pretty Dresses (~1100 words) 24. Where You're Going (~1300 words) 25. Looting (~1900 words) 26. Go Into the Water (~2900 words) 27. The Soft-sell (~1900 words) 28. Steam Striptease (~2700 words) 29. Pheromones (~2200 words) 30. Sitting (~1200 words) 31. Quarantine (~1800 words) 32. Lapdance (~1400 words) 33. Trap (~1700 words) 34. Boss Fight (~1400 words) 35. Healing (~1600 words) 36. The Well (~2500 words) 37. Poolside Foreplay (~2400 words) 38. Not Running (~2000 words) 39. Hudson on the Pole (~2100 words)

Chapter 1. Splitting the Party
Never split the party. That was what the guidebook said, that was what he had learned at Adventuring Academy, yet the exact opposite had just been suggested to him by a much more experienced adventurer. The young man adjusted his glasses and thought hard, then tried calling out to the rest of his party. A red elbow jabbed into his side. He closed his mouth. No one would have heard him anyway, not over the ruckus taking place in front of them. Sounds of battle echoed from the walls of the ruin. Their adventuring party's intrepid leader, a paladin whose heavy armor was so tightly fitted onto her elven body that she looked like a svelte automaton, traded blows with a massive, muscular orc.

The elf's armored fist crashed into the orc's abdomen, but the greenskin just howled with rage and punched back. Nervously, the young man tried to think of some way he could stop the brawl. They should not be fighting. Not like this. There was a high risk that concussive force from repeated blows would transfer through the elf's armor and damage her internal organs. A fistfight could be more dangerous to the paladin than swords or even fire. He nibbled at his lower lip, mind spinning through spells and surgeries he knew to reverse such damage. Out here in the wild, without access to a proper medical facility, his options were limited. That was not an admission of defeat. He had trained for field healing of major trauma, but never expected to see it as a result of intramural conflict. Nothing so brazen as this, at least. Back in university there were very strict penalties for fighting, which did little to defuse the tension at the all-boys school, but everyone had been secretive about their feuds.

Regrowing a damaged kidney or repairing an intestinal hemorrhage would be child's play with a sanitary suite and a seer's orb. He would have to make do with a regenerative spell, very taxing on the caster, and hope that the quickly-regrown tissues would hold together until they could get back to a city for proper treatment. Elves were surprisingly resilient beings, moreso than humans in some ways, but since their heightened senses also amplified pain they were often considered weaklings. The paladin moved fast, hit hard, and thanks to her enchanted armor could take quite a beating. More than once he had seen her respond to someone who touched her armor as acutely as if they had touched her bare body. He worried that she trusted too much in the protection of that second skin of runic metal.

The party's orc was another matter entirely. She was a giant green slab of rock-hard muscle and iron-dense bone fueled by anger. Barely wore any protection at all, unless war-paint and trophies from past victories counted. Her green skin was all the armor she needed. He had seen the berserker carve through legions of monsters both big and small with her cruel axes. As fists flew and insults rained between the two fighters, he found himself unable to say for certain who would win. Not that the paladin was a poor fighter, if anything she had far more skill than the berserker, but the orc simply did not know how to die. Many times he had found her at the end of a trail of corpses, bleeding from wounds and barely able to stand upright atop fractured legs. Usually she was laughing, that deep and guttural sort of laughter that always sent chills down his spine. Her kind took great glory in slaughter. There was something in the orc that loved pain, loved being covered in gore.

He loved the idea far less. Blood was a biological hazard. It was an excellent medium for transmitting disease. The populace loved to imagine that magic could heal any problem, and so they could continue dumping their chamberpots into the street instead of investing in proper sanitation. Unfortunately, there were a number of nasty illnesses that had wisps of their own magic, and resisted the will of healers who tried to purge them. Her orkish physiology might be immune, but in medical circles such immune individuals were called "carriers", not "miracles", and they made plague control experts piss themselves at night. The most dangerous idea in the world was that a healer could cure anything, and the masses had seized upon it with such ferocity that when a weary doctor tried to explain he could not help he was often burned at the stake as a witch.

Green knuckles smashed into ornate armor. Metal fists punched back, sending one of the orc's teeth flying. A minor injury at best, the greenskin would have a new one within a month, but it further enraged the orc. He had not yet found any sort of limit to the berserker's rage and doubted that one would become evident in this fight. Greenskins just got angrier and angrier the more they battled, shrugging off worse and worse injuries while returning more and more damage. The elf deftly dodged a blow, then yelped in pain as a knee mashed into her abdomen and sent her flying. Saliva dripped from the orc's tusks, and her irises had already faded partway from brown to a bloody red. The berzerker rage was coming.

He had not believed what he had read in medical journals, that an angered orc could shrug off missing limbs and even somehow gut through a damaged spinal cord until the end of a fight. She had given him more than enough firsthand evidence. What had been more disconcerting at first was how the elf moved with waterlike grace while wearing armor that should have rendered her immobile. Fascinating, really, especially since he had never seen an elf before. They usually kept to their enclaves, only venturing out on quests, and he had been overjoyed when contracted by her to replace the party's previous healer. What an opportunity, especially for a newly minted doctor!

Conflict always unsettled him. Healing bodies was his calling. When he saw others hammering and hacking away at each other, he knew better than they did what injuries they were inflicting. To see a brutal brawl between two members of his party was nerve-racking. He wanted to step between the fighters and resolve the dispute peacefully. At Adventurer Academy he had learned many techniques for mediating. It was often the healer's duty to bring an objective, enlightened perspective. Not because he was cut from some more perfect cloth than them, but because he was the one who they expected to clean up the mess. The orc knew savage medicine that surprisingly worked, and the elf had the restorative blessings of her pantheon, but he was the medical professional.

He was the one who reached inside deep wounds and pulled out foreign fragments, hands glowing with a sterilizing aura. Reforging shattered bones, ferreting out poisons, dispelling hexes, winding bandages, restoring burns, and reshaping eyeballs, he did it all. Those sorts of things never turned his stomach. He was a healer, mending bodies was his vocation. His professors at the academy had understood that, even helped him graduate early. He was the one who kept the party in the fight. Right now, it seemed he needed to remind them to stay in the right fight. They had come to this somewhat-abandoned ruin in search of treasure, and to flush out the undead in the crypt out front who had caused trouble for local villages until the party reduced them to dust. There was still more work to do here. However, when he tried to step forward, a pair of red arms and a teasing tail held him back.

Chapter 2. Back Through the Arch
"Slow up," murmured the party's rogue. He could hear her voice as clear as a bell even over the thudding and clanging of fists against flesh and metal. "Jumping between them would get you smashed flatter than a turd on the main road." She tugged him away from the boxing elf and brawling orc. Elvish quips about parentage, honor, and lack of foresight were answered by guttural orc snarls more vile than a greenskin's dung. He felt one of the rogue's horns rub against the side of his head as she watched over his shoulder. Her bandolier of knives pressed against his back. "And I've already pulled you out of enough crusher pits today."

Turning his head, he glanced back at her. The rogue kept dragging him out of danger, which sort of confused the healer since when he first joined the party she had seemed to hate his guts. Some sort of misunderstanding about what she thought he thought of her, summed up well enough by how she had only called him "rich boy" for a month. They had worked that out, but even though she sometimes called him by his name now, she still picked on him a lot. He had stood up to a lot of bullying in the academy and knew the signs well enough. She kept finding problems with how he made fires or packed his equipment, and continually berated him about how inexperienced he was with woodsmanship as well as his unfamiliarity with the underbelly of modern cities. The usual picking, much like what he had experienced from other boys at the academy. Still, they were a party, and they trusted each other.

That was why he had to step in. If their party was divided against itself, how could they hope to triumph? Didn't the red-skinned rogue understand? He cleared his throat. "How are we to advance if they keep fighting?"

"Like I said, we ought to split off." She pulled him back a little further as pieces of the ceiling trickled down where he had been standing. The brawlers smashed a ragged crater in one of the ruin's walls, bounced off, and continued their fight. "These two're going to be at it for a while."

"They're going to attract goblins, or whatever else is in these ruins." He had to raise his voice to be heard. As a young man of good upbringing and excellent education, he hated to shout. A doctor should be calm, soft spoken, listened to because of the weight of his arguments rather than the volume of his voice. "Something will come to investigate, and they won't be able to handle it on their own." His hand moved toward the well-thumbed Guide to Adventuring he kept in the inside pocket of his robe. The young man was smart enough to know what he did not know, but also naive enough to believe that books and scrolls held answers to all the world's problems. "Splitting the party is one of the certain ways to die. All the studies indicate-"

She giggled, a sound that worried him as much as ever. One of her gloved hands ran over his chest. The rogue wore fingerless gloves that protected her red skin while climbing and still left her enough dexterity to pick locks. They also exposed her nails, which were painted with a black lacquer that hardened them into surprisingly effective claws. While they were not the rending talons of a half-fiend, he had seen her draw blood with those black nails before. His own nails were neatly trimmed. When working on a patient, the last thing he wanted was to do more damage.

"You don't have to worry about these two, Hudson. They're not really mad at each other." He still had not gotten used to the rogue touching him. Not because of her horns, tail, and red skin, those fascinated him. All his medical studies had focused on humans. He had of course dissected frogs, fish, pigs, manticores, and other lesser creatures as well as deceased humans, but all his education had focused on the anatomy of man. Elves and orcs were strange enough. A horned almost-devil with a sharp-toothed smile and playful spade-tipped tail was far outside his experience.

"It is commonly accepted that when an orc's rage is approaching the threshold for trance-like fury..." Hudson stiffly began to reply.

Her touch always made him feel strange. He was very unaccustomed to people being so familiar. All his life he had learned about proper decorum, chivalrous codes, and the many other ways that the well-bred distanced themselves from baser instincts. There had been no females at the healers' academy, women with skill trained at a completely separate campus so that neither gender would be a distraction to the other. The rogue also kept filching small items from his pockets whenever she was close, but they usually reappeared next to his bedroll. He had come to accept that it was just one of her oddities. She was excellent at her job. That made him all the less comfortable around her, but it was a very different sort of discomfort than the bullies at university had caused.

"... Orcs' eyes will shift in color toward crimson and their muscle tone will become more pronounced," the healer recited from memory. He had studied all sorts of creatures, but seeing elves and orcs trading blows in person was something he had never imagined. "Veins will also become more visible across their skin due to hyperaemia. While in such a state, an orc is highly volatile and-"

Her gloved hand wrapped around his mouth, but only for a moment, and he heard her sigh. The combatants had moved further away with their fight... or she had succeeded in getting him to back up a few more steps without him noticing. "If they really wanted to kill each other, Doctor Bookworm, it'd be sword against axe. Neither one has their weapons out."

"A paladin's armored fists are often considered lethal weapons in many civilized cities." He felt his foot move, teased back by her tail around his ankle and a gentle pull of her arm around his waist. They were almost to the ruined archway through which the party had entered this once grand chamber. She was very good at moving him to where she wanted him to be, but usually she was doing such things to get him away from a trap while swearing about how he never looked where he was going. This was far more subtle, like how she seemed to flow through the shadows and appear right behind an enemy with a dagger in each of her hands.

"And she can do that preachy gods-please-heal-me thing if either one of them gets too injured." The rogue's voice held more than a hint of distaste. "The gods listen when she prays for help. Some of us have to make do on our own. That's what we need to do now, Hudson. They'll be fine, they always are." He knew she had no personal quarrel with their paladin. The orc and elf were her only reliable friends. They had fought together for years before he had joined. Her anger was directed heavenward, likely for the same reasons that she had been very suspicious of him.

When he first hired on, the rogue seemed to expect he would want to get rid of her. Why he still did not quite understand. She was excellent at her trade, and his parents had always taught him to prize competence and loyalty above all else. These days she seemed content with teasing him. Put simply, she made his skin crawl and his heart flutter, and she seemed to relish doing it. He had never felt anything like this at the academy. After a life spent buried under books and listening to bearded old men lecture at one of the strictest institutes in the mortal planes, the way she scorned all forms of decorum was incredibly confusing.

He shook his head, inadvertently brushing his cheek against one of the rogue's horns. She had two, rising from the sides of her forehead and curling back beneath her hood. The cloak she wore disguised her form and often made her hard to distinguish from her surroundings at even a short distance. Unlike the two trading blows in front of them, she never liked a fair fight. An arrow in the night, daggers in the back, or a trio of poison darts through a blowgun was her style. In a way she was like a surgeon, trying to make as small of a cut as possible to achieve the goal, but she killed her patients.

He finally answered, "If they're attacked, they'll be at a severe disadvantage. They're already fighting each other. They won't fight together against anyone who attacks, and they'll most likely lose."

Her voice tickled his ear again. "You really are an only child, huh? Or maybe they didn't have schoolyard fights in that fancy academy?" She snickered. "Anything that interrupts is going to get both of them beating it into the ground so they can get back to their scrap. Happened to a dragon they woke up last year." The horned girl tugged at the sleeve of his robe with a hand, while her tail curled around his waist. She almost had him back over the archway. "Good thing, too. While they were fighting it, I made off with the gold. Oh, and the noble's daughter we were there for, but I should have left her. Fussy little tart wanted a knight in shining armor, not a tiefling." Her grip on his arm tightened for a few seconds, then relaxed. "C'mon then, there's treasure to be had around here. I'm sure of it!"

He reluctantly let her guide him out of the room. The rogue patted his shoulder soothingly. "They do this every couple of months, but haven't since you joined. I think they were behaving because... well, y'know, you're kinda prissy." She sniffed the air before waving him down another corridor with a flick of her fingers. Beneath her cloak, the tiefling's tail swayed. "I don't think they knew what to make of you, but you're finally fitting in around here so they probably figured it's okay to cut loose."

"But... why are they fighting?" He had heard the insults that started the brawl. They seemed minor, but perhaps those had just been the straws that broke the dam? A loud crash, followed by a crumbling noise from where they had just left, made him wince. Were they going to bring down the whole ruin?

"Haven't you ever wanted to haul off and sock somebody you love?" She raised an eyebrow curiously, golden eyes peering out from beneath her hood. He shook his head. "Figures, rich boy." The rogue sighed.

Chapter 3. Not a Necromancer
"You're pretty plain, and we like that." The red-skinned girl poked him in the side. "Our last alchemist poisoned himself. Before that we had a goblin who could sorta do surgery, but was too interested in replacing real limbs with mechanical ones. You're the first healer we've had who's... uh... normal." She slid away from him, down the hallway, looking back once to make sure he followed. "I mean, nobody's normal in this business. If adventurers were normal, we'd join a town guard or something." Her pointed ears perked up. The sounds of battle still echoed through the halls. It seemed the brawl had rolled out of that room and into another part of the ruins.

"Are you sure we can leave them alone?" he asked nervously.

"Uh-huh." She nodded, her hood and cloak swaying with the motion. "Y'know, Hudson, maybe you're too plain. Truth be told, I had forty copper on you being a necromancer."

His eyes widened. "What in the nine realms gave you that idea, Alize? I'm a certified doctor, not some looney cultist digging up fresh corpses!" He crossed his arms and frowned. Abruptly, she held up a hand, her hood bobbing as she looked suspiciously around the corridor. He came to a halt, having learned the hard way to trust her instinct for hidden traps. "What is it?"

The rogue's tail swayed beneath her cloak. She ran her tongue over her black lips, then carefully stepped over a trio of cracked tiles on the floor. Adjusting his glasses, he waited for her to gesture him forward, then hiked up his robe and followed gingerly in her tracks. A wide grin that showed off her sharp teeth spread across her face as she watched.

"You're polite." The rogue poked at the stone frame of an ancient doorway, then waved him through.

They were outside again, beneath a full moon and glimmering sky. It was so easy to see the stars out here, without all the smog from industrial parks or the university's bright crystal lamps mucking up the sky. He had never seen anything like it before joining the party. The first night they had made camp, Alize had taken breaks from criticizing his woodscraft skills to tease him about how he kept staring wide-eyed skyward. A thousand tiny pinpricks filled the heavens, and the moon seemed almost as bright as the sun to him. Years of peering through a telescope at university had done nothing to prepare him for that sight. The heavens had opened, and suddenly he had understood why his ancestors put so much stock in constellations and stellar movements. Without an enlightened understanding of magic, or even the basics of automation and gaslight that had been discovered and lost so many times over the ages, there had been nothing to distract them from the sky.

"What do manners have to do with suspecting me of necromancy?" he asked, picking his way along the path behind her. Somewhere inside a pile of rubble that used to be a grand statue, a rodent squeaked.

The rogue rolled her eyes. "The street is tough an' mean, even for kids. We don't prissy stuff up with nice words. Especially 'cause there isn't a whole lot of nice around anyway." She was as sure-footed as ever, even on the uneven ground covered with rain-rounded stones. "I learned to expect kicks and shoves pretty quick. Learned to cuss before I learned to talk." Walking down the ruins' causeways, between pools of scummy water, they reached a wide field full of half-broken pillars and shattered statues. "First polite guy I ever met wanted to drain out my blood for a ritual circle so he could bring back his dead gram-gram." Alize moved with an easy grace. He hobbled along behind, often losing his footing and more than once almost falling on his face.

"What happened?" he asked, curious. She did not talk about her past very much. He knew she came from rough beginnings, but those had hardened her into a very capable rogue. Hudson had never seen someone like her. The girls he met before enrolling in the academy were dull, wrapped up in layers of dresses and endlessly chattering about pointless social affairs. He had never really gotten along with other high-born children. They all seemed to harbor a delight in the misery of others that he could not understand.

One of his few childhood memories vivid enough to recall was of finding an injured cat during a picnic. Someone else had stumbled across it and started poking the immobile feline with a stick, giggling at its yowls. The noise had attracted other children. All were dressed in their finest, for it was a beautiful day in a green and pleasant land. Some wanted to throw rocks at the cat and put it out of its misery, others said they should leave it to die and return to their picnic. He was the only one who wanted to help. The others had mocked him. It was a dangerous idea, the injured feline was bloody and enraged from torment heaped on it by the other children, but he was young and foolish enough to try.

Even then, his magic had been strong enough to close wounds, though his control over it was shaky at best. The more experienced doctor that he would one day become would never have gotten so close to an injured wild animal, but the child he had been knew nothing about diseases such as rabies. Crawling close to the hissing feline, he had put out his hand and stroked its back, murmuring kind words that he could not remember under his breath. The mocking voices and calls for him to get away from that cat had faded. He remembered a purring noise, a sharp pain lancing up his arm, and a blur of fur racing away. Hudson's fine clothes hung about him in tatters, though the creature's claws had not drawn blood. The other children had mocked him all the worse afterward, saying that he should have known better than to help a wild animal. Some creatures could not understand kindness, or gratitude.

Alize finally spoke, her hood too far forward over her face for him to read her expression. The rogue's words brought his thoughts back to the present. "I saw what happened to the others he'd nabbed. Picked the lock on the cage with a piece of bone and a bent pin, ran as fast an' as far as I could." The horned girl paused, scooped up a piece of stone, then hucked it out across one of the ponds. The rock skipped a few times, knocking holes in the floating scum, then plunked into the water. She waited a few seconds, one hand cupped around an ear, then shrugged and strolled onward. Hudson was unsure if she was checking for something in the water, or simply bored.

The rogue's pointed ears perked up as she heard something on the wind far before he did. A gurgling, hissing noise floated across the ground, then faded quickly. "Hm. Sounds like a sewer." She glanced back at the healer. "Yeah, even when he was locking me in the cage, he was the nicest guy you'd ever meet. Especially when he was cuttin' someone up. Didn't matter how much screaming the kid did, he'd just apologize and keep going. Said he felt terrible about the whole thing." Abruptly she spun on a heel and crossed her arms in front of her chest. A shadow fell from her hood across her face, and her horns curled out just enough to be seen. His breath caught in his chest, and not for the first time he remembered why some enemies feared the street-smart rogue more than the party's savage orc. "Where I grew up, you either had the guts and skills to look out for yourself, or you didn't last long. Had to learn pretty quick who to trust, too."

"I... um..." stammered the human before falling silent once more. The tiefling fully embodied her demonic heritage. From her horns to her tail, Alize seemed to ooze a disconcerting evil that did not belong in the mortal plains.

"Didn't know what to make of you at first. Never spent much time around people like you, unless I was picking pockets." Her boots made no sound as she stepped closer. "You got moxie. Got a drive that keeps you focused."

Shaking his head, he protested, "I am no necromancer, and I'm not a butcher. I heal, Alize. That is my profession."

"Uh-huh. I know." She nodded. "You kept on healing us even with three arrows sticking out of you when we got caught in that ambush on the highway." What sounded like a large rat squeaked and scurried on the other side of a nearby wall. "Got our two heavies back in the fight before my smoke cloud faded." Her smile widened, while wind played at the edges of her cloak. "Healers are usually pretty easy to scare, but you're not." He noticed that she had loosened the front of her cloak. It hung to her sides, revealing the bandolier of knives and light armor she wore beneath. A long shadow stretched out from her, its shape distorted by her hood and cloak. "You're awful comfortable around death, and you've got nerve. Not every day I meet someone who's got guts like you do." Her golden eyes were locked on his.

"That doesn't make me a necromancer!" Hudson retorted, completely missing her point. "I mean, I wrote an undergraduate thesis on resuscitation, but that's completely different than reanimation." Many long debates had raged in the university about what precise standards should be set for when life began and when it ended. "Necromancy always has a toxic effect on the caster. It's not worth messing with."

Her expression fell, and she began walking backward over the uneven ground without so much as scuffing her heels against the stones. He followed, barely able to keep up. At Adventurer Academy they had practiced on obstacle courses, but those were nothing compared to the athletic feats he had seen her perform. The rogue pursed her black lips, then murmured, "Hudson..."

"Necromantic practices are banned not because they might be too powerful, but because the spellwork is extremely dangerous to the caster and everyone nearby." Though he was admittedly shy, he had enjoyed scholarly debates at the university very much. All subjects of natural philosophy were of interest to him, but the mending of bodies particularly so. Modern investigation of healing magic's outer limits sometimes blurred the line between revival and resurrection. He thought the rogue was challenging him on an intellectual level, and sought to respond in kind. "The moral issues are completely beside the point. Though healing magic can exhaust or even injure a caster, thorough investigation indicates that it does not corrode the mind or poison the psyche. Necromantic activities, even those that do not require assistance from malignant extradimensional entities, do. It is a functional question, not a philosophical one."

She muttered something under her breath and glared at him. A chill ran down his spine. He had never seen anything like her eyes before, not even in the academy's books. Golden orbs floating between pools of black, with crimson flecks that seemed to appear and disappear as she moved. He had dissected eyeballs from many different species, but never a tiefling. Due to their tainted blood they often varied quite heavily in physical appearance. Her pupils were sometimes slits and sometimes round, while her golden irises seemed to glow hauntingly whenever she glared at someone. Fascinating and terrifying all at once, especially to someone with his education.

"I'm not saying you are a necromancer, Hudson." She continued to glare. "But you do have that kind of crazy." This field had once been a building, some kind of throne room by the look of it. As she passed by a heap of colored glass that might once have been part of a grand window, the rogue picked up a piece and held it up to the moonlight. "You're really focused on your job. Don't you have any hobbies?"

He thought for a few seconds, while she tossed the piece of glass away. "I like to draw." Her eyes brightened for a second. "Medical sketches, anatomical-"

The rogue's groan cut him off. She turned away and shook her head. "Maybe you really are a corpse-cuddler. Nobody's that nuts about their line of work."

"You're very focused on your duties," he shot back.

Her tail stiffened beneath the cloak. Turning her head, she narrowed her eyes and glared at him from within her hood. "That's cause stealin' and stabbin' are all I'm good for, rich boy." Alize's sneering tone sounded almost sad.

"Don't say that," he said as his mouth leapt ahead of his brain. Despite all the odd torments that Alize threw his way, she always helped when he needed her. Hudson knew he would not have survived his rounds during that plague outbreak without the rogue perched atop a nearby roof, her crossbow at the ready. Though he had seen others with red skin during their time adventuring, he was certain he had never met someone else quite like her. "You're... um..." She glanced back at him, an odd look on her face. He stammered out, "You're g-good at archery too!"

The tiefling turned away again, silently leading down one of several forks in the path. He followed the cloaked figure. Distantly, Hudson realized that was not what he should have said, but he had very little idea what the right thing might have been. He could not see Alize bite back a smile as she trudged onward.

Chapter 4. Skeleton Fight
Hudson adjusted his glasses and tried to calm his pounding heart. Everything had happened so fast. It was over now, Alize survived, he survived, everything would be fine. The attackers had risen up from the ground. Ghastly skeletons with hunks of green, rotting meat still clinging to their bones. Odd, the bones should have been completely stripped by natural processes of decay. The rot seemed to be suspended, present but unable to continue. Poking at the skeletons' remains with a stick, he could not find evidence of maggots or worms. Smelled horrible. The bones seemed very brittle now they were scattered across the path's cracked stones. This lined up with his findings from previous encounters with the undead, though it was quite against the natural order. Of course, necromantic practices were anything but natural.

How long had the skeletons waited beneath this sod for someone to wander past? Centuries? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the healer drank some water from his flask. His mouth and throat were parched. Sudden attacks always made him thirsty. More accurately, anxiety caused the body to draw water away from the mouth, often to the stomach to aid in swift digestion of food, as part of the automatic fight-or-flight response. Drawing in another deep breath, Hudson felt his nerves begin to steady. Somehow his glasses had remained right where they belonged. Reaching up, he adjusted them anyway.

He could still see the skeleton's jaw opening wide, its sword swinging. An eerie sense of panic filled his heart once more. The healer had nearly fled during the fight. Maybe he should have run, but he could not abandon his party. Even if it was just him and the rogue who bullied him all the time, instead of the full team. He couldn't just leave Alize to fight all those skeletons on her own. Not that he had been much help. It had all happened so fast. Shaking his head, he tried to calm down. In the moment, he had acted appropriately, and that was what mattered. His heart still hammered inside his chest.

There was nothing inherently disturbing about bones. He had studied anatomy for years. Everyone had a skeleton inside them, but bones should be moved by muscles, not foul magic. Hudson wondered who these bones had belonged to. Proud protectors entombed by an ancient civilization that did not understand the dangers of tampering with undeath, or hapless victims of a madman who had once called these ruins his lair? Crouching down, he inspected the nearest piles of remains in search of some clue. Unfortunately, the bones were bare of any runic etchings, jeweled badge of office, or forlorn keepsake that might have given him an idea. All he could find was low quality weapons and armor.

Alize stomped a ribcage into splinters. "Soddin' skeletons." When the boney horrors had attacked, she had moved like lightning. Cloak swaying and knives flying, the tiefling had shattered femurs and shot bolts through spines with her forearm-mounted crossbow. While the healer had struggled with a single skeleton that seemed intent on driving its sword through his meaty bits, she had deftly ruined the rest on her own. The two had weathered similar attacks on past adventures, though usually with the party's berserker and paladin around to heavily tilt the odds. She spat on the ground. "Never have anything worth looting."

Hudson nodded, still trying to get the image of that unhinged jaw and eyeless sockets out of his head. How reanimated skeletons could see, or even keep their bones together, still mystified most civilized institutes of magical research. Too much study into necromantic practices was frowned upon. "That was an unpleasant surprise." It had been over in the blink of an eye, but did give Hudson pause to reflect on how much he relied on the party's other members for aid in battle. Without the rogue, the skeletons would have gotten him for certain. Not that he would have ventured out without aid in the first place. His duty was to keep the party in fighting form. That brought his thoughts back to order. "Are you injured, Alize?"

"No."

"Oh." She was really good at this adventuring stuff, and really knew how to make him feel useless sometimes. "You may not feel pain right away, an adrenal surge can-"

In the far distance there was an enormous crash, as though ten ancient statues who had endured for time immemorial cried out as one, then were suddenly toppled by the indiscriminate rage of an orc and elf locked in mortal combat. Hudson winced as the tremor reverberated through the ground, inadvertently answering his question about how the other two members of the party fared. He nearly lost his footing. She barely noticed.

"I'm fine." Alize pulled her cloak closed. "They didn't touch me." She turned away and looked for anything that might have come to investigate the fight. Her horns poked out from beneath her hood. "Did you get bit on the arm?"

Hudson winced. He had hoped she would not notice that. "Yes, but it's already sanitized and healed." A bit of marring on the surface of his skin was all that remained, and that would fade after he had a solid night's sleep in a good bed. Using healing magic on himself was different than aiding others, if only because he felt all the crawling pain of reforming flesh, but his time at the academy had trained him to do it almost automatically after a battle. Magic had its own sense of whimsy, often feeding on the emotions of its caster, and he had learned well how to channel the terror of combat into a restorative surge. That was another reason necromancy held such danger, it too was influenced by and itself influenced the innermost thoughts of the user. "Just a scratch, really." He had barely screamed.

She glared at him, and gestured with the arm that had a small crossbow mounted to its vambrace. "If you turn into a zombie, I'll have to put a bolt through your forehead and burn the body."

"I... you... what?" he blinked. "Alize, first of all that isn't how... if there was any..." The doctor did not quite know where to begin. He cleared his throat, failed to hear the tiefling's exasperated groan, and launched into an explanation, "A virulent contagion capable of first killing, then reanimating healthy humans is a very serious matter. Given that there have been reports of undead like these attacking caravans and villages, hence our adventuring party's presence, such a contagion would have already caused rapidly spreading outbreaks along local trade routes." Beneath her hood, the tiefling rolled her eyes. "The League for Plague Control would have put out a proclamation, wards and checkpoints would be in place along all major transit corridors, we-"

"We'd be getting paid a lot more?" asked the rogue with a raised eyebrow.

He rubbed his chin. "Well... I suppose. But you needn't worry. I did not detect anything so foul on the remains the villagers showed us when we took this job, nor can I astrally sense any such contagion on the undead we have encountered here at these ruins. This is a simple purging mission." Another rumble came through the ground. "I... do hope that something remains of this ancient architecture once our mission is complete."

"Wouldn't bet on it," replied Alize with a wry grin. "You know how those two lunks are. The more they fight, the more they love it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't more help in the ambush." Stepping closer to the tiefling, Hudson reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "You were right in the thick of it, let me check your-"

With a jerky motion, she slapped his arm away and shuffled backward, glaring suspiciously at him from beneath her cloak. "Don't need you." When she saw the crestfallen expression on his face, Alize nibbled at her lower lip. "I'm fine. S'truth." Hunching her shoulders, she let her hood fall a little further over her face. Even with her red skin her blush was visible. "Didn't even have to break out the smoke and acid."

He nodded, unsure why she had reacted so violently. Certainly it was rare enough that he needed to heal her on their adventures. Alize's injuries were usually light enough for a restorative potion to solve. She had rarely complained in the past, though. An idea struck him. Was she worried that she might turn into an undead in the course of fighting them? Such superstitions were not uncommon among the less educated. People also often did not want a doctor's diagnosis if they feared their disease was terminal, since living in ignorance gave them a pleasant false hope.

Hudson smiled kindly, which only made her bristle. The rogue hated condescension from others. "Alize, if you are injured, it is nothing serious. There would be an army of mages here if anything like a virulent necromantic plague was afflicting the nearby towns. The nobles who fund the League are-"

With an inarticulate hiss, she shoved him back against a crumbling stone pillar and glared up into his face. "You really think I'd let scrubs like that get a hit on me?" growled the tiefling. "I've danced through hails of arrows to keep your head on your neck, no way a few skeletons could clip me and you know it, and you just about got your throat bitten out, and you're worried about me, and... and... ugh!" Her golden eyes burned bright. "Worry about yourself, and try to keep up!" Letting go of his robe, she chose a direction, then stomped along the broken rocks that had once been a smooth path. Somehow her angry bootfalls barely made as much noise as he did while walking normally.

Hudson followed along behind, her outburst barely registering. He had been slammed into walls often enough at the university. At least when Alize stole his lunch money, it was usually for a good reason. His heart rate had not even spiked when she grabbed him, though that could be due to fatigue after surviving the skeleton ambush. He glanced back over his shoulder at the pieces of bone that littered the ground. A shiver ran up his spine. The dead deserved their rest. "A waste."

Alize sniffed the air and pulled back her hood. Pointed red ears wiggled as she listened for something in the distance. "Running water..." she murmured.

Mishearing her, Hudson replied, "Yes, I will never understand why necromancers pursue such uncertain results."

The rogue's tail swayed from side to side beneath her cloak. She moved more carefully, her spine slightly arched as she listened and felt the ground. Her voice was low, quite different from her angry snarls just a moment earlier. "Sometimes you don't have an army of mages, genius. Zombies are cheap. Why d'ya think we find so many of them to fight?"

"My point exactly. We find them, we fight them, and we defeat them with little trouble. Like the mob our party encountered when the four of us first arrived, in the crypt out front of these ruins." He grabbed hold of a nearby pillar to keep from toppling over on the uneven terrain.

Turning around, the rogue began walking backward again, all the better to smirk at his awkward attempts to keep pace. Her cloak hung a little looser, showing off more of her body. She had strong thighs and firm arms, lithe rather than the orc's slabs of muscle, well suited for all the climbing and jumping her job often required. Light leather armor, stripped down to the bare minimum needed to protect her vitals, did little to disguise her curves.

Hudson tried to wrangle back his wandering thoughts, and with effort managed to return his gaze to the ground before he tripped over something else. "The undead should not be underestimated," he said while stepping around a wobbly brick. "Or relied upon."

"People have to do what they can with what they have," she retorted. "Just like with traps." The rogue held up a hand for him to stop, then backflipped over a ledge and shimmied up a pillar. Her cloak swayed behind and around her, creating a false impression of where her body might be that had fooled many archers. Crawling atop the stonework, she jumped onto another platform, then dropped down behind a crumbling wall. A moment later, flurries of darts flew over the path, ripping through the air right where they would have walked as a device inside the wall emptied its magazine. Hudson swallowed hard, instinctively stepping back from the hail of tiny projectiles in front of him.

Chapter 5. Lost Without You
Alize clambered back up the wall, then dropped down onto the path. Her tail curled out for balance as her knees bent. Hudson looked at her as she landed next to him, then back at the well camouflaged dart-spitters in the wall. His face still tingled from the wake of the darts' passing. She held up a few ancient metal gears that glimmered with some enchantment he had no hope of recognizing. The toothed circles vanished into a pouch on her belt. His eyes followed her hands, still just as mystified by the rogue's sudden actions as she was when someone took an arrow through the knee and the healer rushed to work.

The tiefling had landed very close to him, and swayed her hips perhaps more than she needed to while pocketing her loot. His wandering gaze made her frown. For such a studious guy, he kept staring at the wrong things. She rocked up on her toes to glare right into his eyes, just as Hudson turned to stare at the ruined wall opposite of the hidden launchers. Without that stonework to stop them, the little needles had scattered out among the weeds and puddles that had overgrown what might once have been a bedroom. Or a kitchen, servant's quarters, dungeon, maybe an armory... it was really quite hard to tell. When he turned back to Alize and adjusted his glasses, he found her pointing another angry glare his way. With her arms crossed over her lightly armored chest, her wrist-mounted crossbow was very visible.

"Skillful work!" he said quickly. The tiefling growled as if he had patted her on the head like an obedient puppy. Hudson took a few steps back as she leaned forward, her cloak falling closed over her front without so much as a wiggle from her fingers. "I... ah..." He blinked. "Do you... want me to collect the darts?"

Her pointed ears wiggled as her head tilted to the side. "What?"

"Well, if they were poison darts, we shouldn't just leave them lying about." Now she was the one who looked confused. "It's a danger to local wildlife. There might not be much around right now, but once we have cleansed this area of its necromantic denizens the natural order will return. Birds will sing, rabbits will frolic, deer will prance, and-"

The tiefling broke down into a fit of worrisome laughter, her tail swaying around her legs. "Eeesh, you really 're a fop, aren't ya?" Her cheeks reddened a little as she heard far too much of the street-rat timbre ooze into her voice. Alize had fought hard to crawl out of the gutter. The last thing the tiefling wanted was for him to think she was still trash. Clearing her throat, she said quickly, "The flechettes aren't poisoned, Hudson. You don't mass-fire poison darts, you pop 'em into somebody's neck or leg. Anywhere unarmored." Her gaze drifted to the side as a memory from her childhood flickered past. "Flechettes are about turnin' someone into red mist to feed rats." Some cities had bloody ways of quickly clearing out slums, especially when a rich noble had a grand vision for what was supposed to be there. "Don't mess with 'em. You'll cut your... fingers." Her hands clenched into fists.

"An odd trap to use, then," Hudson looked around once more. "This used to be some kind of castle. At least a stronghold." He had grown up around enough small forts and large fortresses to know. Father was considered insane by many other rulers since he permitted the peasantry to own swords and other armaments usually reserved for the nobility's knights. On the other hand, other lords of the realm left his lands alone during campaigning season, for fear of losing their precious armored calvary to a rag-tag militia's pikes or vanishing beneath a hailstorm of arrows. "Would it not be more prudent to put up defenses against armored opponents?" He had seen the party's paladin shrug off small projectiles and even some arrows. Darts like these would have bounced from her armor like raindrops.

She shrugged. "This place might have made sense to somebody, but that was about three floorplans ago." A grin crept across her face. "Hey, point which way is the way back."

He furrowed his brow, then turned around and pointed toward where they had come from. In the distance he could still hear rumbling and crashing, but it seemed to come from somewhere ahead of them instead of behind. The tiefling reached out, grabbed his wrist, and turned his pointing finger in a completely different direction.

"But..." Hudson began to protest.

"Remember that big detour we took around the lake? You're pointing straight, and you don't have gills."

He groaned. "Well obviously we would detour back around the lake when we got there."

With her red fingers still tightly holding his robe, she asked, "Which side?"

"What does it matter?"

"Well," the rogue shrugged, "One side has a nest of fishfaces. That's why we didn't go that way."

"Kuo-Toa?" he asked in surprise. "Here? How can you be sure? Would the undead not have driven them out?"

She shook her head. "Fishfaces are pretty sneaky, and they're durable too. They'll get into a city's water supply and sewers if they can, live right under your feet, but they'll leave sign everywhere if you know how to look." Sliding a little closer to him, she added, "Just gotta have your eyes on what's important."

Hudson groaned. She was mocking his fieldcraft skills again. "What do you want me to say, Alize? That I'd be lost out here without you?" He jerked his arm free from her grasp. The tiefling's ears twitched up in surprise. "Need I remind you that this was your idea, and I only came along under protest?" In the distance, something old and expensive collapsed. The two could see a dust cloud rising even from this far away. "Not that I would be doing much good over there, either..."

She stepped back, her hands clenching into fists as they fell at her sides. Reaching up, Alize pulled her hood down, tugging it over her horns until they were just misshapen lumps beneath the fabric. She skulked off to one side of the path for a moment, then crept back toward him. Hudson peered at her through his glasses, wondering what she was up to. Unfortunately, her cloak blocked most of the medical information his spectacles could usually augur. His vision was reliable enough, he only really needed the glasses after a long day of poking his nose in books ruined his eyes, but their enchantments made them worth wearing all the time while adventuring. Still, they rarely offered him any help with the undead, or this shrouded tiefling. She seemed upset about something.

"I..." mumbled the thief, "want... y-" A sudden twanging noise interrupted.

Her tail stiffened, her knees wobbled, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she very nearly shot herself in the foot with her wrist mounted crossbow. Hudson jumped back as the contraption sent a bolt right between his boots and Alize's. It sank deep into the earth, quivering like a tuning fork. Beneath her hood, the tiefling's cheeks burned brighter than the distant fire that had cropped up after the latest round of explosions. Her skin turned cold, tingly with terror yet numbed by shock, and her legs stiffened. As Hudson slipped on an uneven piece of marble and fell down into the grass, the horned tiefling towered over him with her cloak swaying in the wind and her golden eyes peering into his soul.

"I'm sorry!" he yelped, cowering before the demonic figure. He was not sure what he was sorry about, but he must have done something wrong. She had never shot at him before. Around him, during a fight, and there was that one time... but not like this. The idea that it was an accident never entered his mind. Alize did not make mistakes like that, she was too good at this adventuring stuff.

The tiefling felt numb all over. Her crossbow did not use tugged wires or squeezed levers for its trigger, though she had relied on ones that did in the past. This model activated on thought, which significantly helped her aim but also meant she had to keep her mind in order. With stiff fingers she reloaded the crossbow, an action as automatic to her as Hudson healing himself after a fight, then bent to jerk the misfired bolt from the soft ground. Sure, sometimes she wanted to punch him, but... Alize shivered, though her cloak obscured it. She had to keep better control of herself. Reaching out with her other arm, the one that did not run the risk of putting a bolt right through his chest if her emotions surged again, she tried to help him up.

Hudson stared at her hand for a few seconds, then pushed himself upright and walked away, keeping her in the corner of his eye. The rogue tried to apologize, tell him it was her fault and not his, but her tongue still would not move. Silence hung between them. He gestured onward and she stalked forward along the path. Alize buried her chin in her cloak, still blushing. He probably hated her, she could tell from the way he kept glancing her way. The healer wondered why she kept bullying him and acting so strange. They were supposed to be a team, helping each other, not... whatever this was. The two continued onward, neither able to put their thoughts into words, until Alize needed to disarm another trap.

It took her only a few moments. This time, when she crawled back on top of the wall, Hudson silently offered to help her down. She stared at him, her knees bent as she perched atop the stonework, then smiled into her cloak and took his hands. Alize stared into his eyes and held on for a little longer than she needed to, until he let go and stepped back while casting an uneasy glance at her crossbow. She swallowed hard and turned away, feeling terrible and wonderful all at once.

Chapter 6. Hardback Books
"You're... very quick about your work," Hudson said, finally breaking the silence between them as they moved further along the trail.

"None of this stuff would have stopped a skilled burglar, even when it was new." She tugged back her hood a little, still blushing. "But it'll kill somebody who isn't looking deader'n my parents."

His eyes widened. "You've never mentioned your parents before." Hudson's parents were very dear to him. He often felt others judged his works against his father's monolithic achievements, and still suspected that the party's paladin had hired him chiefly because of his parentage. Elves put great stock in genealogies. Odd, for such a long-lived and slow-breeding race. One would think they would place higher value on individual merit since they had so many more centuries to achieve great things than most other races. Humans attempted to understand other races by such lines of logic, but far greater minds than his had gone raving mad trying to comprehend the elves' ways. "I'm... sorry to hear they're no longer with us."

She shrugged. "Never knew 'em." The tiefling drifted a little closer to the human. Cold night air teased the fringe of her cloak as they walked through a garden that had been reclaimed by the wild. "Probably means the cursed blood skipped a few generations, then popped up in me by surprise. Would'a been a perfectly good reason to put me on the street, and the street's the only thing I remember." Alize's voice was not sad, or happy, but somewhere in between. Her body was tensed to jump away or slide nearer. Hudson could not quite decide which he would prefer. "So I guess they're dead, if only to me."

"Oh."

Her eyes seemed to stare past him at something very far off. "I'm lucky they didn't tie me in a sack and drown me in the sewers. Saw that happen to unwanted kittens once or twice." She tried to move a little closer, maybe even reach out for his hand, but her lower lip began to tremble and she blinked something out of her eyes. Couldn't cry, not in front of him. Showing weakness only invited pain. If she had learned anything on the street, that was it. Turning away, Alize kept walking. Her tail swayed lower than usual.

Hudson noticed her pointed ears droop. He shook his head, doubly horrified due to his medical training. "No civilized being would do that to a baby. There's a light of conscience in all of us."

Fixing him with a glare, she waved a black-gloved hand. "Easy for you to say, rich boy." Her voice had hardened again, but there was a brittle wobble in her words. "You popped out of the womb lookin' just like your human parents, ready for that silver spoon. Then you turned out to have the magical knack. Mummy and Daddy had to be so proud of their little wonder." With her back to him, she snickered while blinking back tears. "The best schools, the grandest parties, of course you believe everybody's got some good in them. Rich people don't cut each other's throats for the last few crumbs, and you're wearing silk underwear."

Hudson remembered well how court intrigue worked. She was very wrong. Everyone was a pawn in the grand game. The well-to-do fought their quiet wars not for gain, but for sport, as practice for the real bloodless bloodbaths that would decide who held influence over others. He remembered his father's distaste for such things. Mother helped, but more than once his father had broken the unwritten rules and paid a terrible price. Instead of trying to explain, he asked in absolute befuddlement, "How in the world could you know I'm wearing-"

Her tail flicked as she cut him off, swaying her cloak to one side. "Here you are, out in the real world on a grand adventure. Going to get a taste of the wild, then saunter back to your family's castle so you can get fat and old while maids wait on you hand and foot. You've never been denied anything, have you?" The demon-blooded rogue rolled her eyes as she turned back toward him. "I'm alive because I got good enough to take from people like you, rich boy. You went to your fancy school, stuffed your face while burying your nose in books and butts to kiss." Alize jerked a thumb toward herself. "I learned from seeing others get beaten to death for tiny mistakes and gritting through hunger pains."

A blade seemed to materialize in her hand as she came to a stop. Though she was the smaller of the two, something unsettling about her presence made Hudson shrink back until she seemed to tower over him. "You learned to heal wounds. I learned to cut throats. You create cures. I brew poisons. Everything you have was given to you." Alize's teeth appeared sharper than her blade as she grinned while sliding closer. "Everything I have, I got through stealin', smugglin', or stabbin'." Knife held high, she reached out with her other hand and poked him in his belly. "You're just a soft..."

She blinked in surprise as her fingers pressed against his firm abdominals. Hudson's body was tense, somewhere between too terrified to flee and too uncertain to fight, every muscle taunt. "A... soft..." Her hand moved up, pressing over his chest and pushing him back against a crumbling stone wall next to the path. "Ey, where are you hiding your pot-belly under those robes?"

"I-I... don't have one?" stammered the healer. Physical fitness was a core part of the curriculum at the academy. His father was a very athletic man as well, almost as renown of a swordsman in his old age as he had been in his youth. Hudson had not followed in his father's footsteps, and still thought of himself as something of a disappointment to the family because of it. Not because his body was lacking in strength, but because in his heart he wanted to heal rather than harm.

Flipping the knife around, Alize prodded him with the buttcap. Curiosity began to creep across her face as she felt the metal pressing against firm muscle. Her eyes flicked upward, met his, then her chin burrowed once more into her bunched cloak until he could no longer see her mouth. The tiefling's cheeks were turning even redder than normal. "Got some hardback books under there or something?"

The healer nodded. "Y-yes... but that's not what you're..." She poked him with a claw-like black fingernail. "Ouch!" The rogue stepped back, glanced around, then tugged her hood forward to fully shroud her face. Only her eyes were visible. Two simmering golden orbs, surrounded and filled by pools of black. "I had to pass fitness tests at the academy, just like everyone else." Hudson crossed his arms in front of himself so she could not poke him in the gut again. Her eyes reminded him of molten metal, pulled hot from the foundries his father had taken him to see when he was just a boy. "And I have to be able to keep up with you, or I'm no good as a healer."

She smirked. "There's no way you could keep up with me... but you do try." Her expression softened a little, though it was hard to tell beneath the shadow of her hood. "Yeah... you do try..." The tiefling reached out toward him again. Her fingers moved toward his face from the side.

Hudson hunched his shoulders and shuffled away before she could touch him. Other boys used to pick on him like this all the time, poking and shoving him in the halls. He'd had quite enough of it. Alize kept making him feel weird inside, like no bully ever had before. Something about her crimson skin and soundless steps, or maybe it was the way she kept forcing him to back down by will alone. The rogue really got under his skin. He couldn't stand to look at her right now. Yet when he turned his back, his heart felt heavy in his chest. What was making him feel this way?

"Hey!" Her hand caught the sleeve of his robe, trying to stop him from getting away, but he shook free.

"Alize, quit!" He glared back over his shoulder. "What does it matter to you anyway?"

She sighed behind him, then walked past. "Nothin'. Just... reminding m'self we're from different worlds." He stared at her back as she led onward. The night air felt different, and he wondered why she kept getting so close before rushing away. At the academy, bullies had rarely relented, but she kept bothering him and sulking away as if ashamed by her actions.

Alize's cloak floated around her, an amorphous blob that gave few hints about the slender tiefling beneath. Distantly, he heard the clatter and crash of combat behind them. They carried on, her in sullen silence and he confused as to why, until she abruptly came to a stop. Raising one finger in the air, pointed ears perked as she tugged back her hood, Alize stood as still as one of the weathered statues along the path. He heard her inhale sharply. Then she whirled about and grabbed him.

Hudson struggled, she whacked a pressure point on his thigh with the side of her hand, and he folded like a cheap chair beneath the party's orc. His yelp of pain was caught by her gloved hand over his mouth. As the rattle of ill-fitted armor approached from the path ahead, he realized why she was doing this, but was still incredibly disoriented. Fortunately, Alize was as good at her job as ever. He hobbled while she scurried, one leg still numb and jolts of pain running up his spine. Both of them were well off the path, out into the grassy ruins nearby, before anyone could see. He ended up on his back behind the remains of an unearthed foundation, with the red-skinned rogue prone atop him.

Alize's knee was in his stomach, propping the rogue up so she could see over the crumbled stonework. Her cloak draped down over their bodies, further hiding them amidst the tall grass, misshapen lumps of rock, and skeletal remains of structures. His hand brushed an unarmored part of her thigh on accident. At first the tiefling shivered, pressing against him, then she shoved his head down and tightened her grip on his mouth. An angry glare froze the breath in his lungs. Hudson's heart pounded. His leg tingled as magic accelerated the recovery process of his stunned nerves. Why did this feel so right? He just wanted to hug her, and she was doing this to keep him safe, and... she looked so fierce, and that tail was curling along his inner thigh...

Squeaky boots and clanking metal heralded an angry mob rushing down the path in search of something to kill. Alize's hood pressed against the stone as she melded with the rocks. Wind tussled her cloak as though the misshapen form was just another clump of tall grass or bushes in the darkness. She was in her element, shrouded and unseen, her golden eyes able to see in the darkness almost as well as the human beneath her could during the day. Her senses were focused on the path, ears and eyes searching for the incoming threat. Somebody had to think about the mission. However, her red fingers clamped over the young man's mouth did begin to wander, and her thumb idly stroked beneath his chin. Given the sharpness of her lacquered nails, it did little to calm the healer, much like the nervous squirming of her tail along his inner thighs.

Hudson's glasses were off-kilter on his face. Not that it mattered much, there was little he could see. He distinctly felt as if he was a comically large bundle of yarn trapped beneath a small cat. As she shifted atop him to get a better look, he tried not to think about all the thoughts rushing through his mind, especially since he was afraid Alize might cut off certain parts of his anatomy if she ever found out. Hudson reassured himself that he was not really thinking those things about her, especially not with the way she kept picking on him, and most of those thoughts were highly immoral anyway. At least she had her crossbow pointed toward the road, instead of using that hand to hold down his head.

Chapter 7. Hiding and Hard-ons
The rattle of armor and weapons drew closer. Four goblins, all nearly falling over each other in their haste, rushed down the path. A pet rat on one's shoulder squeaked, whiskers waving as it chittered. The tiefling narrowed her eyes. Beneath her, his body mostly covered by her cloak, the healer felt rather than saw her draw a trio of throwing knives with the hand she did not have over his mouth. He heard the goblins chattering in a truncated version of the common tongue that his refined ears could not understand. The mob paused on the road, one of them consulting with the rat. Alize shifted, inadvertently mashing Hudson's face against a smoke bomb on her bandolier, and readied the knives. Then a tremendous crash, followed by a bone-shaking roar, came from the distance.

Off charged the goblins, weapons high, eager to bring ruin to whatever had invaded their domain. Hudson heard the noises of their movement fading, and felt the rogue's body relax as she tucked the knives back into their holsters. He shivered, thinking about how close they had come to being discovered. More than once the healer had ruined the party's attempts at stealth. Usually the berserker thanked him afterward, ever happy for a stand-up fight, but Alize was always upset. The rogue fought from the shadows. Either the goblins would have been dead within the first few seconds of the battle, or she would have faded into the darkness and attacked from another angle.

His face was still smushed against her bandolier, one of her knees pressed between his legs, and she had an elbow jabbing into the side of his neck. He tried not to make noise as she moved. Alize was always complaining about having to look out for him. Hudson was a little surprised that she had not left him on the road as bait, then attacked the goblins from behind when they began harassing him. Several of the other boys at the academy had done that sort of thing during his adventurer training. Misdirection was as integral to her combat style as insane charges were to the party's orc.

Finally she took her knee out of his stomach and clambered atop the stonework to look around. He stifled a cough and tried to decompress his ribs. The tiefling and her gear did not weigh all that much, but the position had been awkward. Stippling on her leather armor had left an odd pattern on his cheek that would take time to fade. Hudson shifted his glasses back into place and tried not to think about her bare skin against his. Or about how easily she had hauled him off the path and forced him where she wanted him to go. Alize wasn't the sort of bully who relied on strength, she used her wits.

Most undignified, but the savage ways of battle did tend to make a mockery of civil conduct. All her life she had known little more than thievery and survival, so it was understandable that her social graces were lacking. Hudson was just happy he had not coughed, or done something else stupid that would have allowed the goblins to discover them. Not that he was afraid of them. It was what Alize might do he worried about.

His fingers tingled. Looking down, he saw nothing wrong with them, then realized his face was flushed as well. The touch of her crimson skin made him feel... odd. Staring up at her rear only made him feel weirder. Her cloak billowed outward, allowing him to see far more than he usually did of her tightly-fitted armor. More than her leather-clad bottom, what really drew his eye were her bare thighs. Then he began feeling guilty about staring, and tore his gaze away. Adjusting his glasses again, he stretched his shoulders. Hudson felt stiff all over while clambering as close to her on the stonework as he could manage. "Alize?" he whispered, "are they gone?"

"Yeah," replied the tiefling. "Boy, are they in for a surprise." She jerked a red thumb toward the part of the ruins the two adventurers had come from. A glimmering gold glow rose from the area, and occasionally sparks of blinding white flew skyward. Toward that beacon of battle the goblins hurriedly ran. He saw an ancient stone roof topple in on itself, and heard another bone-shaking roar. Alize checked her holstered knives. "Let's see where they came from and loot their stuff."

He nodded. "Thank you."

She turned her head toward him, looking down into his eyes from her perch higher up on the rubble. A small smile crept across her mouth. "It's all I'm good at."

Hudson decided not to embarrass himself again by protesting. He slid back down to the ground, then held a hand up toward her. She looked at him, head tilted to the side. An expression he could not quite make out in the darkness flickered over her face. He did not understand her reluctance, just a few moments earlier they had done this very same thing. Alize took his hand, her fingerless glove pressing against his bare palm, then dropped down next to him. Her eerie eyes stared deep into his, though he had no idea what she was thinking. All he was sure about was that it must be some new way to torment him. She could not be thinking about how wonderful it was to hold hands with a girl beneath the stars.

He was right about that, more right than he could imagine. Alize was not thinking about handholding, even though the tiefling still had his hand in hers. Her thoughts involved rope, oil, and wrapping her strong thighs around his waist. Nibbling at her lower lip, she barely noticed that her ears were fully perked and her tail was twitching enough to sway her cloak. "I'm..." She cleared her throat. "I'm here to k-keep you out of harm's way." Poking him in the chest with her off hand, she lightly brushed two fingers over his body before yanking her arm back to her side and straightening her back. She felt so small.

He nodded, not quite able to speak. As the tension of possible battle faded, he realized how close her body had pressed to his when she covered him. Not terribly unusual, combat had pressed them together before, but usually back against back. This was the first time he remembered Alize atop him, her golden eyes glaring down into his as her fingers clamped tight around his face and her tail twitched against his leg. He had felt her heart pounding through her armor, the press of leather and bare red skin against his robes. Her cloak had covered both of them, from her hood almost to his boots. Sort of like a short bedsheet. Now, looking down into her strange eyes, Hudson found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the tiefling's black lips. Her horns peeked out from beneath her hood. A shiver ran up his spine. The healer abruptly realized that not only his muscles were stiff. Embarrassment erupted across his face.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're okay, right?"

"Yes," he replied, not quite certain it was the truth. "Just... cold, that's all." Forcing a smile, he gestured with his off hand toward the wind that teased her cloak. Her eyes seemed to light up. The healer tried to let go of her hand, but she did not let him. It would be a simple matter to pull away roughly, but he did not. Hudson still could not look away from her face. When Alize finally let go, he remained still.

Stepping a little closer, the rogue put her hands on her hips. With her cloak still open wide, he could see her knives, armor, and so much of that crimson skin. Alize was exceptionally fit. While signs did point to malnourishment during her childhood, as well as physical and mental abuse, she had apparently been able to rectify her diet and conditions before any permanent damage was done. He lacked a baseline of her own kind to compare against, but the tiefling had a very shapely body any human woman would be satisfied with.

Not that he knew much about what women wanted, human or otherwise, outside of healthcare concerns of course. His professional opinion was that, with a steady diet and continued exercise, she would enjoy a fruitful life regardless of what curves were thrown her way. She had a lot of curves. Soft slopes and hard ridges of muscle over a compact skeleton. Onyx lips as dark and mysterious as her cloak. His cheeks were almost as red as hers now.

Hudson dropped his gaze to the ground, trying not to stare too intently at her long, barely-armored legs. Or her heeled boots, the knives holstered on her thighs, and especially not that crossbow mounted on her arm. All the girls he had encountered during or before the academy wore skirts with iron hoops. The near nudity of the party's orc barely registered in his mind, she was like a walking statue, and he was almost positive that the paladin never took off her armor. Alize's cloak and leather had the perfect combination of concealment and suggestiveness. The rogue loved to pick at him, to push buttons he did not know he had. Was that what she was doing now?

Chapter 8. Pushed Away
The tiefling drew even nearer, her bandolier pressing against his chest. Once again the holstered blades and hanging bomblets poked his ribs. "Cold, Hudson?" A playful tail teased his robes. The healer stepped backward, his boots squishing in mud, but Alize kept pace with him. A shadow fell over Hudson, then Alize, cast by some monolithic statue that had long ago lost its head but not its marble scythe. Neither paid the ruined relic any mind. Certainly not the rogue, whose eyes seemed to glow brighter than the moon overhead or the refracted starlight that lit cracked green gems in the statue.

Sweat beaded across his brow as he stared down through suddenly foggy glasses. Tongue, long tongue, running over her black lips. Eyes glowing gold in the night, with black oblong slits like portals to the abyssal planes. Why was his heart pounding? Curves. Tight armor. Swaying tail. Her red fingers on his forearms, on his shoulders, touching his face. Hot, he was burning up, backing up, tripping, falling but still standing against stone. Cold stone, very cold. Sweat running down his back. She giggled. Her cheek hovered over his chest. A pointed ear twitched against his robes as she drew in a deep breath. Panic and paranoia washed over him, as though something was eating at his mind, but he reflexively cast a cleansing spell and the sensation faded. Not that he noticed with Alize snuggling up against him as though she was about to twist his head until his spine snapped. He began to stammer, "I... I... I..."

"You don't feel cold," she murmured, her fingers sliding around to the back of his neck. "I think you're going to melt, Hudson." That teasing tone was back in her voice, but it was different now. Kinder, gentler, but still that hard edge underneath as though she was afraid of something. Alize couldn't be afraid of him, he was the one afraid of her. She was the girl with claws, and poisons, and stabby things, and a crossbow that wasn't quite pointed at his head as she stroked his hair, and those cute little horns poking out from under her hood as she looked up at him, and that tongue licking her lips as she whispered, "Maybe I-"

He did not know why he shoved her away, not consciously at least. On reflection it was obvious. Just as he would yank his hand away from a hot iron or try to cover himself if nude in public, Hudson had felt a certain reaction in his loins and acted to keep her from pressing close enough to discover it. The healer had been taught that such engorgement was to be hidden from others. All the academy's students were forced to sit through long lectures about proper conduct, and that combined with far too much time spent studying the droll mechanics of human reproductive systems produced a sense of shame that no heavy-handed set of religious morals could match.

Alize landed on her feet, of course. When he had shoved her backward, she fell with a look of utter astonishment before her own instincts kicked in. After an imperfect roll, she pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and peered at him from beneath her hood. The tiefling could not understand what happened. He had given her all the signs, even said he was cold and implied he needed a little warmth. She had felt him melting in her fingers! Cold fear gripped her gut as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Her thoughts spun round and round, and all her equipment suddenly felt very heavy.

Everything had been running smooth as silk. Just another few seconds and the idiot would have kissed her, put his arms around her, let her into that guarded library of his mind. Three minutes later his cum would have been all over her hands and tail, then they could start with the real fun. There were things she had never let any man do with her, things she wanted so badly for him to try. Hudson wasn't like all the others. She had picked through garbage in search of treasure often enough to recognize that much. Why had he pushed her away?

The tiefling knew how to read signals, had learned while gritting her teeth as hands and eyes roamed over her while she served cheap rotgut at pubs. Just a little girl, too young to drink what she served, and certainly far too young to smoke the tobacco she sold to the audience at burlesque shows. Every city had an underbelly, and the bigger the city the deeper its hunger for vice. Cutting purses and begging only got a girl so far. Had she been human, Alize might have been taken in as a servant by someone, but only a fool would want a devil-child in their house. Huddled on the ground in front of Hudson, the rogue tried and failed to keep the memories of so many other rejections out of her mind.

She had watched many children of the streets find loving homes, and tried so hard to be happy for them while her own heart broke. Too many times she had waved farewell to a half-elf who had traded her rags for an apron and feather duster, or an orc who was taken on at a blacksmith's shop. Good jobs that came with food, four walls, and a roof that didn't leak. Maybe in some distant land tieflings were nobility, but Alize didn't believe it. Her blood was a curse. The memories of small silhouettes in doorways, light stretching out almost to her wrapped feet, always ended with someone tall shutting the door tight to keep out the cold. Her home was in the shadows.

When the light faded and honest hearts slumbered, she practiced her trade. A few of her friends who had made good remembered how she had watched over them in the darkness, but the tiefling learned early that if she needed anything, she had best figure out how to take it. No honest trade wanted to hire a tiefling. Most were reluctant to even look at her, shooing her out of their businesses before she her very presence spread some demonic taint.

On the other hand, sometimes it was good to be seen. The same people who did not even bother to avert their gaze when they saw a horned child shivering next to a steam vent were more than happy to buy a cigar from the "little imp" while they watched other girls wave their skirts on stage. Alize lacked any sort of magical knack, unable even to summon an infernal spark to light a cigar, but she was a spitting image of the seductress drawn on the label of a very prominent brand of tobacco. Even later in life, when she was sitting in men's laps and cutting their cigars while feigning adoration, people told her she only needed wings to be a proper demon.

Hudson had the knack. She shivered beneath her cloak as she stared up at him, once again nothing but a hungry little girl huddled beneath a patched blanket. Alize had reached out, wanting what seemed like so little, and received a reminder that such things were not for her. At least Hudson was honest. She took a little solace from that. He could have led her on. Her head felt like it was full of the muck that surrounded them. She would have let him hold her down and knock her up right here in the mud if he wanted, but instead he had made his intentions quite clear. Alize could not even find it in her heart to hate him. A horned sewer-rat with her past was not worth his time. What had she been thinking? He could never want anything to do with her.

The healer had brains, and books, and family who loved him. The rogue had wanted so very badly to hate his guts when they first met, but she could not. While her mean streak ran deep, for kindness had so rarely been returned in her life, she had not survived this long by blinding herself to the true nature of those she worked with. He was kind, disciplined, and he really believed that naive helping-the-world stuff he spouted. She had learned that much for sure after keeping his stupid carcass alive during plague control on a previous adventure. A crueler man could have led her on, but that was not in Hudson's nature.

A dark part of her heart had wanted to seduce him, to be his dark desire that he would take back to his family's court. Not as a wife, his parents would kill her and him, but as an assassin. Oh, he would marry some big-tittied princess, Alize would be damned if he settled for less than what he deserved, but whenever that stuck-up noblewoman had a headache his red-skinned rogue would be waiting in the shadows... and she wouldn't have to wear any armor under her cloak for the adventures they would have.

The idea had come to her some time ago, while she was sorting through the latest pile of odds and ends she had "borrowed" from him. Well, not so much while she was sorting as when she was thinking about how she had hidden his robes while he was bathing and forced him to beg her to give them back. Truthfully, she had been doing a lot less thinking and a lot more fantasizing. His stuck-up princess would storm away in a huff, upset that he was putting his duty as regent over catering to her whims, and warn him that he would be, "Sleeping on that throne if it means so much to you!" She would slam the door with enough force to shake the castle floor, and the clopping of her heels would echo down the halls. In despair, Hudson would sigh heavily and put his head in his hands.

Alize would of course have stationed herself behind the door, and would be in full view as soon as it was slammed shut, but wrapped in her cloak she would blend perfectly with the shadows as she crept up on her prey. Every good regent needed a left hand, and though she had no idea what level of nobility Hudson's family was, he would surely have need of her professional talents. She had offed nobles, agitators, and their ilk before. Alize dreamed of putting her arms around him, kissing him, feeling his arms hold her tight as he promised she would always have a place here. That was all she wanted. She would wring his balls dry for that. The tiefling had never sold her maidenhood for coin, but she could be bought for just a mite of loyalty.

Alize was a taker. Her initial hate of the healer had given way to affection. Hudson was a giver. He was also horrible at reading signals. As he looked at the rogue crouching on the ground, her tail and ears drooping as her cloak fluttered in the wind, he had no idea what was running through her head. One of his hands drifted to cover his crotch. Sweat ran down his brow. Alize never had any trouble telling him what to do in a fight so he could keep out of danger, why did she keep doing weird things like this that made him feel so... so wonderful and terrible all at once? Why couldn't she just talk to him instead of pushing up against his body with that supple red skin? His mouth was dry.

The tiefling blinked back tears. She did not deserve him. He was too kind to say that, though she wished he would. Better a single stab through the heart than little cuts that would bleed her dry. Alize knew why she did not deserve him. She had done some very naughty things with her body, and would never call herself pure, but honest thievery and illicit scams meant she never had to cross a certain line. Never had she given herself to a man, and several times she had fought like a demon to keep men from taking her. She had fought for other girls too. Somebody had to.

The streets were rough on her, rougher than for most, so she had toughened up early. Not everyone had. She still remembered Magnaline's tears of fear when some of the monsters that crawled through the sewers nearly dragged her to her doom, and later her tears of joy when a ladies' social circle made her their pet project. Alize had not bothered waiting outside the circle of light that night. She had perched several stories up next to a chimney with an itchy, much-patched hood made from burlap pulled over her head while the upper-class ladies pampered Magnaline.

The healer was different than Alize had expected. Different than almost anyone else she had met. Yes, she had to protect him, but she felt safe around him. That made this hurt all the worse. She kept giving him opportunities that other men had begged for, and he ignored every one. Alize wanted him to pick her up, pin her against the wall, force his tongue into her mouth, and let her tail wrap around his butt while he grabbed hers. If he had done that, or even if he scooped her up off the ground right now, she would put an arrow through the head of anything that tried to interrupt.

But he hadn't. Hudson had pushed her away. He did not want her. Even if he could look past her horns and tail, a well-raised boy like him could probably tell she was stained. Hudson knew better than to sully himself with her. Alize cowered even lower beneath her cloak as chills ran over her body. As she blinked, for an instant she was back where so many had told her she belonged. She could smell the stench of smoke, filth, and lust again. Alize shook her head, her hood swaying with the motion, but the past was too strong. A dull thudding echoed in her skull as her pulse pounded in her ears, twisting all other sounds around her into a swirling mess.

Desperately she grabbed at pieces of rubble half-buried in the mud, trying to anchor herself as the past flooded back. She had her cloak, the hands could not get her here, and her knives, the hands could not have her, and her crossbow, to make the hands bleed and shriek and fall silent forevermore! They could not have her, they could not see her, not beneath her cloak. They could not make her smile and dance and spin like the cum-drenched whore she refused to admit she had become when she swayed upon the stage and slid into laps. She had fought them, she had not let them have her, and now they were laughing. Every hand was a mouth, every finger a tooth, laughing as they bit and groped her, spreading her apart and snickering as she begged, knowing what she refused to admit.

No one of worth could ever want her.

Chapter 9. Alize the Stripper, Alize the Ripper
Darkness pressed down on her. With it came the past, carried by tooth-fingers and hand-mouths that took big bites and little pinches until she was just another rotting corpse in this ancient ruin. She would never amount to anything. Every time she tried, she only made a fool of herself. Alize had tried to get a job at a fletcher after a friend who had made good showed her many tricks of that trade. The tiefling had nearly gotten an arrow through the knee for daring to apply. As it turned out, that fletcher was a retired adventurer whose last encounter with an evil tiefling had cost him an eye and two bosom friends. At least the horned girl had learned a valuable lesson about the importance of reconnaissance.

Back-alley bars were glad to hire her, the kind of places where drunkards brawled with each other and hooted at the girls on display. Alize learned what men wanted, how they thought and acted. They loved to look with their nibbling fingers. She felt the little bites eating at her skin, crawling through her bones like worms. Hudson kept messing up her expectations. That made her want him more, but at the same time she felt completely out of her depth. Not that it mattered now. Her limbs were so heavy as she cowered in the shadow of a headless statue's sickle.

Alize could not quite wrap her head around the fact that her experience with men was based on hives of scum and villainy. The "little imp" had learned manipulation while charming buyers, then later while dancing in burlesque shows. Once she was old enough to work in establishments that were brothels in all but name, she was thrust out into the public eye instead of locked away in a backroom. A tiefling was exotic, and that drew in customers. She warmed men up with drinks, nudity, and banter so the girls in the back could drain their balls and coinpurses. Once a man was drunk enough, all beer tasted the same. Sex was little different. Especially when it was a service industry.

She had learned to fake warmth while her heart turned to ice, and smile brightly instead of vomiting. That was what the customers wanted to see. Alize felt so cold beneath her cloak, as though the hand of death itself was curling bony fingers around her heart. Flashes of green spiked through her memories. So many eyes had stared at her bare body as she performed for the crowd. Each eye was full of hands and fingers, reaching out from gaping maws to bite at her succulent flesh until nothing was left twirling around the pole but a scantily-clad skeleton. Alize felt nude as she crumpled to the muddy ground, unsure of if she was in her past, present, or future.

Naked, she was just an exotic treat on a stage. With her armor, her cloak, and her tools, she was more. As a child she had burgled and begged, but that was not enough to survive. Not when her horns grew larger every day, and her tail became too playful to easily hide. Nothing could be done about her red skin. Nothing could hide what she really was, certainly not from Hudson. The sickle's shadow crawled further over her prone form.

Alize had always found other performing girls' envy of her looks worth a smirk. They would never wish to trade lives with her, but the only time her horns and tail ever did her any favors was when she curled a leg around a pole or snuggled up in a customer's lap. There were a lot of worse rackets an orphaned girl could fall into. The hand-mouths were doing her a favor by gnawing away her sinful flesh and spitting out the bone. She had seen enough desperate addicts selling themselves on the street to know how much better off she would be carrying beer and swinging her hips. A human or even a half-orc girl might make a fine wife for a husband of humble means if she preserved her virtue. Alize was a stupid girl, thinking she had anything of value to save. Tieflings were borne thieves and whores. Only in death could she find acceptance.

Her hands, her tail, sometimes her feet, that was what customers paid for. A few loved it when she sat in their laps and used her thighs, or breasts. The same high-minded noble who would spit on a begging tiefling in the street would pay handsomely for her to serve a drink and jerk him off. If they wanted to spit on her while she was working, that cost extra. Hot spit, smelled like acid, burning through her red skin and leaving only ragged green lumps. Her thoughts became heavy, burdened down by a sinful past. Distantly, she felt her arms and legs twitching, but an emerald miasma dulled her mind. Hudson had opened her eyes to the truth, bless him. Why had she struggled to stay alive for all those years? The soil of this palace of death reached out to her, longing to welcome her bones as none other had or would.

After each night at the brothel, Alize had scrubbed herself for what felt like hours. The fluids came off, but her soul never felt any cleaner. She almost preferred the female clients, usually priestesses who paid very well for use of private rooms where there were paddles, whips, and leather bonds. They loved to "punish the demon", or practice a little bad religion themselves behind closed doors. The tiefling's memories became more and more hazy as the faces of her clients peeled back to reveal the emerald skulls beneath their skin. While Hudson was desperately embarrassed by immoral conduct, she had seen such extremes of pain and pleasure that it barely registered anymore. In fact, the rogue was too numb to notice the dirt squirming beneath her limp body.

For a second Alize was on the stage again, one leg wrapped around a pole and her tail twitching in front of a customer's nose while another stuffed a piece of scrip into her garter. All eyes were on her as she moved, as they should be, just as surely as no one noticed her when she pulled on her cloak and skulked through the shadows. Then she was in someone's lap, trying to ignore all the beer on his breath while moving her hips. The tiefling felt hands roughly grabbing her butt, her breasts, her horns, coarse laughter pushing in from every side. Something small throbbing in her hand, a sticky mess all over her body, then faking awe as she took the money. Looking back over her shoulder and blowing a kiss while waving farewell with her tail, trying to ignore the mess oozing down her back.

She hated walking back behind the curtain. That was when the illusion of power, of desirability, was replaced with the truth as the mob cheered for the next stripper to take the stage. A crowd of laughing skulls wreathed in green flames; lost souls hungry for red imp flesh. Scrubbing a new girl with cold water and lying that she would get used to it with time, then putting on the hood and vanishing out into early morning darkness. The sharp pain of falling three stories while escaping an angry guard dog, nursing a broken arm back to the undertunnels, and gritting her teeth while the brothel's owner bawled her out for daring to ask for help affording a restorative potion. Death was cheap.

At least it was better than standing beneath a lamppost and shaking her rear at passing carriages. She remembered the smiling face of a sprightly girl whose magical wings had been a real hit on stage, and her sickening expression of synthetic bliss after a hit of something highly addictive. Alize had tried to help her, she really had, but there was nothing for it. Her friend had faded away, nothing but a smiling wisp who seemed eternally lost in another world while her body became more and more gaunt beneath the cold light of street corner gaslamps. The tiefling had stuck to wine. Bitter wine, good only for dulling the pain long enough for sleep. There was worse, so much worse, she had seen it throughout the slums. Now that she understood nothing mattered, and all of her effort had been in vain, she realized what a fool she really was.

Flickers of green light stung through her eyelids. Alize had learned second-story work at an early age, and fought rats in the sewers for food. Slight of hand, pickpocketing, cutting purses, all child's play. Dealing death to people came last. When the tiefling had to choose between true prostitution and a life of violent crime, it had been too easy to slide a knife between ribs or break a neck with her thighs. She had not started a career of murder by accidentally killing a guard during a botched burglary. The tiefling was a far better thief than that. Klutzes who botched jobs and killed people while trying to get away were nailed by the city watch. Her first kill had been an accident, not a mistake.

One of the pushers came to the brothel, hungry for a girl who had escaped before he could get his hooks into her. He hung about outside. The owners tried to send him off. Hidden, he had waited for his chance, and grabbed the girl. Alize had not meant to kill him, but when she did she knew what to do with the body. The rats were always hungry. Why had the pusher not let go of the girl? Why had no one else come to help when she screamed? It did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the finger-teeth, or mouth-hands, or eye-maws. An emerald glow was draining away all her cares.

The pusher had a knife, but no idea how to use it. He thought just waving it around made him tougher than a girl he wanted to drug up and whore out. Maybe he was, but Alize had stood her ground between them, tail swaying behind her. All he had to do was let go and leave. This girl wasn't his, wasn't anyone's, but he wanted her with his eyes and seized her with his hands. Once he had possessed a face, but there was only a green skull in her memories. The color called to her. Alize needed to go with him, let him have the girl and herself too. He was dirt, he was filth, the place where she belonged. Why was she fighting what was willing to welcome her? As she lay rotting in the dirt, little left but a skeleton in the statue's shadow, the rogue wondered why the ravens had not come for their fill of her. They had promised...

It was an accident, or so she had tried to convince herself. Hate boiled inside her heart. Feelings that she had to press down while on stage bubbled to the surface. The tiefling grabbed him, spun him about, and slammed him into the wall. His own weight did most of the work. His own knife went through his ribs. Though he had screamed, no one had come to help. She remembered how he had died with his eyes wide and his hands twitching. No, she did not regret it, but she was not proud of it. Pride in such work did not come until later, when spoiled princes gasped for air as her garrote wire tightened, or pudgy mothers-in-law were flattened beneath massive chandeliers.

Alize had lied to the girl, told her the pusher would live but would never trouble her again, and hustled her back inside. No one knew, save for the ravens. She had thought little of it, there were always such birds about. Death was depressingly common in the slums. Those carrion eaters had watched her, witnesses to her kill. The one they had told helped set her feet on a dark path. Her transformation into a true rogue began that night. The world needed thieves, murderers, and sneaks, but also preferred not to think about how vital they were. Alize did not need that truth explained. She had seen it borne out many times already. Her place was in the shadows, spat upon in public and praised when no one of worth was looking.

Hudson was one of the few people who did not look down on her because of her race, her background, or her profession. His touch made her feel hopeful. She had kept expecting him to try and woo her, or cop a feel, and would have welcomed it if the timing was right. The idea of him squeezing her butt and swaggering about in public with her on his arm was a pleasant dream. What the tiefling wanted, though in her mind the idea was nothing but a foggy desire for acceptance, was a warm, intimate hug from him. The idea was so unthinkable to her, a taboo weakness, that she did her best to cover it with ever more desperate thoughts of depravity.

When he shoved her away, it hurt more than he could imagine. She had told him little of her past, but it was at the forefront of her own mind. To Alize, Hudson was rejecting her because she was unworthy. How could she be worthy of him with so much blood and filth on her hands? He was a healer. His domain was hygiene and restoration. Besides, he had probably been balls-deep in so many women that she was nothing special. Her heart felt like it was sinking through the ground, pulled toward and pressed down by glowing emeralds. All this time she had been trying to seduce him... and he really couldn't care less.

Chapter 10. Shock to the System
Alize sank downward. Her thoughts tumbled toward a hollow grave while dirt piled itself up over her body. An emerald-tinted numbness filled her from the inside out. The shadows were her home, shadows cast from the headless statue that pressed her downward through flashes of green. She lacked any reason to resist. No future, no past, nothing but the rotting flesh on her bones to show for all her suffering. The already faint lub-dub of her pulse petered out as her will to live finally ran dry. Even the taste of dirt on her tongue did nothing to raise the tiefling from her stupor. She belonged in the dirt. Not until what felt like a bolt of lightning shot up her arm, standing her tail on end and leaping sparks between her horns while her back arched and her nails dug trenches in the mud, was she able to move.

Her thoughts were still tinted green, her limbs heavy, and she felt like someone had just kicked her in the rear with an orc-sized boot. Alize spat out dirt and bared her fangs, growling like a demon as the last of the electricity grounded itself into the earth. All her limbs were being pulled in different directions, but only her right arm was going upward. Everything else was headed down at odd angles. Her boots were already completely covered by what felt like quicksand, while something else icky pressed against her abdominals. Tossing back her hood with a flick of her head, she coughed out more dirt and stared in surprise at the grunting human who was trying to haul her out of the mud.

"Hudson?" she mumbled, her golden eyes still hazy and flecks of soil clinging to her eyelashes. "What're you... doing?" Something was off. How had she fallen in quicksand? They were near a forest, not a desert.

Sweat ran down his face. Hudson pulled with as much of his might as he could while still keeping his footing. The lump of granite he struggled to stay atop might once have been a tombstone, just as the wall she had pushed him against might have belonged to a mausoleum at some point. All that remained was stone worn smooth by the ages. The healer's glasses were cocked on his nose. She saw funny little symbols blinking red in the lenses. "Get up! I've restarted your vitals, but the grave dirt still has a hold on your body!" Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he tugged harder on her arm until she felt it might pop out of its socket. If he did not let go soon, he would be dragged down with her. Hudson did not seem to care about that. "Damnation, Alize! Don't let this pull you under!"

"Let go," she mumbled as best she could. Horrid-tasting dirt fell from her mouth as she spoke, though her tongue was still too numb for her to really taste it. A gritty, grainy feeling of muddy clumps coated her teeth. Even after the shock, the tiefling still felt sluggish. Her heart thudded at irregular intervals in her chest. "I'm not... worth it."

"Stop talking nonsense and get up!" he shouted in a voice she had rarely heard him use before. "You already winged me with your crossbow when you flopped onto the ground, and I wasted enough time getting loose." He pulled for all he was worth, desperation showing behind his glasses. "There's something magical dampening your vitals. Get up, Alize!"

Her eyes fell on a torn part of Hudson's robe, then moved to the chunk of cloth speared by a bolt into the headless statue's side. A scowl lazily twisted her black lips. "Why'd I shoot that... huh?" Glimmers of green from the gemstones inlaid in the statue caught her eyes, matching the colors that had tainted her thoughts. She felt tired again, then shook her head and looked away. "Ugh..." Fingers stiff, she grabbed at Hudson's wrist with the hand of the arm he was pulling. He usually knew what he was talking about when she was messed up, and she felt really messed up right now.

The tiefling's lower body had sunk completely beneath the ground, though her cloak still floated atop the churning soil. Grave dirt wanted flesh, not rags. She kicked her legs, still not quite feeling them as she ought to. Grabbing onto the granite with her left hand, she tried to haul herself up, but only succeeded in nearly tossing Hudson off the gravestone. Reaching out, she grabbed his right hand with her left and they pulled together, but the tiefling was still sinking.

Alize's eyes flicked about, green flashes still haunting her mind. Why was she fighting so much? She was just going to drag him down with her. Couldn't do that, she cared about him. He wouldn't even be out here if she hadn't split him off from the others. Wait... now that he was out here... he probably wouldn't be able to find his way back. Hudson would probably just try to walk a straight line and get jumped by fishfaces. He needed her for the crooked paths. She couldn't die, not yet. He still needed her to keep him alive.

"Yeah..." muttered Alize. "Only... thing I'm good at..." Her head felt a little lighter. She stared at the bolt stuck into the statue, then at her empty crossbow, still not believing that she had lost control, let alone twice in one night. Hudson grunted, tugging hard, but there was no way they were going to get her out by muscle power alone. She blinked hard, staring at her wrist mounted crossbow as realization struck. "Oh. Oh, right... I must've..." Shot at something. Why?

The tiefling let go of Hudson with her left hand, which only caused him to tighten his grip on her right arm. "Alize!"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, still feeling numb all over. Her left hand dug in a pouch, then came out with a heavy piton wrapped inside a coil of rope. "That's my name." Skull still full of green wisps, she shoved the specialized bolt into her crossbow, clipped the rope to her belt, and tried to get a clear shot around the struggling healer. He thought she was trying to shoot him again, and kept squirming in all the wrong ways. A few tense seconds slipped away, she slid further into the ground, then with a distinctive twang the piton ripped between his legs, shredding another part of his robes as it passed. The metal spike dug deep into the statue. As it anchored itself firmly into the stone, the winding mechanism on her crossbow began to whine and spit multicolored sparks. Maybe she couldn't afford a proper immovable rod and enchanted winch, but this was almost as good when she needed to rapidly ascend.

However, she had never used it while carrying anything heaver than a sack full of someone else's jewelry. The mechanism shrieked in protest as it tried to pull her out of the dirt, a sound even shriller than Hudson's panicked whimper when the bolt had torn another hole through his robe. She didn't know what he was upset about, his trousers were still mostly intact. With a tremendous burst of adrenaline, brought on by the terrified misconception that Alize would castrate him if he did not get her out of this mess, Hudson yanked the tiefling for all he was worth. Between her complaining crossbow, his strength, and her kicking legs, they managed to overcome the cursed soil before it could claim another victim.

Abruptly, Alize popped out of the pit. The strained winch whirred as it suddenly gained an abundance of slack, and pulled for all it was worth. She slammed bodily into Hudson, the rope between his legs knocked him off balance, and the two skidded across the ground before slamming into the statue hard enough that the cracks her bolts had put into its stone widened, multiplied, and sent it toppling to the ground in a flurry of bits. The healer groaned in pain, a sound completely lost amidst the far louder noises of crumbling masonry. An emerald gem shattered as Hudson fell atop it, exploding in a burst of dark energy as it came in contact with the healer, but neither of the adventurers noticed. Alize hissed, spat, wrenched her arm back into place, and raised her head to look around for another threat. Nothing, they were alone in the graveyard with its gnarled trees and nameless tombstones. Still weak, she collapsed back onto the ground, not really caring that Hudson was beneath her.

"Uggh..." she groaned. "My head... okay, more than just my head hurts..." The tiefing worked her jaw and rubbed at her scalp as she tried to unclench the bunched muscles, but this headache seemed to come from inside her skull. "What... was that?"

Staring up at the stars, Hudson gasped for breath. He was in shape for adventuring, but raw strength was the domain of the party's orc. Not for the first time he thought that splitting the party had been a terrible idea. Fear had made his heart race far faster than it should. A doctor should be composed, in firm control of his surroundings, not a madman who bellowed and waved his hands. "Did it talk to you, Alize? I think it tried to... to talk to me, but I just..." Hudson instinctively curled an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I should have comprehended the situation sooner. I should have protected you from-"

She squinted one eye and poked him in the chest. "Wait, was that you? Were you the green thing in my head?"

"No!" he stammered. "You saw it too, then? I felt it, but I warded it off on instinct." His mind had been on the tiefling in front of him, and the strange way she made him feel as she backed him up against the wall. Casting a counterspell had been as instinctive as sanitizing his hands before an operation. "I thought... I wasn't thinking, it's... some sort of magical trap."

The rogue glared at him, then at the statue. "Traps are my line of work, rich boy. I ain't ever seen anything like this before." One of the emeralds lay nearby. She reached out for it instinctively, always wanting to palm shiny things, then curled back her red fingers. "I... I just sort of gave up. On life, I mean." He looked so worried about her. Beneath the grime on her face, the tiefling blushed. Hudson really cared about his friends. "Never run across a trap like that."

Anger boiled inside the tiefling. She hadn't given up in the sewers, or on the mean streets, or when the party had gotten trapped in that huge dungeon with that mechanical monstrosity and the party's goblin surgeon kept wanting to saw her arm off instead of just handing her the bandages and another healing potion. Alize wasn't going to give up now, not when she had a half decent healer backing her, even if he didn't... feel the way she felt about him. If they found some decent treasure in this ruin, she might even be able to afford some upgrades to her crossbow. And maybe a vacation somewhere nice, where people didn't whisper, "Demon!" behind her back. She squirmed atop Hudson, who squeaked again as she checked her blades in their holsters. Everything was dirty, but in their places.

He made another odd sound, and she pushed herself upright atop him with a curious expression. "Relax," she said. "I think we killed it." The healer had saved her life again. Sure, he had pushed her away and sort of got the ball rolling down that dark spiral of depression, but... well, it was nice in a way to know he didn't think of her like that. She could stop pining and wasting so much energy on hints. Yeah. And maybe the sun would take a day off too. "You okay?" Hudson squirmed again, her still recovering limbs gave out on her, and Alize toppled onto him in a heap with her dirty cloak fluttering over them. "Unf!"

"Sorry," he stammered again. "C-could you get off me? I... Alize, you make me feel str... nervous when you're this close."

"I'm trying," she growled, putting out a hand to haul herself upright again, but the stone crumbled beneath her touch and she flopped back down. "Stop shiftin' around!" Guilt prodded at her heart. She was getting his robes all messy. Now that she had a chance to look, they were pretty torn up too. Her crossbow bolts had done more damage than she thought.

Chapter 11. Alize on Top
Cunning plans were never Hudson's specialty. That explained, in his mind at least, why an impulsive effort to keep the tiefling from discovering his shameful secret had nearly gotten them both killed. Now she was on top of him, her bare red skin pressing directly against his through holes in his robes and her body gyrating as she struggled to climb out of the rubble. Though she was distracted at the moment, it was only a matter of time before she felt how hard he was. Alize would be scandalized, he was sure. Worse, once she recovered from the shock, she would probably tease him about it. This was not good, not at all, and he had only a few precious seconds to extricate himself from this embarrassing predicament.

The tiefling heaved a sigh as part of the statue crumbled to dust in her hands. Her boots were caked with dirt. Getting them clean again would be hard work. Worse, it felt like there was dirt rubbing against her butt, which meant it had gotten into her... ugh. Not for the first time, Alize regretted that she couldn't wear a skirt for this sort of work. Oh sure, an outfit like that would look great on stage, but sliding down rooftops on a bare bum would have blood everywhere. Why did Hudson keep squirming like that? "Quit panting, you can't still be out of breath."

He studiously tried to move his lower body away from the tiefling, while looking anywhere but at her. The idea of distracting her further through conversation entered his mind, though he had no idea what to say. Compliments usually worked. The rogue acted like she didn't get very many of those. "You... uh, you've always got a trick up your sleeve, don't you, Alize?" Hudson gestured toward her crossbow. "You're amazing."

She blinked, mildly confused by his words. A potion vial poked her through his robes. No, wait, wrong size, it must be one of those scrolls he carried. Warm, though, that was odd. Actually, Hudson felt warm all over. His cheeks were red. After trying and failing to climb out of the statue's rubble again, she narrowed her golden eyes and glared at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" he said, too quickly. She was standing upright on her knees, those thighs hemming in his waist and that spade-tipped tail swaying back and forth curiously behind her. Sweat trickled from his brow as he tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go.

The tiefling rubbed her forehead. A pinkie finger idly ran along one of her horns as she thought. If she didn't know better, she might think he looked a lot like a customer who was desperate for a lapdance but was trying to keep his calm. That nervous twitch in his fingers, the wideness of his eyes, and he was breathing so heavily. Alize shook her head a little. There was no way he wanted her. He couldn't change from pushing her away to wanting her body that quickly. She was probably nothing special to him, just a friend. Yeah, he probably only wanted pure human girls, or maybe an elf. With a sad sigh, she grabbed the edges of the ruins and started hoisting herself out. Her thigh inadvertently pressed against his groin, further dirtying his robes.

Alize's tail twitched upward before her brain registered the subtle pressure against her leg. Hudson yelped and tried to squirm away. Her golden eyes swung down, locking on his face. She felt something. Through the dirt and grime that stained her body, through his damaged clothes, through him trying to hide it. Another girl might not have noticed, or dismissed it as something else, but the tiefling had spent too long feeling through men's clothes. Sometimes for their purses, other times... well, it was always about their coinpurses in the end, but sometimes the best way to get at a man's money was a little sticky. Glaring down at him, she leaned inward. He avoided her gaze, scurrying backward and finally managing to get out from beneath her. Desperation gave him strength, and he was up and over the remains of the ruined statue in the blink of an eye.

The rogue knocked him down again. Like a sewer rat scenting fresh spoils, she tackled him onto the grass just outside the rubble and pressed her body against his. Her tail ran up his inner thigh. A fanged grin spread across the tiefling's face. Hudson began to panic as what he could only describe as evil lightning crackled in those golden eyes. He had tried so hard to avoid this exact situation. Only bad things happened when men could not conceal their immodest reactions!

"Hudson," she cooed in a voice he had never heard her use before. His robes were already a mess, but they became much more so as the dirt-encrusted tiefling straddled his groin. "You saved me."

Afraid that she was going to maul him for not doing so more quickly, he began to stammer excuses, "I should have noticed sooner, I just thought you were... and I didn't know that I'd... and I didn't realize until the ground started moving..." He ran short of breath. She seemed to tower over him, teeth glimmering in the moonlight. Alize was going to kill him, he was certain of it. "I wa-a-as d-distracted, and I'm sorry I... you..." The healer tried to wriggle away, but she was not letting him go. Not this time.

Her fingers crept up the front of his robes, black nails lightly tracing over his chest. He had never seen her rip someone's still-beating kardia, to use the medical term, from their chest, but the horned girl was full of surprises and his imagination was in overdrive. He could well see her claw-like nails cracking open a ribcage, those red hands deftly tearing loose a human heart from its moorings, and her sharp fangs sinking into the still-quivering organ as she gorged on blood, blood, blood! Even sooty and filthy as she was now, or perhaps moreso because of that grime, Alize could well play the part of a beautiful monster. She looked so very much like a true demon, needing only a set of leathery wings and the orange glow of a hellish plane behind her to complete the imitation. Too easily could he picture her lounging atop a throne of bleached bones, a cruel smirk upon her lips as she used foul powers to draw him unto his doom.

Why did that fill him with such improper thoughts? Fear ought to cause blood to rush away from non-vital organs, but instead he only felt a painful throbbing that made his manhood seem as hard as diamonds. There was no chance she had not discovered his shame. Alize's smile cracked a little, confirming his fears. One of her eyes began to twitch, each blink causing a few flecks of dirt to topple from her face. A red thumb lightly brushed against his chin.

"Please don't!" whimpered the healer.

"Hudson, maybe you didn't hear." She leaned closer and flicked her tongue up his cheek. Some of the dirt still in her mouth, part of that grainy film she could barely taste as her body struggled to shake off the last of the entrapment's effects, marred his cheek. "You saved me. I'm so very grateful." He wanted her badly, she could feel the proof right between her thighs. Maybe he thought she was one of those stuck-up prigs who wouldn't consider something thick and hard popping up a compliment. Well, her social graces weren't very refined, but this was the sign she had needed. Alize felt like she was back on familiar ground again.

Reaching out, she straightened his glasses while grinding her leather-clad butt against that stiff tent he had pitched in his trousers. She barely noticed the grit rubbing against her skin inside her clothes, there were more important things to worry about. Her tail swayed in time with her hips, the long, spade-tipped appendage just as dirty as the rest of her lower body. His eyes followed, back and forth, then snapped back to her face. She could not hold back a giggle. He was too easy to tease! "I know I've put you through a lot, Hudson, but... well, it's just my way of telling you that you're important to me."

The healer shook his head, then stammered out a jumble of words that made no sense, and finally lapsed back into a slack-jawed stupor. With a smirk, she began running her hands over his shoulders and nuzzling his neck. Even caked in mud and out of practice, she still had the moxie. Lowering her voice a little further, into the realm of seductive coos that most men associated with lusty demons, Alize whispered in his ear, "Maybe there's a better way for me to show you how I feel. A way you can know that you're really, really special. Would you like that, Hudson?"

Despite her best efforts, the tiefling's voice began to waver and her fingers clenched on his shoulders. She desperately hoped for him to say yes. "Would you like to feel how interested I am in you?" Alize asked. "J-just tell me something you'd like, and I promise I'll make all this trouble worthwhile." She would make him feel better than any other girl he'd taken to bed. Any two girls, even. All she needed was a chance.

Hudson's fingers clenched into fists, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. For a second Alize thought she would feel a wet spot suddenly gooshing in his trousers, which would more than show she still had the knack. Raising a hand to her face, she smirked into a clenched fist. He wanted her, why did he keep hesitating? "Tell me what you need, Hudson." That was all she wanted. Him, on his back, moaning in pleasure as he whispered how much he needed her. Or on top, driving her down into the dirt again, filling her up as no man ever had with white warmth to drive out all of the disgusting green murk that had tried to ruin her mind. She just had to break through that shy exterior.

He set his jaw, met her gaze with effort, and said firmly, "I need you to climb off of me, Alize. Right now."

That wasn't following the script at all. She frowned. "Or what?"

"Or... I am going to do something I should not." He swallowed hard. "Please."

Part of her wanted to strangle him, and her hands did drift toward his throat. He wanted her, she could feel it. Men had begged for what she was throwing at his feet. One particularly drunk fop had offered her half his kingdom in exchange for her maidenhood, and even though she knew he had been lying through his teeth, she still chalked that one in the win column. Hudson could have her here, now, amidst the ruins, and later too. Whenever he wanted, she would be there. A wicked little shadow, ready to take good care of his needs. She could feel how much she was turning him on, see how hard it was for him to keep control. Why wasn't he giving in?

If it had been anyone other than Hudson, she would have given vent to her anger. But she did not want any other guy anyway, so that point was moot. With a sigh of frustration, the tiefling swung her leg over him, depositing a fair amount of dirt on his chest, and kicked one of the cracked emeralds into a clump of weeds. "Fine." It wasn't fine, not at all. Nothing made sense to her anymore. Dirt itched beneath her clothes. "We need to get out of here anyway." She glanced at the crumbled remains of the statue, then went to retrieve her crossbow bolts.

Anger simmered in her heart, but hope had returned. He wanted her. She had felt it. For some reason he was holding back. Did he think she would come back to haunt him, some kind of clingy jealous girl who would try to ruin his future if she could not have him all to herself? Alize hissed in frustration as she worked the piton out of the stone. She had learned how to be happy with crumbs.

The tiefling's brain turned like an over-engineered clockwork automaton, grinding out the last of the green mists as it worked. She just had to figure out what was holding him back, and then he would be hers. Well, she would be his, at least. Alize was willing to settle for that. Maybe if she was really lucky, he would pick a princess who fancied girls as well, and then they could all have fun together instead of separately. Her heart sunk a little lower as she realized Hudson had probably enjoyed group orgies with his legion of maids since he was old enough to appreciate them. Nobles always had lots of maids, with their cute uniforms and tittering innocence. Realizing that she was growling, Alize tried to stop.

What she had felt through his clothes was not a casual stiffie that a man might sport for a moment. It was not the quickly passing sort of desire that caused men to stop outside the brothel and stare through the glass but not venture inside. She had a pretty broad catalog of data on hard manhoods, and Hudson was packing a hunk of need that had not been given release in far too long. Glancing over, she could see the bulge as he scraped himself off the grass. It was far easier for her to tell now that his clothes were ripped, torn, and tugged all out of place. More of his muscular body was visible too. She nibbled at her lower lip, then spat out another clump of dirt.

Meanwhile, the healer was bent nearly double, coughing into his fist while shaking. That had been far too close. One minute Alize was shooting bolts at him, angry that he had nearly gotten her killed with his carelessness, and the next she was babbling on about being grateful. He had very nearly given in to his base urges. Something had to be affecting her mind, and he could not even entertain the thought of... of improper behavior when she was out of her wits. Besides, she couldn't be asking about what he thought she was asking about.

He was well versed in the study of reproduction, and knew conception was a pleasurable activity, but surely she knew that he was unpracticed. Girls did not want boys who knew nothing about pleasuring them. Many of his fellows at the Academy had bragged and strutted, claiming that girls could always tell when a man was a virgin. All of his classmates kept claiming that they were constantly "getting some" even though there were no females about. He had been something of a timid bookworm, far too afraid to dare much "fun" while others ran rampant. Whenever he had tried to sneak out with the others, it ended terribly.

On any occasion that he had allowed the others to drag him out past the Academy's walls and into the seedier part of a nearby town, he had been more worried about the numerous public health violations than engaging in any illicit activity. He had always known, in a distant sort of way, that not everyone in the world lived as people did back in his father's kingdom. While his father had gained power through force of will and heroic deeds, many other places were ruled by bloodlines whose only claim to the throne was that some ancestor had been crowned in the far distant past and therefore their rule was law. This meant that, as long as the ruling class was kept fat and happy, everyone else was free to be exploited. Seeing firsthand what that kind of exploitation looked like always shook him.

Drinking and gambling were bad enough, particularly since the warriors-in-training from the Academy kept starting fights, but several of the others had talked about going to a place where there were supposed to be naked girls everywhere. Humans, elves, even girls with wings or horns! The idea that an entire part of a city, even the majority of a town, might be dedicated to such activities was hard for him to grasp. Back home regions were dedicated as farmland, housing, fortifications, or industry, and whatever unseemly things might happen did so in the shadows of such great bastions of civilization.

Before he could see such wonders of flesh with his own reluctant eyes, their carousing band of merrymakers had been caught by the Dean right outside the place of ill repute, and for that he was glad. Though the other boys had tried to convince him to sneak out with them again, telling him that the girls would be happy to "just talk" if he had "performance issues," Hudson always refused. They just wanted him to pick up the tab, as he did whenever they ruined a bar.

To his surprise, when the Dean reported the event to his father, Hudson had not been reprimanded. "You won't learn what you need to know about the world from a book, my boy, and there are some things it's best to learn while you're young. Easier on the body that way!" his father had written in a letter. Though the healer always valued his father's advice, it had certainly worked out well for the kingdom, he never had the courage to venture out and go wild. It hurt his heart too much to see the dilapidated buildings, homeless in alleyways, and drug pushers offering their wares on the street.

Back home there were always labor shortages, especially in the sprawling factories and pristine orchards, and the populace found solace in magical music that could change your entire mood in a heartbeat instead of mysterious drugs sold by wicked men. He had brought a few records to the Academy, and would play them late into the night instead of sneaking out to those strange places with naked girls. The music helped him study, kept his mind on purer matters. Meditation was useful as well, though he did not have time to do so at the moment. The tiefling was correct. They needed to move away from here.

Something had muddled Alize's mind, and it was largely his fault. He had to get her away from the statue. His duty as a doctor took priority over everything. Glancing over at her as she repacked her bolts and tried to repair her crossbow, he shivered. She was so beautiful, even covered in dirt and scowling. The first time he had looked into those golden eyes, he had felt a strange lightness in his chest. The rogue had been so cold and aloof at first, quite different than the way she kept getting far too close and pressing against him now. Still, even then he had felt a sort of connection with her. Some ethereal strand of fate that linked their two destinies.

He had never really believed in such things. A man ought to control his own destiny, not allow himself to be thrown back and forth by the whims of fickle chance. All the same, Hudson had the oddest feeling that the course of his life would have been quite different if he had ever entered that so-called "night club" with all the other boys.

Chapter 12. Forced Confession
As they returned to the road and plodded onward, the tiefling kept staring at him from within her hood. He tried not to look in her direction. Every time he did, those golden eyes bored into his soul. She moved silently behind his back, walking sometimes on his left and sometimes on his right, always completely aware of their surroundings while still seeming to never look away from him. Instead of breaking the silence with directions, she would only hold up a muddy arm whenever they needed to turn down a different path. Neither of them had a map, or anything close to an idea of where they were going, but her instincts for treasure hunting were far keener than his. Whenever their little band rolled into a town, she was able to find a shady tavern of gamblers to fleece as easily as he was able to locate the general store.

Alize hated leaving footprints, but the grave dirt kept coming off her boots in little clumps instead of all at once. They weren't really footprints, more of a dirt trail. Once the two were back on the grass she found a loose branch to sweep away her tracks. Curling it in her tail, she swayed the dead wood behind her as they walked to obliterate the traces of their passage. Maybe she was sweeping a little harder than she needed to. The tiefling nibbled at her lower lip, unintentionally leaning her head forward so that shadow completely covered all but her eyes when Hudson glanced her way. Every time he looked at her she kept hoping he would call for a stop, explain that he had reached a logically sound conclusion, and tell her to disrobe so he could knock her up in the most medically sound way possible.

The healer felt a strange tingle run down his spine, then back up, and settle right between his shoulderblades. Though he was certain Alize was on his left, er, right, his mind kept flicking back to images of people she had stabbed from behind. For someone without university training, she had an excellent grasp of vital anatomy. On the occasions he had inspected her kills, he always found that she was able to slip a dagger between the correct vertebra with ease. Stabs like that acted much like lifting the needle from a record, a sudden belch of sound followed by silence. More worrying was when she wanted the target to suffer. A stab through the ribs was traumatic enough, but she had a knack for piercing the heart. Such damage was not easy to repair even with magic. Those final moments of massive internal bleeding were also horrifically agonizing, unlike the cold, tingling numbness of severed nerves. Unconsciously, he bunched his scapulae together, his overactive mind trying to shield his spine from an imaginary blade.

She glared in the direction of a scuttling rat, then flicked her head back when Hudson started to turn in her direction, hope filling her shadowed face. He just sort of glanced at her, went a little pale, and turned away again. The rogue's thumbs twitched. He wanted her. She had felt how much he wanted her. People pursued things they wanted. The tiefling had lost count of how many times she had been slapped on the rump and asked how much for a night, without counting how often it had happened when she was actually working in a brothel's frontroom.

But no, Hudson was being difficult. Maybe he was one of those weird ones? Had his private harem of lusty maids dulled him to the thought of more conventional sex with just one tiefling? Alize tapped her fingers together, thoughts swirling. Sure, she could get him hard, but a guy like him wouldn't actually have sex without at least two girls, a bath of wine, and a stack of books to read after those two beauties were nothing but twitching, cum-stuffed monuments to his untamable sexual prowess. Her tongue lolled out a little, while her tail tensed around the branch.

Looking in the tiefling's direction, Hudson tried to smile but his nerves would not settle down. Hopefully her head was feeling better now that they had put some distance between themselves and that wretched statue. Maybe she would like to hold hands? It seemed really nice when they did it before, and that way he would at least know which side of him she was on. He had never met a girl as pretty as Alize before, or as talented. Even better, they were on an adventure together, a real foray into the unknown with naught but their wits and the rogue's assortment of extraordinarily dangerous implements! Well, actually, Alize was doing most of the adventuring. He was just here in case she needed patching up, or if she needed him to carry something heavy.

That magic bag of hers could hold a surprising amount of loot, but so could his robes, and she had a habit of taking anything remotely valuable that wasn't nailed down. When combined with their berserker's habit of making things previously nailed down into loose objects and their paladin's unassailable self-assurance that all the world belonged to the elven people therefore she was incapable of stealing, their party tended to leave places rather barren. Finally working up the nerve to take her hand, he reached out with his own and grasped at where her palm should be. Alas, Alize had silently stepped around to his other side when his thoughts had wandered. When he turned to find her again, Hudson found himself staring right into those spellbinding eyes, and lost his nerve.

Her tongue ran over her lips. She did not register the flecks of dirt on either, though she had spat brownish clumps into the ruins a few times as they walked. Hudson was a tough sell, but she had cracked tougher nuts before. Like stealing a pricey jewel from a display, she just had to find the weak points and figure out how she could get away with it. Maybe Hudson had hidden depths. Maybe he was into some really freaky stuff. No problem, she could do that kind of thing too. Nobility all had their secret vices. Was he testing her, trying to see if she would read him for some kind of hidden kink? She glanced furtively over his torn robes, then at his hands, but aside from the way he would sometimes thrust out an open palm, the tiefling saw no secret sign.

For a long moment, she debated tackling him to the grass again, locking his neck between her thighs, and jerking him off while cutting his airflow. Alize had been really surprised when a client had first requested that sort of treatment, but before long it became almost boring. More than a few had told her they adored the feeling of being forced down, pinned at her mercy, and shamefully forced to cum their balls dry all over her hands. Some liked it better than regular sex. For that matter, Alize remembered one assassination where the sick freak she was strangling started... a shiver ran down her spine at the memory. She had to burn that garotte wire, and her clothes, after that job. Only the fear that she had misread Hudson, and after all the mistakes she had already made tonight that was far from unlikely, kept her from knocking him over again.

He looked up at the stars, a faint smile drifting across his face. They really were beautiful tonight. He wished he could understand Alize as easily as he could name the constellations and the effects of their maneuverings on the world's mana currents. Modern enlightened science and magical procedure had done much to turn mysticism into astronomy, but there were still traces of wonder among the heavens.

She swished the branch back and forth behind herself, her tail curled along the rough bark, until it suddenly snapped. With a hiss, the tiefling tossed it away and pulled her cloak tighter. He was looking at her, not talking, with that dreamy expression on his face again and his muscles showing through those holes in his clothes. Alize knew she would have to ask, find out what he had meant when he said he... said he was gonna do something he shouldn't. He couldn't have meant her. Because he wanted her. She knew he wanted her. The tiefling had felt how much he wanted her. If he wanted her, he would have taken her, that's all there was to it. Finally, she could stand it no longer and yet could not quite find her voice. "Hey... Hudson..."

"Yes?" he was glad that she had broken the silence.

"What were you going to do back there?" She reached out and lightly punched his shoulder. "If I didn't let you up."

He bit his lip. "I... s-something improper, Alize. Something I... I never want to do to you."

Her heart dropped into her boots. He had said it so kindly, as if he was protecting her from cruelty. Hudson was always so kind to her. Better than a tiefling deserved. Her worst fears were true, he might want her but he was far too experienced to be tempted by street trash, and... wait... She saw the pain in his face. That was not the look of a man accustomed to eating prime rib being offered leftover sausage. The tiefling narrowed her eyes, and her pupils seemed to burn with black fire. "How 'bout you get specific with what you mean, and I don't get specific with making a new cloak out of your skin?"

Hudson's knees wobbled at the thought. He had seen what Alize could do with a knife when she wanted the raw truth out of someone. After a deep breath, the healer answered, "I... I'm worried that I might have tried to... you were making me feel so strange, and m-my body was full of adrenaline..."

He fished for excuses, trying to find a polite way to say something that his high-class upbringing had taught him was shameful. The tiefling glowering up at him was not making it any easier. Once upon a time, when the party had barely made it back alive from a deathtrap a crooked prince sent them into because he did not want to pay the other half of their fee for services rendered, Alize had made the corrupt noble eat his shoes. Terrible enough, but those shoes were special. They had been knee-high boots, made from the skin of a very rare bird, and stippled with flashy ornaments betwixt feathers.

Hudson had heard the prince's screams from two rooms away, through stone walls. Their party's paladin, whose cracked armor was leaking a strange, foaming substance that reminded him of extra-thick maple syrup mixed with far too much elven blood, had feigned temporary deafness. Their orc had been asleep, naturally healing massive wounds while he changed her bandages. The fact that the screams were louder than the berserker's snores was deeply unsettling. He was terrified of Alize. Not because she killed people, but because she could make them plead for death. At the same time, he really liked being around her, because she made him feel safe when she wasn't making him feel... precariously perched atop a keen blade held by a creature with infernal-tainted blood.

Thus, his tongue kept sticking every time he tried to answer. How was he supposed to tell her he wanted to grab her while she was atop him, use his brute strength to force her weakened body down into the grass, and sate his carnal lusts while she struggled to get away? The tiefling could not have known how she was making him feel when she pressed close, or when she rubbed her body against his. That last temptation, when she had straddled him so tightly with her body covered in dirt from their adventure, had almost broken him.

Perhaps commoners were used to such things, desensitized to lewd acts by their dreary labor and that quiet humility of the working classes which allowed them to keep calm and carry on while the aristocracy gibbered in panic at the slightest provocation. The masses rubbed shoulders with each other all the time. Such close contact was surely business as usual for a rogue like Alize who had been born of low station yet through skill and cunning elevated herself into a highly profitable trade. A completely innocent closeness, an offer that surely had not implied what the wicked and immoral depths of his mind insisted it had, these things had pushed him to the edge.

He coughed again, daring not to let his thoughts stray further. She was so beautiful. Not that he had seen many beautiful girls. Certainly not as much of those girls as he saw of Alize, both in time and in bare flesh. Hudson had very nearly lost control. She had taught him much about the value of surprise, if he had forced himself on her he might well have overwhelmed her before she realized what he was doing. The burning ache inside him, a deep need to move against her, feel her as he had never felt a woman, clawed at his well-ordered thoughts like a wild animal.

Only the thought of her crying, tears streaking through the dirt on her face as he pinned her weakened body and... thrusting, squeezing, not stopping until he was sated and she was an absolute mess, her golden eyes rolled back in her head and her tail twitching nervelessly at her side as she tried to recover from his attack. A man could only suffer so much before his rational mind lost control and he became merely a beast. What was the classical definition of a man, was it not that he was a featherless bird with nails? Alize kept pushing his buttons, but the thought of her staring up at him in pain after such an assault kept him strong. He was a healer, not... whatever kind of degeneracy that was.

She still expected an answer. He stammered, "In the moment, I... I wouldn't normally, you understand, but-"

Without breaking stride, the rogue twirled a knife from its sheath and began sharpening it. "Specifics, Hudson." Her golden eyes peered into his soul. While she was a puzzle to him, the healer had no idea how much of an enigma he was to her. "Devil's in the details, y'know."

His cheeks were almost as red as hers, and he thought he would die from embarrassment. "I... I wanted to... to force myself on you, Alize. You deserve so much better than that." His head drooped. There, he had said it.

The tiefling nodded slowly to herself. "Huh." They walked another few paces together.

Hudson's thoughts whirled. She would probably hate him now, think that he was a beast like so many of the other cruel men she had encountered in her harsh life. He knew she had grown up on the street, and it did not take a scholar to figure out that her skills in murder and thievery had not come from a prestigious university. It was also not hard to tell that she had been abused. That she had emerged from such a life as an exceptional rogue rather than a derelict was a testament to her personal strength and mental aptitude. Alize wanted a better life, and was willing to work for it. His parents had always taught him to prize such people. Granted, she did have some very odd habits and continually picked on him, but her heart was usually in the right place. He hoped she could forgive him.

Chapter 13. Pure Healer
"Hudson." Alize took a deep breath. She tried to rub some dirt from her face with the backs of her gloves, but only succeeded in transferring more grime onto her red skin. Her head hurt too much for this, and parts of her body were still numb. Walking helped. Getting as far away as she could from that stupid statue made her feel better inside. This was like a hangover, except much worse and without the comfortable numbness of wine-bolstered sleep first. Besides, running away from really weird problems that she didn't have enough explosives to sabotage had always served her pretty well before. Still couldn't feel her feet. She would have stumbled flat onto her face several times now if it wasn't for the enchantments on her heeled boots.

They'd better find some treasure here. Alize wanted to buy a pair of those fancy platform heels that would let her run up walls. Sure, boots like that looked like they'd be hard to walk in, and her current pair did make her ankles hurt if her balance was off, but there were enchantments to fix that too. Now she just had to keep herself from wrapping her fingers around this dense human's neck and squeezing until he got smarter. Or shoving him to the ground and pinning his throat beneath a muddy bootheel. Hudson didn't seem like the kind of guy who would get off to that. She had always been surprised to find one who did, but they usually paid well enough to make up for their creepy, fawning politeness. The weirdest ones had been the clients who paid to clean her boots after a set on stage, occasionally while being spanked by her. She had always been suspicious that their money would turn out to be counterfeit, because what kind of maniac paid to scrub cum off a girl's boots? Life would do that to you for free.

What to say, what to say... she didn't know. Was hard to stay mad at him, especially with that look on his face. Was also hard to keep from punching him in the ribs. Alize was somewhere past anger by this point. Locking eyes with him as they continued walking, she asked, "What if I told you that you wouldn't have been forcing yourself on me?" Her ears twitched beneath her hood.

He thought for a moment. "Well... I mean..." The healer coughed nervously. "Alize, you are a very skilled fighter. I'm sure that you would have been more than able to... ouch!" She had slapped him upside the head. "What was that for?"

"Some nights I wonder if you're a doctor or the village idiot." Eyes brimming with fury, she grabbed the collar of his clothes and shook him a few times. His dirty, ripped robes swayed back and forth, as did his head and arms. "Listen, Hudson. There's two things I want to burn into your brain right now." Alize's tail swayed behind her as she glared up at him. "First, rogues know how to keep secrets, be discrete, and... well, I think you'd call it knowin' my station, but I'd call it not askin' for a bigger cut than I can haul." Healthy greed was good, but glimmering gold was heavy. So were relationships. Sensation finally trickled back into her toes, the ticklish feeling unnerving her in a crucial moment. Alize shifted unsteadily, her balance automatically changing as she felt the bottoms of her feet once more. "A-and second..."

"Yes?" Hudson asked, his hands lightly gripping her elbows. Why, he did not know, but he wanted to hold her close. Technically she was about to tell him the fourth thing, not the second, but lecturing her on properly structuring her lists would probably get him another bop on the head. Not that itemization really mattered at the moment. This was not a lecture hall at the university. His thumb idly rubbed a few clumps of soil off her elbow, and he ever so gently shifted the wrist where her crossbow was mounted to aim away from him. Enough chunks of his robes were already missing.

"Second," she forced out, her mind suddenly drawing a blank as she looked up at the healer. Inwardly, Alize snarled at herself. What was wrong? Why was she feeling all flustered? All she had to do was tell him that he could have her, right here. He had bent maids over tables before, she was sure of it, and he had probably thought nothing of it too. Those giggling girls had probably been just as excited as she was by the thought. To be so irresistible that a man like him had to have her, right then, that he was even willing to risk discovery and embarrassment. He had held them close, sort of like he was holding her now, his hands running over their nice, clean uniforms as he lifted them up onto freshly-scrubbed tables... Alize suddenly remembered just how caked with muck she was.

Hudson held her firmly by the elbows. Usually she rescued him, not the other way around. He was still getting used to the idea that he had sort-of saved her from the churning dirt. When he had been balanced precariously on that slab of granite, he had felt true fear. Not that he might die. Theirs was a risky profession, and the Academy had instilled a proper sense of perspective about that. Hudson was afraid that he might lose her. Despite the barbs and arrows she threw his way, and the continual hazing that rivaled what he had endured at the Academy, he liked Alize. Really liked her. Whenever he had really needed her, she never failed. Quick on her feet, and with her tongue, she was unlike any of the girls in iron-hooped skirts he remembered from the court. Seeing her now, covered in grime from their narrow escape, he remembered why he cared so much about her. Hudson just wished he could stop himself from having these improper thoughts. She would surely be scandalized if she could see the ideas flickering through his head.

"Second... you can't force yourself on somebody who's willing." She forced a nervous smile, hoping that she did not sound too much like... like the kind of girl he would want nothing to do with. The kind of girl she really was. Her uncertain tail curled around her knees, knocking loose a lump of muck. Alize felt an worrying awareness of how much grave dirt, mud, and bits of grass covered her from horn to toe. "I mean, I guess someone could. I guess I could if I tried hard enough." She really was filthy. "But you can't, so stop worrying about it, okay?"

He nodded dumbly. "O-okay?" Something was happening. Something that made him feel odd inside. He sort of liked it.

"Good." Alize nodded. "Great." Her tongue ran over her lips. She leaned up, wanting so badly to kiss him, and felt him leaning down. Moonlight shone on the two as they stood together in an overgrown field flanked by crumbling walls. Her pointed ears perked beneath her hood. "You oughta know that already. I mean, cute girls gotta turn to mush when you kiss 'em." She saw his breathing still, and thought it was because of the distinctly urban cant her speech had slipped back into. Try as she might, it still slipped in when she was flustered like this. "Guy like you probably has a princess waiting at home, huh?" He looked confused.

That had to be the reason. He had a girl back home, and so he didn't want anything to do with a tiefling. Alize felt terrible about that for a second, but thievery was her trade. "Funny thing is," she continued, "you're not carrying a girl's handkerchief, an' none of your mail looks like it's from a girl back home." Maybe she could not read, but there were plenty of other ways to tell. Perfume, for one, or lack thereof, and fancy girls wrote with big fancy handwriting that definitely wasn't in any of the mail he received. "You don't have a locket with a dagger-type... a daggit... um... Looks an awful lot like a person's reflection in a puddle but doesn't change."

"A daguerreotype?" he asked helpfully.

"Yeah, one of those things." The rogue drew in a deep breath and tried to keep her knees from wobbling. "You haven't got one of those, or an engraving of a girl on any of your gear. And that sketchbook of yours is full of scribblin' about body parts and drawings of innards and s-stuff, not girls." She had checked thoroughly. There was a line between friendly concern and obsessive stalking. Alize had bounded across that line long ago, and had no intention of turning back. All was fair in lust and wetwork. "You're not some pining poet, but I know how you rich people are. Who did they fob you off on? Doesn't she turn to jam in your arms whenever you kiss 'er?" Putting on her best confidant's smile, she asked in a conspiratorial tone, "How flexible's her tongue?"

Knowing would be half the battle. If this princess was one of the rare nice ones, fine, but using more cunning than her enemies had kept the tiefling's hide intact all these years. Poisoning food was simple enough. Ordinarily she would put stabbing at the top of the list, but bloated nobles often were so fat that you needed a pike or whaling harpoon instead of a dagger or crossbow bolt. She probably would need to make it look like an accident or natural causes as well, so he would not get too upset. Hudson was kind enough to get bent out of shape even over worthless people... or worthless tieflings... The rogue stared up into his eyes, a hungry expression on her dirty face.

Alize had already decided that whoever he was trapped in an arranged marriage with had to be some balding, snaggle-toothed, upper-crust wench whose parents were desperate to be rid of her. Maybe they would even pay the rogue for disposing of their abominable spawn. Then she could profit both ways from the job. Never hurt to make a little extra on the side. She hoped Hudson thought the same, and wouldn't mind her as a side dish. He'd still need to marry a princess, because she was pretty sure that was how nobles worked, but if he met the princess after falling deeply in love with his loyal rogue adventuring buddy, the ensuring predicament would be much more likely to have a favorable outcome for the tiefling. Alize had performed assassinations for far, far less romantic reasons. Ravens cared little where their meat came from.

Hudson scratched his head, unsure what the word "fob" meant in this context. The party's more martial members used it to refer to a staging point for combat operations, but he was pretty sure Alize was asking if he was betrothed. Squeezing her arms in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, he answered, "My parents want me to forge my own future, as my father did. His... example is rather difficult to live up to."

The rogue poked him in the chest. His statement did not bode well, for to her paranoid mind it implied that there were several poofy-haired competitors waiting in castles back home for the heroic young doctor's return. Alize wondered for a moment if he would really be worth all that effort, especially since these would probably be tricky assassinations. Looking up into his face, at those intelligent eyes that still saw something worthwhile in her, she immediately had her answer. The tiefling's knees wobbled a little. Maybe she could get the whole group of hags together and drop a chandelier on them. A burning chandelier. One of those glass ones with a heavy oak frame. Just to be sure. Then again, maybe she could burn down the whole building... it had worked okay for their adventuring party in the past.

Clearing her throat, she glared at him, determined to get as much information as she could. Phantom figures floated in her mind, all vile obstacles whose corrupt influence kept Hudson from pinning her against a wall and letting her lock her ankles behind his back. Her skin felt itchy from the dirt and mud covering her body, and she was perhaps a little more curt than she should have been when she said, "That's not what I asked, unless you're telling me you've kissed your father, rich boy!"

He turned a little green in the face at the thought. "What? No! I haven't kissed a-anyone!"

His voice echoed from the stonework around them, seeming to resound time and time again. He winced, but the rogue did not slap him for making a racket like she usually did. Alize staggered back, now clinging to his shoulders to stay upright rather than holding him in place. He glanced behind himself, looking for danger or some other mystic trap, but saw nothing. They were alone in the ruins on a quiet, moonlit night... or, rather, it would be quiet were it not for the cacophony of a private war being waged in the distance by the other half of their party. Looking back at Alize, Hudson found her golden eyes piercing deep into his as though she was trying to read his mind by sheer force of will.

"I... not on the mouth, I mean. The social kiss on the hand, but that's mostly for formal..." Hudson's whisper trailed off as he stared into her shocked face. "Why are you asking?" His voice had sounded so loud a second ago that it had frightened him. With a doe-eyed stare, he added, "And why would I know anything about a girl's tongue flexibility... oh, were you asking if I had checked someone's tonsils with a light and a tongue depressor? That's... that's caring of you, Alize." Inflamed tonsils and sore throats could indeed be symptoms of dangerous diseases, particularly those plagues that carried a magical undercurrent. She had an odd way of asking about people's health, but her knowledge of such things did come from street superstition rather than sound science. Why, she hadn't even known what an appendisectomy was when he had to perform one on a traveller the party was escorting.

The rogue's hood fell, clinging to the back of her head as she stared at him with her mouth opened wide in surprise. Interest, then mild shame flickered across her features. She let go of his shoulders. Her gaze fell to the filthy handprints she had left on his robes, and her shame deepened. Hudson was not like the aristocracy who had used her for their passing fancies and murderous vendettas. He really was pure hearted. She had come to accept that, even desire it, but this was too much.

Chapter 14. Flighty Rogue
Quickly, she stepped forward again, until her body almost touched his. She had to move fast, had to strike while she could if she wanted to steal his heart. Hesitation would kill her here just as surely as pausing too long while evading deadly traps. His words hung in her mind like a ruinous cloud. He had never kissed a girl. Guilt was something she had learned to get over quickly, but this time it felt too heavy to simply ignore. She had to ask.

"A-anyone?" she echoed quietly, her tail twitching like a surprised snake. "But you've... I mean, I'm sure the girls were all over you at that fancy school, and-"

"I attended Glosfort Polymedical, the most prestigious institute of healing arts and sciences in the known world." Alize was so close now. He was sure she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. "It is an all-male Academy." A massive, sprawling campus with buildings upon buildings and varied training environs, Glosfort taught nearly every aspect of adventuring in one form or another, but their medical program was exemplary. In part because the warrior cadets were constantly in need of healing.

Her hands began to shake. "Oh." Hudson was not a wearied veteran of countless castle orgies, whose maids tittered meekly and came when he called. He was not a bored aristocrat who wanted nothing to do with a girl from one of the lesser races, and he certainly wasn't a playboy playing hard to get. Alize had mostly ruled those out already, but this latest revelation was more than she could process. "So... you're not... uh..." She swallowed hard. "You're not used to bein' around girls, huh?" A stupid thing to say, but the rogue felt rather like she had been burgling a house only to discover that the entire building was actually a cleverly disguised jail cell. With spikes. On fire.

"Even if I was, I don't think it would help me figure you out, Alize." He meant it kindly, but his words only worried her more. "You're like no one I've ever met." With a stiff, uncertain gesture, he leaned down, intending to plant a chaste kiss on her dirty forehead. Her horns complicated the action just a bit, meaning he moved more slowly than he should have for fear of getting poked. "I... um, I'll remember those two things you told me." What an adventure this had been so far, more than he ever expected when he first graduated from the Academy, and the night was still young!

Alize saw her chance. She could hardly have missed it even if she was blind, although that would have made the next part more difficult. The thief leaned back her head, intending to meet the healer's kiss with her own. She had to move fast. There was no time to think, if she paused to think about those clumps of dirt in her mouth she was as good as dead. Fear ran up her spine. Their heads drifted closer. Did she have bits of soil in her teeth? Oh gods... not that they had ever seemed to care about her. Everything she needed, the tiefling had to take. Alize rocked up a little on her toes, about to kiss his unsullied lips with a mouth that still had flecks of dirt clinging to its edges and stuck to her tongue. Thievery was her trade. That and murder. Arson once or twice, when the money was good. Oh, who was she kidding, she would do anything for the right amount of coin...

What would he say if he knew what she had done with her mouth, her hands, her tail, her breasts, her body? She did not deserve him. Hudson had never kissed a girl. Alize had. For that matter, she had kissed a pig once, but she had been really drunk and the poor swine had been more surprised than she. The problem with never letting herself get blackout drunk was that she always remembered when morning came the stupid stuff she did. Like stealing and pawning a local noble's jewel-encrusted family crest, setting fire to the city guards' barracks as a distraction, stowing away aboard an airship full of livestock to escape, and waking up in a pigsty. Alize felt just as filthy now as on that morning, and her headache was about on par as well, but both she and the pig had been dirty. Hudson was still mostly clean. Wait, why was she comparing him to a pig? Was she the pig and he the tiefling? Her head hurt.

His fingertips rested lightly on her leather armor, not quite holding her body against his. The rogue's heart fluttered in her chest. Hudson was always so kind, so forgiving. Was she cruel enough to want his first kiss for herself? Men who rented prostitutes for their first times were always mocked by their peers, and Alize knew she was little better than one of those streetcorner girls. Clenching a fist, she pressed her gloved knuckles against him and resolved to bloody well show him what she meant about tongues. They'd never taught him in medical school about checking tonsils the way she was going to. All she had to do was lean up a little, just a little, and... and ruin him.

Hudson was as baffled as ever by the tiefling, but for once he thought he knew what she wanted. The idea of kissing her, holding her close and feeling her sigh happily as their lips met, had occurred to him before tonight. However, he had always dismissed it as madness. Alize would rather stab him than kiss him. But after what she had said, could she really mean anything else? It was a risk, but one he wanted to take. Getting stabbed really hurt, so this was not something he did lightly. Just because he could quickly heal light wounds did not mean he enjoyed suffering them in the first place.

Holding hands had felt really nice, and the healer dared not think about how close he had come to acting shamefully when she was rubbing against him. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, take her to a proper restaurant in the nearest city, sit together at the opera, and maybe even spend the evening staring out at the skyline together. Those were things that a respectable doctor should want to do with a pretty girl. Despite her odd ways, he could always count on Alize during their adventures. That meant more to him than anything the girls with painted faces and elegant gowns could offer.

Her heart quivered. She wanted him. He was finally taking the hint, but now everything seemed so wrong. Alize had no doubt about her skills as a courtesan. She would have him on his back atop a nearby slab of marble, cumming his brains out as her tail squeezed his length, then kiss him back to full hardness for the real fun. The tiefling knew how to make men beg for more, just as she knew how to make them beg for death. What frightened her was that he might expect a level of culture and refinement that would be forever beyond her grasp. The grave dirt on her body reminded Alize of how filthy she really was. She did not deserve him. He should not have a tiefling as his first kiss, or his first anything. Hudson was too pure. That warm, kind glow in his face only reminded her how tainted she really was.

Pushing down her doubts, she puckered up with the same feigned emotions she had used on stage. This was not about her, this was about him. He would hate her if she led him on this far and did not let him finish. If there was one thing she understood, it was blue balls. She had to do this for him. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her spine felt as stiff as a pole. Was she really cruel enough to treat him like just another client? Tell him sweet little lies, give him fake kisses, and feign joy when she felt disgusted? The difference was that this time her disgust was aimed inward.

No, no, she could not think like that, not now, they were about to kiss and it had to be magical. Nevermind the dirt all over her, or his ripped robes, or the fact that they were standing on an open path in the middle of an ancient ruin with all manner of monsters scattered around...

At the last second, her knees weakened and she chickened out. Scampering backward, out of his reach, she turned away. Her arms and tail wrapped around her body as the tiefling hid beneath her cloak. No, no, no, this was wrong! She had to kiss him, but... but she couldn't kiss him. What was she doing? Alize knew she had to say something. Anything. "Right..." her voice wavered. The street-cant tainted her words as she stammered, "Don't l-lay 'em twisted again, s-see!"

She could not bear to look at him, at that confused, sad expression on his face. The healer thought he had done something wrong. Couldn't he see she was the one who was wrong, so wrong and covered in gutter grime? Her stomach twisted in knots, as though she was starving for a bite, but she had felt hunger too many times to confuse this pain for anything other than pure lust. Alize shrunk back inside her cloak. She felt tiny, like when she was a child staring up at the gleaming castles beyond the slums, so cold, and yet hot with anger at herself. Hudson moved toward her, reaching out to touch her, about to ask how he could help.

Damn him. He could help by shoving her against a wall, grabbing her by the throat with one hand and ripping off her armor with the other, then doing what came natural until she was oozing cum down her thighs and he was spent. That was the kind of thing she deserved from him, not... not soft kisses. Alize tried to picture Hudson as one of the blunt-skulled thugs who had tried and failed to take her, savagely making her his woman and forcing her to lick him clean afterward, but the images turned to fog in her imagination. He wasn't that kind of man. Against her will, the tiefling's thoughts turned to how firm he had felt beneath her hands, and how good it would feel to take her time teaching him things about girls he would never learn in any prestigious university. Beads of nervous sweat ran through the grime covering her face, making her look even more messy.

She had to get away, to protect him. Couldn't let him waste himself on... on her. He had never kissed a girl before. Next town, she would have to find him someone... maybe a cute bar wench with a little elf blood, or even an honorbound lizard-girl warrior. Somebody better than a tiefling from the sump. Hudson was like a golden statue, his eyes gemstones and his robes priceless silk. She wanted to shove him into her bag and run, but knew the moment she tried the statue would topple and crush her.

To Hudson, Alize was a teasing vapor he could never quite seem to close his hands around. Every time he felt right on the edge of a grand discovery, she dashed all his hypotheses to pieces. The rogue was glaring at him again, her golden eyes simmering with anger and her face full of emotion. Hunched over and shivering like that, she looked so very frightened. He wanted to hug her close, but her tail kept swaying beneath her cloak, and he was worried it would trip him up if he moved incautiously. Besides, did she even want him near her with the way she was acting?

"I... I'm gonna s-scout ahead, the goblins' lair can't be t-to far." Her voice was still jittery, but at least she was able to speak clearly again. "Catch up quick, or I'll be upset!" He stepped toward her again, but she was gone in a flash. Cursing inwardly at herself, Alize ran down the path, her boots barely making a sound. Of course she had run into the darkness. The shadows were her home.

Hudson shook his head as he trotted after her. He must have misread the entire situation again. Alize was an odd girl. Were all rogues this flighty? Oh well, at least her vitals were back to normal. That had been a close shave with death, for both of them. She was the most fragile member of the party. A shame that she had not meant what he thought she meant. Covered in dirt from their adventures, she had looked just like what he had imagined real heroines would when he read about them at the Academy. From the way she was moving, the last of that foul enchantment had been dispelled. A good thing. When he saw her heart had stopped, his own had skipped a beat.

Chapter 15. Maid Fantasy
Perched high above the path on the remains of a steeple, Alize peered out into the darkness with simmering gold eyes. Below, Hudson followed along in her wake, his hands folded and eyes wide. She kept looking down at him, telling herself it was to make sure no one sneaked up on the idiot while she scouted. As much as the tiefling wanted to rush back and beg him to forgive her, to let her try again, Alize knew she could not. He would, that was the problem. Hudson would settle for trash like her. He cared about her, he had pulled her out of that yawning grave, and he would have kissed her if... if she had the nerve. For a girl who had very little understanding of love, and knew far too much about lust, it was horribly conflicting.

The rogue pointed an icy glare at him, then felt guilty when he seemed to catch a chill on the night air. He deserved better than her. She couldn't let his first kiss be with a dirty tiefling he had just pulled out of a hollow grave. Alize felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner. Hudson needed some experience in women before deigning to settle for someone with her sinful past. Tapping her chin, the rogue sighed. She had always felt so envious of the girls who were taken on as cooks or cleaners. If she had become a maid in his household, instead of walking the path of shadows, then... then things would be different.

Maybe if she had been taken on as a servant by Hudson's family, though their holdings were far from anywhere she had ever ventured, her life might have turned out differently. Instead of selling cigars and ale, she would have scrubbed pots and served esteemed guests. Burglary was in her blood, but she knew better than to bite the hand that fed her. Besides, the rich had even more need of skilled thieves than the poor did. Nobles were always stealing each other's precious jewels, important documents, or babies. Alize scampered along the remains of a rooftop, then leaped to the next and crouched at the edge to peer around. Resting her chin in the palm of a gloved hand, she felt the wisps of fantasy tugging at her mind.

Instead of rags meant to be taken off on stage, she might have worn a pretty uniform with frills and laces up the back. Maybe her first kill would have been an attacker trying to take Hudson's life, rather than a waste of skin trying to enslave a terrified girl. She would look rather fetching in an apron, with stockings that ran all the way up her legs but stopped just a smidge beneath her skirt, and gloves that covered well above her elbows. A custom uniform, one that took her tail into account, and they'd have to do something about the headdress so her horns wouldn't get in the way.

Alize remembered a half-elf friend, how good she had looked in her pretty little uniform. Hearty meals and a cozy bed had helped too. The half-elf had been little more than skin and bones out on the street. That had worked in her favor for begging, people took pity on a starving girl with fey blood, but there were plenty of two-legged predators drawn to that sort of weakness too. The tiefling had given up on anyone wanting her as a servant once it became clear that they could not see past her red skin. She was dangerous and exotic, something she played up during her strip-shows and assassinations. Hudson could see beneath, though. That frightened Alize. What if he saw too much, and hated her for stealing his first kiss?

If only she had been his maid. The healer would still have gone off to boarding school, but the night before he was due to depart she would slip in through the window of his chambers. He would not be able to keep his eyes off her, his faithful maid who had saved his life from an enemy's blade. Hudson would know she was more than just hired help. The young noble would stretch out his hand, glad that she had appeared like a ghost in his room, but just a little frightened at her sly ways. He would want to claim her before anyone else could. Though his hand would of course belong to whatever royal he had to marry for the sake of his family's lineage, she would have a little piece of his heart.

That was all she desired. The tiefling would be worth wanting, not a used up stripper with delusions of preserving her worth. There would be no words as she walked toward him. Moonlight from his window would cast her horned shadow over his bed. She would loom over him until he stood, rising up from his maid's shadow to take her in his arms. Her tail would sway nervously, her fingers clenched in fear of rejection, but there would be no reason for the young noble to push away his faithful maid.

No words, just his hands untying her apron and hers unbuttoning his silk pyjamas. He would be the first to look upon her bare body with hunger. Their lips would meet, and each would taste the other's desire. Her tail would curl around him, his strong arms would pull her down to his bed, and their tongues would curl together. The tiefling blinked back tears. She would be as pure as him. He would have no doubt that she was his, in mind, body, and if he wanted it, soul. There would have been no shame in their first time, only passion. Afterward his hand would run up her thigh, where no other man had touched. She would whisper her gratitude in his ear, but he would still her words with a finger on her lips and whisper back that she had always been more than a maid to him.

Then, every time he returned from the Academy, for he must have had some vacations, he would want her, and she would always accommodate him. After all, a maid belonged to her master. No strangers' hands would have grasped her, no other men's eyes would have seen everything. She would never have cried in the arms of another girl after her set on stage was over, when the emotional high turned to a bitter crash, and taken what little solace she could from that understanding embrace. Her red skin would never be stained with others' seed, nor would she have had to feign worship as she cooed their names and took their money. Instead she would have been his maid, wearing her crisp uniform by day and donning her hood at night, growing ever more skillful in the sorts of things a noble's left hand needed to know.

All she could think about was his hands sliding down her frilly uniform in the moonlight, his whispered words asking if she was sure as he took her to his bed. She could almost feel him inside her, that hard manhood she had teased just a short while ago. How could it be that he had never been with a woman before? Was his family devoid of servants, that no half-elf with shy eyes and sparkles on her cheeks had ever offered herself to him? Anger burned in the tiefling's heart. Somebody wasn't doing their job right if he didn't have pleasant memories of holding a book open with one hand and stroking the hair of the maid beneath his desk with the other! Or maybe all the beautiful girls back home had been begging him, bare-breasted and weak-kneed in his bedchambers, and the idiot had been just as dense as he was now.

As much as she wanted to throw herself at him, she knew how badly they would regret it. Hudson did not want a smelly, dirty, almost-whore of a tiefling. Even if he thought he did, he was wrong. She shut her eyes and held in a whimper. Maybe his maid would have gone to visit him at the Academy, effortlessly gliding through their guards and finding her way to his quarters. Nothing but a shadow on the wall, creeping up on him as he diligently studied, then a red hand on his shoulder and a knife at his neck to keep him from crying out. He would be so impressed, so in awe of her stealth, but even more in awe of her body as he fought to keep his moans quiet.

There, right in the midst of that all-male academy, Alize would take good care of her master before fading again into the night. All the other boys would be jerking off, or sneaking out to get a lap-dance. She would squeeze him dry. Hudson deserved the best, and she would deliver it so he could focus on his studies. If anyone else's frumpy maids tried sneaking in they would surely be caught. The shadows were her home. A tear trickled down the rogue's cheek.

She would have made a good maid, she was sure of it, but no one was foolish enough to let a tiefling into their home. Maybe if she had been born in one of those distant lands where tieflings were nobility, or even where Hudson's family ruled, there might have been a chance. She could feel him between her legs again, see that overwhelmed look on his face. How badly she wanted to ride him, give him a real reason for those eyes to roll back as he gasped for air! Hudson might even want to wrap those healer's hands of his around her neck, use his strength to really pin her down and... unf...

The tiefling nibbled at her lower lip, feeling all hot and bothered despite the dirt caked on her body. She could even hear him calling her name, desperate for her, wanting to cum a thick load deep inside as she drove him to exhaustion. "Alize... Alize!"

"Hudson," she sighed happily, eyes still shut. Wind teased at her cloak, and her blackened nails dug into the old stone as she perched atop a roof. Why did he have to be so pure and noble? If he was just a little more sullied, a bit more worldly, she would not feel so terrible about...

"Alize, help!"

Wait, that was wrong. He wasn't supposed to call for help. He was supposed to be whimpering that he couldn't hold back anymore, and not like those one-pump chumps who acted like it was her fault they blew as soon as her tail-tip patted their glans. Stirring from the fantasy atop her perch, she cracked an eye and looked toward the source of the noise. Cold terror gripped her stomach. A mob of oversized rats bit and clawed at her healer, and though he was trying, it was obvious that he could not fight his way out of a wet paper bag. The ache in her loins was abruptly forgotten, replaced by seething rage. Alize scampered along pillars and ruined roofs until she was parallel with the melee.

Spreading her cloak to control her fall, she pounced down, leading with her heeled boots. The crossbow on her arm twanged, a trio of throwing knives soared through the air, and her claw-like nails raked across the underbelly of a rat that jumped up to bite her. For a few seconds she was a whirlwind of red skin, black leather, and shining blades. These rats were smaller than the sewer monsters she had fought as a child, though usually those fights had been one on one. Kids unlucky or dumb enough to be cornered by a pack of giant rats didn't live to tell the tale. The squeaking creatures only reminded Alize of her true past, further dimming the pleasant fantasy she had clung to for a few seconds.

Imagine though she might, she could never kill enough rats to escape the truth. She was a sewer rat herself.

Chapter 16. Wholesome Thoughts, Punishment
Hudson rallied as soon as the bolt from her crossbow flung the rat biting his arm to the ground, and managed to fight off another of the sniveling beasties all on his own. They had caught him quite by surprise, surging up from the decrepit remains of a building whose roof now barely rose above the swampy muck surrounding it. Rats were disease vectors. He wasn't afraid of them, but he could only kick one or two at a time and there were far more than that assailing him from all sides.

Alize's arrival was heralded by squishing sounds, abruptly curtailed rattish shrieks, and the sickening sound of metal spikes on her heels crushing through bone. That noise always made his stomach knot up. His mental image of the impaling damage she could cause with those heels was very vivid. On more than one occasion he had been called upon to patch up Alize's holes in someone the party needed to take alive. He also did not like to think about the way she sometimes threatened young men who bothered her. Knocking the troublemaker onto his back, grabbing his legs, and grinding her sharp bootheels over an anatomical region that every man instinctively knew to protect. Horrifically uncivilized behavior, though he could not argue that it got results.

Hudson was very grateful that she never had threatened him in that way, though she did have a habit of rubbing other parts of her body against him. Given that she had enough daggers and other sharp bits beneath her cloak to make a porcupine envious, he was never quite comfortable about the tiefling putting any sort of pressure around his groin area. Even when it did not result in anything as embarrassing as what had happened under the statue earlier, it was far too easy for him to imagine her muttering, "Oops," as she picked a small arsenal of misplaced blades out of his pin-cushioned body. Probably the only way he would feel comfortable with her rubbing things against his groin was if she was completely naked, and that...

For a brief instant, the healer froze. One eyelid and two fingers on his left hand twitched. His brain paid no mind to the rodent nibbling at his ankle, or the one clawing up his arm. Red skin filled his thoughts, along with glowing eyes beneath a dark hood, black lips that hid a fanged smile, and a cruel chuckle. The thought of her naked did not quite compute. Alize was always hiding inside her cloak, evading the eyes of others. As the outer garment swayed with her violent dance, it billowed out and clung tight, hiding and revealing the crimson flesh beneath as she slashed and kicked no less savagely than the rats. A cloak was the rogue's true armor.

Besides, she would never be n... nak... undressed... around him. All his mind could conjure up was a vague crimson shape with a swaying tail, and even that was far more than a gentleman should be imagining about a young lady. He should not be picturing her standing so near, pulling her cloak around him as he hugged her tight, because the only thing those thoughts could lead to was improper behavior. Even if Alize did not hate his guts, the very act of holding hands as they strolled down the path on this moonlit night would be stirring up feelings that she could only misinterpret. She trusted him not to take advantage of her, had said as much when he confessed his weakness earlier, but what could a young gentleman mean by such overt actions as he was imagining other than to ruin her virtue?

Of course he would take responsibility. His father had explained in detail before Hudson set out on his adventures that certain things were best put into light as quickly as possible. No child had a say in being brought into the world, and so they deserved to be shielded from the fallout of their parents' decision as much as possible. Besides, there was the public narrative to think about. A child born of a youthful indiscretion could be welcomed by his parents and raised into a commendable citizen, while trying to cover up such a matter would only leave him open to blackmail.

Unlike most nobles, his father was more concerned about what the peasantry thought than what other royal houses would whisper, and eager young lovers among the commoners produced more than a few unplanned bundles of joy. Given that the average factory worker or field laborer not only owned a sword and bow but was expected to be competent enough in their use to at least defend their homes from marauding bandits, it was very sensible that his father was more concerned about a populist revolt than the slings and arrows of distant blue-bloods. Many had considered that when his father had been rewarded such dangerous lands it was nothing less than a death sentence, but the old adventurer had forged a largely self-sufficient state from a wasteland.

If a child was covered up, and the secret leaked, the people would start wondering what other secrets were being kept by their leader's family. On the other hand, babies were adorable and an adventuring young man was naturally seeking to live life to the fullest. Father had gone into detail about such things, and strongly hinted that he wanted grandchildren. Not that Hudson was the only one who could provide such a thing, technically speaking anyway, but... well, noble family lines did get complicated rather quickly.

Alize would hate the idea, he was sure, would probably hate him all the more for seducing her. She would want nothing to do with him, and probably less to do with a child. The rogue was a free spirit. Though she was rather protective of poor children, which he attributed to empathy invoked by her own rough youth, he feared that the psychological shock of having one herself could send her sprinting into the shadows forever. Then he would lose her... and that did not sit well with the healer at all. Hudson was reasonably certain that she had not borne children previously, there were certain physiological changes that carrying new life inside wrought upon a woman which could be detected with the proper analysis and spellcraft, but then again he did not know as much about tieflings as he would like.

There were not many girls like Alize. Most who suffered as she did were broken by the experience, but she seemed to cling upon some inner strength. He wondered what the root of that could be. She had some hidden hope, some driving force that had kept her going when others had yielded to the many temptations of the slums. The tiefling was a reliable adventuring partner, as were the other members of their party. Hudson's muscles twitched oddly as his brain continued to malfunction. He wondered... if perhaps things were different between them and he did not say or do the wrong thing quite so much... how nice it would be to look deep into those golden eyes on a night rather like this one but at a far more amenable location, and hear her whisper at the same time as he, "I lov-"

As his mind skirted around the paradox that had nearly caused his thoughts to once again rush down a very dangerous path, his senses returned and he became aware of a sharp pain as something tried to scurry up his leg. Jerking back into action, he shook the rodent off, and the words that had almost passed his lips turned into an incoherent garble of revulsion. Alize's pointed ears twitched, almost catching something on the wind, but she was too focused on relieving her anger by jamming blades into rats.

In the midst of the battle, the two adventurers found themselves with their backs pressed together as they fought against the swarm. The rogue of course was doing the bulk of the extermination, and her tall leather boots had so far proved immune to the rodents' claws and teeth. Hudson tried to keep up, fretting inside about getting them into this unfortunate predicament. Her knives flew out, her heels crashed down, and even her tail whipped around from time to time, knocking rats off him or away from her. Every one of her strikes seemed to sever a small spine, or crush a cranium. At university, he had studied rat traps that worked on a similar principle. Of course, the tiefling was far more lethal than any automatic device. Those golden eyes had years of experience in finding a creature's weakest point and wetting her blades with its lifeblood.

Sadly, that sort of skill could not be bottled and imbued into mass-producible rodent removal devices. More often than not, ruminated his mind in an eerily detached way while his body struggled to stay alive, a piercing or snapping trap would only injure a rat rather than kill it outright. The wounded creature would drag the device well away before expiring. That usually led to blood everywhere, which had to be sanitized lest it present a further biohazard. At university, he had collaborated with a few of his colleagues who were pursuing mechanical degrees to develop a very inexpensive trap that would humanely drown rodents. They had all earned top marks for the project; it had even been implemented by the Plague Control League on an exploratory basis. That was what had first gotten him noticed by that noble-minded organization.

However, this was not a matter of disease control. He had no fumigator pack, no sack of poisoned feed, and certainly no enchanted piper's flute. Those were the tools he would have brought to fight a rat infestation. Hudson had come here prepared, as best as a healer could, to fight the undead that harassed caravans. Actually, he had prepared to keep the party's more martial members in the fight, but right now instead of stapling their orc back together and refilling the integral medi-goo injectors on the elf's armor, he was trying not to get knocked over by a swarm of mangy fur-missiles that kept hurling themselves toward his chest with jaws open wide. Snatching one out of the air, he threw it out into the swamp and heard it plop into the sucking mud.

The tiefling stabbed, stomped, and slashed her way through the others. When the dust settled and the squeaking stopped, he was panting for breath. That fight felt like it had taken weeks, though it could not have been more than a few moments since the horde first descended upon him. His glasses indicated that Alize's heart rate was barely elevated, as expected from so experienced a rogue. He was fortunate to have her watching over him.

"Thank you," he managed to say. "Are you... injured?"

Yanking one of her blades from a dead rat, she shook her head.

Hudson closed his eyes and focused, sparks of magic glimmering over his wounds. Of course she wasn't injured. A fight like this was nothing to an experienced rogue like her. She probably resented having to watch out for him. Maybe she regretted bringing him along, thought she should have left him with the others and slunk off by herself. "I'm... I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize," Alize growled, embarrassed that she had let those rats sneak up on him. She couldn't do anything right. Too busy wishing for a past she never had. He needed her to stay sharp, keep him alive, so they could complete the mission. Not get distracted wishing that one day while she was feather-dusting his desk, the surprisingly muscular bookworm had stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her waist. His fingers against that frilly apron, stroking down her short skirt to touch the bare red skin between where the frill ended and her lace stockings began. A whispered word in her pointed ear. Alize had fallen short in her duties. Her master was not amused. The rogue huddled deeper inside her cloak as she peered at the injured healer from beneath her hood.

What could a servant girl do if she had displeased her master other than accept her punishment? He could have walked those fingers up her inner thigh until he felt a sticky dampness, then teased her with those strong hands, making a mess of her uniform as she squirmed against his chest and her tail curled around his legs. No matter how she begged for forgiveness, he would not let her cum, always stopping right at the edge. Her nails would dig into the desk, leaving marks in the wood as he kissed the back of her neck. She needed him so badly, was always ready for her master to flick up her skirt and sate his lusts with her body, and so the truest torment would be for him to deny her.

Unbuttoning her blouse, or ordering her to do it. Loosening those carefully-tied bows that held up her apron. Permitting her to run a silk-clad leg against his while she moaned out apologies. He would tease her, do all all the things he usually did before pinning her down and filling her up. Hudson would whisper in her ear how much he loved to see her tail sway in that custom uniform, while his stroking fingers made her whole body convulse. His other hand would grab and squeeze as he pleased. There wasn't a girl in all his kingdom who would object to her regent's touch, nor a maid in his castle who wouldn't die for a night in his arms! He wouldn't remind her of that. There would be no need. Thoughts of all the other girls he could be with instead of wasting his time disciplining her would be torment enough.

Her master's hand might even touch the brooch that held her shirt-collar shut, that finely-wrought piece of jewelry that bore his family's heraldry. For a second she would fear he was going to tear it off, that she had displeased him so greatly he would disavow her, but... but no. Oh no, she was his. Hudson would not cast her out into the darkness, back onto the cold streets and dank sewers. She would rather that he slit her throat, let all her lifeblood ruin the beautiful maid's outfit he had given her. Better that she gurgled and died in his arms than shriveled away in exile. Alize the rogue had cut many throats. It was messy, vile, and made a lot of noise, but sometimes the client wanted a message sent. After all the bodies she had laid out for the ravens, Alize knew in the back of her mind that her own death could not be gentle.

Surrounded by dead rats, the rogue wiped blood from her blades. Carnage was what she was good at. She looked over at the healer again. Hudson was covered in wounds, and his clothes were terribly torn. Never before in their adventures had he been reduced to such a state. She really was a failure. Sure, she could kill, but she couldn't protect. Not with her focus wandering like this.

Her master would not tolerate such things. Of course he would not throw her out of his castle, but he would discipline her severely. Again and again he would take her to the very edge, hardening his heart when she begged. It would be a punishment for him as well, for she knew he would long to empty those full balls into her quivering body. Some other lucky maid might give him release later, but for the moment he had to endure her pleas and the scent of her lust as he drove her near to madness with his touches. Then, once he had tormented her to his satisfaction, maybe even pinning her hands onto the desk and nibbling at her ear as his fingers moved inside her, he would use some of that magic he had to turn her skimpy thong into a chastity belt.

Pent up with need, driven near insane with lust, he would force her to labor away at menial duties while desperate for release. Hudson might even leave her, called away by some crucial matter, and the minutes would seem like hours as she wondered if he would ever return. The tiefling would mop floors, scrub pots, dust bookcases, even do laundry while her tail curled itself into knots and her lips trembled. She knew how horrible it was to pine, had inflicted that on far too many men in her true life. What made it all the worse was that she knew too well how good it felt to be granted that which the loins wanted, though the rogue could not quite understand that it was not mere arousal that made her mind twirl in circles like a spinning coin.

Likewise, as Hudson continued to patch himself up, he could not accept that the respect and admiration he held for the tiefling needed that carnal component the doctor was so desperate to ignore.

Chapter 17. Saying No in the Past
His clothes were all torn up. Hudson always had those healer's robes on, sort of a badge of office she guessed. At least he wasn't wearing that glowing crystal disc on his forehead. Sure, he might use it for light during surgery, but it was as good as a bulls-eye for an enemy archer. Alize could see pretty well in the dark. Her eyes ran over his battered body, while her fingers ran over her lightly armored groin. If she was alone, and wasn't so dirty, she would dart behind a pile of rubble and deal with all these urges. Nothing fancy, not like she would do on stage for all those lecherous eyes. Just something for her.

She tried not to think about it, not while looking at Hudson, as if he might glance up and see right through her eyes into all the memories of debauchery. Letting her robe fall off as she walked down the stage. Her upper back and one arm pressed against the pole, legs spread apart, and two fingers deep inside herself while her spade-tipped tail swept up sticky coins that men tossed onto the stage. Putting on the smile as she took off what little clothes she still had on. Thinking of anything else as she tried to get as aroused as possible. That was what the customers wanted, a sopping-wet tiefling with her long tongue lolling out and nipples hard from lust. She wasn't a person. People didn't have horns, or tails, or red skin, or evil eyes. She was something wicked they could hate and sneer at in their hearts while they outwardly cheered and jerked off. They loved to see her on her knees, feel her oiled hands squeezing loads out of their balls while they stuffed crumpled scrip into her garter or grabbed her by the horns. Tieflings were made for sin.

That had helped her grow cold inside, distant. She didn't hate them, but... the customers weren't people to her. Disassociation could be a two-way street. Men, women, dwarves, orcs, elves, lizards, cats, dogs, even... well, even the more well-to-do of her own kind. Tieflings were rare in this part of the world. Sure, she had met an extraordinarily talented rogue who had guided her along the path of shadows, but he hadn't done it just because they both had horns and a tail. The ravens had chosen her. Alize had not even known her teacher was a tiefling at first. He was just a shadow on the wall for the longest time, a voice from the darkness that gave stern guidance. That they were both horned creatures who did not belong in polite society was incidental.

Others of her kind had treated her worse than even the snotty half-elven nobles. At least the fey-bloods had a trace of pity in their contempt. True elves either wanted to kill her, hire her, use her in one of their incomprehensible schemes while bemoaning the prophesied decline of the fey, or treat her like some kind of talking pet. It was the half-bloods that moved in human circles who loved to remind themselves how charitable they were, how fortunate they were to be half-fey rather than half-demon. Alize hated that, hated to bow and scrape, but hunger had made her swallow her pride on more than one occasion. Really, it was just another kind of stage show. She was pretty sure the half-bloods got a sexual thrill out of their publicized kindness too. Weird kink, but she had seen weirder.

One of her own horned kind, though his skin had been fair and his eyes round, was one of her first regular clients. She was just starting out, really too young for such things, but Alize looked barely old enough. Wasn't like she had a birth certificate to tell what her real age was anyway. Orphans in the undertunnels didn't get that kind of luxury. Not that she would know how to read a birth certificate if she had one. Money had been the incentive, as always. Alize knew she couldn't hawk cigarettes and steal apples forever. After seeing other street urchins get adopted by families who wanted nothing to do with a tiefling, she had started to perform in the clubs. First on the stage, then out in the crowds, all leading up to private performances. Just dancing, just touching, just stroking. There was still that thin layer of respectability.

The tiefling snorted. Respectability. Sure, they weren't supposed to have wonton sex in the private rooms, but that was just the official policy to keep the bribed town watch happy. More than a few of the other girls would do anything for the right price. Alize was careful about what customers she let take her to those backrooms. A little shy, yes, and maybe she was too picky, but she could get away with it because of her looks. If a human girl had been so choosy she would have been thrown out. Alize managed to sell it, learned how to flick her tail and narrow her eyes. Intimidation, mixed with sultry promises. The tiefling got away with being too choosy.

Some men loved to be stepped on, told they weren't worth her time. She remembered how shocking it was when one had actually asked her to humiliate him in front of everyone else in the club, how he had gushed a veritable geyser of cum all over her foot as she berated him. Never really made sense to her, but she used it. Built the mystique, made it a cloak, protected herself from the men who just wanted... Alize kept telling herself that she could be more, as long as she never gave in to the temptation. Money was alluring, and her body had wanted release too, but she never went all the way with a man.

That was why it had hurt so much when that tiefling, a male much older than her and until that point very sweet, had... Alize clenched a fist. Maybe it was just because he had horns, big ones that he ornamented with gold and silver, but she... she had trusted him. He seemed kind. Paid well. Then... then he wanted everything. Well, he wanted all she had left.

Not like it was worth very much, but she still sort of dreamed. Alize had never heard another tiefling laugh before, and his laugh was... wrong. Cold. He told her that she would never be a bride, that their kind didn't have happy endings. He was old enough to know. She still didn't want to. Weren't her hands, her mouth, all the rest of her young body enough for him? No, he wanted everything. It would be legal... barely... and it wasn't uncommon. He had done it before with plenty of other girls for hire. A wealthy tiefling like him could afford such pleasures. He offered her what seemed like a fortune at the time, even a pretty gold necklace. Her red hands were so much smaller than his tanned ones. What she had left was hardly worth calling "everything."

Alize said no. Something in his eyes, in the way his tongue ran over his lips and his hands kept reaching into his coinpurse, made her nervous. He was usually kind and polite, well-mannered in that way of someone who mimicked the genteel class in the hope of joining them, but she had never said no to him before. The customer pressed the issue. She backed away. He blocked the door. Alize shook her head. He threw the money on the ground, she still remembered the clatter of coins on wood, and reached out for her. There were no windows, not in a low-class place like that, but there had been a ventilation duct she was just small enough to clamber into. He screamed with rage, grabbed her by the tail, dragged her back out. Pushed her down, tore her ragged clothes, sneered something in her face. She felt so cold all over, but so hot inside. He looked her right in the eyes, and for an instant his whole body seemed to freeze. Maybe he saw something in her frightened face that made him rethink his decision, or he was just shocked by the anger in her square pupils.

Her claw-like nails slashed out, her small but sharp horns cut into him as she butted her head against his body, and he bellowed with rage as his blood stained her clothes. Back into the vent, kicking him in the face as he tried to grab her again. Feeling, hearing something snap. He howled in pain. Out the vent on the other side, stepping around the orgy in the next room that the screams had not disturbed, then out into the corridor. To the right, a window. To the left, a door flying open and an enraged tiefling stomping out with blood trickling from his wounds and no pants. Alize ran. It was all she was good at, running and vanishing into the undertunnels. No matter how much space and time she tried to put between herself and the hard truth, she was a sewer rat.

A hand touched her wrist. Three strong fingers, feeling for a pulse. She nearly jumped onto a rooftop, caught somewhere between the past and present as a familiar voice asked, "Alize, are you sure you are well? Your pulse is elevated." His other hand glowed softly, healing magic leaping between the fingers. "I don't think my glasses are-"

"I said no!" she hissed in his face, her heart pounding and pupils narrowed to savage slits. With her mind stuck in the past, it took her a moment to realize it was actually the party's healer at her side. Abruptly, the rogue realized Hudson was not standing next to her, not anymore. Alize had him face down on the hard cobblestones, one arm cranked behind his back in a hold that would be very painful even without the gashes in his flesh left by rats she had failed to protect him from. One of her bolos was wrapped around his knees, two of her wide daggers were sunk hilt-deep into the ground through the sleeve of his robe's other arm, and she had both a long blade at his throat and a garrotte wire wrapped around his neck. Somehow she had also gagged him with a scrap of his robe. "Oh... oh no... no, no, no..."

Chapter 18. Begging Yes in the Present
The healer squirmed in pain and mumbled through the cloth in his mouth. It had happened in the twinkling of an eye. His touch on her wrist, firm so he could feel the blood pumping through an artery, and an innocent question about her certainty of something. What hadn't mattered, not with her head stuck in the past. Any other time she would have tried to tease him, lure him in, maybe even get him to give her a "thorough examination" even though that trick had never worked before. Instead, the rogue had reacted. Alize wasn't the frightened "little imp" anymore... but that day still haunted her. She glanced around the ruins, searching for some other evil magical artifact she needed to stab and stab and shoot and stab and kill because it had made her hurt Hudson and it needed to die and... oh. Hudson!

Clambering off of him and muttering what was supposed to be an apology, she began pulling her wicked tools off his body and out of his clothes. "You, uh... um... startled. Yeah." He didn't say anything. Her heart sank even lower. "Shouldn't... do that... I shouldn't... have." Rolling him over, she unwound the bolo from his legs and tried not to stare at his body through the torn robes. Beneath the books, scrolls, and medical accessories that bulged his robes, he was very handsome. Her cheeks reddened. "S-say something already!"

"Muh-mum hrrm-hmm moun!"

The tiefling blinked. Reaching down, she yanked the gag out of his mouth, then scooted back across the broken stones. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and though Alize put her head in her hands she still peeked out through gloved fingers at him. Chiseled muscle, the kind that would not have been out of place on some of the statues they had passed, heaved as he gasped for air. What was his dad, some kinda swordsman or whatever? Couldn't all be from good parentage, since he was sort-of able to keep up with her. A body like that was wasted in a library. "Uh... 'msorry..." she stammered. Her ears drooped low. Any other time, any other target, she would have been proud of how quickly she had neutralized the threat. "Make it... up to you?" she began to ask. Then something wet pressed against her cheek, and she realized that a bit of Hudson's blood was on her fingerless gloves.

Alize hugged her cloak tight and rose to her feet, stepping further away. Close enough to kill anything that got near him, but... he was saying something, trying to be polite again. She nodded, her hood conveying enough of the expression. Any time she tried to get close to him, she either hurt him or ruined the moment. Usually both. His eyes said enough. They were burning bright with what had to be fear, and he kept glancing in her direction. "... really impressive, ow, Alize! I just... ouch... wow, you managed to dislocate the humerus completely. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have trespassed upon your personal space like..." and on he continued.

She had gotten his robes dirty again. No matter how many times she said yes, he just didn't get it. After a lifetime of guys, and girls, who wouldn't take no for an answer, Alize did not know how to deal with someone who wouldn't take yes. Worse, everything she did just seemed to push him away. He could have her, could have what guys wanted... that was what guys wanted, right? But... maybe it was for the best. He deserved so much better than her. Even now he was saying something about how she didn't need to worry, he was perfectly fine, while resetting his dislocated shoulder. How was she supposed to make her point any clearer, start rubbing her body on his while he was bleeding everywhere?

Fine. Next pub their party invaded in search of a quest, she was going to get him laid even if she had to seduce the owner's daughter herself. Wouldn't be the first time. Wait... no, the next town was twins. That would be tricky. But he deserved the best, and if it was the girls she was thinking of they had nice tits, plump bottoms, and a doe-eyed innocence that rivaled the healer's. Yeah, they'd do.

Probably have to spike their drinks and distract the owner. She could always have the party's berserker start a bar fight. Then the paladin would try to bring things to order again, and they'd have a lovely time brawling while she grabbed the twins by their waists and tugged Hudson along with her tail. Getting them into bed would be the difficult bit. Once those girls got a look at Hudson without the robes and the tomes they'd be all over him. Alize glanced back at the healer and tried not to wince as an audible pop came from his shoulder. Sparks jumped from his fingers as he patched himself up. The tiefling knew she would have to be in the room, probably have to get the girls warmed up for him since he'd be overwhelmed, but his first time couldn't be with her. She would just be there to make sure it was as good for him as it could be. As it should be.

Besides, he probably wouldn't even spare her a glance with two giggling barmaids shoving each other out of the way for a turn on top. Her hands would be busy with the other girl, at least until she could teach him how to use his tongue so he could have one riding his face while another was lucky enough to ride that thick, hard... mmm... Alize wiped a line of drool off her chin. That would be the kind of first time he deserved. All she needed was to be there. Her fingers were enough. Maybe... maybe he wouldn't mind if her tail curled around one of his legs, and she squeezed his shoulder once in a while. A little skin contact to remind her that it was really happening.

His hands would be busy with the girls, far too busy for her, but that was fine. She could find other amusements. Alize might lap Hudson's fresh seed out of the newly-deflowered twins, but only if it wouldn't be a distraction. The last thing he needed was her freaking out on him like... like she had just done... She wrapped her arms around herself again and bit back tears. Ever since Hudson had earned her grudging respect, really ever since he had joined the party, she had felt something between them. Yet every time she was able to get the healer alone, it turned into a mess like tonight.

No, her first choice wasn't to sit on the side of the bed while the man who made her nethers ache tumbled with two others, but after so much frustration she was willing to settle for crumbs. If Hudson pulled an explosive collar out of his back pocket, one of the wicked-looking ones with a softly glowing orange crystal that pressed right against the wearer's throat, Alize would let him fasten it around her neck. He could make her swear to obey his every whim as his first slave, so long as he asked while hilt deep inside her.

That was the root of the problem. The healer wasn't evil enough for her, and she knew it. Or he was far more evil than she knew, but he realized that the rogue wasn't adverse to ending it all in a gory murder-suicide. Alize glanced at him from beneath her hood, then rubbed her eyes as her headache returned. No. Nothing was wrong with Hudson, except that he was an innocent idiot who couldn't take a hint.

On the ground nearby, Hudson finished repairing his shoulder and turned his attention back to the rat bites. He hoped she was listening to him, but she had that distant look in her eyes that told him she was probably thinking of better ways to loot the ruins or otherwise fulfill their mission. Alize was very vigilant. He shouldn't have put his hands on her like that. Yes, he had only meant to check her vitals, but after all the misunderstandings earlier it should have been obvious that he needed to get her clear permission first. And he had tried, but she had been unresponsive. He should have taken that as a sign that she was focused, but... well, Hudson worried that the rogue was trying too hard to hide what she perceived as weaknesses. Alize was hard to understand sometimes.

However, that was no excuse. Grabbing her wrist had been a mistake. Why, after the shameful confession he had made earlier, Alize might even have thought he intended to take advantage of her!

Chapter 19. Sky-pirates
Hudson adjusted his glasses and winced as he prodded at a long gash along his arm. Missed the artery, thankfully, but still deep. Yes, yes, that was the ulna bone he could see. Ow. How could those rats have such sharp teeth? No matter, Alize had seen them off. She really was amazing; descending like a horned spirit from the shadows to strike down her enemies! He felt more than a little embarrassed, but at the moment all that mattered was moving his hand back and forth, forth and back, sparks leaping from his fingertips into the wound. Reconstruct, each pass healing a little more tissue, building up the fantastically intricate network of blood vessels and muscle. His protector shivered beneath her cloak. Those golden eyes peeped in his direction as she glanced back and forth, forth and back, in search of something else to kill. He even saw a trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth as she salivated over thoughts of slaying her foes.

"Alize, should we move out of the wind?" he asked. There wasn't any wind, but she was unsteady on her feet and shivering as if she was cold. His glasses showed her core temperature was elevated, but well within acceptable parameters. Given how wrapped up she was inside her hood and cloak he did not know for sure if he could trust that reading. Alize often talked about wanting a better enchanted cloak, and yet every time they found one to buy the rogue picked out some little flaw that forced her to settle for more patches instead. He suspected the reason was sentimental. Evidence suggested she had owned her current cloak for a very long time, maybe even since she was a little girl.

Then again, the thought of Alize as a child, curled up in an urban alcove with an adult-sized cloak for a blanket and one gold eye flickering open whenever those pointed ears caught an odd noise, was so at odds with the heavily-armed rogue in front of him that he could barely give it credit. When he was a boy, Hudson had worked for a season as an unmounted courier at a mail station. His father wanted him to understand what work and responsibility felt like. Not surprising, considering how a certain someone else who Hudson didn't like to think about had turned out. Reliable postal services were critical to the king's vision for the realm. Maybe Alize had a similar job when she was a little girl, bounding across rooftops with a satchel of letters and small valuables under one arm. He had always kept to the ground on his routes.

She must have been cute as a child, with little horns and that spade-tipped tail just starting to grow long. Alize did not talk about her past much. Tonight he had learned for certain that she was an orphan, though he had always suspected that she suffered from neglect. Back in his homeland, there were bands of unwatched children who caused mischief in the densely-populated city districts where factory workers dwelled, and just as many social crusaders with private charities dedicated to keeping them out of trouble. His father's domain was a frontier. Less than a hundred years ago, the acidic remnants of the Soul Plague had rendered most of those holdings all but uninhabitable. That there were cities at all, let alone industrial powerhouses secured behind walls of stone and metal, was a testament to the king's success. Hudson always felt tiny in his father's shadow.

There were always stories of rogue gangs of youngsters who formed their own societies beyond the lamps of the cities and the tranquility of the countryside. Numerous plays and ballads romanticized wayward youths. Hudson had watched, read, or listened to most of them. Brutal yet honorable motor-gangs of children who built their own battle-wagons and mechanical diggers from scrap, salvaged mana crystals, and stolen fuel. The whispered-of Irregulars, whose sooty faces and quick feet made them the perfect invisible observers for private detectives in the urbs. Legendary sky-pirate bands formed from runaway youths, who tamed gryphons as mounts and wore scrounged oxygen masks.

Old tales held that airship crews marooned by the Soul Plague on islands in the clouds had formed the first bands of sky-pirates, just as lost colonies of miners who had stumbled upon dwarven ruins had cobbled together the first burrowing drills and founded the motor-gangs. While the sky-pirates embraced the strong discipline needed by the crew of an airship, with children learning at an early age to guide their gryphon mounts in formation or stand vigilant watch, the motor-gangs praised ingenious inventors and daredevils who rode metal steeds across the parched wastes. The allure of such a life lured many people away from the cities, especially the young and impressionable, but nearly all returned from their search within a month. Often they claimed that the stories were exaggerated, and that the only things to be found were desperate outlaws or crazed hermits.

Hudson well understood that all manner of horrid things befell children in other lands. There was wickedness in his father's domain despite all efforts against it. Despite the romance and heroism of the stories he had enjoyed, he knew that such a life was hard upon the body and mind. Popular tales of glory, about massive drill-carriers bursting up from the ground and disgorging beasts of chrome straddled by leather-clad roughriders, or sky-pirates in bomber jackets squirming through small air vents into engine rooms to flood vessels with knockout gas, doubtless meant that countless tragedies went untold. But he also knew grand adventures really did happen, and they were just as exciting as the tales told in the cities. He would have died or worse if a band of young sky-pirates had not raided the ship he was held prisoner upon.

As Hudson followed the tiefling over to a more sheltered spot, and noticed with a tinge of sorrow that she was still shivering beneath her cloak, he continued to heal the deep bites on his legs. One of his boots was shredded, but at least it still held onto his foot. The current state of his clothes reminded him of the squalid hold of that slaver's airship. That was when his powers had first bloomed. A horrid mistake made by another member of his family had gotten both of them kidnapped while on holiday. Yes, he was an only child... sort of. Anyway, the two of them had done something Hudson knew was a bad idea, but there was no way they could have expected an ambush from oafish men seeking to steal children that would be sold as cheap labor in a faraway land.

The bone-headed plan had involved him and the other member of his family abandoning their noble clothes and vestments, instead putting on the rags of common children and, "Seeing how the peasants live." What they ended up seeing was how the slavers treated their prey, and no amount of swearing that they were royalty from his companion would convince the criminals that they had netted more than they could hold. Hudson had kept his mouth shut, in part because he knew slavers were all cold-hearted evildoers who would not be persuaded by anything less than a blade through the belly, and in part to hide the medallion he had hidden when they were searched. No matter how many elbows Hudson gave, his companion would not shut up. That was part of why he liked Alize so much. Sure, she was relentlessly cruel to him, but she listened. And she was really good at stabbing people who did not.

If the tiefling had been with them, or better yet had replaced his useless relation, he had no doubt she would have gotten them out of that hold and back to the rest of his family before tea-time. His father would probably have given her a shiny medal, and Hudson would have grown up knowing Alize. Father always said that it was wise to richly repay any personal favor made when you were in a time of great need, as word got around quickly that helping you was good for others' own interest. Likewise, father had always told him that if you could help someone of character in need, to do so if it was at all feasible. One never knew when a small kindness could pay dividends, and better yet, word got around that you were someone who looked out for others.

That was why he had reached through the bars to heal the bloody, barely-conscious young woman in the cell next to theirs. Though not much older than him, she looked to have been in a terrible fight. He knew far less about healing in those days, but his cause was just, his magic was strong, and his will was very, very pure. She had been extremely surprised, and her eyes searched his face with suspicion. The girl never said a word to him, not even muttering thanks under her breath, but he could tell from her eyes that she was as grateful as she was confused.

Shortly afterward the entire airship had rocked from side to side as they came under attack, and within minutes of that a chaotic crew of cutlass-carrying callow children cannonballed into the ship's hold. Much like Alize's deadly blade-dances, the sky-pirates' fighting style appeared wild and unstructured at first glance. They seemed to move like an unruly swarm, each one acting as he willed without any care to the others. A mob of ragamuffin teens in gas masks and bandannas, waving swords and muzzleloaders they could not possibly know how to use, against hardened slavers who were easily twice their size and delighted in harming others. Laughable and sorrowful all at the same time, for it seemed impossible that the hulking adults could lose. Too soon their would-be rescuers would either be dead or clapped in irons themselves.

Yet what the eye could not see was that each sky-pirate was part of a crew. No mere runaway was accepted aboard an airship, and a wild gryphon would peck out the eyes of any spoiled brat who tried to clamber aboard its back. For every dozen children who fled from their homes to spite their parents, there was one who had no warm bed waiting for him if he ran back in tears. Far from a life without rules, without discipline, where a child could laze about all day and eat candy for every meal, the sky-pirates demanded attention to detail and individual willpower. If they settled for less there would be no grand stories or heroic legends. They lived by ancient codes passed down through the generations, all but worshipping the ideal of freedom that they felt a life in the sky offered, and each crew was more tightly woven together than most noble houses. What they offered to the unloved was the chance to earn a title, a family, and a home aboard a rattling bucket of bolts in the clouds.

Alize was an easy foe to underestimate, until she began putting the boot in and her knives to work. She could appear quite intimidating when she wanted to, but compared to their green berserker or armored elf, she hardly seemed a threat. So too had the sky-pirates been underestimated. Hudson still remembered how a few of the slavers had guffawed, thinking the youngsters in oxygen masks would be easy prey. Even his companion had whined about how the "fools" were going to, "Get us all killed!"

Quite the opposite had happened. Just as Alize's swift, bounding movements in the heat of battle only made sense to Hudson after the dust settled, so the almost telepathic synergy of the sky-pirates had left his childhood self slack-jawed with wonder. With the cry of "By Libertatia, avast!" that had originated with the marooned crews of long ago and was popularized by recent playwrights, their rescuers set about unshackling the prisoners and gutting the slavers with equal alacrity. While every one among the sky-pirates' number fought like a tiger, what made the difference was how readily they found themselves in positions to assist one another.

A slaver's punch that should have sent a girl in a leather jacket flying instead smashed through a barrel and trapped his arm long enough for her to bash him over the head with the butt of her muzzleloader. Two boys wrapped one of the fiercest slavers in a chain net and let their fledgling gryphon snarl in his face while he struggled fruitlessly against his bonds. A small boy casually tripped his foe, sending the massive man careening along the deck into another slaver who was getting the upper hand in his duel. The slavers' leader, a ruthless one-eyed woman, crossed swords with a sky-pirate whose gas mask also had one lens blacked out. When a scar-faced man with only three teeth was about to behead one of the attackers, another sky-pirate casually pointed his matchlock handgonne in that general direction and sent the man flying with an incredible roar of black powder that would have frightened a dragon.

When the churn of battle settled, the last of the captives were hauled out of their bonds. Special attention was paid to the girl in the next cell over, though that was hardly a surprise to Hudson since she looked rather pale even after his healing. Before he knew what was going on, they were bundled onto one of many fast pirate skiffs escorted by majestic gryphon outriders that swarmed around the slavers' vessel. As the skiff sailed away, Hudson had watched the burning wreck grow smaller and smaller. Not only due to the speed at which they were moving away, but also because it was falling to the ashen wastes below.

That had been his first taste of adventure. The journey back to his family had been another. While his companion's claims were not believed, when Hudson produced the royal medallion he had hidden in his mouth, the sky-pirates were much more willing to listen. Officially, their kind lived outside the law and were branded renegades. For generations the nobility had sent out patrols against them, branding them as no different than slavers or murderers who hid in the wastes. Since his father came to power, however, a rather different understanding had been reached. Whenever he asked his father if he had ever known any sky-pirates, Hudson never got a straight answer. All his father would say was that he had wandered far and wide in his adventuring years.

Hudson never saw the face of the sky-pirate captain who made the decision to return him and his companion to his father's court. Others in the crew wanted to hold them for ransom, but the captain's word was law aboard her airship. In her oxygen mask and much-mended waistcoat, a tricorn hat cocked on her head and a rapier on her belt, she was every bit the kind of pirate captain he had read about. Apparently his father's reformation of certain penal codes and re-routing of official patrol routes had allowed the sky-pirates much freer access to their ceremonial cloud islands and mountaintop hideaways. One never knew when little kindnesses would be paid back.

Of course, the captain also expected a heavy chest of gold in thanks, which was why she and her crew personally escorted him back to the capital. On the way home he had seen many wondrous and frightening sights that had helped grow the wanderlust in his heart. His companion had been continually airsick and irate, while Hudson found himself almost unable to sleep for fear of missing some new discovery.

Beautiful vistas from the observation deck of the airship. Dragons curling lazily through the black clouds around their volcanic lairs. Hidden valleys that bloomed lush with life, in defiance of the scourged wastelands all around. Toxic clouds, remainders of the Soul Plague, that drifted slowly yet surely toward any living being they sensed nearby. The wide dustcloud of a motor-gang's caravan, and the maniacal laughter from one of their mechanics as he tore apart the airship's damaged engine. Certainly Hudson had discovered many interesting things in his travels with the adventuring party, but that journey home was unforgettable. It had been filled with the kinds of sights and experiences he would like to share with Alize, but the tiefling was never interested in beauty unless it could be bagged and pawned.

Though Hudson wished he had never been captured by slavers, if he had not, he probably never would have chosen to rove out after University. Certainly other options had been available. He would likely have taken that research position offered by the Plague Control League. And then he would never have met Alize. So, on the whole, it was probably worthwhile.

20. Wanting Force
Alize's boots kept her footing stable on the uneven rocks, the enchantments on her spiked heels just as reliable as ever. She didn't understand why they had to put the mana crystals and ensorcelled metals in the heel instead of along the top of the shoe, but magic had never been one of her skills. Something about natural alignment with the bones in her legs and the flow of mana from body to earth. Whatever. She still wanted a pair of those platform heels that would let her run up walls. Looking at them, you'd think that one step on anything that wasn't perfectly flat would be a good way to break both your ankles and your neck, but she had seen other thieves sprint up the sides of stone castles while wearing those thick-soled boots.

She had heard there were some really fancy ones, modeled on thigh-high boots with dagger-like heels and razor toes, that looked even more impractical. Wearers had to get little piercings all up and down their legs, then lace leather ribbons covered in elven writing through them. The ribbons threaded through row after row of holes in the boot, then were pulled tight and tied off at the tops. Supposed to fit like a second skin. Nobody would be crazy enough to wear something like that, but... well, the boots let you walk on thin air. So went the talk at least. Rumor even held that the same cabal of mages was working on a full-body get-up that let the wearer completely defy gravity. Magic users were all crazy.

Hudson was one of the few sane ones she had met, and even he was nuts in his own way. Alize had known that ever since she saw him wearing a long-nosed mask while working in that quarantine ward. No wonder mages came up with such weird stuff for others to wear, they already wore the strangest things themselves. At least it worked. Walking on air did sound pretty cool. Not that she'd ever be able to afford anything like that.

No, she would be lucky to make enough on this job to feed herself if her luck kept going this way. In the distance she could see a pillar of smoke rising, and the sounds of battle continued unabated as the other half of their party had so much fun without her. The tiefling's shoulders slumped. This was all wrong. No loot yet, she was all dirty, and even though she had Hudson alone all she had managed to do was discover that he was way too good for her. He was supposed to... she could have... ugh! At least if she was his maid, all locked up in a chastity belt, she would know why she was being punished. When fate kept dangling the carrot before hitting her with the stick, she couldn't even find a reason for the suffering.

Glancing back at Hudson, Alize tried and failed to keep her thoughts off the life she wished she could have had as his servant. All day she would stagger through her duties in a lust filled haze, only kept upright by the enchantments on her high heels. Begging would do no good. She had displeased her master, and she must pay the price. Perhaps he would let her service him, his thumb idly stroking her horns as she knelt to suck that thick manhood he kept trapped beneath those robes.

While she panted her thanks and did her best to take him to the hilt, her long tongue curling down to tease his balls while her hands stroked and squeezed, he would be thinking about something important like... um... well, she didn't really understand it, but Hudson could go on for hours about medicine so that was probably what would be on his mind while she did her best to make him forget about his troubles. A blowjob would be nothing out of the ordinary for her master. Really, it was more for her than for him. An opportunity for his maid to show how sorry she was for her failure, to kneel before him and put her mouth to good use while he fiddled with her frilly headdress and propped his chin up on a fist with that thoughtful look in his eyes.

If she spilled any of his thick, fertile seed, he would only increase her punishment. Alize would be extra-sure to lap up every drop and swallow, then smile up at him with her tail twitching in gratitude. She would do that for Hudson. It would be easy, and she would actually mean it, unlike all the other... times... but no, no, there wouldn't have been other times. Only his hands would have slid beneath his maid's clothes, only his eyes would have seen her bare body. Anything he asked of her she would have given freely, eagerly. Not for coin, but just for the pleasure of answering, "Yes, master!"

Still surrounded by dead rats, the healer glanced up from mending his wounds. "Huh? Alize, did you say some-"

"No, idiot!" she growled from deep within her cloak, golden eyes flashing bright. He turned a little pale and ducked his head again, which made her feel even worse. Why couldn't he be forceful with her? She was the reason he was hurt, why wasn't he grabbing her by the throat, pressing his lips to hers, whispering in her ear that she had better be ready to make him forget about that pain? The tiefling huffed angrily as she shook a bit of dead rodent off her spiked heel.

Hudson could have her bent over a stone outcropping, digging her claws into the soft marble and drooling as he pounded her from behind. Roughly! She deserved it for running off and letting him get ambushed. Or if he was really too injured to put her in her place, she could help him over to a flat slab and ride him gently while he healed himself. Then once he had recovered he could pin her down and make her squeal as she locked her legs behind his back. Or... or if he didn't think she deserved that, he would break free of her hold and shoot his load all over her face.

If she tried to clean herself up, he would grab her wrist and shake his head. Alize would meekly follow him for the rest of the night, and when they rejoined the rest of their party both the elf and orc would see his seed clinging to her red skin. No one would doubt that she was his. Her tongue ran over her black lips. The healer might even put his arm around her as they met the others. Not over her shoulders, or even through her arm. No, he would reach beneath her cloak and squeeze her butt, then let his hand remain there as they walked toward the elf and orc. That would really show them she had been taken by the healer. Maybe... maybe once she had cleaned off all the grave dirt and other filth, he might cum inside her... maybe...

While Alize stomped back and forth, seemingly lost in her own thoughts and too angry even to speak properly, Hudson cowered and tried to stay out of her way. She barely noticed him.

If he was her master, he would be forceful. After agonizing hours in the chastity belt he had enchanted her undergarment into, his maid would be twitching like a junkie who needed her fix. Too many men had tried to enslave her, and other girls she knew, with poison that came as needles or powder. Hudson knew medicine. His castle would probably be stocked to the gills with potions and pills that could turn her into another one of those hollow-eyed whores on the streetcorner and make her love him for it. Cuffing her to a chair, holding her arm steady as he pushed down the plunger on a syringe full of... no. Her master would never do that.

Maybe just a little aphrodisiac in her drink. Something safe, something she could have all the time to keep her perky and eager to please. As if just being in his service wasn't enough for that! A shiver ran down the tiefling's spine as she thought about how he might up the dose to punish her further. Alize would drink it knowingly, accepting his discipline. Soon after, she would be hugging one of the ritzy bannisters, fruitlessly rubbing herself against it in a lust-addled haze as she polished the wood... or did something else cleaning-like that maids were supposed to do to bannisters. Whatever. All that mattered was she would be a hot mess, ready to cum from just the feeling of his breath on the back of her neck.

Hours would feel like days. All the other servant girls would giggle behind their hands, whispering to each other with a mixture of sly condescension and envy. Even though her master could have any of them with a snap of his fingers, everyone knew his tiefling was his favorite. That was why he deigned to punish her so. No matter how hard she tried, the enchanted chastity belt would not come off, nor could she feel anything through it. All her will would be focused on completing her duties, but it would be so very difficult.

Master would give her extra work, too. Maybe two princesses would come on that day, both seeking his hand like always, but of course they would get in a fight and rip each other's fancy dresses to shreds. Hudson would task her with cleaning up the mess, while he sent them on their way. When he returned to the... uh... that fancy sitting-place where all the nobles entertained guests... it was called something or other... she could see it in her mind, had put a bomb in a chair at one of those mansions. Pretty straightforward contract. When a fat blob of a baroness had plopped into the seat, the pressure-sensitive trap went off. Ruined a lot of dresses. Had even blown out the nearby window. Explosives were fun. Well, whatever the place was called, when Hudson got back from shoveling those stuck-up brats into their carriages, she would have the whole room spotless. Then he would take her by force.

Hudson couldn't sneak up on her, he would have trouble sneaking up on a deaf troll if she wasn't around to guide his footsteps, and that would only intensify her anticipation. It would be all she could do to keep herself upright, her knees trembling as she leaned against her broom, looking up at him with pleading eyes as her pointed ears wiggled. Alize needed to feel his fingers untying the little bows and tugging off her clothes. She needed his hand over her mouth as he thrust inside, his groans in her ear as she squeezed him tight, and his length stretching her wide as he moved. Oh, he would have others, maybe even other maids he would send to tease and torment her while she was being punished, but no one else would make him feel the way she did in bed. Not that it would have to be in bed. She could be his good little maid anywhere!

While his rough hands used her body, she would beg for more, doing all in her power to exhaust whatever pained his mind. However he wanted her, all he would have to do was wave and she would be where she belonged. On her knees, looking up at him with delight. On her back, biting her lip and stroking his hair as he pounded away. Bent over a desk, shoved against a wall, upside-down with her thighs around his head and her tail curling down his arm, even chained to the ceiling and dripping with sensation-amplifying enchanted oils as he plied the whip, the crop, and the paddle. Any way she was needed, that was the way Hudson would have her. His family had a castle, and she had looted enough castles to know they all had at least one room for such deviancy. So had several of the establishments with ill-repute yet vigorous clientele that she had worked at.

As she watched him stoically closing his wounds, barely admitting to the pain, Alize tried to convince herself that he would be a merciless master. He would push her to her limits, to extremes of sensation even the nuns had not dared to taste. Such things were all that tieflings were good for. Then, when she was a limp heap of red curves and ripped clothes on the floor, and he drenched with sweat from their exertions, his mind would be clear. Hudson would return to whatever matter of state had boiled his blood without a word. That would be the end of her punishment, for the moment.

She would be left to clean up the mess, as a maid ought to do, as soon as she had escaped from the restraints. Her joy came from his success. Alize would always be there for her master when he needed her. The feeling of his strong hands on her body was how she would know he cared. But... when the moon was full and the night cold, he might let her warm his bed too. Not just with repetitive motion and hot breath, he could hold her close and enjoy the feel of her body against his. She would be there for those quiet moments too.

Still riding the flash of adrenaline from the fight, if one could even call it a fight, Alize shivered as hot chills ran over her body. If he was just a little less pure, Hudson could be upset at her for not protecting him, and demand that she make it up to him. Then, every time she made the slightest slip he would come down on her, punishing her with pleasure until she was his... unf... The rogue wiped a trickle of drool from the corner of her mouth. That cruel fantasy lasted until Hudson gave her one of his idiot, shy smiles. Nope. No, there was no way in the nine hells that he could ever bully her into becoming his personal cum dump... and she didn't think she had the wits to bully herself into one for his sake.

21. Predatory Offer
Hudson wasn't the harsh, punishing type. She was pretty sure about that by now. Even if she had been his maid, plucked by his family's kindness from the dregs and given a welcoming home, he wouldn't have taken advantage of what she offered. Domineering ideas like whispering thinly-veiled demands in her ear, boldly putting his hands on her body as if he owned her, and holding her down as he roughly took what she kept teasing him with... that kind of thing just didn't occur to him.

The doctor got too hung up on protocol. She still remembered him asking if he needed to cite sources while they were writing threats in a ransom note, and if it should be double or single spaced. He wouldn't have gone along with the plan at all, but Alize had convinced him that threatening to expose a gang of highwaymen if they did not come to trade for their blackguard of a leader was something the party's paladin would be totally fine with. Besides, they had done it to save the elf. She had tried to parlay instead of listening to Alize when the rogue warned her that these maniacs weren't affiliated with the local thieves' guild, and thus wouldn't be following the code. But, off went the paladin anyway. Not because she didn't value the thief's input, but because she had those idiotic elven ideals and creeds to follow.

The healer's eyes had gone as wide as the moons when Alize explained the kinds of things the highwaymen would do if they could pop off the paladin's armor. Those who did not abide by the code were usually terrible people. Thieving was a dangerous profession, and the inherent dishonor relegated it to the underworld. However, it was a profession, with its own guild and standards. Not because some pushy government imposed laws and regulations, but because certain bits of old wisdom helped you live longer and get more loot. The guild's ways worked, that's why they were followed. If they didn't, another guild would rise up and cut out the deadwood. Vicious, profit-minded roguishness all the way around. As it should be.

Only two types pulled jobs outside the auspices of the thieves' guild. The incidental, somebody who stole because of hunger, need, or opportunity. Those were usually self-correcting problems. The truly poor were watched out for by their local guild, and in return the lowest classes provided aid and comfort when the law cracked down. Every city was a little different in their ways, but most ruling-types understood that a controlled underworld was better for everyone. When a guild became too strict, it was opposed from within or crushed from without.

Incidental thieves who drew notice might be inducted by a guild, or jailed by the local law. On the other hand, you had people who gave proper thieves a bad name. The unnatural, like hunched-back brutes who clubbed in a man's skull to take the few coppers in his pockets, and deranged crooks who believed themselves beyond all other mortals and acted accordingly. When you listened to the guild and kept your blades clean unless the job was wet, you kept your neck out of a noose. More than once Alize had ended up in a dingy cell, caught even more red-handed than she usually was, only for her sentence to be lightened because some local noble wanted her talents.

Established guilds tried to set up interviews, match jobs to thieves, but nothing was quite so plausibly deniable as setting up a particularly juicy piece of bait and then desperately hoping you caught a thief who was good enough to make the grab but not quite good enough to escape the tremendous amount of extra security that popped out of every nook and cranny afterward. More than once, Alize had gotten away with the shiny gem or magical staff of somebody, only to learn at the local guild that a representative from the owner was there and would very much like it back. Oh, and could she do them a little favor and steal something else too?

That's why there were guidelines. Everyone understood what the rules of the game were, and you only broke the rules if you were good enough to get out of paying the toll. While in those jail cells, she had watched plenty of people get marched off to lose their heads because they didn't understand their place in the world. Thieving was about ill-gotten gain, assassination was about murder, and muddyin' one into the other when the job didn't call for it had been a bad idea since the first idiot botched a job and thought he could get out of it by killin' half a dozen guards. Assassin work was a 'nother thing, risky but well-paid, and it had its own pool of advice.

The elf had gotten herself snagged by men who paid no mind to such things. Unpredictable sorts, who thought with the wrong head. Getting her out had taken some creative thinking, but Alize was good at that kind of thing. Just because the guild had its codes didn't mean you turned your brain off when you got inducted. Healers like Hudson took long, complicated oaths on their honor. Thieves were warned what had happened to people who thought they were smarter than the guild. Different incentives for different hearts. Getting their paladin back had been tricky, but Hudson had listened to her and played his part well enough. After that, it was just a matter of getting their berserker in the right position and having her wait for the signal.

When the dust settled, the elf had been appreciative. Most of her kind wouldn't have even acknowledged a tiefling's help. Alize had knifed that interrogator right before he made a necklace out of her ears. Elves had long, gradually narrowing ears, sort of like those lightning rods mages put on top of their towers. The tiefling's red ears were pointed too, but shorter and more sensitive to sound. She was pretty sure that the paladin couldn't hear as well as she could, but her ears slotted into that metal helmet so carefully that Alize had a feeling there was some significance. Or maybe it was all just strange elven ritual.

The distraction worked well enough. Hudson wasn't pushy, except about medical things. Alize had leveraged that. He had not wanted to falsely claim that a plague outbreak had contaminated the forest where the highwaymen hid, but she had helped him see the light. The two adventurers had yelled at each other a lot while planning, he got really bent out of shape when she threatened to find somebody sick and actually contaminate the forest, but the healer had seen the light at last.

The whole reason Alize had signed on with the paladin was because she felt valued here. Wasn't often somebody with everything was willing to give her a chance. That was kinda why she wanted Hudson. Maybe he wasn't the pushy type, but that could be okay too. He wanted her to say yes. She glared down at him as he patched himself up, and saw how he kept avoiding her gaze. For a few seconds she toyed with the idea of dropping to her knees next to him in the grass, tugging loose the last of those torn clothes, and showing him what she could do to that big package with just her tongue. Maybe that was the only thing he would understand. And that sort of thing was all she was good for...

Gathering her courage, she turned toward him. Loosening her cloak, she let it sway in the breeze as her enchanted heels silently stepped closer. He was still avoiding her gaze. Alize took a deep breath, then dropped down to all fours. Her tail curled back and above her, those golden eyes glowed bright beneath her hood, and her claws dug into the dirt. Her heart hammered in her chest. In the nightclubs where she had performed, dressed in much less than her adventuring gear, this kind of predatory approach always worked. Her prey were paying customers. Something as exotic as red-skinned beauty crawling up with fangs bared was exactly what they wanted.

Hudson, on the other hand, had no idea what was on Alize's mind. Her teeth looked very sharp, her eyes were very wide, and so very many weapons covered her lithe body. His mouth suddenly dried out. "Y-yes?"

She crept closer, spine arched and her bosom emphasized by the angle. Sure, her light armor protected her vitals so there wasn't too much bare cleavage for him to see, but with her head up and shoulders down the particular silhouette that made men go wild was more clearly presented. Visual tricks, the kinds of things that made the difference between copper and silver tips. "Want me to make all the pain go... away?"

"Uh..." As far as he was concerned, the party's rogue was hissing like a serpent. Her tongue flicked out, running over those sharp teeth as though she intended to eat him. With her weight on her hindlegs like that, she strongly resembled a wildcat about to pounce! Rows of blades, bomblets, and caltrops hung from her bandoliers, that spade-tipped tail curled wickedly above her, and those blackened, claw-like nails dug trenches in the grass as she crawled toward him.

Hudson did the natural thing. He remained perfectly still, frozen in terror as she moved. Then, right when she was about to pounce, he squirmed out of the way and over the low remains of a wall with a nervous yelp. Deprived of her prey, the tiefling grabbed the wall and peered over it, driven more by lust than thought. She was about to vault toward him, tackling the healer to the ground so she could worm her hands under him and stroke until his seed gushed everywhere, but Hudson had limped away at an odd angle and she would only mash her face into a leftover stone pillar.

Alize nearly tried it, balancing perfectly atop the jagged marble, but the sight of him fleeing in terror made her heart sink. She crumpled into a sad heap on her side of the ruined wall. What was she thinking? Of course he didn't want anything to do with a dirty tiefling. With his back toward her, it was not possible for the rogue to see that he had a raging erection as he tried to get away.

Alize dully bumped her head against the wall, her hood cushioning the impact, again and again. How could she make what she wanted any clearer? But... well, it was all for the best. If he wasn't so immune to her charms, Hudson would... might... if only. Her pointed ears drooped. Glancing over the wall, Alize made sure he was still safe.

22. Opera Dress, Dirty Stripper
Finally closing all of his wounds, the healer adjusted his glasses and confirmed that he had not been infected by the rats. Pathogens were dangerous, but a healthy dose of cleansing magic in time could ward off most mundane diseases. He had read an interesting study about how elves' inherent magical affinity made them immune to many common human diseases, adding to their popular image as aloof, long-lived creatures who were above mortal concerns. However, the fair folk were surprisingly vulnerable to illnesses that had an astral component. Due to increased industrialization of magic, such strains were becoming more and more common. Sort of like how Alize's attempts to maul him were becoming more and more common tonight.

There was even talk that an orc research team had created such a disease as a bioweapon to be used against the elves, though that was almost certainly an erroneous rumor. First of all, orcs did not have "research teams", they had idiot-savants whose inventions chiefly focused on new ways to convert enemies into red mist. Secondly, the party's berserker firmly believed that diseases were a conspiracy propagated by weaker races as an excuse for why they couldn't be fighting all the time, and he understood that notion was very popular among her kind.

Hudson had watched her wade into battle while covered in oozing lesions and coughing up blood. The greenskin had been contaminated by a particularly horrific toxin, one that would have killed the healer outright if he was not wearing full alchemical protective garb. Instead of falling over when she tried to swing her axe, the green monster had seemed to draw strength from the carnage, and at the end of the battle her health and morale were much improved. Hudson was both horrified and confused by what he had seen. She had created a nightmare of a biohazard right next to a river, and to this night he still did not understand how she had managed to heal during the carnage. Orc physiology was unusual in the extreme.

Alize helped him burn all the bodies, and the ground, and the... well, they had just kept pouring oil and putting the torch to the area until he felt better inside. Roaring fires always made him think of the hearths in his father's castle. Whenever Alize was around a real blaze, the flames always danced in her eyes, seeming to leap and twist into the most exotic of shapes if he caught a glimpse of her face beneath the hood. Somehow, looking into those eyes and watching the reflection of a burning land had frightened him more than what the berserker had done. The rogue looked as if she could just keep starting fires until the whole world burned, then curl up on a bed of coals with a smug smile.

Standing up, Hudson wished the tiefling would stop glaring at him like that. Yes, he had gotten ambushed by rats, which was very embarrassing, but... well, she was so angry that she was frothing at the mouth. Ladies weren't supposed to drool like that, but she managed to make it look kinda cute. Lately he had noticed that so many of the little things she did were fascinating. The way her tail would curl as she spoke, how those red fingers would idly run over the armaments on her bandolier, and that way her fangs showed when she nibbled on her lower lip. The purity of her anger burned in her eyes, and her head twitched to follow his movements whenever he tried to shuffle away. She looked like she was going to pounce on him again.

If only he could stop provoking her anger, he might be able to get her to agree to seeing an opera at the next proper city the party visited. The party's paladin was well versed in the arts, but Alize might enjoy some of the classics too. Especially the ones that featured thieves. Of course, she couldn't wear her rogue's gear to an opera house. She would look nice in a dress. Maybe something white? No, no... blue, a pleasant sky blue would look fine on her. Not green... maybe a dark green, with blue ruffles and a frocked collar. Wishful thinking, Alize would never consent to wearing a frocked collar unless she could hide bomblets and a set of lockpicks beneath it. Yellow would go well with her eyes, but then he would have to get her a silver necklace instead of gold. One never wore yellow fabric with gold, not to the opera, mother always said.

The tiefling turned to glare at him again as she leaned against a wall, wind teasing the hem of her cloak, and Hudson quickly looked away. He didn't want her to think he was visually undressing her or anything untoward like that. Purple might be an interesting color on Alize. Especially in one of those new, fashionable dresses that were cut down the side to show a lady's legs all the way up to her hips. They had to be worn with a modest undergarment, usually something close to the skin tone to give that impression of near nudity without the scandal of actually showing so much bare skin. Popular gossip held that it was just part of a conspiracy by the textile industry to sell lots of fabric while still letting tailors charge to cut large holes in dresses, but it did look quite nice on the right girl.

Alize kicked at a loose stone brick. She wished that the healer would be a little more lewd, a little more crude, a little more... well, down to her level. A melodic roar from the far distance, echoing through the stone ruins, assured her that something living in these ruins was having almost as bad of a night as her. Hudson was over there fidgeting around, probably thinking about something important. Meanwhile, it was all she could do to keep her thoughts off dropping to her knees so she could beg the healer to let her suck him off. Like a back-alley hooker who was too ugly even to perch on a streetcorner. She dug her nails into the crumbling wall, crushing a fractured clump of rock into pieces that fell through her fingers. How far she had fallen from the days when men swooned, throwing coins and roses as she twirled around a pole on stage.

Well, there hadn't been many roses. Really just coins, scrip, lewd looks, and sticky spunk. It had been so easy to tease her clients, to package up that moment of lust and sell it like a farmer hawking apples in the market. The difference was, none of those leering lookers had really wanted her. They just wanted the moment she was selling. If... if Hudson ever gave her a rose... The tiefling's tail curled around her dirty legs. Her hands fidgeted together, then apart. Yes, she would hold him down and make him take her first time, but she'd hold a blade to his throat until he swore that he wouldn't do something stupid like... like give her more than a rose. Maybe she would have to gag him so he didn't say something he couldn't take back while she gave him the only precious thing she had left.

Hudson... had he really never kissed a girl? She pulled her hood down over her eyes and growled. It was stupid, fantasizing about a past she never had, but it was all Alize could do. Maybe she had ruined a lot of lives, but she wouldn't ruin his. The rogue knew how filthy she was. If he... if he could see her on her knees, surrounded by men, splatters of cum all across her body as she jerked off two clients at a time while another held her head against his crotch... if he could see what kind of toys the nuns had used, the sweat and oil mixing with blood that dribbled to the floor while the tiefling howled in pain... if he knew how many men's laps she had curled up in, whispering in their ears that they were her whole world as she tilted a mug of ale against their lips and squeezed cum from their balls... he wouldn't want her anywhere near him.

Fact was, if he knew the truth, there wasn't a chance in hell he would stick around. Alize's mind went all too quickly back to how much of a mess she would be after a "good" set. White goo dripping from her horns, matting her hair and oozing down her bare red legs. Other girls' juices running down her chin, bite marks all across her body, maybe even a few open cuts mixed in with the bruises left by those painful toys. Light fading from her eyes as the adrenaline ebbed away. Soggy scrip hanging out of her garters, sticky coins in the pouch at her waist, maybe a few rings or other pieces of cheap jewelry that young men caught up in lust had foolishly parted with in exchange for extra-special attention.

In the heat of the moment, nothing could stop Alize. It didn't matter how roughly they handled her, how cruel the whip or heavy the paddle. She could dance for hours on the stage as long as there was an audience. Locking eyes with an enraptured young man, teasing a distracted customer closer, swaying around the pole and down onto her knees before sliding back up like a serpent. After a session in the punishment rooms, her clients often were more exhausted than she. The tiefling never tired until the customer was gone. Then everything hit her all at once, as if her strings had been cut.

If she was too weak to walk on her own, Alize would know the second she got behind the curtain. As soon as the eyes were off her, that was when the pain hit. Maybe another girl would be there to help her, holding the mess of a tiefling at arm's length as she half-carried the horned girl somewhere to collapse. Cheap wine was the only thing Alize let herself rely on. A swig, a wall to slump against, and a bucket of mostly-clean water. Those were the creature comforts she could expect after a torrid night's display.

Just as she was wetting the sponge to begin cleaning herself off, Hudson would open the door. He didn't belong in a place like this. Plenty of other girls would be clinging to him, their fingers clutching at those regal robes and playing over his strong body. But he was here for her. The healer would see her as she really was, a whore marked by other men and women. He was still pure, anyone could tell that. Every other girl would be whispering in his ear all the things she could do for a few coins, but Hudson... he wouldn't even understand what half of those words meant. His would have eyes only for the tiefling, and he would see her in all her shame.

Then... then she would have the nerve to force a smile, try and tell him it was okay, because she was still a virgin! Well... she had never been with a man, at least... er... not in the way that a husband and wife were supposed to. Not in the natural way, but she had done more than a few unnatural things. It didn't count if it was with a girl... r-right? Glancing down, Alize would see blood all over her hands. Red stained some of the coins in her pouch too. A good night sometimes included a bit of dagger-work too. Not all the people she had killed were evil monsters. The ravens did not care, but Hudson would. She would reach up from the floor, covered in sin and gore.

How could he trust someone like that? How could he know she wouldn't be spreading her legs behind his back, welcoming any man's seed for a few seconds of pleasure or a couple coins? What if her rogue deeds came back to haunt his family name? He would always suspect that she was using him, exploiting him, and... and Hudson was a good enough guy to take her anyway. The tiefling felt bile rising in the back of her throat as she thought about such things, and nearly gagged. Putting him in bed with other girls gave her warm tingles inside, a feeling much helped by all the times she had been intimately comforted by another female's touch, but the idea of her betraying Hudson's trust made her skin crawl.

Long ago, her first assassination had been at the behest of a nobleman's battered wife, who made the aspiring rogue promise that she would only marry a man who would treat her right. What began as a straightforward staging of an unfortunate accident developed into a patronage. Alize had never forgotten that promise. The tiefling knew she couldn't marry Hudson, but she could protect him. Staring at his torn clothes as they trudged back onto the path and continued their journey, she reached out toward him but curled her fingers back before touching his skin. The rogue would protect him, wouldn't get distracted. Even if she was dirty and used up, she could do this. Maybe she didn't deserve a pure white apron and a frilly headdress, but she could still be his servant.

Once he had bedded a few girls, he might be worldly enough that... no, best not to think about it. All Alize needed was to hear his moans of pleasure through the wall. Maybe she would curl up at the foot of his bed, ever alert for attackers while he slept soundly in the arms of others. That way, she couldn't get his nice robes all dirty. Because... he would, wouldn't he? She could see it all too clearly. Even if he found her wallowing in sin after a set, desperately trying to scrub her red skin clean of the filth that had already stained her soul, he didn't know enough about the way things really were to turn his back and walk away.

He would enter the room, kneel down, put his arms around her and lift her to her feet. Not even the other girls held her that close when she was so messy. Alize would try to warn him away, push him away, but the idiot wouldn't listen! Hudson's robes would be ruined, covered in unmentionable fluids and... and probably tiefling tears too. Clean things and dirty things shouldn't be so close. It always ended with everything all dirty.

Chapter 23: Pretty Dresses
Eventually, the two adventurers got back on the path. A short distance separated them, as did an uncomfortable silence that neither wanted to break. The tiefling wallowed in self-pity, while the human tried not to let his mind stray into impure desires. This sort of thing had happened between them many times before.

Without conscious thought, Alize's tail whipped out, stunning a rat that had crept up on them before it could jump on the healer. Hudson glanced back, saw her stab and retrieve the blade without breaking stride, and felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. The rogue made it all look so easy. He wished he could handle a scalpel as deftly as she used those knives. She looked so intimidating in that patched cloak and shadow-filled hood. Her leather armor showed much of the athletic body underneath while still protecting her vitals. Browns and greys were usually considered peasant colors, the nobility liked to doll themselves up with expensive dyes, but she wore them for practical reasons. He was pretty sure a bright, cheery dress would be pretty on her. Blue really could work...

White, though... she would look good in white. Sure, Alize was a grimy-faced adventurer like him right now, but with a little clean-up she would look just fine in white. Of course she would want gloves, and those would have to be white too. Then again, Alize was a little self-conscious about her horns, so she would probably want a hood or something as well. A veil, maybe, and that would have to be white too. Though he didn't know much about ladies' fashion, he had seen enough of balls and other formal events to know that excessive ribbons were always tied to any unusual appendages someone might have. Alize did like ribbons. She would toy with lengths of string or satin, occasionally fidgeting with the wire she carried around that looked like it belonged in a piano. Hudson tugged at the much-loosened collar of his robes, remembering how tight that wire had felt around his neck just a short while ago. The outfit would need a ribbon for her tail, probably tied into a bow.

He wasn't sure if he could get Alize to give up her boots. Maybe they could compromise with a pair of high heels that still had concealed spikes? Those would have to be white too, had to match the gloves. Leggings, too, for modesty. Hudson was glad he had worn his long hosiery on this adventure, and not just because the night had turned a little chilly with so many rents in his clothes. Really, once he started thinking of Alize in white, the idea was hard to get out of his head. Her red skin just stood out so well when adorned with a nice alabaster gown. Or maybe even a diamond white, like what they used in nurse's outfits. An extraordinarily dangerous thought crept into his mind, one he frantically tried to bat away.

"Hey," Alize growled in what she meant to be a concerned tone as Hudson slowed to a stagger and began coughing into a fist. "What's up, doctor?"

Her well-intentioned words oozed from the lips of the figment in his imagination, a sultry temptress whose soft curves and honed muscles were barely covered by a white-and-red nurse's outfit. She pushed in a cart full of medical supplies and perched eagerly on the corner. Each deep breath made her bosom swell against her partially buttoned blouse, while her eyes were always looking into his no matter how he tried to turn away. From her knee-tall high heeled boots and too-short skirt to the nurse's cap that perched precariously between her horns, she was every bit the seductive assistant whose feminine charms could stop a man's heart or bring him back from the grave. That spade-tipped tail twitched playfully behind her, a small pink ribbon neatly affixed near the end.

"You don't look so good," continued the rogue as she scurried around in front of him. Hudson turned away. Looking at her was the last thing the healer needed right now. He batted away the figment, but it kept oozing back, that teasing tail swaying in his thoughts. "Hey. Hey! Look at me! Let me help you." She grabbed him by the collar and put a hand on his face, feeling how flushed his skin was. Her gold eyes were hypnotic, and he was already a little light-headed from patching himself up. With a heroic surge of effort, Hudson managed to purge the devilish nurse from his thoughts, though she left reluctantly and blew him a kiss on the way out that raised sweat on his brow.

"I am... I'm fine, Alize." He straightened his back as much as he could. Once again he had appeared weak in front of her, and he knew how much she disliked weakness. Where she had grown up, such vulnerabilities got you killed. "Thank you." She was so cute, nibbling at her lower lip like that. All he would have to do was lean down and kiss her, but from the fire in her eyes he knew it would be the last thing he would ever do. Abruptly, his thoughts returned to that white dress. As his mind put the various parts together, from those long gloves to the gown itself, the heels and leggings, plus the veil and that bow for her tail, Hudson realized he had fashioned her a wedding gown.

Alize wouldn't like that one bit, he was sure. Especially not if she actually tried it on. The tiefling would have that angry expression on her face, her cheeks a little puffed as she bit back hot rage. Her arms would hold a bouquet of purple and gold flowers, while the dangling ends of the white bow on her tail flicked back and forth as she grew angrier and angrier. The tiefling would glare up at him from beneath a veil specially tailored to accommodate her horns without appearing misshapen. Then she would throw aside the transparent fabric, reel back a fist, and punch him hard right in the jaw. The last thing he would probably see would be his blood staining her white gloves.

Perhaps it was fatigue from his wounds, or a psychosomatic response to that imagined punch, but Hudson felt suddenly woozy. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the rogue in front of him. She let out a surprised yelp and tried to hold him upright, then hauled the healer over to a hunk of rubble and sat him down like a sack of loot. "Idiot," growled the tiefling under her breath. "Stop pushing yourself so hard!" He was trying to keep up with her, driving himself to exhaustion. She wasn't good for him, not at all.

Chapter 24: Where You're Going
The healer recovered quickly, and said nothing of the thoughts that had caused him to faint. The tiefling looked irritated enough already. Staring up at her from the lump of rubble where she had dropped him, he was completely at a loss for words. Hudson wished there were flowers around, something he could present as a token of affection, but he doubted that offering her a bouquet of plants from the typha genus, more commonly known as swamp cattails, would send the right message. The doctor sighed. It didn't matter if he offered her twelve long-stemmed red roses, she would probably just get upset and push him into a puddle before running off. This was all some kind of game to her, one he had no hope of understanding. Alize had said that they were from different worlds, and that must mean she never wanted to be part of his.

His glasses were crooked again. Reaching down, the tiefling fixed them on his face. Her hand lingered near his skin. She nibbled at her lower lip. It wasn't that he was kind, or that his family was rich, or that he had a big... well, okay, all that did matter. Kinda. But Alize knew none of those were the real reason. She had met a lot of other guys who had all that junk. None of them had really cared about her. She couldn't quite say why she wanted him to pick her up and hold her against the wall while their clothes fell off, just as Hudson was not sure why he wanted to hug her and never let go. Her fingers brushed against his face. "Hudson... I..."

"Yes, Alize?" he blurted out. She couldn't really be about to say that...

Startled by his outburst, her ears perked up and she jerked back. Her golden eyes stared at the smear of grime her hand left on his cheek. "D-don't interrupt me, idiot!" With a light shove, she turned away and stalked down the path toward the goblins' lair. She was a mess. Couldn't get that mess all over him, and Alize couldn't get herself clean either. Nothing for it but to do the job.

He staggered upright. Hudson realized he had done something wrong, and didn't quite know what it was. "You, um... Alize, you looked beautiful when you... you know, when you jumped down. Onto the rats, I mean." The healer fussed with a shredded part of his robes, tucking it in through another hole so it would not blow about too much. "I only caught a glimpse, you moved so fast, but it was an elegant attack." He followed after her, smiling uncertainly. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say, but it was something.

Alize throat felt suddenly tight. She pulled her hood further over her head and patted her weapons to ensure they were all where they belonged. He thought she was elegant. Hadn't he seen the dirt caked on her boots, the grime on her face, and the rest of the muck all over her body? Worse, the real filth was something his eyes couldn't see. Alize knew she was a pit of spikes, and she couldn't let him fall into that trap. She had to be strong. This was for the best.

"Alize," he asked upon catching up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in," she growled back. Ahead was a hovel where the goblins quite obviously had made their home in the ruins. All the little green runts were missing as far as she could tell. Probably drawn off by the spectacular distraction made by the rest of the party. "You're plain, you know that? So... just... clean. You're like the one egg that hasn't gone rotten even a little bit." The rogue's tail drooped low beneath her cloak. "We're from different worlds, and you wouldn't even recognize me in mine."

"Of course I'd recognize you, Alize. I mean, if you let me see you instead of bundling up in that cloak all the time. I'd recognize you anywhere after what we've been through together." Reaching out, he caught her shoulder and gently turned her around to look into her eyes. "Was it something I said? I'm sorry."

She glared up at him. "Why? Why be sorry? Why's it matter to you?"

"Because you matter to me, Alize. We're a team, we rely on each other." Loud clanging and crashing in the distance reminded him that their team actually was half of the actual group. He did not worry about the elf and orc. Not right now, this was more important. Besides, they usually looked after each other well enough. Fighting each other was a new thing, but Alize claimed it was nothing out of the ordinary and he trusted her knowledge. "Especially when it's just the two of us out here."

She pressed her black lips together and stared at the ground. "Sometimes... I wonder if you're thick as a brick, or just... we don't speak the same language."

"Rubbish," he said with a chuckle. "You might struggle with reading, but there's nothing wrong with your grasp of the common tongue."

Her fangs poked out between her lips, and her tail drooped as she hissed out a sigh. "Yeah... yeah, that's... yup." The tiefling nodded slowly. "You're from another world for sure, rich boy." She poked him in the chest. "Don't get too close to me, you'll get gutter mud all over your nice robes."

He first considered saying that they were both quite dirty from their adventure. She had been nearly-buried and so naturally was messier, but not by too much. Hudson realized that she was saying something to him that he could not quite grasp. A code of some sort, a cryptological enigma. She was not a girl like the ones he was used to, wrapped up in skirts, tittering at tea parties, and not allowed on the University's campus. Alize wasn't like the girls in action books either, the ones who existed only to fall into the arms of buff heroes like Magnum Kro. After an uncomfortably long period of staring at the tiefling, and her staring back up at him, he replied, "I don't think you're dirty."

Alize swallowed hard. "You don't know where I've been. The things I had to do would turn you whiter'n bone." He had not even kissed a girl. Her past would have him heaving his stomach into the weeds.

"But you're here now. That's what matters, isn't it?" The healer patted her shoulder gently. "Not where you've come from, but where you're going."

Her eyes widened. Reaching up, she pulled his hand off her shoulder. For a second Hudson thought he had said something very wrong and she was about to slam him to the ground again. Then she squeezed his hand. "You... you mean that? About... where I'm going?" Tears glimmered in the corners of her golden eyes. He nodded. "And maybe... maybe who you're going with matters too?"

"Sure," he said, not quite understanding what she was asking. "We're a team, right?"

A team. That was how he thought of her. Even though she kept failing him. Well, it was... it was something. She needed to think about what he had said. Alize did not consider herself a very smart girl, and she wanted to be sure he was not saying something too smart for her to properly understand. Maybe he was willing to overlook her past, but could she really let him do that? Was the future truly all that mattered?

Nodding quickly, she managed a, "Yes!" before turning away and rushing further down the path. Unwilling to let go of his hand, she drug him along behind her like a second tail. He noticed that her spade-tipped appendage was waving a little higher than before beneath the cloak, and wondered what that meant. At least she seemed happier.

Chapter 25. Looting
"Goblins are great at looting," Alize shoved another jeweled crown into her seemingly-bottomless sack. Sure enough, the little greenskins' hideout had been deserted. She had dragged Hudson right in, only letting go of his hand when she saw valuables strewn about. "But they're nasty buggers. All this is gonna need a week of cleaning before anybody's gonna want it." The rogue coughed. Her mouth and nose were hidden behind a bandana she had tied around her face before they started looting the goblins' hovel. Grime covered her gloves and cloak, while mud still clung to her boots. "Y'think we should burn the place down? I do."

Hudson bundled a few scrolls together and put them into his own enchanted sack. "I do not think we would be able to build a fire hot enough to ensure that all the microparticles would be sterilized. I don't have enough purification oil." He still felt a little uneasy about taking things that did not belong to him, but Alize had explained to him often enough that there was a difference between stealing and looting. Holding her hand on the way here had felt pretty nice. He wished the tiefling hadn't let go as soon as she saw the glimmer of gold. "We would just be spreading contamination in the smoke."

"Oh." She leaned her head to the side. With the bandana over her face, it was even harder for him to read her expressions than usual. She kicked in a rickety cubbard door and began rummaging around inside. Knowing goblins, one of them probably slept inside the cubbard. Finding a few gold pieces, she rapped them against a mauled wood panel to make sure they were real before throwing them into her sack. "I was gonna do it so more ankle-slashers didn't grow out of the mold."

"Goblins reproduce sexually, not asexually." He looked around, searching for any more misplaced tomes of knowledge. "Their ubiquitousness is due to their durable physiology and high reproductive rate. Both of those characteristics play a vital role in their mating rituals." The healer did not notice Alize's ears twitch nervously beneath her hood, or the way her tail had started to curl. "A female goblin can be expected to bear at least-"

"Hudson!" yelled the rogue. Thinking about sex was the last thing she needed right now. At least it smelled terrible in here, keeping the tiefling's mind well away from any thoughts she did not deserve to have. Her cheeks were bright red beneath the bandana. "Don't go spouting off about that kind of thing!" She had a pretty durable physiology too, if that big word meant what she thought it did, but he was never going to put it to the test. Hudson needed a soft, gentle girl who would make his first time wonderful, not a tiefling too stained by sin to think of anything other than a carnal struggle for sexual dominance that would leave both of them dripping with sweat and panting for air. Still, holding his hand and hearing him say those kind things had been... encouraging.

The healer blinked. "What? Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Adjusting his torn robes, he wondered if there was a good tailor in the nearest town. Probably not, he would have to wait until the next city of a size sufficient to support a decent mercantile population. "I'm well aware that there is a common misconception about goblins asexually reproducing." He was probably going to have to patch his robes by hand. Unfortunate, and it might well weaken their enchantments, but propriety did demand certain concessions. "The truth is that the females are surprisingly fertile, and their social standards for sexual intercourse are very different than most other races. Studies show that this is likely due to their native mob mentality, where caring for unplanned children is viewed as a communal effort rather than a solemn duty of the parents alone."

Parents. Alize bit her lip and dug through a pile of half-eaten bones as she tried to keep her mind on the job, instead of thinking about his arms around her. Every time she got close, she got him all messy. Sure, he had said that stuff about where you're going mattering more than where you've been, but something in her heart didn't want to see him all grubby.

"... research has shown this perpetuates their barbaric traits," he droned on while gingerly pulling a valuable book out from beneath a desiccated chicken ribcage. "Indulging their base desires for aggressive, procreative sexual congress is a common activity. This animalistic mindset has led to their unfortunate state, though the odd exceptional goblin has demonstrated savant-like tendencies in the fields of engineering. Goblins raised in more civilized settings with a firm maternal and paternal structure demonstrate markedly higher intelligence and lifespans. This is taken by many natural philosophers as firm evidence of the inherent duty of civilized races to maintain the family structure as a core unit of society, regarding each nuclear unit as vital as a brick in a city wall..."

"Hudson..." Alize knew she should not feel hot and bothered. He was talking as though he had a goblin corpse under the knife, in that cheery yet distant way of a scholar who was happy to vomit out some of the knowledge stored in his head. That brain of his so infuriating. Hudson was thinking of all the angles relevant to his profession, sort of like her when she cased a building for a robbery, but he couldn't take a hint if his life depended on it! To him, sex wasn't just about motion and orgasm, it was part of a bigger process. Everything was part of a bigger process for the doctor. He was always thinking about what order wounds needed to be mended. Triage, he called it. She nibbled at her lower lip while he droned on, thinking about her own childhood on the streets. Maybe she could find him a princess who wouldn't mind a tiefling sharing their bed. No, best not to think about anything like that.

Yet it was a very tempting thing to imagine. She leaned her head against a wall and sighed heavily. His arms around her, holding her close from behind, one of his hands in hers and his other on her midriff. Alize worked hard to keep her figure, but she wouldn't mind putting on some extra weight if... if it was his fault. Her tail curled and her fists clenched as she imagined him nibbling at her ear while they lay in bed together, his fingers tracing over her gravid belly while her tail curled around his waist. Twins, that was what she wanted, a child to hold close in each arm. She would train them herself, teach them all she had learned, all the things she wished someone had taught her. They wouldn't need to know how to burgle, sneak, and kill to survive, but they would learn anyway. Alize had no memory of her parents, but if she accomplished anything in her life, it would be to ensure her children had a roof over their heads.

Her gaze fell to the mess of valuables in her sack. This would be barely enough to repair her crossbow. Merchants always gouged adventurers on selling items, and once the money was spent it was gone. Hudson's family had income. They didn't have to hope for a good haul to pay off old debts and keep from accruing new ones. That was the kind of security she wanted for her children, if she could ever have any. Alize had decided that a long time ago. It was part of the reason she wanted Hudson so bad. Selfish, sure, but she was a thief by trade. However, no noble family would let a tiefling's children sit on the throne. Her blood was cursed. Hudson was the kind of guy who... well, even if she wasn't his legal wife, he would take care of their children... wouldn't he?

Alize knew the answer well enough. She had seen him at work inside the plague quarantine, heard the sorrow in his voice when he tried to console grieving families. The tiefling shook her head and took a deep whiff of the nearest stench to clear her thoughts. Bile crawled up the back of her throat. She was a sewer rat, covered in filth. Why had she let go of his hand? She should have dug in her claws and never even looked at the loot. Why was he still talking?

"... I saw a rather fascinating study indicating that a single female goblin could take as many as-" A dagger flew past his ear, embedding itself in a nearby wooden post. "Ulp! What was that for?"

"Shut up!" snarled the rogue. Crossing behind him, she yanked loose the dagger and shoved it back into one of the holsters on her bandolier. "C'mon, there's nothing left here." Without waiting, she stomped back out of the hovel. He glanced around one last time, but trusted the rogue's judgement and followed her out. "What's in those scrolls you picked up? Treasure map?"

He shook his head. "They look like missives stolen from passing caravans." Tapping his chin, the healer looked skyward. "Most likely the restless dead would assault unwary travellers, and the goblins would pick over the remains. I don't think that the few goblins we saw would be able to successfully rob a caravan on their own." There was a good chance that those who the messages were originally intended for would pay well for their delivery. That was what he had learned at adventurer school, at least. Odd side-quests were often started in dungeons.

The rogue snickered. "You'd be surprised. A couple logs across the road, a flurry of unaimed arrows, and you can convince people that you've got a lot of archers waiting in the trees. Robbing people is usually about deception, not brute force." She wiped her gloved hands on a nearby patch of grass, then rubbed her back against a cluster of vines to knock some of the grime off her cloak. Inwardly, she knew it was pointless. Most of the filth was inside her.

Cupping one hand to his ear, Hudson listened for the sounds of distant battle. "Seems that those two are still at war. We should probably be heading back."

"Nah." The tiefling shook her head as she untied the bandana from her face. "We should head further in, check the rest of the ruins. There's probably a lot of stuff that the goblins missed." Pulling her hood down from her head, she perked a pointed ear and listened for a long moment. "Hmm. You hear that gurgling noise? I heard it earlier too, but it's louder now."

"Some kind of monster, you think?"

She shook her head. "Nah, you'd know if it was a dragon snoring. That shakes the ground, and goblins definitely wouldn't set up camp near one of those." The rogue pointed, then started off across the ruins toward a set of collapsed pillars near a marble hall. "It can't be... I mean, not here..." She shrugged, then slung her sack over a shoulder. Growing up in the sewers, she had learned many of the different sounds water could make, but it made no sense to hear it here.

"Ah." Not quite certain that this was the best course of action, but knowing full well that the tiefling had made up her mind, the healer followed along.

Chapter 26. Go Into the Water
Their discovery of a dilapidated, but still functional, public bath should not have surprised him as much as it did. Little was known about the builders of this ancient ruin, but the doctor had quickly deduced that they were an advanced society. The ruins he and Alize had ventured through were the remains of common areas as well as private quarters. They had passed detailed statues, found a few samples of an ancient currency based on precious metals, and even noticed a few mosaics that were reasonably intact. All things that indicated a functioning civilization. What once had been great achievements in architecture and art were now rubble that housed monsters. A sad testament to entropy.

Civilization necessitated hygiene. Otherwise, disease decimated the population in short order. It was one of those depressing laws of reality that medical professionals had identified, much like how there were no successful cliff dwelling civilizations that lacked wings. If he was an archeologist, there had been a few of those in training at the academy, he would be interested in surveying these ruins. However, he was a doctor and his focus was on the living. Particularly the irate tiefling who stood with her arms crossed and boot tapping on the tiles while he knelt to test the bath's waters. Alize had been stunned to see the bath, standing as still as a statue at the door until he asked her if she sensed a trap. Her head had whipped around, those golden eyes seeming to stare into his soul, and she squeezed his hand so hard he thought she would crush the bones. Then she had nearly dove headlong into the bath, and he had just barely held her back.

Sparks glowed around his fingers as he swirled them over the waters. The considerable machinery that heated, filtered, and otherwise maintained the baths seemed to still be functional. Noisy gurgling and hissing from them was what the two adventurers had heard while exploring. He doubted that the goblins visited the bath much. The diminutive greenskins kept very low standards for hygiene, and their hovel had provided conclusive evidence that they defecated where they slumbered. Alize had gone elbows deep into the piles of discarded bones and other refuse in search of loot, and come back out with some very valuable items, but he would have to sanitize her enchanted sack later. For that matter, she could use a good cleaning as well. No surprise that she seemed so impatient to get into the water.

He stood up and nodded upon finishing his asensing. "It's safe. Even lightly chlorinated." Large enough to be mistaken for one of the swimming pools at the academy's training facilities, the public bath must have once been a focal point for the community. Turning around, he looked for the tiefling and noticed the remains of a mosaic on the wall that seemed to be telling a story about some great military leader in a faraway land.

Alize was already on the other side of the room, jumping up and hauling down a chain next to a bellows. Hot water gushed into the bath. Steam rose from the churning waters, beginning to fill the entire room. Hudson wondered for a moment if the baths were built atop a geothermal vent, or if it was a magical heat source that had lasted all these ages. Pulling out his journal, he made a few notes about the location of the baths and marked it down as something to mention in his next report to the Plague Control League. If there was ever call to set up a decontamination site nearby, a functional water filtration plant with baths would be invaluable. Everyone got excited about the discovery of gold, but reliable infrastructure was far more useful in the long run. He peered curiously at a tangle of pipes, wishing he was a little more mechanically inclined.

The tiefling wasted no time on probing the mysteries of the ancients. This was her chance. She could be clean. Some higher power must have slid a little good fortune her way, since this certainly didn't line up with the rogue's usual rotten luck. After what Hudson had said about where she was going mattering more than where she had been, Alize had a faint spark of hope. Everything else was up to her, and she was more than a little frightened at that thought. Her hands shook. The grave dirt still clinging to her body seemed to squirm and crawl. She just had to wash herself, make herself good enough, and... and seduce him.

Nothing she hadn't done before. Alize had seduced a lot of guys. Mostly for money. Actually, it was always for money in the end. This was the first time she would really mean it, and this time she would be going all the way, and... and... her stomach knotted. Hudson was peering at the wall, muttering something under his breath and using big words she didn't understand. Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against the wall for support.

One step at a time. She could do this. Loosening her cloak as she strolled back toward him, the tiefling smiled. While they adventured, her body was usually hidden beneath that cloak, but every time she let it slide back on her shoulders and reveal the lightly armored red skin beneath she knew he couldn't help but look. The healer cleared his throat and turned away, directing his gaze around the bath's workings. More accurately, looking anywhere but at her, though that was a hard thing to do since there were so many mirrors placed on the walls. A few of the reflective surfaces were cracked, some were obviously missing, but everywhere he turned he seemed to catch a glimpse of the horned rogue.

Hudson turned his attention to searching for places where enemies might enter the room and catch them by surprise, as he had learned in adventurer school. Alize had already cased the bathhouse, determined that the other access points were either covered by grates or collapsed, and strung a tripwire across one grate that wasn't as secure as it ought to be. All that was second nature to the tiefling. Now she was at the hard part, trying to figure out what to say to him. She knew the next step was for her to go into the water. Alize just needed him to come with her, tell her she was good enough, and as they sank down into the water they would start to devolve, becoming more and more like beasts until their base instincts took full control and... unf!

She bit her lip and tried to focus. Couldn't mess this up. This was her chance. He deserved better, but she was a thief, and stealing things was what she did. Maybe she could be good enough. He probably didn't want some frigid prude to be his first time, and she was technically still a virgin, and maybe he would never find out about her past, and... and... Alize barely held back a scream. What was she doing? Seduction, that was what she was doing. She clenched her fists tight. Steam billowed out from the wide, central square of the bath, sweeping around her and sending flashes of hot and cold over her skin.

Waterfalls tumbled into the pool from several sides, bringing fresh hot and cold water to replace that which was drained away through grilles at the bottom of the basin. The bathhouse was more intact than many of the other buildings they had passed, though that was chiefly because it had been built into a hill. Two of the walls were natural stone, as was much of the ceiling. Several humanoid statues, carved from simple marble and unadorned with any suspicious colored gemstones, stood or lounged about the room. All were damaged, some missing heads, others arms or legs. Nature endured even when the works of great hands toppled with age.

While the healer desperately tried to distract himself, the rogue tugged off one of her fingerless gloves. "Well... Hudson, what're you always saying about keeping clean?" Her tail swayed as she stepped toward him. Start with the soft sell, get him into the feeling of the moment. She had done this before. Sometimes she had even liked a customer, but never in the way she... he was different. Hudson wasn't a customer, he was... special. She really, really liked him. There was a word for that, but she had heard it used so many times and so wrongly that it had lost all meaning for the tiefling. Her heart was racing, and it took effort to keep her body moving in that slow, careful-yet-careless way that always drew every eye in the room when she stepped out on stage.

Alize was walking very curiously, in his opinion. One foot right in front of the other, muddy heels almost touched by the dirt-encrusted toes of her boots. Her golden eyes stared right at him, unblinking. He coughed. "Proper sanitation is crucial to the success of an advanced civilization." The healer tried not to stare as she pulled back her hood and shook her head, letting the fabric fall around her shoulders. Her pointed ears and horns were on full display. "Without public cleanliness, infection can spread rapidly. Individual hygiene-"

"Individual." The way she said it sent chills down his spine and made his jaw snap shut. Every which way he looked, she seemed to be staring back at him from one of the mirrors. Alize had dropped her gloves by the waterside and already slipped out of her boots. Varying degrees of grime covered her from head to toe, and her hair was a mess too. Hudson could see lines on her arms and legs where her long gloves and boots had blocked some of the dirt from reaching her body. Alize caught sight of herself in a mirror and winced for a second, before forcing a sultry smile onto her face.

Even as dirty as she was, the tiefling was beautiful to him. He thought about what that meant for a long second while she stepped closer. Admitting that she was beautiful was a statement of fact. He had known it since he first met her. Sure, he rarely saw her without that cloak to shield her body, and she did prefer the shadows, but he had always thought of her as beautiful. That she was a tiefling did nothing to detract from her beauty. She had not chosen to be born as that, nor had she shown any sympathy toward dark powers in his experience. That teasing tail and those golden eyes were as enticingly exotic to the healer as they had been to so many other men.

His gaze fell down to the floor, but he could not quite keep his eyes from running up her bare red legs toward the somewhat paltry amount of protection she wore over her groin. Any armor seemed skimpy compared to the portable fortress of their party's paladin, but the rogue actually wore more armor than their orc berserker. Something about how the tiefling swayed her hips made it seem more scandalous. Most of Alize's protection came from her cape. While their paladin could shrug off mortal blows with elven contempt, the tiefling excelled in dodging, ambushing, and generally not giving the enemy a chance to hit her directly. Rarely did he have to heal her with applied magic, she usually just needed a restorative tonic.

No matter how he tried to distract himself from the sway of her hips, or that grin on her face, or those golden eyes, his gaze kept coming back to her. Alize unbuckled her bandolier of knives and stretched it behind her head, perhaps intentionally thrusting out her bosom as she did so. He gulped for air and looked away, right into a mirror that showed her side profile from just the right angle.

"I really need to clean off." She was only a few steps away. Though she was indeed covered in grime, and admittedly smelled like goblin leavings, he felt uncertain desires washing over his body. A young lady should not be so scantily clad around him. "Wouldn't want to pass up such a good opportunity." He had very little experience with such things, but had always been told it was not proper for girls and boys to wear so little around each other. Especially if they were alone like this. The tiefling seemed to excel in improper things. Assassination, stealth, thievery, lockpicking, all terrible deeds that a young doctor of good breeding should not have anything to do with. "But I'm really not that smart about this kind of thing." Her voice seemed to worm into his thoughts. Why were his hands shaking? "Would you help me, Doctor Hudson?"

She was close enough to touch. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her. Not just because she was beautiful, but because he had that fresh memory of her body against his and he wanted to feel it again. She was nothing like the stuffy ladies he remembered visiting his family's estate when he was a boy, the ones whose hair was heaped up twice as tall as their heads and whose dresses had frills upon frills and hoops upon hoops. He remembered the tired look on his mother's face after the adults would spend all day chatting in the garden, how his father would rub her shoulders and apologize for things that the young doctor still did not quite understand. The trappings of power weighed heavily on his family. It seemed that the more successful their land was, the more pressure others put upon them to fail.

Alize was another thing he could not understand. The party's paladin was a pillar of divinely-empowered justice, and their berserker was a rockslide of green muscle. They excelled at their roles, as did Alize, but the tiefling had an... an aura of sorts that made him do silly things. Then she would tease him about those mistakes. That was why, when he opened his mouth to reply, what came out was, "T-That's is... ibbit... is... a b-bad idea. There could be m-more threats around. Goblins, or zombies... or t-tigers..." Why had he said tigers? Rats would be more believable. Of course, tigers were cats, and cats ate rats, and-

She poked him in the chest with her knuckles, which had been under her fingerless gloves and were less dirty. "Fine then, rich boy." Alize recognized a young man playing hard to get, or thought she did. The problem with establishments of ill repute was that customers entering such places wanted to be there, wanted to be seduced, and were mostly at peace with that desire. Hudson had no such hidden want, only a deep sense of shame. "You stay out here with your nice clean robes..." Her fingers teased through one of the holes in his clothes, tapping against his bare flesh. "But keep watch on all the mirrors. Wouldn't want anything to jump me while I'm washing up... hmm?" She cocked an eyebrow, then winked.

Before he could reply, she tossed him her bandolier at him and turned away. He caught the strap of holstered knives without elegance, and stared dumbly at her back. "I... uh... okay?"

Her cloak bulged and flattened as Alize unbuckled her armor beneath while walking toward the water. Dropping one piece at a time, the hem of her cloak rising up and over her breastplate as she left it behind, she turned her head and winked coyly at him in the mirror as he tried not to stare. Despite all the reflections, she had angled herself just right so he could not see her front, not through the steam at least. Her protective gear ended up in a heap next to the bath. At the water's edge, she reached up and loosened her hooded cloak, letting it fall to the tiles behind her.

Hudson turned to stare without quite meaning to, getting an eyeful of the lithe muscles on her back. The tiefling had left on nothing more than her most intimate underclothes, intended to cushion the leather armor rather than arouse men. Briefly she wished for those long, transparent silks that she had performed in front of higher-paying customers with. Alize had gotten pretty good at swaying and shaking with those, revealing and concealing in smooth motions. Her tail helped a lot with keeping control of the fabric while she was on the pole. But she had done more with less before.

Bare red skin, far more than Hudson had ever seen before, sank down into the warm water. Her tail swayed from side to side as the steam enveloped her, leaving only a crimson silhouette for his eyes to follow. The healer stared for another long second, then turned away. His cheeks were almost as red as her body. He did not see her look back right after he looked away, or hear her sigh dejectedly. Alize's tail drooped, as did her pointed ears.

She had hoped he would be spellbound, needing only a gesture from her to stagger into her arms and be pulled down into the depths. Well, the water really wasn't that deep, not for a tall guy like him anyway, but she could drown somebody in here if she needed to. Drowning wasn't so much about having a lot of water around the target as it was about not letting them have enough air in their lungs. Gritting her teeth, she tried to still the fear in her gut and focus. He would be hers. Hers!

Chapter 27. The Soft-sell
Alize eased into the deeper parts of the bath. Warm water swirled around her, loosening the grave dirt from her skin and drawing it toward ancient filtration systems that had long outlived their builders. Leaks from the wide pipes above the bath pattered down on her head and horns. As she rinsed her hair, the tiefling noticed one of the thinner pipes jutting up from the water. Long hair was a liability for a thief, so she kept hers short. The hood had shielded her from the worst of the muck, but as she rubbed at her face she wondered if she would ever get clean. An idea occurred to the tiefling, and she waded back toward the edge of the bath. "Hey, Hudson? You got any soap?"

Of course he did. He probably had a gadget that floated, threw off sparks, and sterilized anything in a three-meter radius. All she needed was a bar of soap to help get the worst of the crud off. Hudson edged toward the side of the bath, holding the soap out in one hand while looking over his opposite shoulder. His cheeks were beet red. She set her arms on the edge of the tiles, swaying her tail beneath the surface, and snickered. Pulling him in would be too easy. Alize had drowned people like that before, or sent them toppling off castle ramparts. Gravity was a fatal attraction. He finally stepped close enough for her to reach out and take the bar of soap from his outstretched hand. Her red fingers played over his skin. She cupped both of her hands around his and gave a gentle tug, far less than what she would need to haul him into the water.

Shaking, trembling, his knees almost knocking together, it was all he could do to keep from turning his head. He could still see her soaked body in the mirrors. Wet underclothes clung tight to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. She turned her head ever so slightly, catching his eye in the reflection, and winked. Hudson gulped for air as a cloud of steam swirled between him and the mirror. "H-here's your soap!" he stammered, trying to pull away.

"Thanks, Hudson," she cooed. Her hands remained around his, one thumb running over his wrist. "Shouldn't you get a little wet yourself and make sure I'm using this properly?"

"I-I... I... um... I s-should... shouldn't... might..."

Alize eased the soap out of his hands, and tugged him a step closer. "I'm really not that clever about this sort of thing, Hudson." Reaching up with her tail, she wrapped the bar in its coils so she could use both hands on him again. "You'd better show me how to scrub off properly." Her tongue poked out between her little fangs. Between the steam and her sultry whispers, he was sweating. "Put those strong hands of yours all over my body, and-"

That was too much for the healer. If he did what she was suggesting, there was no chance he would be able to resist forcing himself on her! Did she think he had the willpower of a golem, completely unperturbed by anything that he was not ordered to do? With a sudden yank he pulled his hand free and hugged it to his chest. "Y-you're doing f-fine, Alize! I believe i-in you!" stammered Hudson as he stepped backward quickly. He tried his best not to think about her red skin pressing against him as she laid back against him, letting his hands run over her body in the warm water... Quickly shaking himself, he staggered further back from the water's edge. That could only lead to inappropriate behavior. Alize had told him he was not capable of forcing himself on someone who was willing, and he was determined to honor that trust.

The tiefling simmered. Around her, though neither noticed, the water boiled far hotter than it ought for a few seconds while a hungry glow burned in her golden eyes. She closed her fingers around the bar of soap. Resisting the urge to huck it overhand at his stupid, stupid skull, Alize pushed herself off from the wall and back into the midst of the bath. Her horns rose up from the water like the ridges of a sea serpent. For a moment she wished he was more like those pudgy, pompus noble brats she so detested, then sighed wearily and began soaping up her face. Wading back beneath the leaks, she cleaned her hair as best she could and began working on her legs now that the muck had loosened.

Putting a hand on the slender yet sturdy pipe that rose from the bath, another idea began to form. Glancing around, she saw that the steam no longer clouded the air quite so much. There were many mirrors around, more than in some of the nightclubs she had performed at. Her lips curled up in a wicked grin. If Hudson wanted to play dumb, she would just have to stop playing nice. Alize had always been better at naughty anyways.

Rising up out of the water, into the swirling clouds of steam, she curled one arm around the pole and began to hum. Through the mist she could see him standing at the side of the bath, looking about, honestly trying to watch for someone who might try to attack her. He was too cute. The rumbling and low groans of the bath's machinery drowned out the distant noises of battle, but she was sure that the other half of their party was providing more than enough distraction. Alize had spent enough time looking about the bathhouse to know that this was not a place frequented by anything that lived in these ruins. Nothing would stumble upon them. The only potential attacker on her mind was Hudson.

The tiefling was not very good at singing. That was one of the many things she did not tell other people. When she had worked at pubs, the sleezy sort of drinking establishments that served as thin veils for backroom brothels, the customers really didn't care. They wanted to drink cheap rotgut and watch clothes fall off impoverished women. While the finer brothels had understandings with the city's elite that exempted them from decency laws, pubs had to keep up the facade, and so whenever she was pushed out onto the stage they expected her to at least try singing while she twirled around the stripping pole.

Sliding up the pipe, she began humming. He turned his head to look. Alize reached up, loosened her undershirt, and pulled the damp clothing off her body. As she began to sing, she leaned back on the pole, her thighs and one arm supporting her weight. She had a terrible singing voice, too hard and raspy like claws on obsidian, but she tried a few lines from old songs she could remember. What mattered was getting his attention. Hudson was looking, looking right at her, then blushing and turning away, only to see her in another mirror and shyly turn his head again. Alize nibbled at her lower lip as she gyrated on the pipe, sliding down until her legs were submerged again. She waggled her undershirt, then tossed it onto the tiles next to the bath. Hudson jumped nervously when it landed with a wet slap. With a snicker, she scooped up a handful of water to pour on herself, letting it run down her body and dribble back into the bath. Wet hair clung to her face until she brushed it out of the way.

Hudson really was from a different planet. He always treated her kindly, and he had a lot of really useful knowledge stuffed in his head, but for some reason the boy couldn't take a hint to save his life. Sprays of water from the pipes loosened and washed away the grime on her skin. Alize flexed her toes beneath the surface, her legs leaving little trails of dirt as she moved through the warm water. Keeping a firm grip on the pipe with one hand and her legs, she scrubbed vigorously with the bar of soap until a rich lather covered her body. The tiefling climbed a little higher on the pipe, firmly gripped it with her thighs, then bent downward. A trickle of water from above gushed over her abdominals as she leaned away. Reaching behind herself, she gripped the pole with her arms and whistled to make sure Hudson was looking.

A tricky maneuver, actually harder on her core than her legs, but one that always pleased the crowd. Especially when she swung around the pole afterward, her jiggling boobs hanging down toward her face and a devil-may-care grin on her lips. Alize well remembered how it felt to stand naked in front of leering gazes. There did not seem to be a leering bone in Hudson's body. At least he was looking. Glimpses through the steam. He could see the mirrors more clearly than she could, maybe he really was gawping at her the way she hoped. She thought about calling out to him, but... no. He had to come to her.

The rogue did not care about ethics and morals about freedom of choice, those had never quieted the grumbling in a destitute tiefling's belly. Her quiet fear was that she really did not deserve him. The way he looked at her, as if he had never seen anyone like her before, and the way he was always such a gentleman, continually served to remind her that they were from different worlds. He could see her in the looking glass, but as much as she wanted to pull him in, he had to make that step on his own. If he didn't, she knew he would turn and run, then he would lose him forever.

Her underpants came off, eased down red legs once she had gotten rid of the dirt. Something in the water seemed to scrub her skin, there was almost a grainy feeling when she rubbed with the soap, but Hudson said it was safe and he always knew what he was talking about. Had to be better than most of the water she had used to wipe herself clean when she was growing up, anyway. Alize tossed her sopping clothing, sending it flying over the healer's head with a careful toss. The bunched-up underpants soared close enough to his hair to make him duck in surprise. Hudson was afraid it was retaliation for his peeking, still hopelessly unable to catch her hints. That frustrated the tiefling to no end.

A lesser man would have picked up on her suggestions, and... no point dwelling on that. She knew what would happen if he was a lesser man. He would run to her, there would be a few moments of thrusting, a sigh, and then all the magic that had drawn them to each other would be gone. She had seen it time and time again. A man paid a woman, they went into the backroom, then a short while later he came out sated and she came out with a distant look in her eyes. Chills ran over Alize's mostly-clean skin. She dipped back down into the warm water. No, no, it would be different with Hudson. There was something special about him. He was still standing guard, only daring to peek now and again through steam. What she felt for him, what she hoped he felt for her, it would last longer than a night.

Chapter 28. Steam Striptease
Drawing herself back up the pipe, she wiggled her tail in his direction. Hudson should look down on her. He had every right to do so. Instead he was kind, understanding, and handsome. Alize hated him especially for that last part. Why did he have to smile like that, and have muscle instead of looking like every other fat, warty wizard? Sure, he was a healer rather than a sorcerer, but magic was magic. What was the point of having a body like his if he was never going to let a girl wrap herself around him?

Wet hair clung to the sides of her head. Water flowed freely along her curves. The bath around her had darkened from the grime coming off her body, but this place had been designed to handle entire crowds at once. Alize rubbed the soap along her back, cooing something about how tricky it was to make sure she got everything clean that only elicited a nervous gulp from the healer. She could be clean. She could be pure enough for him. Her red skin regained a healthy sparkle, tiny dots of onyx and gold that only came out in the right light to offset the crimson. Seeing herself in a mirror, the tiefling was reminded just a little too keenly that she didn't usually notice those glimmers unless she was... well, about to put on a tarty outfit and... and get herself covered in cum for coin.

Not tonight. This was just for him. It wasn't often that only a single client had watched her dance like this. It would be nice if he finally took the hint and joined her here in the bath. He would be shy, awkward, uncertain, but Alize knew how to handle first-timers. She wouldn't disappoint him, that was for sure. Those hardworking arms of his around her, her fingers walking along his back as she whispered in his ear... Plenty of time tonight, no need to rush. Even if he did blow his load early, she knew how to get him hard again. All he needed to do was put himself in her hands, and... and realize she was doing this because she cared about him. Tears welled up in her eyes. Could he ever really believe that, after the kind of past she had?

She hugged close to the pole again, nearly slipping off as her soapy hands lost their grip. Without a solid stage beneath her some tricks were harder or impossible to pull off, but at the same time falling into the water hurt a lot less than landing butt-first on a hard floor. The hiss and glug of machinery reminded her just a little of the crowd's dull roar. Catching Hudson's eye in one of the mirrors, she touched two fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss. Sweat streamed down his face. He was huddled up inside his robes like a turtle, bent almost double as though under some back-breaking load, and biting his lips together from the inside. Alize felt as light as the steam around her. Easily bracing herself with one leg and an arm around the pole, she kicked a foot out into the water and held a hand toward him.

"Come to me, Hudson," the tiefling said with all her soul. Her pointed ears perked, surprised that noises so deep and resonant had come from her mouth. Hudson heard it, she could tell from the way his head jerked and he took a step in her direction, but then he fell flat on his face. Ugh. Alize pressed a hand against her throat, wondering why her voice sounded strange. Turning on the pole, she looked right at herself in a cracked mirror. Her eyes glowed a bright gold, and her tail curled around the bar of soap. Aside from that shimmer on her skin she was a perfectly normal tiefling. With a sigh, she slid back down into the water, not even bothering to look at Hudson when he made a garbled squawk and shone with a brief burst of cleansing magic. He was a terrible audience.

The healer pushed himself up from the ground, breathing heavily and clenching his fists. He had overreacted. Casting a dispel had been a nervous response to what had felt like... like hot chains curling around his chest, squeezing his ribs and tugging him in a direction he should not go. Those feelings were all figments of his imagination. They must have been. He had not felt the ethereal shatter of a binding spell or the lifting of a curse. Such things did not simply fade away on their own, not so quickly. He took a deep breath of the steamy air and tried to suppress a cough. Alize was not making this easy. He wished she would clean herself like a normal person and stop making those low moans as she did that strange tiefling dance around the pipe. Every time he glanced her way, he found himself mesmerized by the movement of her body.

His imagination kept adding to every glimpse through the steam. Though he was trying to remain vigilant, hugging her bandolier of blades to his chest like a safety blanket, the tiefling was a maddening distraction. Her swaying reflection would seem to float upon leathery wings, or those glowing eyes would bore in upon him from all the cracked mirrors at once. Cold sweat ran down his back, and hot steam pressed against his face. The healer was caught south of the heavens, just north of hell, and Alize could not know how she was tearing him apart.

The rogue growled. This place was really nice, the ancients really knew how to build a big fancy tub, but if she couldn't get through to him here, the tiefling doubted that she would ever be able to. Nothing had worked, from throwing her clothes at him to asking as seductively as she could. Here she was, naked and waving her butt at him, and he was still resisting! She bumped the side of her head against the pipe a few times, one horn making distinct tings as it met the metal. Seducing married women was easier than this... Alize hunched her shoulders and shivered, trying not to think too hard about one particularly pleasant adventure in a mountain hot spring. She glared at the healer, angry at him for ruining her chance to have an even better time here.

Simmering, she waded to a set of stairs that rose from the bath, idly tapping her fingers along a crumbled bannister as she stepped out of the water. Her eyes shifted in his direction again, and she was surprised to find a wall of steam between them. Curious, she reached out and felt her fingers pressing against a solid surface. Alize tilted her head to the side, then tapped her black nails against it. Hardened crystal, seemed like, the sort of thing that fancy jewelry shops used on their front windows. Could stop a brick, some of the thicker ones were even enchanted enough that a charging troll would bounce off. A'course, that didn't do the jeweler much good if a light-fingered girl picked the flimsy lock on the roof trapdoor and slipped in to trade a bit of old for new, especially if she loosened the braces holding that crystal wall in place while she was at it. Her finger drifted along the transparent surface as she reminisced.

Alize squinted through one of the trails she had wiped through the steam, and saw Hudson's trembling figure not so far away. Odd. There was steam enough in the room for both sides of the wall, the crystal should be just as foggy on the opposite as it was here. Little details like that prodded her rogue instincts. Rubbing a palm against the surface, while water dripped off her tail, she looked around until her eyes settled upon a mess of thrumming, whirring machinery that seemed to consist of a large cylinder and several fans behind grates. Hudson would probably know what it did; all she could tell was that it seemed to be drawing the steam out of the bath and... doing something with it. The air looked noticeably dryer on that side, anyway.

She shrugged and began walking down the crystal wall, fingers still trailing through the fogged surface. A collapsed archway that was probably once the primary entrance for the bathhouse loomed ahead. No stranger to entering a building through the exit, the rogue realized that was exactly what she and Hudson must have done. She glanced back at the bath, decided that she'd have to get back in to get out, and lazily turned around. There was no rush. It wasn't like she had anything else to do this evening. Again she glared through the steamy glass at the healer.

"Alize?" he called out, voice echoing slightly. She felt a pang of sympathy at the note of concern, then crossed her arms and growled. If he was really worried about her, he'd stop fidgeting about and get naked too! "Are you feeling unwell? Where did you go?"

The tiefling put a hand against the glass and rolled her eyes, biting back a mean retort. No sense being cruel to the handicapped. "I feel amazing, Hudson." Her skin positively glimmered with life and health. She leaned closer to the crystal wall, sure he would be able to follow her voice. "I just wish I had someone who would help me wash off..."

On the far side of the crystal wall, Hudson nodded. He could see nothing more than a crimson silhouette of the pouting tiefling through the foggy glass. The sight still firmly answered any questions he might have had about how well-rounded a rogue she was. Whenever the adventuring team was split, the individual members found themselves abruptly cut off from abilities of the others that they had come to rely upon.

"It's a shame that none of the other girls in the party are here," he answered as calmly as he could. "I'm sure either of them would be happy to help you." How unfortunate it was for the tiefling to be stuck in this wondrous bathhouse with the only male member of their team. At least she trusted him not to force himself upon her, and had said as much. A sudden whumping noise from the opposite side of the crystal wall proved to be the tiefling slumping her head against the steamy surface. She repeated the action twice, but stopped right before he could ask if she needed assistance. Strange girl, Alize.

She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill herself. She wanted to kill everything and everyone! Alize pressed her horns against the clear wall, impotently trying to scratch the clear surface in a fit of undirected spite. After a moment of growling and hissing, punctuated by clawing at the air, she regained some control. The tiefling pressed her back against the crystal. Droplets of liquid that had covered the wall clung to her back. Why was he so dense? Had he been fashioned by the gods just to torment her, to tease her and remind her that she was tainted by infernal blood and thus could never be allowed any happiness? Her tail twitched mournfully. A sudden hiccough from the other side of the wall perked her ears. Glancing in a mirror, she noticed that Hudson was staring... at her butt, which was just visible enough through the transparent wall now that she had rubbed the fog clear with her body.

Curious, she twitched her tail, and his eyes followed. He was peeking through his fingers, but looking all the same. With a cruel smile, she stepped away from the clear spot, but traced a finger along the foggy transparent wall to a new patch of steam-covered crystal. Water trickled down her legs. "Hudson..." she cooed softly, ensuring that his eyes were on her mist-blurred shape. One red hand wiped a patch clean right in front of her midsection, letting him see her navel.

"Y-yes?" he stammered. The healer knew he shouldn't be looking, shouldn't be invading her privacy. He had seen naked people before, but always within the context of applying medical aid. Patients were abstract problems, their nudity was strictly to ease surgery or for cleanliness. But this was sort of for cleanliness as well. As Alize wiped away more and more of the fog on the crystal wall, even lifting her toes and clearing long streaks to revealed her legs, he could see that she had put his soap to good use. Her crimson skin shimmered in the mild light generated by flickering sconces. As the tiefling continued to wipe away at the fogged crystal, one lazy swipe of a finger or broad stroke of a foot at a time, he knew he should look away. Should, but did not.

Her eyes were clearly visible. A single two-fingered gap through the fog was all Alize had made for her face before moving back down toward what she thought he wanted to see. Those golden irises stared out at him. Without her cloak or armor, she looked so fragile. Hudson wanted to put his arms around her, hold her close, tell her she could feel safe with him. Instead he was cowering, one hand over his face with fingers splayed out in front of his eyes, trying not to watch but at the same time really wanting to. He would have to stop as soon as she showed too much, he knew that, but she wasn't quite there yet!

"Closer," she called. This was something new for her. She had stripped countless times, for more eyes than she wanted to think about, but always with clothes. Never with steam on crystal. It was kinda fun, thinking about how she could reveal a little bit more at a time, shake her body without showing too much. Seeing Hudson stagger toward her put a grin on her face, and she wiped away a little more fog around her midsection as reward. He could see the undersides of her breasts now. How she wanted to feel his hands cupping her from behind, holding her against him... She wouldn't do this kind of thing for anyone else.

Hudson knew he needed to look away. As soon as she showed a little more he would. More of those lithe legs, more of that toned abdomen, more red skin than he had ever seen before. Her tail swayed back and forth, crossing behind steamy parts of the transparent wall and then darting back into the clear, while she swayed her hips and urged him nearer with her eyes. It couldn't be wrong with a barrier between them, could it? He couldn't hurt her with that crystal wall in the way.

Alize nodded slowly, her fingers tracing idle paths off to the side. She wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him exactly what she needed, but the words wouldn't come. Whenever she opened her mouth, what came out was always that weird, deep purr that seemed to bodily tug him closer, or else she simply couldn't find the words. Her tongue ran over her black lips. She wished she knew how to write, then she could scribble out what she wanted on the foggy crystal. Alize never thought that writing would come in useful for seduction, but then again she had never thought she would need to seduce someone who'd rather have his head in a book than against her boobs. He still had one hand over his eyes.

Hudson was close now, very close, and she settled for drawing a heart in the steam before pressing her front against the glass. Water ran down the crystal her red flesh displaced the fog. Suddenly her entire nude body was visible through the transparent wall. She saw his gaze drop down for just an instant, than snap up to her eyes. One of her hands pressed against the crystal, palm-first. His rose to meet it on the other side. Heart pounding in her chest, she pressed her other hand against the wall as well. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his eyes and reciprocated. Their gazes locked. Alize leaned her head forward, saw he was doing the same, and pressed her lips against the crystal an instant before he did. Almost a kiss, separated by just a little bit of clear crystal. For a second, all was still.

Then Hudson fell over backward, leaking blood everywhere.

Chapter 29. Pheromones
Blood gushed from Hudson's nose, covering his face and chin as he lay motionless on the floor. Horrified, Alize darted back down the steps into the bath and waded through the water around the crystal wall. By the time she reached the bath's edge on his side, Hudson was sitting upright, holding one glowing hand against his nose. She reached out for him, hauling herself up out of the bath, when he waved for her to stay back. Alize slithered back into the water, looking around once more for threats but finding nothing.

"Mose-bleep," the healer said, his voice distorted by the chaos in his sinuses. "Mar uz eally aie. I must... ow..." The glow faded from his hands, and he began dabbing at his face with a rag drawn from within his robe. "Who hit you?" Alize asked, her eyes wide. "I'll murderize 'em!"

"No one hit me, my nose just started to bleed because... because of the dry air." He was studiously avoiding looking at her now. A trickle of blood ran down the crystal wall where he had stood. "I'm quite f-fine." Hudson bit his lower lip, sure that this was some kind of punishment for staring at her.

Worried, Alize reached out of the water toward him. Hudson responded by pulling out a towel and putting it into her outstretched hand. She looked at him, then at the towel, then back at him. The tiefling sighed. He still had not taken any of the hints, but... well, he wasn't covering his ears either. Pursing her black lips, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want to clean off with me, Hudson?"

"I... I..." stammered the doctor. "I couldn't possibly!"

Curling her tail behind her, Alize added a pleading note to her voice. "Why not?" He could be so very thick sometimes. "Water's fine!"

"Because you are n-naked in there!" the doctor stammered. He could not invade her privacy like that! The words were simple enough, but the "you" seemed to echo from the walls. It sounded less like an answer and much more like a rejection to the tiefling.

Her heart suddenly heavy, Alize slid down into the water until it reached up to her chin. "Oh." She rubbed her horns, a headache forming inside her skull. All thoughts of offering to "clean him off", or even give him a "special rub-down", trickled away. He... he really must not want anything to do with her. Not in the way she kept wanting, at least. Not like she could blame him. A high class guy like Hudson didn't belong with street trash like her. Even cleaned up, she wasn't worth his attention.

Meanwhile, Hudson was trying very hard to keep his eyes off the shapely form in the mirrors as he cleaned the blood off his face. The idea that she had invited him to take a naughty bath with her did not even occur to the doctor, nor did he have any frame of reference for her pole dancing. As far as he knew, she was just cleaning herself off in a weird tiefling way. Interesting from an academic point of view, but it made him feel so nervous and tingly that he could not watch for long. Then there was what she had done with the fog on the crystal wall. His eyes flickered back, and he pulled himself upright to begin scrubbing his blood off the transparent surface. Couldn't just leave biological contaminants like that, it was anathema to a place of hygiene.

Hudson's gaze fell on the odd symbol she had drawn in the fog. He had seen it before, on personal heraldry and decks of cards. It was supposed to be a stylized heart. The healer stared at it for a long moment, then glanced at Alize as she waded out into the water with the towel held above her head. What could she mean... and then there was that pressing of her lips against the crystal wall. He had not known what he was doing, only that he needed to be near her. She was... she had been... through the... naked. From fog covering her most intimate parts to flat against the wall in a heartbeat, and he had not jumped away as he ought to. Why had she done that? Just to tease him? The healer looked at the symbol again, then back at the tiefling. "A-Alize... why did you..." he asked quietly, but she was too far away to hear.

Looking back, he saw that his scrubbing had all but obliterated the bloodstain, and the traces of Alize's markings on the other side of the crystal were quickly fading as well. Perhaps the heart was some kind of thieves' marking. The tiefling often relied on a secret language to communicate with other rogues in a city that had a well-established thieves' guild. He stuffed the bloodied rag into an appropriate pouch for later disposal. If she really meant what he thought she had meant, wouldn't she just say it? He thought about asking her, but images of the rogue laughing her head off came too readily to the healer's mind. Love was a matter of flowers and handholding, wasn't it?

On the far side of the bathhouse, the tiefling's tail drooped and her head hung low as she hauled herself out of the bath. She felt much better on the outside, but her heart was heavy. After scrubbing her armor clean enough to wear, though a thorough cleansing would take hours and brushes, she pulled on what did not need to dry. Hudson finally let himself look straight at her again while she laundered her hooded cloak. A sulky cloud of steam seemed to hover over the rogue's head as she knelt next to the bath.

Alize thought hard about grabbing him, tackling him, pulling off his clothes, and making it clear what she wanted. Then again, how could she make it any clearer than she already had? Besides... her cheeks reddened even more than usual as she realized she would chicken out. A fine mess she was. No qualms about taking a groom's money to murder his bride right after the wedding vows were exchanged so he could enjoy her family's money and still have the pleasant company of his mistresses, but the rogue couldn't steel her spine enough to tie Hudson up and have her way with him. In her heart, Alize knew she wasn't good enough.

The healer could smell a change from across the room. Goblin offal and swampy muck had their own distinct stenches, which had covered the tiefling until her bath. She glowered at him while cleaning her armor. He barely noticed. Healing his burst sinuses had the side effect of purging his sense of smell. Oh, he was paying for it, thick globs of bloody mucus running down the back of his throat, but even that could not distract him from the curious scent that seemed to be drawing him ever nearer to her. He was still surprised that his blood pressure had risen high enough to cause such a rupturing.

As a medical man, he well understood the importance of pheromones in nature. An invisible messaging system that savage beasts relied upon almost as much as high nobles. While common canines marked their territory with urine, an aristocrat would not be caught dead at a society party without a spritzer of perfume to continually refresh themselves. He remembered the uproar when his father, after too many minutes of choking in the presence of a particularly over-scented ambassador, had drenched the man with a convenient pitcher of water.

Perfumes and the like were a sort of social armor, just like an elaborate dress code. Hudson had determined that the unwritten laws of high society were based upon the same brutal posturing that dominated orc war councils. Of course, while humans would quibble and dig their heels in for months on end, the orcs would pile in for a drunken brawl after half an hour of snarling, and though the fighting could last for several days the sudden violence was almost more preferable than the kind of years-long passive aggression preferred by royalty. Most curiously, the orcs had refused his aid until their fight was conclusively resolved, claiming it was an internal matter and that accepting an outsider's magical assistance would contaminate their electoral process. Human nobles, on the other hand, hired assassins and sought to rig the polls at every opportunity.

What he smelled as he shuffled closer to Alize was not the overpowering sweetness of a noble's perfume, or the earthy bouquet of blood, sweat, and rage that wafted from orcs locked in battle. It was not the nervous, acidic scent of fear. He had never smelled anything quite like it before, either from nature or in civilization. Hudson had never considered himself much of a bloodhound, but his freshly-regenerated olfactory glands could not help but notice how the tiefling smelled... good. Not girly, not pleasant, good was the only word he could think of. Kind of hard to think about anything other than her, actually. This made him take another cautious step forward.

He very much wanted things he knew he should not want. It was hard to keep his mind off of how easy it would be to grab her from behind. She smelled so very good right now. Hudson had seen Alize kill far bigger men who had thought she would be easy to take by force, and after all that twirling she had done around the pipe in the wash he was sure she was back to her usual self, but in the moment it seemed so easy. He folded his hands together and set his jaw, trying to reassert control over himself. She looked so vulnerable without her cloak. He wanted to hug her, feel her head lean back against his shoulder and her hands fold over his.

His mind kept moving toward far more risque things, seemingly guided by his nose. He wanted to push her up against one of the walls, press his lips to hers without a transparent barrier in the way, feel her arms around him. Hudson found himself standing next to her at the side of the bath, his eyes wide and hands trembling together as he stared down at her. Her tail twitched against his ankle, but she did not look up. He wanted to grab her, turn her over, pin her against the floor and... why did she smell so good? Why did he keep wanting these improper things around her? "A-Alize-" stammered the healer. "Alize!"

"You tryin' to wear my name out or something?" she growled, then turned her head and looked up at him with a cross scowl on her face. Their eyes met, and for a few seconds, neither moved. Both wanted to say something, and neither had the courage to do so. The moment came, then passed in silence. Hudson shuffled back a few steps, his mind full of thoughts that turned his face beet red, while Alize looked back down at her laundry and tried to hold back tears. "Thought so."

He couldn't possibly act on any of these thoughts. The idea of taking her here on the floors of an ancient bathhouse, giving her his seed, and holding her close afterward, was obscene. Why, they hadn't even had a proper date, let alone an engagement or proposal! All those stories he had heard at the Academy about boys and loose women were just stories. Real girls didn't do things like that, certainly not professionals like Alize. Women wanted rings, fancy banquets, trips to the opera, and new clothes before they even considered a man's needs, and men complied because without women the species could not be perpetuated.

The fact that his parents' relationship was far less material, and far healthier, did not cross his mind. Father and Mother were special cases, strange exceptions to the social norms of the upper class, and Hudson had never dared to consider himself as one of those statistical anomalies. Alize's frighteningly beautiful golden eyes appeared in his thoughts again as he took a deep breath of that interesting scent.

But all the subliminal communication in the world went to waste with a bit of overt jamming. The tiefling twitched her tail sadly and drew her cloak out of the water. She held the dripping garment over the bath for a moment, using the opportunity to peer at Hudson in a nearby mirror. He was acting weird again, and breathing heavily. The tiefling thought about offering to punch him in the schnozz, see if that helped, but bit back the words. He deserved better than her. The heavy cloth would take longer to dry, so she hung it over the heat exchange and plopped down on a half-ruined bench to wait.

Chapter 30. Sitting
Most of the steam had cleared from the ruined public bath. Alize perched on the broken marble bench, tail tracing over rubble around her as she waited for her outer garb to finish drying. The hooded cloak billowed and swayed over the heat exchange. Clad only in her light armor, which left her upper arms and a surprising amount of her legs bare, the rogue appeared uncharacteristically vulnerable. Hudson realized more acutely than ever how much of her defense relied on not getting hit. He leaned against the wall nearby, looking as awkward as he felt. After a while, she rolled her eyes in his direction and said, "You might as well sit down."

Though he was a little hesitant after how strange she had been making him feel, he did. Alize scooted to make more room on the marble. Hudson folded his hands neatly in his lap. The sleeves of his robe met, hiding all but his fingertips from view. A minute after he sat down, she sighed heavily and let her head slump against his shoulder. He felt one of her horns press against his clavicle, and the odd tickle of a pointed ear against his back. It felt nice to have her close like this. She shifted again on the bench, almost sliding off, but he quickly put an arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling.

The tiefling sort-of smiled at him as he moved on the bench, and the two of them managed to sit together without either being in too much danger of falling onto the floor. She wondered why he was so picky about body contact. Why was this okay, but he kept avoiding what she really wanted?

Usually when a guy sat down and put his arm around her, the next words out of his mouth were about how much it would cost for her to lose some clothes. Hudson kept wanting her to put clothes back on. Her red fingers tapped together, and her spade-tipped tail twitched in her lap. She noticed his eyes flick down, toward the sudden motion, and stilled herself. Whenever she felt her conscience nagging during wetwork, she pretended the people she was stabbing were those disgusting men.

Alize was not going to stab Hudson. She knew that for sure. Perhaps he could fight his way out of a wet paper bag, if someone started a tear for him, but he was no match for her. Even without her poisons, hidden blades, spiked bootheels, sharp teeth, claw-like nails, crossbow, bomblets, or any of the other tools that had kept her neck out of the noose it deserved, she could break his arms and legs. Then it would be thumbs, eyeballs, dead. A better way would be to snap his neck. The healer was taller than her, so the best way would be to hang down from a pipe above him and break his spine with her thighs. He'd never see it coming. Most guards didn't, anyway, and they were way more perceptive than him.

He might be clueless, but he was handsome. Especially when he was smiling. That dreamy sort of smile, like a sunrise on a spring morning far from the city's smog. Though she would never admit it, Alize hated to see him cry. Not the red-faced weepy sort of crying that came after she spiked his food with dwarven peppers leftover from making one of her tear-gas bomblets, that was funny. She hated to see him crying when he really meant it. Happened rarely, but the first time she saw him crying like that it made the tiefling reconsider her initial dislike for the doctor.

Their party's first real quest after Hudson joined, aside from the routine dungeon crawls and of course the odd kill-ten-menacing-monsters-for-money gig, had started rather inauspiciously. They had been contracted to help contain a plague. Alize had still thought he was plotting to get her thrown out of the group. His politeness was so close the disguised contempt the tiefling was used to catching. He sure hadn't joined the party because of her. The only reason their group had gotten a doctor like him was because their party's paladin was such a reputable elven swordmaiden.

Now she knew better. He was just really awkward, though the tiefling could not make up her mind if he felt anything for her. Hudson really was from a different world, and he acted very strangely. Here they were, sitting together all sweet, and he had not tried once to cop a feel! Back in the clubs and pubs, her average client would have already buried his face in her cleavage and probably blown his first load all over her tail. She dared not think about what those lewd men might have done to her if she offered herself up for free. If Hudson thought she was disgusting, a horned demon-child whose parents were right to abandon her before she could even remember, he would not want to be near her. If he wanted her, she had given him plenty of opportunities to act. Alize nibbled on her lower lip, red tail curling slightly toward Hudson's lap. It felt nice to be clean again.

Her eyes flicked toward the drying cloak. It swayed above the heat exchange, the wet fabric tossed about by buffeting air currents. Inside her cloak she felt safe from those leering eyes, the ones that seemed to gobble her up whenever she wore the skimpy clothes of a bar-maid. Freshly cleaned, her body still glistening with a few drops of water, and sitting next to Hudson in her light armor, she felt a different sort of safe. Almost too safe.

He had the nerve to turn her down! Not in the suave manner of men who had tried to con her, but as though he could not conceive a reason for her to offer. She had never given herself to one of the paying drunkards, or let a man take her by force. Admittedly, their party's intrepid paladin had rescued her from a situation gone very wrong that could well have cost the rogue what remained of her virtue and her life, but the fact remained. That had been a fortuitous meeting between herself and the armored elf, one that had blossomed into a beautiful friendship. After all these years of just her fingers or another girl's touch, finding Hudson so oblivious to her advances was maddening.

Her cheek was snug against his shoulder now, one of her horns not quite poking his neck. He smiled down at her, and she shyly grinned back while her tail slid a little further across his lap. Killing him would be easy. Protecting him was hard. On their first real quest, their party had been hired as extra muscle for aid workers. A mission right up his alleyway if there ever was one. She had mocked him when he suited up in fancy, watertight robes and put on that silly mask with the long nose and goggles, then watched in horror from atop a high stone perch as he waded into a crowd of the horribly ill inside the quarantine zone. They bled on him, coughed on him, clawed at his robes, and screamed in his face.

Even up on her perch, the rogue had tightened her bandana over her face from fear of the infection. The dead and dying lined the cobblestone streets, often carried in wagons by those who were still able to walk. She had seen plagues before, but always tried to get away from them, like a sensible person. Hudson was a special kind of crazy. He went toward the sickness.

Chapter 31. Quarantine
Healing was Hudson's calling. Alize stole and stabbed because it paid the bills, she was pretty good at it too, but Hudson helped people because it was what he was born to do. She had seen the hard proof of that in the quarantine zone. From atop the steeples and chimneys she had watched him work. He had distributed medicine to those it could help, laid on healing hands that glowed bright with magic even through his protective gloves, and sealed up the dead in long bags or coffins.

In the present, slumped against him on the marble bench, she listened to the blower dry her cloak while her thoughts tumbled back in time. Back then, she hadn't trusted him. On the other side of the city the orc and paladin were investigating the cause of the outbreak from a different angle, but Hudson was unafraid to wade into the worst of the quarantine ward in search of clues. Alize thought he would try to infect her with the plague as part of some scheme to purify the party. That's what she would have done. Her suspicion was a big part of why she was perched high above him instead of down on the street inside another set of watertight robes and a funny mask.

However, the reason Alize told the rest of the party was that she needed to watch for bandits who would try to rob him. More than a few aid workers had been attacked in the quarantine zone, their medicines stolen and sometimes their masks as well. The healer was bait, and the tiefling was the steel-jawed trap. Hudson had volunteered for the plan. Idiot. The paladin would have gone with him, but everyone knew obvious protection like an armored saint would ruin the trap. Besides, Alize wasn't about to let him show her up! It wasn't that she was worried about him getting his throat slit or anything.

She took a deep breath and curled her tail a little more tightly around him as they huddled on the bench. He had looked stupid with that long-nosed mask and the bulky robes.

Sick and dying people clamored around the healer. Parents begging, holding out their children. Prophets from the doom-cults that plagues always seemed to spawn ranted and raved. He never shouted, never seemed overwhelmed. A rock in the middle of a swirling sewer. The doctor gave instructions in a calm voice that cut through the chaos. She had seen plagues ruin cities before, and was sure that anything Hudson could do would be a drop in a bucket. The tiefling was right, but not in the way she had expected. When the wave of people crashed against him, he stood his ground. Like a drop of dye spreading through water, order seemed to trickle through the mob as he refused to be bullied. Maybe it was his stature, or the calm assurance of a man in his element, but soon enough he turned the riot-ready mob that had rushed him as soon as he passed through the quarantine gate into a docile herd. All waited their turn, though she knew from experience it would only take the smallest provocation to turn them wild again.

The tiefling's job was to snuff out those little sparks before they could ignite a blaze. Alize saw the attackers moving through the side-streets. Amateurs, hadn't even checked the rooftops. She could tell they thought Hudson was as easy a mark as he looked. From the way they walked, she could also see they did not belong in the quarantine district. These were not sick people trying to steal aid for their families, but bandits wearing protective gear. Durable robes, meant to stop clawing nails or perhaps even a small blade, and cheap facemasks. Their plan seemed simple enough. Use the clubs they were carrying to bash Hudson upside his oblivious skull, take everything, leave him bleeding in the street. They had come prepared for the healer.

None of them were prepared for crossbow bolts, throwing knives, weighted lines around the neck or legs, falling down open manholes, falling off bridges, or falling rapidly up onto a roof while clawing at the grappling line around your neck and wasting your last breath on curses she had heard the better of before. Hudson was oblivious to her work, especially since she had taken care not to use smoke or explosives, and had been shocked by her bodycount during the mission debriefing. Someone had wanted him dead badly, but that someone also hadn't bothered to hire a proper assassin from the Guild to do it right. That meant either they were up to something the Guild wouldn't approve of, or they didn't have the coin.

She had watched the healer closely that day. He wasn't acting like the rich boy she kept needing him to be to validate her expectations. Again and again she saw him go wherever he was needed, working his fingers to the bone for hours until his magic came in halting sparks instead of steady glows and he had run out of almost all the healing items he had carried into the district. While Hudson visited the bedridden and drained puss with a candle-sterilized scalpel, she tortured information out of surviving bandits and cut throats. Alize kept him safe, but as she watched him work, she did not see a haughty noble who expected to be worshipped by the peasants for offering them the hope of survival. Hudson was as professional about his work as she was about hers, barely stopping to rest long enough for his spellworking focus to return.

He did not care that these people had nothing to offer him, or that they were born far below his own station. They were ill, he was a doctor, and that was all that mattered. From her perches atop roofs and walls, the rogue saw him working hard not just to find the cause of the outbreak, but to help these people. She remembered wondering if he was sweaty and uncomfortable beneath those bulky robes and the long-beaked mask that made his voice sound funny. Now, sitting next to him on the bench, Alize knew that was also the day she had started to wonder if he was hot in a much more carnal way. What really changed her mind was the sight of him crying. She hadn't been able to see it when he had the mask on, but afterward...

When he had all the medical samples and firsthand research their paladin needed, supplemented by the tiefling's more gruesome factfinding techniques, Alize thought they would leave the same way they had come in. Instead, Hudson wanted to go out through a different gate, one large enough for wagons. He had carried out two small children from the quarantine district, loading them into one of the aid workers' wagons and bringing them to the hospital camp set up outside the city.

The two children had been painfully ill. She suggested to him that a little poison would do better than medicine, but he just shook his head and pressed on with the tarp-covered cart. Alize recalled the way his long-nosed mask had fiercely wobbled "No" more clearly than she remembered some assassinations. At the camp, he had labored for hours inside one of the long tents. She waited in a convenient tree, idly flicking bits of decontamination goo from her armor. From up there she saw plenty of self-entitled nobles availing themselves of the camp's medical staff. More than a few were chuckling to each other about Hudson, saying that he was wasting time and resources on the worthless when he could be helping attend to the Mayor's son. They never noticed the misshapen cloak between the branches above their heads, silently landing globs of goop on the backs of their fancy robes.

Not until the moon was high in the sky did Hudson stagger out of the medical tent, his robes still covered in glimmering wisps of warding spells and the beak of his mask dripping water from the hose-down. She knew from experience how much those spells made your skin hurt, even skin under clothes. He collapsed at the base of the tree, reached up, and pulled the beaked mask from his face. Alize had a teasing barb all ready, but it froze in her throat when she saw the tears in his eyes. He stared up at the stars for several long minutes, crying in silence, before the cloaked tiefling materialized next to him. She sat down. Her tongue ran over her black lips.

"One," Hudson said at last.

Alize let the silence hang for a few minutes afterward. "Was it worth it?" she finally asked. Killing could be so quick, like picking a pocket, but what he did took time and effort. Not that she hadn't had to work at kills before, but it didn't feel the same. Everybody died. She just moved the finish line up for some of them. Staying alive was hard, keeping people alive even harder.

"There are never any certainties," he said quietly. "We can only pick our battles and fight hard. Every little victory is precious."

At a loss for words once more, she settled for climbing back up into the tree. Then, with the help of a grappling hook and a line around his waist, Alize hauled him up among the branches as well. He needed the fresh air, but seemed confused by her sly suggestions about taking his mind off things for a little while. At the time, she had not meant anything too lewd. The tiefling could do a lot with just her hands and tail. Hudson kept missing her point until she finally settled for sitting on another branch and glaring at him with her arms crossed while he stared up at the stars with a weary smile on his face.

Now, sitting on this marble bench with him, Alize realized that she had made very little progress since that night. Despite the party's adventures and a growing sense of closeness between them, he still rejected her suggestions. Nibbling at her lower lip, Alize tried to hold in a frustrated hiss. From offering a tailjob with a little ball-fondling while they sat up in a tree, to stripping on a pole in a steamy bath and asking him to get naked with her, the tiefling felt like she had tried everything. Well, except for pinning him to the floor, pressing her nose to his, and growling exactly what she wanted into his frightened eyes, but... that just felt so empty when she thought about it.

Chapter 32. Lapdance
The rogue knew she did not deserve him. That made her want to steal him all the more. She wanted him to slide his hand down over her body, loosen her armor, get a feel for her breasts while kissing her throat... then she wanted him to do what all those drunken oafs had kept trying for. The tiefling's tail twitched. She had a few tricks that might surprise him, if... if only he would give her a chance...

An idea formed in her mind. If Hudson was okay sitting with her like this, maybe he was okay with her sitting even closer? Maybe he didn't want to bathe with her, but he might be interested in her sitting in his lap. She could do a lot more than just dance on a pole. Alize knew a thing or two about turning on men. Women too. Those priestesses had been reliable customers. Most of them had been interested in "spanking the demon," or other risque punishment, but their coin was good. Hudson's arm was still around her shoulders. She nuzzled her cheek against his wrist and let her tail curl around his legs. Working up her courage, Alize eased into the healer's lap. She leaned her chin against his shoulder, careful not to poke his eye out with her horns, and put a hand against his chest. Through his robes, she could feel his heart starting to race.

He wasn't a drunken fool or repressed nun. No alcohol on his breath, no leer in his eyes, no hands all over her as soon as she was in groping range. The tiefling saw how confused he was as she put her hands on the back of the bench to each side of him. Setting her knees on the marble seat to balance herself, the tiefling found her head was a little higher than his for once. Alize was used to reading a customer's face, and that uncertain look on his threw off her usual game. Her sultry smile failed, becoming a sort of awkward grin followed by lip-nibbling. He was worse than a virgin whose friends had brought him in for rotgut and a "massage!" Whenever Hudson looked at her with those innocent eyes, she felt ashamed of her past.

The armor did not help. Even light leather was still harder to move in than a bar wench's skimpy apron and skirt. She wished for her cloak, so she could wrap it around the two of them and cuddle close, pulling off her armor and tugging open his robes to press their bare bodies together out of sight. His cheeks started to redden as she moved her hips. Alize swayed her tail at an even tempo, trying to regain her confidence. She needed to believe in herself or he never would believe in what she was selling. The tiefling tried to keep her breathing deep and steady, to smile down at him and keep his attention fully on her. She could do this. Her leg slipped just a little, nearly sending her off the broken bench and onto the floor, but she recovered. Maybe he would think it was part of the show...

This was the wrong place for a real sensual dance. Though she was freshly bathed, which helped a lot, the bench was up against the wall. That meant she couldn't get behind him and run her hands down his chest or whisper in his ear, and the jagged edges of the ruined seat kept her from sliding too far to one side or the other. Alize tried to do as much as she could with her hips while trapped right on top of him, but realized after just a few minutes that it was not working. Hudson had lost that confused look, but he instead had that very serious almost-glare, the one he wore when trying very hard to figure something out. Beads of sweat ran from his forehead, which she chalked up to the fading steam in the room. His hands were folded very tightly in his lap. All the signs were wrong. He wasn't melting into a lustful puddle, like her usual prey, begging her to go even further.

Desperate, she raised one of her hands to her mouth and kissed two fingertips, then traced them down the front of his robes. Her tail curled between her legs, tracing up his inner thigh. He only set his jaw more firmly and clenched his hands together until they began to tremble. Was he really hating this? That was how it seemed to her. The tiefling eased off of the bench, kneeling in front of him, her pointed ears straining for any kind of signal. Putting her hands over his, she laid her head on his lap and gently blew against his robes. That got a reaction, though not the one she was hoping for. He coughed heavily, then gurgled out, "A-Alize... s-so immodest!"

"Well, yeah," she retorted, playfully prying at the healer's clasped hands. Her black nails and red skin were so distinct against his. "That's the point!"

"That s-should never be the point!" he stammered. Her heart began to sink as she wondered if he was so upset with her that he could not form words. "One should a-always act with decorum."

Giving up on pulling his hands apart, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "Do you ever relax?"

"I was relaxed, until... you have such strange customs, Alize." He could not quite meet her gaze.

"You're the strange one, rich boy." With a huff, she stood up, snatched her cloak from the drying rack, and pulled it around her shoulders. Her hood settled over her horns. She felt secure again, armored from the eyes of others and ready to fade into the shadows. "C'mon, we need to get moving." Dumb idea, all her fault. Why would she even try a lapdance in conditions like these?

When Hudson moved a little too slowly for her liking, she reached out and grabbed his arms. Hauling the healer onto his feet, she miscalculated how much force it would take to stand him upright, and ended up slamming him into herself almost hard enough to send them both onto the floor. She would have fallen if he had not wrapped his arms around her, hugging the tiefling tight while she regained her balance. Alize found her cheek against his shoulder again, and turned her face away from his so he could not see how stupid she felt.

"Alize, I'm getting you all dirty again."

She only drew closer to him. Even the feeling of stiffness in his pants, that she unconsciously was rubbing a bare thigh against, could not lift her spirits. She was losing her touch. There was a time when she could have gotten a man hard, wet, and begging in a filthy pub that smelled like pig puke. Here she was in an exotic bathhouse, surrounded by old statues of naked people and all kinds of other artsy junk, and she couldn't... couldn't even... "Can't get dirty from you, Hudson." The tiefling held back a sob with practiced ease. She was not going to break down crying. That would be pathetic. Tough girls didn't cry over stuff like this. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

He had not. Dirt transferred from unclean things to clean things, and removing it was quite difficult. Oh, there were moustached salesmen who claimed that their product could make tough stains disappear, but cleanup always took work. Her logic was faulty. That did not decrease his desire to hold her close. "If you say so."

Alize wanted to tell him how she felt. To stay like this, just a little longer. She tried, really she did, but the words would not come. What good would words be if he had not already gotten the message by her actions? Besides... if she did put it into words, and he rejected her, that was it. What could she say to him, anyway? He had all kinds of university phrases for love and desire, words she couldn't even wrap her tongue around. Alize pushed away from him. No, it wasn't better this way, but she didn't know how to make it right so... so she'd just have to carry on like she always had. Stomping toward the entrance, she did not look back. The sounds of his footsteps did not follow her. "You coming with? A lot more ground to cover." Cold air whispered in through the open doorway, forcing the tiefling to cower deeper inside her cloak. The night seemed so much chillier now that she had felt warmth.

Hudson shrugged, shoved his hands into his robe's pockets, and ambled after the rogue. "Always, Alize." She said the oddest things sometimes. He wished he would just speak plainly.

Chapter 33. Trap
Alize kept looking from side to side, anywhere but at him, as they moved through the night. She was in a foul mood; that much was obvious to Hudson from the way she shattered a pair of skeleton guards with a whip-chain guided by her tail. It was not so much the swift brutality of the attack, but the way that the tiefling did not break stride. She did not even bother to loot the bodies, not that the shattered bones seemed to have anything of value to the healer's inexperienced eye. Leading the way into the dimly-lit corridor the skeletons had guarded, the tiefling continued to tear through anything that got in her way.

Hudson followed along behind, trying not to think how much she reminded him of a hungry panther he had seen in an elven nature preserve when he was very young. His family had visited the big cat's enclosure right before lunch, just in time to watch it stalk and devour a selection of smaller creatures. An abruptly curtailed cry from up ahead jerked his thoughts back to the present, as Alize yanked her dagger out of a bird-like monster's skull, wiped the gore off on its plumage, and continued stalking forward. The tiefling muttered something he could not hear under her breath. She was clearly tired of hiding from enemies, and spoiling for a fight. Speaking of which, he felt a great rumble in the ground. A cascade of loosened rocks tumbled down from the walls and almost knocked him over.

"Did those two bring some manner of explosives?" wondered the healer. The shockwave must have been from the other two members of their party. He hoped so, at least.

"This whole place is full stuff that's ready to fall over. They wouldn't need bombs to start a tremor," the tiefling replied curtly. She kept avoiding his gaze. Maybe it hadn't been her best lap dance, but he had given her nothing to work with. Now Alize felt like she could not do anything right. "Stay close. Don't make me have to pull you out of another pit trap, idiot." With her head down and shoulders hunched, she seemed almost half his size. Beneath that cloak, he could easily mistake her for part of a ruin at even a short distance. Darkness played all manner of tricks on the eyes.

"I'll do my best." They entered into another enclosed part of the corridor, and Alize's pace slowed just enough for him to catch up. "Where do you-"

"Look out!" she yelled. Small horns slammed into his ribs, knocking him to the floor. A second later, a bladed pendulum slashed through the air where his head would have been. Once again her gloved hand was over his mouth, though it quickly moved up to his forehead and held him flat against the ground. "Stupid tall human..." grumbled the rogue as the blade swung back again, passing harmlessly overtop them. She was flat on her belly next to him, pressing her body as close to the floor as she could while holding him down with a leg and an arm. Her eyes tracked the blade, and she fiddled with the small crossbow mounted on her left wrist.

As frightening as the moment was, Hudson had every confidence in the rogue. The trap swung back again, blade slashing through the air like a double-headed scythe. It whizzed past with plenty of room to spare. "We're okay down here," said the healer. "We're beneath its arc of travel." With an unexpected clunk, the pendulum's blade lurched lower, toward the two adventurers on the floor. "Uh-oh."

She squeezed his face with a gloved hand. "Thanks, brainiac. That fancy schoolin' really pays for itself, huh?"

The blade whizzed past. When it did, she rolled over, pointed her wrist at the swinging shaft, and with a twang of her crossbow launched a grappling bola that tangled around the trap. Popping upright, she grabbed the line with both hands and rushed down the hall, pulling hard to stop its momentum. Alize was tough and muscled, well used to the hard work of a rogue's life, but this was a feat of strength that the party's berserker would be more suited to. Hudson realized what she was doing and tried to stand so he could assist. The healer nearly got his head lopped off for his trouble. Alize yelped as the swinging blade hauled her back toward him. He grabbed the tiefling, arms wrapping around her while trying to grab the cord, and between the two of them they managed to arrest its momentum. The blade came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, unable to swing back into the ceiling ports.

Alize panted for breath, leaning back against Hudson as she unclenched her fingers from the rope. "Phew... I... ugh..." She glanced into his eyes, then looked away. "What were you thinking? Standing up like that, you nearly got a free haircut and loby... liboto... lobby-me!"

"You needed help!" he retorted. "Are you talking about a lobotomy?"

"I wouldn't have if you weren't here! You're the one who set off the trap!" One of her fists pressed against his shoulder, her gloved knuckles against his robes. Not exactly a punch, but something similar. The tiefling was still in his arms. "You're... ugh!"

He let go of the rope, and her, as he stepped back. "I'm... sorry?"

She glared at him, then walked over to the blade and slowly recovered her grappling device. After a long minute of unwinding the bola, she spat out, "Thanks."

"That was good thinking with the grappling hook." The healer twiddled his thumbs. Alize always had the most interesting tricks hidden under her cloak. "You're really good at this. Rescuing me, I mean."

The rogue glanced back over her shoulder. Though she said nothing, he thought he saw a bit of a smile on her face. When she bent over to untangle the last part of the bola from the trap, he noticed that her tail was forming a sort of arch beneath her cloak, lifting up the garment so that he could see her bare red legs up past her knees. He blushed a little, staring at her toned thighs, then coughed and looked away. She glanced back, confused, then saw her tail and let out a little eep as she snatched up the last of the bola and spun around. Breathing out slowly, she glared at him. Hudson folded his hands together and studiously looked elsewhere. He did not want to make the rogue any angrier than she already was.

Her expression turned curious. Tucking the bola back into a pouch, she put one arm around the pendulum shaft. Stepping up onto the top of the blade, balanced on one boot, Alize gave the pendulum a little push and curled her other leg around the shaft for stability. "Hey."

Turning, Hudson saw her standing atop the swinging blade. Her golden eyes seemed to peer into his soul. After a few seconds, during which he felt his heart stop at least once, her black lips turned up in a smile. The healer swallowed hard and leaned against the wall for support. What magic did she possess, that she could make him feel hot and cold all at once? Her spade tipped tail gestured him closer, and Hudson felt his feet obeying. When he was an arm's length away from the gently swaying pendulum, his eyes fell to the floor and he muttered out, "Sorry..."

Alize rolled her eyes. "I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be pushy!"

Hudson blinked, looking toward the floor. "I... um... Y-you want me to push you? As if this trap was a swingset?" His brow crinkled in uncertainty.

"What?" She leaned back slightly. "No! I... what's a swingset? Nevermind, I..." The tiefling sighed. "You keep looking away. Don't do that." Reaching out, she poked him in the shoulder. "Keep your eyes on me."

"That's what I'm worried about," he said quietly. "I don't know if... I mean, sometimes it's hard to look away. But I know I should."

"Why?" she asked, still swaying back and forth.

"Because it's the chivalrous thing to do."

"Maybe I'm not a chivalrous sort of girl." She smiled, showing off her sharp teeth. Her tail swayed behind her, in time with the swaying blade. "Maybe... you should be looking with your hands?"

His brow furrowed for a few seconds, and the rogue worried that she had offended him. Then he brightened, and reached out with his hands to take both of hers. "Of course I'll help you down, Alize. You have the funniest way of asking for things."

Her teeth clenched together. For just a second it had seemed she was making progress, but... Alize wanted to ask him, in blunt terms, and at the same time she wanted to grab him by the ears and bash his dense skull against the wall! Her pointed ears slumped. Before she could decide, there was a mighty crack from the ceiling, and if she had not leaped into his arms she would have fallen to the ground along with the blade. Hudson staggered back quickly, the tiefling's arms around his neck and her legs hanging off to one side. She felt incredibly light, too light to have broken the trap with her weight. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline that made her so easy for him to carry. They stared at the ruined trap for a few seconds, then looked into each other's eyes. Their lips were so close, but when both leaned together to do what their hearts wanted, one of her horns poked him and ruined the moment.

Alize slid out of his arms, embarrassed enough that she thought she would throw up. Hudson leaned against the wall and stared vacantly at the ceiling as his brain tried to process what had almost happened. After a few long moments, they looked at each other again, and the rogue gestured for him to follow her deeper into the ruins.

Chapter 34. Boss Fight
Alize shoved open a sepulchre and snorted in contempt at what was inside. Or, more accurately, what was not. "Nothin'. Not even bones!" Crossing her arms, she stomped back over to an empty wooden chest whose complex lock had falsely promised riches. "Somethin's wrong. This place doesn't look like it was ransacked before we got here." They had fought their way in, but the undead guards hadn't been anything noteworthy. A skeleton guard's remains twitched. Her heel came down hard, shattering its skull into a hundred pieces. "There's gotta be good stuff around here somewhere, and after all the pain I've been through tonight, I'm gonna find it!"

"Alize..." Hudson called nervously.

"Is it gold?" she yelled back, glaring up at a stone statue. She was almost ready to start sawing gilded torch-holders off the walls if they couldn't find anything more portable. If she had known they'd have to strip-mine the place to make this job worthwhile, she would have brought a dwarf.

"No..." he answered. "But it's wearing gold... and I think it sees me."

The tiefling's ears twitched up. A bone-chilling howl echoed through the stone crypt. Whirling about, she scrambled across the floor just in time to see Hudson snatch a ceremonial sword from a nearby wall. He parried a slash from a gilded axe, carried by a creature even taller than he and bedecked in glimmering armor, with practiced ease. Rotting flesh clung to dry bone, worms and maggots oozed from holes in its body, and only the glow of wicked magics flickering inside what passed for eye-holes in its skull gave the abomination any excuse to still be upright. The guardian zombie roared, its golden crown and gorget wobbling as it slashed again at the healer. This time the axe shattered his sword, leaving him with just a stump. Hudson stared at the jagged remains for an instant, then hit the deck as the axe swung at his head.

Alize moved like a stiletto, twirling off her cloak and tossing it into the air. The patched garment settled with almost contemptuous ease over the zombie's head and wrapped around its neck. Angry light gleamed through the thick cloth, but for a precious few seconds it was blinded. Hudson started to stand up again, trying to help in the fight. "Get clear, idiot!" hissed the tiefling, then ducked as the monster swung at the noise. It pawed at the cloak wound around its head with one boney hand, giving her just enough time to put a crossbow bolt through its sternum. Her aim was true, but what she had intended to be a shattering blow that would sever the spine did not have enough force to destroy the enchanted bones. Worse, her beleaguered crossbow gave a horrible, twanging sigh in protest of all it had been asked to do on this night, and jammed when she tried to reload.

Hudson darted back out of axe range, and looked about for another sword to salvage. He knew how to use them, his father had made quite sure of that, but under normal circumstances his place in a fight was restoring the real damage dealers to combat effectiveness. Just as the party's berserker would not waste time trying to administer her savage brand of first aid during battle, so he was not supposed to be distracted with attempting to hurt the enemy. However, they had split the party. What would have been an opportunity for the orc and elf to tag-team the monster, with Alize skulking about in the shadows and sticking in a blade whenever needed, was instead a much more desperate battle. This meant he needed to be as helpful to the rogue's fight as he could, especially since he could hear the patter of feet on the stone floor that signaled more enemies were on their way.

Sure enough, a gaggle of goblins spilled out from a nearby archway, though they looked just as surprised to see the towering zombie as he had been. While Alize dueled the abomination, which had so far shrugged off most of her attacks as easily as she dodged its strikes, Hudson turned his attention to the new arrivals. The short greenskins glared up at him, bleeding from minor wounds and missing their weapons. Clearly they had gotten the worst of a different battle before stumbling into this one. The group scuffled with each other, then kicked one of their number out front to challenge the human.

Hudson stared down at the goblin, set his feet firmly, and clenched a fist just as they had taught him in adventurer school. When the diminutive greenskin screamed and charged, the healer stepped forward. Thanks to some combination of novice's luck, skill, and insufferable optimism, his knuckles connected squarely with the goblin's chin. The short creature flew back like a bowling ball into its fellows, knocking two others over. While the rogue at his back continued her desperate struggle against the undead monster, Hudson beamed with pride at his own small victory. Then the one goblin who had not been knocked over pulled a knife from its filthy loincloth, screamed, and ran toward him while waving the blade.

This time his punch was not as accurate. The goblin, quick on its feet, bounced up and grabbed his arm, then stabbed him right in the gut. Blood stained his robes. Hudson felt the cold pain of something piercing his vitals as he toppled backward and clunked his head against the stone floor. For an instant he blacked out, but the second jab of the goblin's blade into his torso brought him back to reality. He pushed at the small creature, who slashed at his arms and shrieked as it called for its fellows to join the attack. Panic set in, and the healer reverted to what he knew best. Sparks of magic glimmered beneath his robes as his wounds began to seal. Grabbing at the goblin's wrist, he struggled with the greenskin until suddenly it yelled in horror, dropped the knife, and ran away.

Hudson stared at the running figure in surprise as it chittered to the other goblins, "Glow-guts, glow-guts, like other! Cannae die!" The greenskins all looked at the healer's closing wounds and kept well back.

Befuddled, Hudson grimaced in pain and propped himself against a nearby chunk of rubble. Both hands pressed against the stab wounds in his gut, which were steadily mending but still hurt. He heard the goblins hissing to one another. The battle moved past him, but the pain in his torso consumed his attention. Hudson had to shut his eyes for a few seconds. All his attention was taken by the grime that had covered the goblin's blade and was now smeared all over his insides. He had to purge it, rebuild what had been damaged. Couldn't just close the skin, not unless he wanted the infection to fester. The goblins shrieked again, and he heard the sounds of brutal combat, but all that mattered was visualizing the wound and healing from the inside out. A gargantuan task, but his years of training made it quite possible.

Opening his eyes, Hudson saw the undead guardian finally topple over. Acid covered much of its body, dissolving necrotic flesh and eating through the bone. Around it were several bisected goblins, seemingly cut down as they had tried to flee past the melee toward the entrance he and Alize had used. Just because something made its home in these ruins did not mean that it was welcome. A high-heeled boot stepped into his field of view. The tiefling towered over him, her lips pressed into a disappointed scowl.

"Goblins? I turn my b-back for a few minutes," her voice wavered as she fought out the words. "And you get yourself sta-stabbed by goblins." She winced, leaned against the rubble above him, then covered her mouth. Hudson could tell from the tiefling's wet cough that she had internal bleeding. Alize wiped her hand on her armor, then reached down and tried to pull him to his feet. "C'mawn now. Ge'up. We... gotta get back... outside. Don't want to... rest here... uhh..." All the strength abruptly faded from her grip, and she tumbled into his lap like a sack of potatoes. Hudson stared in surprise, then gasped in horror as he saw the deep gashes. The zombie's golden crown slipped from her other hand, clattering onto the stone floor. Her fingers twitched after it, desperate to recover the prize. Her gloves were bloody from trying to hold her innards where they belonged.

Chapter 35. Healing
Alize's golden eyes flickered toward his face, but seemed to be staring at something far in the distance. "Sr-sorry... Hudson. I couldn't... c-couldn't..." The wet cough came again, and blood trickled down her chin. "Couldn't keep you s-safe..."

All concern for his own injuries vanished. The healer took her in his arms, rose to his feet, and nearly fell back down as the pain in his abdomen lanced right up his spine. Hudson gritted his teeth and carried her toward a source of light. A flickering lamp, still burning after eons in memory of someone whose name had been lost to time, was the best he could find. Setting the tiefling down atop one of the sepulchres, he rushed through a diagnosis. Shock and deep lacerations were the obvious problems. Her eyes were unfocused, and she mumbled something as his hands pressed over her body. Tonight had been full of strange interactions between the two of them, but this was something he understood. Had to cast a sterile field first. He put on his best bedside manner and tried to be reassuring, but the rogue was barely conscious.

A blow from the abomination's axe had cleaved deep into her torso, through bones and organs alike. That she had still been on her feet afterward was a testament to the tiefling's grit. Other injuries covered her body, some minor and others major. He had completely forgotten about the stab wounds in his own gut by the time he peeled the damaged armor off her upper body. She was dying. He would not let that happen. Hudson dumped a restorative tonic down her throat, and the tiefling's agonized twitching stilled a little. Gore oozed onto the stone slab. This was a mortal wound. He specialized in those. Reaching into his tattered robes, he drew out a roll-kit of surgical supplies.

Blood stained her cloak and his hands. Magic flickered around his fingers, along the edges of his scalpel, and between his foreceps. Her rib had fragmented into the lung, and another gash had sliced her side open further down. Pulling out as many of the large bone fragments as he could, the healer's eyes flickered open and shut. He had to work by feel as much as by sight with a wound like this. As his tools moved, his magic filled in the gaps, closing flesh and regenerating organs. He needed a real medical facility for this, there was blood pooling in her body that needed to be suctioned out, but he would have to make do. Alize was so fragile compared to the party's orc. The berserker could weather septic shock as though it was no more inconvenient than a stomachache.

The fact that the tiefling's upper torso was naked, a sight he had been so studious about avoiding earlier, did not register. Hudson had performed so many surgeries, both real and simulated, that bare bodies in need of his skills were nothing more than medical questions. What had made Alize's body so enticing at the baths was the way the tiefling had presented herself. With her on a stone slab and him working to save her life, nary a thought of her earlier scandalous behaviour entered his mind. This was not because he was only interested in her when the former stripper put on an erotic display. Hudson cared deeply for Alize, and poured his soul into his work with feverish intensity. Not since his caffeine-fueled nights at university, when he had scrambled to complete last-minute assignments for the honours program, had the healer labored with such single-minded focus.

As he worked, he marveled that she had been able to finish the fight, let alone win. The axe had cleaved straight through one of her breasts on its way into her ribs. Once he had removed the bone splinters and drained out the pooling blood, his fingers glowed with different colored sparks. First he knit back together her lung, then he poured a vial of roiling red fluid into the wound that began reconstituting her ribs. While others carried weapons and armor on their adventures, he packed at least the same weight in medical supplies. Never could anticipate the exact crisis, else he would be an oracle instead of a healer, but he tried to prepare for the usual trauma cases. Alize's weak heartbeat strengthened, and as her lung reinflated she began to breathe normally again. Sweat ran down his brow, but he barely stopped long enough to wipe it on the upper sleeve of his robe. Pressing her skin back together, he moulded the cleaved flesh like clay.

Fat and epidermal skin were easy to manipulate. They had few complex structures. Muscle could be more difficult; it needed to form strands. Organs were the real problem. So many unique components and tiny capillaries. Thankfully her heart had not been punctured. It was not excessively difficult to rebuild a heart, but without some way to preserve the brain long enough to keep the patient alive until the healing was complete, it was usually wasted effort. There were battlefield workarounds, but even skillfully applied magic had its limits.

Every patient was unique. The kind of wound a male might live through could kill a female of the same kind. On the other hand, girls often had a higher pain tolerance in extremis. Statistics flickered through the back of his mind, but numbers about the masses would not help him with this individual case. Tieflings were a relatively rare and unique sub-category, with limited data available on their medical limitations. Alize seemed to fade in and out of consciousness. The healing tonic he had poured down her throat should help her stabilize. Those potions were the real magic, handy catch-alls that were almost as dependable as a proper medical facility's life-support fields.

Thankfully she did not thrash about. Once, he had been knocked unconscious during surgery by a stray blow from their orc. To wake him back up, Alize had alternated between kicking him and rummaging through his pockets until she found smelling salts. Despite the seriousness of their situation, he felt a faint desire to laugh at the memory. Hudson squeezed her upper body between his hands until the glimmering lines of magic made her red flesh whole once more, then let go and slumped forward against the stone sepulcher. Had to wait, had to let the sparks and auras work. Couldn't keep rushing. A body could only handle so much change at once.

With trembling, bloody fingers, he reached down and squeezed her gloved hand. She couldn't die, not now, not like this. He couldn't let it happen. Because... "I think... I think I'm in love with you, Alize." She would probably call him an idiot if she was conscious to hear. What else could these feelings, this twisting pain in his own chest when he saw how badly she was injured, be? Not that she would ever feel the same way. He gritted his teeth and reached for one of the compact, stainless-steel wands in his kit, then glanced down when it was not there. Odd. He was sure he had... a glimmer of light from one of the pockets at Alize's waist drew his eye. She must have palmed it off him sometime earlier. The tiefling was always doing little irksome things like that, trying to get his attention. Grabbing the wand, he sterilized it and began working on the next injury.

His own wounds began to ache again, and his mind groaned from the strain. Intensive surgery was always taxing for a healer. He pushed onward, mending that gash in her side before moving down to her legs and checking for other injuries. One at a time, each was made right. His magic fizzled, the strain of controlling that primal force burning his mind. When he finished she was whole again, her breathing steady and eyes shut tight. Hudson's vision blurred a little as he checked one last time to be sure he had done all he could.

He smiled, thinking about how peaceful she looked, before sinking to his knees. Pressing one hand to his gut, Hudson tried to finish mending his own injuries. Unlike the axe's broad cuts, which had shattered Alize's bones and cleaved organs, the filthy dagger had pierced deep and left debris. He should not have stopped the mending process partway, and the burning pains in his abdomen were affecting his concentration as he tried to finish. Feverish and weak, he tried to summon the sparks and finish closing the wounds.

Self-healing was difficult. While he knew his own body better than anyone else's, he also felt all the strangeness of his magic knitting it back together. A quick healing of light wounds was nothing, but this needed much more concentration. He could feel numbness and sensitivity squishing together in his gut, a sense of wrongness overlapped with the churn of magic, all fighting each other in his head and his body. It was hard enough to reconstruct intestines without feeling them twist back together, but he did not have the luxury of painkillers. Not if he wanted the job done correctly.

Looking down, he saw how much blood had spilled out onto his robes. It seemed funny for some reason, but he could not muster the strength to laugh. Blackness crawled at the edges of his vision. Hudson tried to fight, tried to push through as he grunted in pain, but that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Without warning the sensations became too much, and blackness washed over his sight before spreading to the rest of his perception. Unconscious, the healer slumped against the cold stone and slid down to the floor. Blood continued spreading across his robes.

For the first time in many minutes, the crypt was as quiet as it had been for ages before the adventurers arrived. On the slab above the healer, a red tail twitched.

Chapter 36. The Well
Hard, black nails dug into Hudson's scalp, dragged him by his hair up the side of the stone slab. A gloved hand held his head back as something trickled down his throat. He coughed, blinking open his eyes, and tasted the bitter sweetness of a healing potion. Alize's palm covered his mouth, keeping him from spitting out the liquid. Cold pain burned in his gut. He tried to say something, to thank her, but she just held the vial to his mouth again and forced more of the potion down his throat. When it was empty, they lay together atop the stone coffin. She pulled her cloak over him. The ache in his skull roared back as he tried again to heal himself, but he felt the wound in his gut closing as he lost consciousness again.

How long they huddled together like that, he was not sure. When the cold pain had faded and his skull no longer rang like a gong, he realized that Alize's head was against his shoulder. Unable to stand, he settled for putting an arm around her as they lay on the sepulchre. The tiefling smiled wearily at the ceiling. One of her arms covered her breasts, which still lacked armor. She reached out toward him. Their bloody hands clasped together. He stared into her eyes, then felt her other hand on the back of his head. Their lips met. Hudson yelped in surprise, but she kept a firm grip on his head until he gave in and kissed back hard. Then both of them blacked out again.

When he woke, the tiefling had her damaged armor back on and her cloak once more drawn tightly around her bloodstained body. Her cheeks were hollow, the red color of her skin far paler than it ought to be, but she was alive. Alize's black lips curled into an uncharacteristically shy smile. "You keep giving until the well's dry, huh?" He tried to answer, but his throat felt so dry. "So... uh... we kinda need to clean up again..." She held out a hand. "Should... probably go back to the baths. C'mon, get up!"

Taking her hand, he let the tiefling pull him to his feet. "Thank you," he managed to say.

She shook her head. "Don't talk." Pressing a finger to his lips for a second to make sure he understood, she continued, "Not yet. Just follow me." Grabbing his hand again, she half-led, half-dragged him back down the corridors.

Though it took him a few minutes to regain his voice, Hudson could not remain silent. "Alize... a-about what happened back there..." She glanced back over her shoulder at him, but he could not read the expression beneath her hood. Their hands were sticky with blood, almost glued together. His memory was blurred by pain, but the healer was pretty certain about one thing. "Did we... did we kiss?"

She swerved him around the remains of the ruined pendulum blade trap as they returned along the way they had come. The rogue fought with herself for a long moment, trying to decide what to say. She could lie. Alize was pretty good at that. Would she really be protecting him if she did? Finally, the tiefling settled on telling him the truth. Tonight was a night for trying new things. "I had to... in case I never got the chance again." She took a deep breath. "Lot of things I regret. When I was bleedin' out this time, the... the only thing I could think about was how much I'd regret never having kissed you."

Hudson's heart hammered in his chest as the tried to keep up with her. "Alize, that's... um, that's what I was thinking about too."

Her ears wiggled. "I'm not sorry. Stealing's what I do."

"I'm not sorry either," he replied with a smile.

Turning around, while still trotting full-tilt, she poked his chest. "That's a first, rich boy..."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked curiously. She leaned her head to the side in confusion. "Your gold, from the monster."

Alize's golden eyes opened wide. For a second, she looked almost as if she was about to rush past him and back into the crypt. Her eyes stared longingly down the hall, then drifted toward the blood on his robes. She reluctantly shook her head. "I've got what matters to me."

The healer nodded. As they moved back out onto the cracked stone pathway beneath the stars, he ventured a statement that made him feel as if he was stepping down stairs in the dark. "Kissing is really, really important, Alize. It... uh, means something. It means a lot." She bit her lower lip and squeezed his hand. "Are you okay with kissing a tiefling?"

"I'm okay with kissing you." His cheeks reddened. "I'm really, really okay with kissing you, Alize." Even splattered with blood and wearing badly damaged armor, she was beautiful. Especially with that hopeful look in her eyes. "I'd be lost out here without you, remember?"

"And don't you forget it, Hudson," she whispered back. Once again the rogue could not feel her feet, but this time it was not because of some evil enchantment. "I... I know I'm just street trash, but... you're really smart, an' you're always reading, and you know magic... a-and you act like you see somethin' worth anything in me." She gulped in air, still pulling him along and casting uncertain glances from beneath her hood. "No other guy's ever... ever made me feel this twisted up and melty inside." Tears trickled from her eyes, falling onto his robes and leaving little damp splotches. "W-what... do you really think about me?

He was silent for a long moment, processing what she had said. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Alize sniffled. "That's not true. I... I'm not human, I'm just a tiefling."

"A very skilled, very pretty tiefling. I just wish you wouldn't pick on me as much."

She blinked, then looked up at him through misty eyes. "You really are d-dense, huh?" Clearing her throat, she growled, "I'm not picking on you, I'm hitting on you, duh!"

"Hitting... on?"

"How many different ways do I have to say it?" Alize rolled her eyes. Their boots were on grass now as she took a more direct path back to the baths. Her tongue arched like a serpent within her mouth, less forming words than spitting them out like venom. "I want to have sex with you!"

"Uh..."

"Sex. Screwing. A roll in the hay. How's-your-father. Carnal congress. The two-bits an' a copper twist. An affair. Knockin' boots. Mutually consensual intimate intercourse, and I'm almost to the point where I'm not worried about the consensual part!" Her pointed ears drooped a little low. "I... I mean... I've tried to tell you that, but... you're not like the drunks I have to fend off at taverns. You... you keep missing all the chances I've thrown your way." Her tail curled as she tried to keep her voice steady. "And I've never felt this way about anyone before, so it's even harder to ask, and..." Alize leaned her head to the side in confusion at the expression on his face. "What?"

"This is a highly unusual thing for a lady to request," he said honestly. Girls did not like sexual intercourse, or so he had been led to believe. It was a concession, something they permitted men to experience only as a form of high gratitude or to continue the species. Ladies reluctantly spread their legs and thought about matters of state. Well, unless you were a buff hero like Magnum Kro. Then the girls threw themselves at your feet. Alize was not doing either. Did she feel some guilt or obligation? "Alize, you owe me nothing. We are fellow adventurers, and you have saved my life many times over."

Alize dug in her heels, abruptly halting their progress. Her golden eyes seemed to glow. "You really had a messed up childhood, didn't you?" asked the street urchin. "What, did they zap you with lightning until you could only get turned on by books?" She reached up and touched his cheek. "Hudson," murmured the tiefling, her spade-tipped tail twitching beneath her cloak. Red fingertips pressed against his flushed skin. "I mean it. I'm so scared right now, and I hate that so much, but I mean what I said. Take me."

"Alize," he whispered, trying to lean away as his pulse quickened. Where did she want him to take her to? There wasn't an opera house in a hundred miles! "Please, d-don't press so close to me. I... I always get this aching feeling in my gut when you do, and right now I c-can't stand it..."

A long tongue ran over black lips. "Feels like a fire down under, don't it?"

He nodded. Sweat trickled down his brow. "I... I'm sorry... ulp!" She shoved him against a stone wall. Her thigh pressed between his legs, rubbing a hard bulge barely hidden by his slashed robes. When he tried to cover himself, she grabbed his hands and pinned him against the masonry. He would not be able to push her away this time. A long, flexible tongue flicked up the side of his neck. "Alize..."

"Hudson. Do you want me?"

"I... I can't..." he whispered. "I mustn't. You..."

"I don't have any diseases, if that's what you're going on about," her golden eyes glimmered with both tears and anger.

He shook his head. "Y-you don't want me, Alize. You're beautiful, and skilled, and... and I don't know anything about... about..." The word did not quite want to come out. "Sex! This isn't h-how the books I've read work. You're n-not supposed to want me. I'm not a warrior, or a general, or anything s-strong. I just... I just heal people. That's all I'm good at."

She stepped back, but only enough to draw a blade from one of her holsters. He gasped as the flat of the dagger pressed against his cheek. "You're lucky this face is too cute to mess up, or I'd start cutting scars. And not the handsome ones." Alize grinned, her sharp teeth on full display as she forced him back against the wall with a thigh between his legs and a red hand on his throat. Her tail twitched upward, lifting her cloak, and her pointed ears looked almost like a second set of horns. "Listen good, rich boy. You're the strongest one in this party. It isn't our paladin. She has armor, magic, prayer, and all those other elf tricks that they lord over us lesser races."

Her gold eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "Isn't me, that's for damn sure. I should have been dead in a hole a long time ago. I've only gotten by through deceit and reflexes. All orcs are born tough as dragons and too stupid to die, so the berserker doesn't count. You, though, you're human." Red fingers traced along the muscles beneath his robes. "Everything you are, you had to become. You don't quit. Not until the well runs dry." Alize leaned her head against his chest. "That's why I want you." She smiled up at him. "I can teach you everything else you need to know... especially about sex... if you want."

Hudson gripped her shoulders. "I... I do want. And I..." Could he say this? Did he have the authority, the moral standing to accept what she was offering him? Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers again. The tiefling's ears twitched upward, and her hands stopped pinning him against the wall so she could grab his collar. This kiss wasn't desperate and aggressive like the first, but it had just as much passion. How long they stood like that, Hudson did not know and Alize did not care, but eventually they did stop kissing. Not really due to practical concerns or a loss of interest, but because both had started to feel nervous in their own special ways.

The tiefling thought about all the horrible things she had done with her mouth, and Hudson thought about how improper it was to be kissing like this because it could only lead down one road. Did she really wish to be with someone as boring and clinical as he, when she could find a hotblooded adventurer after her own heart? Meanwhile, Alize stared up into his eyes, tongue running over her lips, a thrill she had never imagined tingling all across her body. If he would have her, she would be his, all his, only his.

The fantasy of sleeping with him, arguing with him, standing at his side in court, hating his guts for a moment while still loving him with all her heart, bringing him soup or whatever when he got sick, raising children with him, watching them grow up, feeling her bones ache and her spine hunch while he grew a grey beard, all those things seemed too wonderful for her to even hope for. Naughty girls like her were supposed to end up dead in drainage culverts.

"Alize," he murmured. "I understand the consequences of my actions."

"Um..." She blinked. Educated fancy-talk, probably. "Y-you mean you'll h-have me?"

"I mean that I'll take full responsibility for our actions tonight."

The tiefling tilted her head to one side, trying to puzzle out his meaning. If she had heard that from a client she would already have cut his purse and run, because those sounded like weasel-words. But those innocent eyes, that nervous smile, and... and yes, that kiss had been so good. Why was she hesitating, anyway? Less than an hour ago she would have been happy if he had dropped his trousers and told her to get sucking. Well, maybe not happy... okay, she would have been happy in some parts and sad in others. Fingering herself during a blowjob would have more or less counted as happy, even if her ears drooped while she was deepthroating him. But this was more, this was like stealing bearer bonds or forging a cheque. Except he was giving her the cheque, complete with his signature.

Icy fear gripped Alize's heart as she tried to figure out if she was conning him. For a few seconds the tiefling was frozen, her mind spinning in much the same way as Hudson's did when he tried to figure out one of her roguish antics. A small smile crept across the healer's face, and he lightly kissed her forehead. The tiefling melted into his arms, her ears twitching happily. Biting her lower lip, she tried in vain to hold back a wicked smile. "Mmm. C'mon, Hudson. I need some help in the bath." With her golden eyes glowing, she pulled him down the roofless corridor. "And you don't get a choice this time!" Hell had little fury compared to what she would unleash on anything that stood in her way now.

As they rushed back to the baths, neither noticed a cat perched high atop the ruined wall she had pressed him against. In its mouth was a plump rat. Moonlight fell on scars that crisscrossed two of its limbs. The cat purred quietly, its slit pupils following the thief and healer, then settled down to enjoy its meal as the two rushed away with all the energy young love could give them.

Chapter 37. Poolside Foreplay
The large bathing hall decorated with broken mirrors and one-armed statues was as they had left it. Alize resisted the urge to drag him straight into the bath, but she did not let go of his hand as they ran across the tiles to reactivate the machinery and pump in fresh, hot water. Blood covered her body, and her damaged leather breastplate would be worthless in a fight. Hudson's robes were torn and stained, displaying his recently-healed abdominals. The thin padding Alize wore beneath her torso armor had been ruined to the point that she had not even tried putting it back on. This allowed certain parts of the tiefling to jiggle freely. Her red skin, bisected with a still-visible mar from the gash he had healed, had an almost hypnotic effect on the healer. Especially when Alize turned on a heel and let her tongue curl out over those black lips as she hooked her thumbs into the top of his robe.

Steam began to swirl around the baths. She tugged at his robes, peeling the outer layer off his upper body and then pulling his shirt over his head. A belt still held the outer robe around his waist, but as soon as his chest was bare she began nuzzling against his moderately chiseled pectorals. The nobles she was used to seeing were pudgy from stealing the food out of their subjects' mouths. Her fingers traced over the recently healed stab wound in his stomach. Glancing up at his face, she lightly kissed the injury and winked at him.

At a loss for what to do, since he was so very out of his element, the healer cupped her face in his hands and ran a thumb across her cheek. Half-shutting her eyes, Alize leaned against him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her ears wiggled, attracting his notice, and the healer experimentally ran a finger over one. The effect was immediate, a happy little jolt that ran down her spine.

Her nails dug into his belt as she tried to loosen it. Maybe it was the magic in his hands, or that few of her past bedfellows had paid any attention to the tiefling's ears, but as he lightly teased their pointed tips with a curious grin on his face, tingles made her weak in the knees. The rogue's tail curled around his waist as she roughly yanked the belt loose and dumped his book-laden outer robe onto the remains of a stone bench. Backing him closer to the water's edge, she started to drop to her knees, but he hugged her hard enough to keep her standing. Confused, Alize glanced up at him, and felt his mouth pressing against hers. The tiefling's knees went weak. She clung to him for support, and sighed happily as he held her tight.

As wonderful as the kiss was, Alize felt guilt clutching at her heart again. When their lips parted, she blinked back tears and avoided his gaze. "I'm... Hudson, I'm not good enough for you. I'm mean, and I'm always pushing you around, and I'm greedy, and... and you're kind, you're selfless, you're..." Her ears twitched, and she glared up into his face. "D-don't get the wrong idea, we're totally still doing this." The tiefling grabbed his butt, squeezing a little too hard with her black nails. "I'll do anything. I'll be your servant, your slave. You think you know what I'm capable of, but you ain't seen nothing yet." He was confused, which made sense to her since he was probably wondering what the catch was. "I'm not asking anything for myself, just... promise me you'll give our children a better... a better childhood than I had. That's all I want, Hudson. Please."

He was quiet for a long moment. Steam built and billowed around the baths, while the tiefling felt cold sweat rising on her red skin. "Alize, when you push me around, it's... it's usually to get me out of danger. That means you care. I don't want a slave. I want you." His thumb ran over her pointed ear again. "And it's my choice if you're good enough or not for me."

"But..." A lifetime of hard knocks was not brushed aside so easily. "But I'm a tiefling."

"It is not what we are born as, but the things we do for ourselves and our children that defines us." That was what his father had always told him.

The tiefling had no such words of wisdom to give back. Instead, she shut her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then cooed into his ear, "Drop your pants, or I'm cutting you out of them!"

"Um..." He was still nervous. "Y-you first?"

She snickered. "Only if you promise to watch this time." After another quick kiss, she stepped back and shivered as a cloud of steam passed by. Her golden eyes locked with Hudson's. The leather breastplate fell off with a flick of her wrist, but she pulled her cloak around to hide her bare breasts. His eyes were locked on her. Hudson stared, with that adorable innocence she had tried so hard to corrupt, as the battle-scarred tiefling flicked her tail and unbuckled one of her bandoliers. She felt a little nervous. No one had ever stared at her like this before. Clients all wanted what she was selling. This was different. He was sweating, his posture showing how weak he still was from all the spellwork, and trying to take in every detail of her body.

With a wink, the rogue eased onto a stone bench and raised a leg. Rows of straps ran up her boots, cinching around her calves so she could make all those acrobatic jumps and kicks. She crossed her legs, then ran her tongue over her black lips as her claw-like lacquered nails loosened the left boot's top strap. Hudson's knees wobbled as her cloak shifted, revealing a glimpse of her bare torso in what seemed to be an accident. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but this felt so different.

The healer had been elbows-deep inside her body and squeezed her flesh back together less than an hour ago. Alize knew that alure wasn't about bare flesh, it was all in how you used what you had. Showing the right thing at the right time, teasing and delivering. Learning that lesson when she was young had kept her alive. She had sold herself in little pieces for food and shelter. Tonight, though... tonight she was giving away that last little bit she had horded for herself.

Hudson swallowed hard. "I... um..." Wearing nothing more than his boots, tattered trousers, and his long hosiery, he still felt overheated. "Alize, did you... um... can I help you with that?" She had wanted him to help her in the baths before, and he kept finding reasons to say no because that was what a gentleman did. But it would be okay now, wouldn't it? He staggered a step toward her, pulled by what felt like an invisible chain wrapped around something inside his chest. "P-please?"

The tiefling was in her element. Leaning back on the bench, she teased a fold in her cloak between two fingers and waggled her tail in his direction. Finally, he was letting her work! Hudson was such a sweet boy, so much untapped potential. Her eyes traveled across the sweat and steam beading on his brow, his pectorals, his abdominals... mmm. All hers. Delicious raw meat, from those kind eyes to that needy bulge. Gesturing with a hand, she meant to tell him that he should come, but the rich, sultry voice commanded, "Crawl."

Staring into those glowing golden eyes, beneath wicked horns and above full black lips, Hudson barely noticed he was dropping to his knees. As he crept across the floor of the bathhouse on all fours, she slowly peeled off her fingerless gloves and tossed them over his head to land next to her discarded breastplate. Reaching her side, he took one of her red hands in his and kissed it, as a man of good breeding would to any lady. His lips felt hotter than a branding iron on her red skin. Tears welled up in Alize's eyes. She began stroking his hair, her tail sliding down his back, as he finished unbuckling her boot. Hudson had no idea that he had just broken a very experienced dominatrix. All he knew was that she had found a way to make taking off someone else's boots kind of fun.

When her other boot lay on the floor as well, she slid off the bench and sat him down. Crawling into his lap, the tiefling bit back a smile as she watched his eyes follow her jiggling breasts for a few seconds. Alize pulled her cloak around them, putting the healer beneath the patchwork garment that had saved her life many times. This moment was just for the two of them. He almost tried to close his eyes as she began trying some of her more exotic moves. A gentle touch on his chin and a subtle nod from her reassured him that yes, this was all-right. She wanted him to look, to be short of breath, to reach up and feel.

The rogue knew she was teaching him terrible strip-club etiquette, especially when she leaned forward and hugged his head against her bare bosom, but he would never need to know those kinds of social graces. He could look, touch, kiss, squeeze, do it all and more for free with her. With his cheek against the fresh scar running down her torso, she kissed the top of his head and teased his groin with her tail.

"Alize..." he moaned. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers moved over her body, exploring her curves and seeming to find so much more of interest than he had when she was on the stone slab. The tiefling squeezed his shoulders, then reached down and loosened her belt of tricks. Carefully she draped the collection of pouches and bags over the back of the bench. Yes, everything in there was durable enough to be dropped and kicked, but the last thing she wanted was an errant acid cloud ruining this moment. Far too much had kept her from him already tonight. She feigned falling backward, and his strong hands had her by the waist. Red fingers patted his, then continued downward to unbuckle her groin covering.

Her tail felt his bulge stiffen through his trousers, and with a wicked grin she began grinding her loins against his. As she moved, the cloak billowed around them and clung to her curves. For a second she was afraid that Hudson was going to have a heart attack, his face was so red and his eyes so wide. Wouldn't be the first time her naked body had stopped someone's heart. Leaning forward, she kissed him full on the mouth. That was the ticket. He kissed back, hungry. No... starving, but he didn't know how to eat. Her tongue curled further into his mouth, twisting and teasing around his as she pulled down his trousers.

Alize didn't need to see what she was working on to put those skillful hands to use. Loosening the knots and fasteners nobles used on their clothes wasn't so different from picking the locks they used to make stealing their valuables more fun. When her tail first slid inside his underwear and stroked along his shaft, Hudson squirmed. Her fingers freed his length from the cloth prison, and she curled her tail up along his length before patting the underside of his glans with her tip.

His grip on her waist tightened, and she felt his tongue wriggling against hers. No doubt, he had never done anything like this before. She had barely touched him and he was right on the edge. Breaking the kiss, the tiefling let him gasp and groan while she nuzzled at his neck. He was so cute when he was desperate like this, and the thick-headed idiot deserved a bit of torture to make up for all he had put her through.

The look in his eyes when a dribble of her natural lubricant fell onto his tip was priceless. She lowered her hips just enough to wet his manhood, rubbing against his length and getting a little back as she felt that hard rod against her nub. Alize shut her eyes. He really did have a monster between his legs. Her arms slid around his neck, and she hugged tight for support as she moved her hips. So much of her wanted to ride him right now, take him to the hilt and squeeze out that precious first load. He was ready, like a gold necklace left on a dresser. But she had an even better idea.

Right at his limit, she straightened her spine and pulled off her cloak. It too needed to be folded over the back of the bench rather than dropped on the floor, but that was because it had seen enough rough use already tonight. Fully naked, she stepped back off Hudson's lap and laid a black-nailed finger on his lips before he could stammer out an apology. "Don't worry. I need this more than you." She couldn't keep herself from running a hand down his shaft, or her tail from idly rubbing between her own legs. Getting down on her knees, the tiefling let herself appreciate his length up close for just a few seconds before violently removing his boots.

Alize was unable to resist opening wide and taking his glans into her mouth. Lightly brushing her fangs against the tip, her tongue curled down as she kissed along his shaft with those black lips. While she was sucking, the rogue managed to get his trousers and undergarments the rest of the way off. The tiefling's tail rubbed against her slit on instinct, but that wouldn't be enough to satisfy her tonight. Cupping his scrotum, she could almost feel the cum churning in his balls. All for her. When the healer was as naked as the thief, she took the opportunity to kiss those scars on his abdomen. Then she stood up and led him to the water.

"Trust me," cooed the tiefling. "You'll like me even more when I'm hot and wet."

Chapter 38. Not Running
Warm water swirled around his tired legs. They had done a lot of walking and running tonight. Alize smirked up at him from the bath. She had taken him to the water's edge, then sat him down on the side while sliding completely in herself. He tried to climb into the water with her, but the tiefling stopped him with a black claw prodding at his chest.

"Not yet." Her tongue flicked out, long and flexible, curling around his shaft. Hudson moaned. His fingers clenched as her black lips slid down over his tip, but his eyes did not roll back in his head until those red fingers started working. "Mmm... oh yeah..." Alize kissed down the underside, nudging his thigh with her horn when she reached the bottom. "Tell me this is all mine tonight, Hudson. Promise me you're not gonna run away again."

He bit his lip to regain focus, then reached out to stroke her hair. "Y-you're the one who's always running away, Alize."

The tiefling bared her fangs and growled. "Only because you're so dense!" Her spade-tipped tail curled upward, rising out of the water behind her like a sea serpent. "Don't push me away, Hudson. I'm... I'm scared right now. Never been scared like this before, and I've been scared more ways 'n I can count." With her fingers still moving and her eyes locked on his, she took a deep breath. "I keep thinkin' I'm gonna... you're gonna see what I really am, and you're not gonna like it one bit." Her hands continued to work, rubbing his shaft against her cheek and holding him still as she licked. "You, you're... I mean, what girl wouldn't? But I... I'm gonna ruin this. I just know it, because nothin' good ever stays for me." His tip slid in and out of her mouth, slickened by the tiefling's saliva. "What'll we do then?"

For Alize, stroking and licking him was a familiar activity. She knew how to please men. Doing something as familiar as this was soothing, a way to bleed off all the nerves and stress. Making him happy, putting that expression on his face that told her how much this pleasure was melting his mind, made her feel like she was worth something. It was sort of like sharpening her daggers. For Hudson, this was torment. He was trying to think, trying to measure up to impossibly high standards, while the naughty tiefling girl he had a crush on was dangling him right over the edge of climax. Sexuality was so familiar to her that it was commonplace, and so foreign to him that it was overwhelming.

"We..." he stammered, mouth dry. She was doing that thing where her tongue curled down his manhood like a serpent again. How could a tongue be that flexible? "We've already r-ruined it. But w-we keep putting it back together again." Alize's eyes brightened, and she took his tip into her mouth while casually cupping his scrotum. It was all he could do to keep his fingers still in her hair. He so badly wanted to shove her head down, but was certain that she wouldn't like that at all. "Because... because... w-we both w-want it!"

She nodded, lips still wrapped around him. Traces of her black lipstick were rubbing off all along his shaft. Hudson was better with words. Tilting her head back, she smirked at his twitching erection and kissed the inside of his thigh hard enough to leave a faint black imprint of her lips. He was hers tonight. "I want you, Hudson." The tiefling's golden eyes glowed bright as her tail swayed through the water. Sweat ran down his face and chest. "I need you."

"A-Alize..." stammered the healer. She exhaled on his tip and his hips jerked. He pulled shyly on her head, urging her to start again. Words had failed him completely. "S-show me the way, p-please!"

Leaning forward, she nestled his shaft between her breasts. "Relax." This was her element. "Just follow my lead, Hudson. Like always." Her tail curled back down into the water, between her legs, as her red bosom slid up and down around his manhood. Hudson could feel the texture of her skin change as she moved. The mar from the recently-healed wound occasionally rubbed against his shaft. Not unpleasant, just different than the rest of her supple flesh. How could she think of all these wonderful things that made him feel so good all over?

Holding firmly to her head, he watched her bob up and down atop his shaft. It seemed like the tiefling had no gag reflex. Her fingers lightly teased his balls, cupping them in her palm and tugging gently, while her tongue curled down his shaft until it squirmed between her breasts. Reaching up, she subtly moved one of his hands and snickered around her mouthful when he clutched at one of her horns. Guys always loved grabbing her by those. What she was not expecting was his fingers to brush gently along her ear as he hung on. Happy chills ran down her back as she simmered in the warm water.

With an expert like her working on him, Hudson had only a few moments to enjoy the tiefling's efforts before he could not hold back any longer. Stammering a warning, which she dismissed, he fell back on the natural urge to hug her close. Not quite intending to pull her head against his groin, he groaned loud and long as she gulped down spurt after spurt of his thick seed. Beneath the water, the tiefling's tail and a few fingers made sure she shared in the fun. Not as good as what she was hoping would come next, but it took the edge off the lust that had hounded her for far too long. Hudson owed her for a lot of lonely nights. While he had slept the sleep of the oblivious, she would be rubbing herself nearly raw.

Her black lips lifted from his tip with a soft popping noise, and a trickle of cum oozed from a corner of her mouth. She flicked out her tongue, licking it up, then smiled up at him with her eyes half-shut. A good start, but she wanted much more than a mouthful! Hudson collapsed backward, flat on the tile, and stared at the ceiling as his length softened. She had drained him dry, picking just the right combination of soft touches, hard licks, and warm wetness to push him all the way through ecstasy and into overload. Leaning down between his legs, she kissed his scrotum and let his softening manhood flop across her forehead.

Power pulsed through her veins. She felt truly alive. Dirty deeds like this had always been what kept her out of a pauper's grave, but there was an incomparable thrill in seeing a man conquered as thoroughly as she had just drained Hudson. Her back arched again, tail drifting up through the water as she splayed her fingers across his abdomen. This was different, unlike anything she had done before. It felt different, at least. The tiefling's smile widened. She liked this kind of different, liked it a lot.

His fingers petted her hair, one thumb running along her ear. Alize pulled herself up out of the bath and straddled him. Droplets of warm water trickled from her red skin. He was really cute like this. Out of breath, all those muscles twitching, and his toes curling underwater. She ran her tongue over her teeth, swallowing the last of his load. Her tail curled around his shaft and balls, teasing them. The right kind of stimulation could shorten a man's refractory period. Not the sort of thing she did too often for customers who paid by the hour, especially since most of the time they needed to talk about their problems. Talking was good, loose lips helped her sink ships, but she and Hudson had done more than enough talking tonight!

On his back, Hudson stared up into her beautiful golden eyes. He reached up and squeezed her hand. "Alize... thank you." That made her blush and rub one of her horns. He then asked something that any scholar would consider a compliment, "Where did you study?"

"Wha... what?" the tiefling nervously stammered.

"I've never heard of anyone doing this for anyone else. Not... not like you've done for me." He smiled, wondering why she looked so uncomfortable. Was her schooling in these matters secret? Part of her rogue training? "Is there an institute for girls to learn courtesanship? Or... did you invent all of this by yourself?"

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to slap herself. Alize bit her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Without conscious thought, her tail continued to tease and squeeze his manhood. He was going to figure it out sooner or later, probably already knew. Maybe he just wanted her to say it out loud? Her shoulders slumped, and she shut her eyes.

Hudson could tell he had said something wrong. He squeezed her hand and tried to sit upright, enough that he could surprise the tiefling with a kiss. She tried to squirm away at first, muttering something under her breath, but the healer hugged her close until she gave in. Her arms curled around his back, clinging close to him. When their lips parted, she could not meet his gaze.

"I did... things I'm not proud of. Put my mouth on a lot of stuff you wouldn't want to kiss. That's... that's how I learned to do all this, Hudson. By doing it for money. Because... because I had to." His gaze felt heavy. She tried to squirm away, back into the water. "H-hey... how about I go b-back to doing what I do well, huh?" Alize forced a smile. "You liked that, right? I can... I can do a lot more."

Hudson did not let go. Holding her hand tight, he told her, "You will never again have to. Upon my family's name I vow that, Alize."

Her defenses popped back up. She had heard that kind of offer before. A lot of nobles had tried to buy her, or woo her. Looking in his eyes, she tried to convince herself this was different. Hudson meant those words. He wasn't like the nobles who thought a red-skinned tiefling girl would make a fine little throwaway toy. Alize knew she did not deserve him. Shifting in his lap, caught between his firm muscle and hardening shaft, she realized that only made her want him all the more.

"I've... I've done a lot of nasty things. I don't... know if your family name wants somethin' like me stuck to the bottom of its shoe." Still dripping with water, she felt clean on the outside. But inside was where it mattered.

"It's not who you were. It's who you're becoming. I see an excellent rogue." He grinned. "Otherwise I wouldn't have kissed you."

Her cheeks blushed even brighter. "Soddin' healer..." the rogue whispered under her breath. Then she bit back a grin. "And before you go gettin' any ideas, I need a little prep before we try that." Arching her back and pressing her bosom against his chest, she teased her entrance along his stiffening shaft. "You'll have to settle for the front door this time."

"What do you mean-" he started to ask, utterly baffled, but a squeeze from her tail made him gasp. Now it was his turn to blush. He wanted to be hard again, wanted to feel her riding him. She kissed his cheek. If he was stressed out, he'd never stiffen up. Alize knew how to make men cum until their purses were dry, but the healer was going to get it all for free. His balls needed to be good and ready for that. Kissing him again, she curled her tail around his waist and shifted them until both were ready to tumble into the water.

"Hudson," she cooed into his ear. He was in the best hands. "Drown with me!" Putting her arms around his neck, she toppled them off the edge of the warm bath.

"Alize, you mean that metaphorically, riiighttt?" yelped the healer as they went into the water together.

Chapter 39. Hudson on the Pole
The water felt good. Alize's hands all over his body, her lips against his as they mingled in the warm bath, felt even better. She still had a few bandoliers of armaments strapped to her body. He felt the holsters on her thighs brush against him most frequently. The brown leather stood out against her red skin, just like those pretty golden eyes and firm black lips.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as his fingers ran over old scars. Her ears twitched.

"Y-you really think so?"

Hudson nodded. "I wouldn't say so if it wasn't true."

The tiefling giggled. "Yeah, I guess that's one upside of how your brain works." Her lacquered nails ran through his wet hair, then pulled him down into the water again. All his worries seemed to be washing away along with the blood and grime on their bodies. When they surfaced again, she guided him toward that tall pipe stretching up from the water, where she had cleaned herself so strangely before.

"Are you going to show me how to clean up in the tiefling way?" he asked with a grin. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded. Looking up at the pole, Hudson rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure if it'll support my weight."

Alize blinked. Then she burst out laughing. "Wha... Hudson, you're not gonna... you think..." Her head lolled onto his shoulder as she giggled. "No, no, g'wan! Get up there, rich boy." Red fingers ran over his pectoral muscles. This was too much to pass up. "Let's see you work that booty!"

Without any idea what he had gotten himself into, Hudson stepped forward and grasped the wet pole. He really didn't mind her calling him "rich boy" now, not when she said it like that. In his training, he had learned how to shimmy up pipes, climb ropes thrown over walls, and all sorts of other athletic things an intrepid adventurer might need to progress through ruins. Granted, he was never exceptional at any of those things, which often gave Alize many opportunities to save his skin. She smirked as he began pulling himself up the pipe.

Clambering up a wet pole, with a faint mist falling on him from above, was hard enough under optimal conditions. It was even trickier with a tiefling standing nearby, giggling and making waves in the water with her tail. Worse, his stiffening manhood kept bumping against the metal, which felt much less pleasant than Alize's touch. Hauling himself midway up the pole, which wobbled under his weight, he let go with one hand and tried to lean back as he had seen Alize do earlier. For an instant he was able, one arm reaching out and a triumphant grin on his face. Then the grip his legs had on the pipe slipped, he overcompensated while trying to regain it, and down fell the healer into the waters.

Alize caught him before he could do something stupid like bang his head on the bottom of the bath. At least he had tried. Holding him up, the water making it much easier for her to bully his body around, she kissed her idiot. "Harder than it looks, huh?"

"I never said it looked easy," he mumbled.

She snickered. "Well, from the way you kept trying to not watch before, I was worried you didn't like it." The tiefling booped her nose against his. "Pay attention this time, okay?" Under the water, her tail curled around his shaft for a teasing squeeze.

He nodded. She let go and swam over to the pole, curling an arm around it and slithering up in one fluid motion. He stared up at her with wide eyes. This was much better. He didn't belong on the sidelines, looking through shy fingers. She wanted him to see everything. Tapping his chin with her tail, Alize began to sway around the pole. Sprays of water from the leaky pipes above trickled down her body. Every little motion threw droplets out into the bath as she swayed her hips and twisted around the pole. Her breasts jiggled, her butt waggled, and her tail curved. Hudson stared, mesmerized.

Climbing further up, the tiefling squeezed tight with her thighs and bent backward until her head was level with his. Reaching out, she pulled him in for an upside-down kiss. Her horns pressed against his chest as their lips met. This was what she had needed for so long. The tiefling felt so hot in her loins that she was worried the pipe between her thighs would melt. Her hands squeezed his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. "Hudson," she whispered.

"Yes, Alize?"

"R-remember when I said I... I did a lot of things for money?" Her heart hammered in her chest. Still inverted, she looked up into his eyes. "W-well... what I want to do next isn't one of those things. It's gonna be as... as new to me as to you." She swallowed hard. Her black hair hung upside-down, trickling water into the bath below. "I promise you that. I... I haven't been able to hang on to much in my life, but I was able to keep this. And I want to give it to you, because... because it'll mean something this way."

Reaching up, he put his arms around her inverted body. "Have you thought this through, Alize? Are you really sure?" She was a tough as nails rogue. He was barely an adventurer, more of an auxiliary support who had to be on the battlefield because that was where people needed mending the most. That she wanted to be with him still didn't make sense to the healer. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

"If you're sure you'll have me." The tiefling nibbled at her lip, which looked all the more adorable with her face upside down. He was a noble, a scholar, he could save lives with his bare hands. What was a street rat thief compared to that?

"I will, Alize. I love you." Three little words, so easy to say and so hard to mean.

She nearly fell off the pole in relieved delight. "I love you too, Hudson." Alize leaned into the kiss this time, slipping him a bit of tongue. The intensity surprised the healer. Before long he was starting to learn how to fight back, but it would take many more years of kisses before he could equal her in such combat. High up on the pole, her tail had curled tight around the metal and its spade tip was tapping out a happy beat.

Bending upward, she wrapped her arms around the pipe and climbed down. The tiefling stretched out a leg and teased him closer, then swung around the pole one last time before presenting herself to him. Hudson could only stare. His brain had overloaded. He sort of knew what she wanted, but this was all too much and too fast. Alize arched an eyebrow.

"Do you need an engraved invitation?" She waggled a knife beneath his chin. "Because I can carve one into yer arse!"

Bullying, that was something familiar. He could work with that! Putting his arms around her, he pressed the rogue against the pole. Her legs wrapped around him. Toned thighs squeezed tight on his waist as she steadied herself. Her tail curled around his shaft, angling it up and against her entrance. Alize's golden eyes locked on his as they pushed together. Both thought they were ready, but neither really were. She had thought it would hurt so bad. It did, a little, but nowhere near as much as she thought that rod of his would. He was completely unprepared for how tight and welcoming she was inside. The water around them churned as they moved together. Both were learning something new.

While neither had any experience with this, their bodies knew what to do. Alize kept one hand on the pole above her head, and the other on his shoulder. She had the dubious advantage of having seen quite a lot of this in the course of her "studies." The former stripper knew the ups, downs, and side-ways of raw, raunchy sex from an observer's perspective. On the other side, Hudson had no such instruction but seemed to be naturally gifted. Very naturally gifted!

His hands cupped her butt, keeping her at just the right angle. Wet hair clung to their faces, steam swirled around them, and the tiefling's toes curled as she moaned in pleasure. Neither of them would last very long, but they didn't need to. This wasn't a one time event. He could have her anytime, anywhere. The healer groaned, trying to hold in his urges, but it was little use. After everything they had been through tonight, both of their bodies screamed for release.

Alize's eyes fluttered shut and her black lips pressed tightly together. Her nails dug into his back, hard enough to draw blood, as her thighs squeezed his hips. He was cumming, cumming hard, letting out that thick seed deep inside her. She nodded, the motion becoming a steady bobbing of her head as a happy whimper bubbled up from her chest and tears began to trickle from her shut eyes. He was cumming for her. For the tiefling, the idea of sex had lost all romance and mystique. Men wanted to cum, and girls who weren't good for much else provided that service.

This was different. She had never seen anything like this in the brothel's backrooms. There was no connection between those girls and their clients, any more than she had felt any sort of attachment to the many men who lined up to cover her body with seed on stage. This moment felt too beautiful. It was like murder. This was as sweet as the very best kind of assassination, the ones where she felt the knife slide in and the body go limp, the snap of a neck between her thighs, or the screams of agony as acid ate them from the inside out. The tiefling leaned her head back and moaned as she held him tighter than she had ever clutched a fresh corpse.

Hudson pressed his mouth to hers. He kept panting her name as he quivered, ruining their efforts to kiss, but all that mattered was that he was here, inside her. The rest would come with practice. He pushed her back against the pipe, and she pinned his waist against hers with her legs. Hot, tingly warmth filled her from the inside out. She felt like a bit of his magic had come with all that seed. Maybe he was healing her deepest, darkest parts, the things she never let anyone see. Her head leaned against his shoulder as she hugged him close, and her tail teased down one of his legs. So good!

They sank down into the water together. Both adventurers would probably have drowned if they did not help each other stagger into the shallows and rest against the steps. She ran her fingers over the scar on his abdomen. It was several long, mellow minutes before either could speak.

"I..." her voice was hoarse. "I need to buy you a chainmail undershirt... that'll do you a lot better than that stupid guidebook you haul around under those robes."

He smiled at her. Was it his imagination, or had that long mar down her breast already started to fade? "You mean the book that advises against splitting the party?"

She gave him a sly wink. "Chainmail undershirt. But it's gotta have a quick-release, see?"

The healer put his arm around her shoulders. "I guess sometimes it's okay to go against the guidelines."

Alize grinned, showing her sharp fangs. Tonight had been pretty good. Her tail curled around his waist, and she kissed his cheek. "Well, it worked out to be my best heist yet."

"And there's still time to go back for that gold later." Ever practical, the healer thought that such a thing would remind her that he was not asking her to sacrifice her rogue's ways for his sake. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated.

Her golden eyes widened a little. "Hudson, if you still have enough energy for that, I have a much better idea for what we can do!" With a wide grin, the tiefling slid into his lap once again. The spark of fear in his eyes was intoxicating for her, and she felt her voice dropping into a sultry, nigh-demonic coo as she cupped his face in her hands. "You've been teasing me for years, and I'm going to make you pay for it all night!" A trio of daggers appeared between the fingers of her left hand. "And the Nine Circles below had better make room for anyone who tries to get in my way!"