For Love of a Wolf: Alric's Story
by SpikesKat
Chapter 4
Giles wandered aimlessly around his flat. He’d been back in London for the better part of a week, had been working at the Council Headquarters for the last four days – Travers was a bloody taskmaster and hadn’t allowed him much time to recover from his jetlag.
He’d gotten in late Monday evening. A car had been waiting, and rather than take him home to get some much-needed sleep, Giles had been driven to headquarters straightaway. Like his report on the two Slayers’ demise couldn’t wait until a more decent hour. His exhaustion had leaked over onto his retelling; he’d been abrupt… and brief. Until finally, he’d stormed out of Travers’ office with his parting shot something akin to a curt “sod off.” Though, good breeding had prevented him from actually voicing the words aloud.
But, it had been there, in every stiff line of his body as he’d stridden purposefully from the man’s office. There was just something about the Head Councilman that rubbed him the wrong way and caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. Maybe it was Travers’ apparent dislike of his Slayer. Or the way he seemed to lord over his position as Head Councilman like he was some type of god and everyone working for the council his faithful followers.
He’d returned the next morning, apologizing to Travers for his abruptness of the night before – blaming his unseemly behavior on the numerous time changes he’d suffered through and the lack of sleep prior to his leaving Sunnydale.
The man had waved it aside and immediately launched into what would be Giles’ new duties.
Stuck in a room with a bunch of pimply-faced youths fresh out of university, was just what he’d been expecting. They’d be gaining first-hand experience from someone recently returned from the field, Travers had announced. Giles had bitten his tongue and refrained from commenting, instead just nodding his compliance.
He’d spent the last few days instructing the wet-behind-the-ears inductees about the basic duties that would be expected of them – if they were fortunate enough to be given the honor of becoming a watcher for the Chosen One. While at the same time, interspersing his teachings with examples of his own behavior, the things he’d done to assist his Slayer with her calling.
At one point, Giles had looked out over the small group of young men and women and shaken his head, wondering if he’d ever looked as they did. Young and idealistic with a strong sense of what was right and wrong, that there were clear-cut lines between good or evil. Even the way they were being taught to instruct Slayers in their training was so regimented as to be easily identified by her opponent. It was enough to make him grateful for the Slayer he’d been called upon to “watch.” The one that had him throwing out the handbook within moments of meeting her.
And he knew Buffy was alive today because of it.
Fighting, and all the things that went into being a warrior for “good,” couldn’t be taught from a manual. True, the Slayer was possessed of raw talent… but she had to be able think on her feet, improvise, play dirty as the need arose. Something the Council didn’t teach its watchers.
That was going to change though. Which was why, instead of submitting his formal letter of resignation, he’d surprised Travers by agreeing to take his new assignment. It was time for a new way of thinking at the Council, and by getting them young, before they’d been completely brainwashed, Giles hoped to spark that change.
Sipping his tea, Giles smirked in remembrance of the man’s astonishment. Clearly, he’d not been expected to stay. But, it wasn’t like Travers could just kick him out; he had too much clout with the other members of the board. Not to mention the fact that he came from a long line of distinguished, well-respected watchers.
Giles finished his tea and placed the cup in the sink. It was Saturday, so he was off for the next two days and planned on spending them airing out his flat and making it livable once again. At some point, he’d stop by the local bookstore and pick up a few things. Plus there were the necessary groceries to replenish; he’d grabbed something for dinner on the way home the last few days, but couldn’t expect to do that indefinitely. Maybe while he was out, he’d have lunch at one of the local cafes.
If he buried himself in enough mindless drivel, then there’d be no time to think about Joyce, and all those “what ifs…?”
~*~*~*~*~
Alric knew right away that the girl was awake and was eyeing him intently. His behavior probably hadn’t been what she’d been led to expect from her new owner – though he doubted she’d ever give voice to her confusion. Just like he knew the second he opened his eyes and looked at her, her gaze would fall away to stare at her hands, or her feet… anywhere but his face.
So he lay there, unmoving, allowing her to look her fill, while his mind replayed the events of last night. As expected, he’d not gone the entire night without drawing his katana.
Immediately after the auction he’d led his new plaything back toward the main area. He had no idea the protocol involved with owning a slave, but those he’d seen had, for one thing, been naked or nearly so, much like his was. They were also garbed in various jewels and trinkets, oftentimes draped more lavishly than their owners.
The girl had followed easy enough, falling in a step behind him. He’d not gone far when he felt the lead in his hand go taut. He glanced over his shoulder… and growled at seeing a Fengra l’tosh demon with his hand on the girl’s arm.
His reaction had been instantaneous.
He’d dropped the lead and had his katana out, the blade digging slightly into the demon’s neck before it knew what had happened. The walkway had cleared as demons backed away to give them room; money changed hands, some of the demons betting on who would be the winner of the first – of what was sure to be many – altercations of the event.
The Fengra l’tosh had abruptly let go of the slave girl and began apologizing – at least Alric assumed he was given his cowering – in his native tongue. He hadn’t recognize the language.
He’d leaned in, causing the blade to slide along the demon’s neck and did deeper into the skin.
“Mine,” he’d growled when they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Hands off.”
Alric hadn’t been sure whether the thing understood him or not, but if nothing else the demon had recognized his deadly intent. How he’d had no qualms separating his head from his neck.
He’d not had a chance to make good his threat. The Chinese had arrived. The small group had pushed their way through the crowd of demons, the lead human shouting his name – which was surprising given that he’d only told it to one demon.
“Mr. Maximilian, please… the Fengra… he meant no disrespect…” The man had spoken in his native tongue, probably forgetting in his haste to diffuse the situation that he might not be able to understand him – either that, or the waiter had talked. But, he’d switched to English when he added, “They’re… inquisitive… harmless, really… not worthy of your blade. Please, Mr. Maximilian.”
Alric had given the human a cursory glance, noting how his gaze kept darting from him to some place in the distance, worry – and a small amount of fear – evident in his gaze. Apparently, there was to be no bloodshed at the event, and the man’s fate seemed to rest on him being able to get Alric to desist.
He’d relented… barely. It was ingrained to defend what was his, to exact payment for any slight done to him. He’d eased up on his sword, noting with satisfaction the demon’s heavy swallow. In the blink of an eye, he had the blade cleaned off using the Fengra l’tosh’s shirt and resheathed.
Then he’d turned to the human and barked out in rapid-fire Chinese, “Anything that is mine is worthy of my blade, make no mistake.” His voice had lowered so only the peacekeeper could hear. “Since I’ve spared his life, I’ve saved your own. I will collect.”
He’d walked off, having retrieved his slave – noting with some satisfaction that she’d not been touched, that there was, in fact, several feet between the girl and the nearest demon. The crowd that had formed had broken up, the incident soon forgotten. Without bloodshed to hold sway, their attention was quickly diverted back to the goods to be had.
Alric had spent the next few hours making arrangements to have the girl draped head-to-toe in the finest jewelry. When he’d sensed dawn a few hours off, he made one last purchase – a woolen cloak. It wasn’t like he could have the girl parade around in the altogether in London proper.
Figuring he’d done enough reconnaissance for one night, Alric had placed a call to Bob to meet him in Chinatown, outside the Wong Kei restaurant. As he’d departed the trade show, he could feel that others were watching him leave and he hoped he’d made enough of an impression to meet a few of the higher ups upon his return.
Hearing Bob rummaging about in the outer room, Alric knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. His eyes opened, and he stared at the girl staring at him. She seemed to remember her place, because her head immediately dipped. Sighing, Alric rolled out of bed.
“Come on. I’m sure you’d like to make use of the bathroom.”
He didn’t bother to look at her as he slipped into his pants and walked off. She’d been trained well, his slave.
“Can you handle this by yourself,” he asked, indicating the shower, “or do you need me to help you?” Alric prayed for the former, even if he secretly wished for the later. She was his to do with what he will, had been trained to please him in all things. Yet, there was something about her complete subservience that stayed his hand – if not his traitorous dick. He’d have to see about getting the girl some clothes, at least when they were alone together, or he would take her to bed, and damn his conscience.
When she didn’t answer, he turned around. She was doing her best to keep the shock off her face.
“Well, speak up,” he demanded.
“I… yes… I can… do this by myself…” she whispered, hardly daring to hope that he’d leave her to it. Alone. “Master…” she hastened to add.
“Well, be quick about it. Bob’ll have something for you to eat when you finish.”
Alric walked out of the bathroom, fighting back the frown that threatened at the title she’d spoken.
“Leave the door open,” he commanded.
Tala nodded, then stopped when she realized that he wouldn’t see her unspoken assent. She stood there for a minute, staring after her new master’s retreating back. The bulge in his pants had been unmistakable. That he’d not acted on his obvious need threw her for a loop.
She’d fully expected him to take her there in the shower, or to at least join her. Especially since he’d not availed himself of her body when they’d returned back to his room in the wee hours of the morning.
And that was another thing…
The name of the hotel didn’t ring any bells with her, but she knew money when she saw it. And the Landmark London reeked of it. What was even more confusing was that he was staying there in the first place. He was a demon, after all, since he’d been at the exclusive demon trade show – she’d yet to determine what breed, however. Her training had included her being made aware of some of the more prevalent demons and she knew that there were several that wore a human disguise.
Though, the more she stood there and thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. It was how she’d been captured after all. She’d been completely oblivious to the things that went bump in the night – other than the human variety. One minute she’d been about to step on the train to head home, degree in hand, the next she’d been abducted, no one the wiser. Her muffled scream had been met with a needle stick to her neck.
When she’d come to, she’d been stripped bare and locked inside a cage… along with about a dozen others, both male and female.
Then her abductor had come in and the image of his distorted features had been seared into her mind, often plaguing her dreams in the months that followed. Even now, just the thought of him was enough to galvanize her to action.
Her new master had said to hurry, and she’d been standing there wasting time, lost in thought. She made quick use of the toilet, silently thankful for that bit of privacy, and the fact that she wasn’t squatting in some corner like an animal as she’d had to do in the past.
Tala hurried through her shower; she wanted to linger, luxuriating in the hot spray as it washed over her body, but didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with her master. Sighing, she reluctantly turned off the water and climbed out, wrapping one of the plush towels that hung on the ornate rack around her body. She eyed the single item of clothing she owned – a tiny scrap of leather that barely covered her mound – wondering if she should put it back on.
Her nose crinkled in distaste at the idea.
The elaborate set of jewelry he’d bought for her had been discarded on the night table. Even if she wanted to put it on, she couldn’t, because she’d not paid much attention as it had been draped on her body.
She nibbled on her bottom lip in indecision for a minute.
Finally, when she felt she could dawdle no longer, Tala toweled off her hair as best she could then set the towel back on the rack. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and noticing the bird’s nest that was her hair, attempted to run her fingers through it to bring some semblance of order to the long strands, vaguely wondering if her master would continue to dye it white, or if he’d let it revert to its natural black color.
That done, she steeled herself and walked naked out into the front room.
~*~*~*~*~
Bob’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the vision walking towards him. Head erect, shoulders back, she looked anything but cowed, though she was completely divested of clothing – if one weren’t to look too close and see the misery in her eyes.
The chauffeur averted his gaze and cleared his throat.
“Uh… Max.”
Alric had his face buried in the morning paper while he sipped idly at his second mug of blood.
“What is it, Bob?” the vamp asked, not bothering to look up.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed. “Your… uh… that is…” Bob had witnessed a lot in his time spent with the vampires, but never before had one taken a human slave, or a pet, or whatever demons called them. He was saved from answering when the girl walked over and calmly knelt at Alric’s feet. Better to let him discover on his own the state of her undress.
Alric was at a loss. He wanted to bark out for the girl to get off her knees and take a seat at the table, but he knew she wouldn’t, no matter that it was a command. A slave’s place was at their master’s feet. He sighed heavily, already regretting having purchased the girl. And he couldn’t let her go just yet; he needed her for the illusion he was trying to maintain.
Bob returned with a plate of food – fruits, cheeses, slices of meat. Alric popped a piece of cheese in his mouth and grabbed another and offered it to her. She took it easily enough, her warm mouth wrapping around the bit of food, as well as the tips of his fingers. His waning erection returned with a vengeance and he hissed out a breath as her tongue continued to lap at his fingers long after the piece of cheese had been consumed.
“Another?” Alric choked out and felt her nod. He pulled his hand away and grabbed blindly at the tray, his hand closing over a piece of fruit. Again she took it from his hand, and again she licked at his fingers until he reluctantly pulled them back.
The process continued until she silently shook her head in answer to his question of more.
“Something to drink?”
Tala nodded, or at least she thought she did; her body was too sated from the delicious meal. She’d had nothing but bread and water – sometimes a little bland meat – for so long, she’d forgotten how good food, real food, tasted.
She felt him hesitate beside her and could have kicked herself for zoning off. He’d apparently asked her a question and was waiting for an answer. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with things he might have asked, but drew a blank. There was no help for it; she was going to have to confess she’d not heard him.
A bowl of water appeared at her knees and Tala looked at it for a minute, before lowering her head and drinking her fill.
“More,” he asked once she’d sat back and saw that it was empty.
Tala shook her head again, indicating that she’d had enough, and she surprised herself by leaning in to her master’s leg and resting her cheek against his thigh. Almost immediately, his fingers were in her hair, damp though it was, and running through it, pulling a reluctant moan of pleasure out of her at his touch.
It mattered not that she was naked and kneeling at his feet. Nothing did, but the feel of his hands in her hair. And she shifted closer, hoping to feel his touch spread to other parts of her body.
“Up,” he whispered, and like one possessed, she easily climbed into his lap. His hands began exploring every inch of her body, and her eyes fluttered closed, quickly falling victim to the pleasure he was creating.