Erotica Harem

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Title: "Invalid Item"  (Urden the God of Desire)

Chapter: (Chapter: 7)

Author: Lady Rook

Plot: The two shall meet. Very interesting, and I liked the show of mutual respect and friendship. Not at first, but it grew quite nicely. There wasn’t a lot to comment on, as usual.
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Please remember that these are only my opinions.
Please use whatever you feel is right for you.


Chapter Seven: Leuj

Sima seated herself in the rental office, her inner thighs pleasantly sore from the prior night. She thought of Razi and grinned. Sleeping in had sounded like heaven, but this was Alga. She was no longer the daughter of a Shiemir, a woman to be pampered and kept, but Folar’s secretary. They didn’t have many shens, and she had to work, just like her husband. Not that she minded. Filing and keeping the books appealed to her need for order.

Folar shuffled by the door, waved at her and flashed a jovial grin. He was a round man, plump and thick all over. He had a black goatee, and his hair curled in long ringlets past his shoulders. “Good morning, Sima.” He patted his belly. “I’m heading to the bakery if you want anything.”

“Frosted rolls again?” She slid the final plastic doc in place. When he nodded, she clucked her tongue at him. “You’re going to turn into a frosted roll if you don’t watch out.”

He winked. “That’s the idea. Who can resist a frosted roll?” He took a step into the office to inspect her desk. “You look a bit thin. Would you like a roll or not?”

“Of course I would.”

“I knew it.” He patted her shoulder and lumbered out, humming under his breath.

Someone else lingered in the hall, perusing the rack of tourist notices. Sima leaned sideways and caught a glimpse of Habiri black robes. She stood and called out, (?) “Can I help you?”

The robed patron turned and tugged the covering from his face—a face Sima knew well—stark and mischievous, with blond locks straying over his forehead. “You should have changed your name,” he said. He walked with a cane now, an aftereffect of their being in the wrong place at the wrong time when her father bombed his palace.

Chills swept through her. Old fear lingered and a hatred she doubted she’d ever overcome. “Oemir Leuj. I must say, you’re looking well. Much better than the last time I saw you.”

His lips tightened as he ambled toward her. The cane clunked. “You look more beautiful than I remember.” Leuj He extended a hand, and it hung between them for a time.

“Thank you,” she muttered. It was a strange meeting. He’d kidnapped her, tried to seduce her, and in the end they’d all nearly died after he managed to fake her death. It was an attempt to keep her father from looking for her—and it had worked. Finally, she clasped his fingers, releasing them soon sooner than what would be considered polite? Or something like that? after. “So, can I help you?”

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I just wanted to see you again, to really thank you for not leaving me behind to die. You didn’t have to. Especially after everything I did to ruin your life.” His green eyes glittered with something she’d never seen there. Tears. “So, thank you. Thank you for giving me a second chance. I—I didn’t deserve it.”

This was not the overconfident ass of a man she knew before. He’d somehow been humbled, and Sima knew it was all Sister Lensi’s doing. She backed against the wall, unsure of what to say. Then the one question that plagued her since she discovered she was dead, (no comma) sprang forth. “Who was the woman you killed in my place?”

He cleared his throat, some semblance of pain causing his eyes to crinkle and his cheek to tense. “Jahid. A servant, a ward from Hicklan. I, um, put in an order for someone who resembled you.”

She thrummed her fingers against the wall, lowering her gaze. It disgusted her to think what the poor woman must have gone through only to meet her end at gunpoint. “I suppose I am indebted to her memory then. If not for her sacrifice, I wouldn’t have this freedom.” Uncomfortable, she cleared her throat and inched closer to the office entry. “If you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

“Sima, wait.” His fingers curled around her upper arm, halting her retreat.

A flash of heat spread through her body, old memories of his naked body against hers betraying her good sense. She held her breath.

“Are you happy?” he hobbled closer, his gaze intent. She hated to look into his eyes. He should not be here. Sister Lensi had warned all the refugees to stay hidden. In fact, they should not be together at all, given the circumstances.

“Y—yes. I am. Alga is a beautiful place to live. I’m married now.” She shrugged off his hold.

“To the Unangi.” He nodded. “He seems to be a good man. Lensi said he works hard.”

The bells on the door jingled. Footsteps sounded in the outer room. Leuj pursed his lips and repositioned the scarf to hide his face. “You should change your name,” he whispered, warning her again. “With all your father is into now, if someone were to discover you, you’d be a fine bargaining piece.”

She stood straighter. “That’s all I ever was, wasn’t it?”

He reached out and touched her hand with three fingers. (comma) leaning closer to her ear. (?) * They would have to continue “whispering” with someone in the office, right? “Not to me. I wanted you for selfish reasons and would have done anything to have you. Your father though…” He cleared his throat. “He would have traded you for a treaty. I’m only saying you should be more careful. If Enrue is still the same man and you are discovered, he’ll trade you away for less now.”

“I know how little he values me.” A shadow spilled across the hall. Whoever had entered the office lolled along, no doubt reading the posted advertisements.

Leuj bowed his head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. Value yourself and your safety. I’d better get back to Lensi now.” He stepped forth, embracing her unexpectedly. His hold was gentle but firm. He smelled the same as she remembered, alluring and spicy. She only stood there, stiff as a statue, confused by his attentions.

Leuj, the former Oemir of Irnia, turned and went on his way, his gait a thump-step rhythm. Sima stared at him until he exited. She backed into her office, sat down and covered her face with her hands for a moment. She hadn’t expected to see him again really. He ought to have stayed behind. It was dangerous for him to be in Alga.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

She glanced up at a young woman wearing Habiri robes. Her face was uncovered, her dark hair braided and hanging across her shoulder. She had watchful, gold eyes hinting at unusual lineage. “Yes, can I help you?”

“When is the next shuttle arriving?” The woman leaned against the side of Sima’s desk and regarded her.

“Let me check.” Sima turned away, still stifled by Leuj’s visit. She rifled through the plastic files and found the shuttle schedule. “There’s one in an hour. It stops by the ramada.” She tapped the verbiage to confirm her information and turned back to face the woman. “But shouldn’t you stay in hiding as Sister Lensi asked?” “Why aren’t you in hiding as Sister L asked?” (?)

The dark-haired woman smirked. “I have my orders.” She bent, leaning (bending and leaning forward are two back-to-back and similar actions—the flow halted me here. Perhaps: She bent forward, invading… (?) forward and invading Sima’s space. “My, (comma) but you do have the most beautiful hazel eyes.”

The compliment felt wrong. She cleared her throat and balked, her chair rolling back a ways. “Um, thanks. Yours are nice too, like a cat’s.” It was a morning of odd encounters, indeed.

“Yeah. Got my mom’s eyes.” She held out a hand in friendship. “I’m Melia. And you are?”

Sima stood and shook the woman’s hand, finding her grip painfully firm. She cleared her throat and shivered for an instant. “My name is Si—I mean, Mrs. Ukten.”

Melia released Sima’s her hand and glanced around the office with a calculating gaze. “Wish I could live in a place like this. She stepped away and paused beside a painting on the north wall. “I went for a walk this morning and damned if this isn’t a slice of pastoral heaven. You don’t find spots like these anymore in the Empire. All metal and lights. It gets old.”

“Yeah,” Sima’s brows furled. This woman could not possibly be from the Unangi Mountains. “So, um, how long have you been with Sister Lensi?”

“Not long.” She turned her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. “I used to paint when I was a girl. My father encouraged it, but my parents divorced and I ended up with my mom. I miss it. Haven’t tried in a long time.”

The woman’s cool voice was off-putting, but Sima she immediately understood Melia’s words. “I know what you mean. My father never let me garden after my mother passed. He said it was beneath me to get my hands dirty.” She edged closer to the Habiri refugee. “You know, I have a huge garden now. I grow squash and peas, whatever I want.”

Melia tapped the plastic sheeting over the framed image, frowning. “Do you?”

“Mm hm.” Sima rested a hand on Melia’s the woman’s (?) shoulder. “There’s a little shop on the corner down the street. Go outside and take a left. It’s not the best, nothing fancy, just natural pigments and hand carved brushes with horse hair tips, but it’s a fine shop for local artists. The man who runs it painted this.”

The woman didn’t respond, her gaze far off in the greens and browns of the meadow landscape.

Sima went on. (period) “Life’s too short not to do what you really want to do.”

That got her attention. Melia closed her eyes and sucked in a rattling breath. “You’re very kind.” She slipped her hand in her robes and tugged out a sharer, glanced at the time and nodded. “Thank you so much. You have a nice day.” She stared into at (?) Sima for a moment, smiled wide, and turned to go.

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