The Colour of Vengeance by Rob J. Hayes Page A

of the first time they'd met and that had made her horny. It had been too long since she had a regular man to fuck; not since the Boss if truth be told. Although three months laid up on a bed unable to move might have had something to do with that.
    A shiver of pleasure ran through her and Henry let out a loud ragged moan. Something wet trickled down her left thigh. It had been far too long since someone else had last given her pleasure.
    “You know,” the drunk said pulling his face away. Henry could see his mouth and chin were wet, he wiped at them with a sleeve. “This would be so much easier with a drink in my hand.”
    Henry realised she was panting, she had to reply between her breaths. “Fuck sake, ya almost there. Get on with it.” She grabbed the back of the blooded drunk's head and shoved his face into her crotch. He took the hint.
    “I'd almost forgotten how loud ya are,” Thorn said from the table as Henry approached. She could still feel her heart beating too fast but it was over now. The look on Thorn's face might have been a slight smile but with him it was hard to tell.
    “Can't help it. I like ta express myself,” she replied giving him a wolfish grin, showing him as many teeth as possible.
    A few moments later the drunk sat down next to her with a mug of beer in each hand and a content look on his handsome face. He needed cleaning up and then he'd be a right pretty sight to look at.
    Henry noticed Thorn narrowing his eye at the drunk. “I've decided ta keep him,” she told them both.
    “That good is he?” Thorn asked, still eye-balling the drunk. Henry just grunted in reply. “He have a name?”
    “Um...” It hadn't even occurred to Henry to ask.
    “I do, my good sir. I have the pleasure of being called Anders. And it is most certainly my... uh... pleasure to meet you, Mr Black Thorn.”
    Henry saw Thorn's right hand go to his axe. Her own found the hilt of one of her daggers. She didn't want to kill this Anders, not in her own tavern, though the place might look better in red.
    “Might be ya wanna explain how ya know my name,” Thorn said with a level voice.
    “Huh,” Anders grunted with a mouthful of beer and then swallowed when he saw weapons drawn. “It was easy to deduce. My good lady here called you Thorn.” Henry quite liked being called a lady; made her feel important or such, but she wasn't about to show it. Not when she might have to kill the blooded bastard. “Taking into account your... um... face. You must be the Black Thorn; notorious murderer and thief.” Anders finished by grinning and then swallowing down another mouthful of beer as if it might be his last.
    Thorn didn't look convinced but he put his axe away all the same. Henry followed his example. “No sudden moves, eh,” Thorn said to Anders. Anders just smiled the smile of the drunken fool right back.
    “How'd ya come by this place then, Henry?” the Black Thorn said leaning his chair back against the wall. His one eye peering at her.
    Henry sniffed. “After...” she felt the anger rising again and decided some stories went better if you started in the middle. “After I got ta Solantis I started hangin' out here. Seemed a good place as any an' nobody paid too much attention if one or two o' the locals went missin'. Only way ta earn a bit o' money sometimes.
    “The owner was a older lady, wrinkled an’ past her prime. Called herself Aliss an' the old bitch seemed ta take somethin' of a shine ta me. Said she saw herself only a fair bit younger. Let me live here she did an’ said I could work here too long as I stopped murderin' fer money.
    “'Bout a month back she jus' said the place was mine now. Told Josef too an' then, she jus' up an' left. Ain't come back so... place is mine.”
    “Never took you as the type ta run a tavern, Henry,” Thorn said. He was scratching around his eye-patch with his maimed hand. “Didn't reckon you'd have the know how.”
    “Fuck me, Thorn. I don't got the first idea