Page 9 of Dark Elf's Good Girl

“My name, sweet thing, is Calix. I am one of your biggest fans. I wish I could bring all my friends to see you perform.”

I relax slightly.

He is still weird, but he seems genuine.

“You should,” I say more boldly. “That will really help me out, you know.”

I smile again, and hope that the fear has dissolved from my eyes.

“There’s always a next time.” His voice is low and intense, but he winks at me, as though we’re both in on a joke together.

You still shouldn’t trust him. But maybe he won’t attack you tonight.

“Where are you from, Calix?” I ask him and thank the Thirteen that my voice is as casual as it is.

Calix tells me a little more about himself, as he leans against the wall.

He is very charming, I can see that, and he is very confident.

This is a dark elf who is used to getting what he wants. I wouldn’t want to be around if he were denied anything.

He regales me with several wild stories, and I can see that he is also intelligent, although I do not think his intelligence is a skill he leans on much.

He gets by on charm and charm alone. And money too, probably.

“Why did you come to the club? Why have you been coming back each night?” I find the courage to ask him.

He smiles at me, and I watch as the friendliness and charm slips from his face. He is grinning again, and I force myself to remain still and not shudder with fear in front of him.

“I came to see you. Like I said, I’m your biggest fan.”

Those words are genuine. But clearly, he was using all the charm to break down my guard.

Because he takes a predatory step toward me, highlighting the height difference between us. I might be a tall girl, but most dark elves are taller than I am.

And Calix is not an exception to that rule.

“W-why are you backstage?” My voice is very quiet.

“Because I need to do something I have been dying to do since I started coming here.” He is still smiling and his voice is as quiet as mine.

And that is when I start praying.

4

ISLA

I can smell stale liquor on his breath.

This dark elf, the one called Calix, is very clearly an elf of means.

I do not think he is a noble elf – in my time as a dancer, I have learned to identify the noble class.

But his clothing was designed by a talented person and is crafted from the finest materials.

The clothing he wears are muted colors but even in the dim light of the club, I can see the perfect stitching.

I can smell the stale liquor on his breath.

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