Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Belladonna cringes closer to me, cowering behind me, and I plant my feet, giving her the solidness she obviously wants. “It’s okay,” I murmur, my frustration already blown out, replaced by an emotion I don’t have a name for. “You’re safe.”
“They’re staring at me,” she whispers.
A small succubus steps forward timidly, their head ducked and long red hair braided away from their pretty face. They reach forward suddenly and clasp Belladonna’s free hand in both of theirs. “Thank you.” They duck away before she can come up with a response, but her surprise is clear and grows as my people welcome her, thank her, lavish her with praise for coming here.
A small child comes up, a blush darkening their light-brown cheeks, and passes her a rumpled bouquet of flowers. “Thank you, lady.”
A grandfather cups her face and smiles, his eyes practically disappearing in his deep wrinkles. “We appreciate your service more than we can say.”
A pregnant person presses a hand to their round stomach, tears in their crimson eyes. “You do us a kindness beyond measure.”
Thank you and thank you and thank you again. All the while Belladonna stands perfectly still, her lips parted in shock, her eyes wide, her lip fingers barely holding the flowers. She doesn’t manage a response, but no one expects a response. They’re just so damned happy she’s here.
I knew word would spread fast, just like I knew what the response would be. Azazel has played his cards well, though I still don’t fully trust his aims. Even so, it’s hard to fault him when we stand to gain so much. Peace in this realm has been uneasy since the last conflict. What better way to ensure we all keep our attention within our own borders than to give us a prize beyond measure, one to be protected and cherished and pampered.
When the crowd finally thins, Belladonna turns to me. Her eyes shine and her lower lip quivers. “Is this a trick? Did you arrange this?”
“No.” It’s the truth. “You being here benefits every single person in the territory. They recognize it and they appreciate it beyond measure.”
Some of her shock fades away, a weary understanding taking residence. “But only if I have a baby and you make that baby the leader.”
I don’t mean to reach out and stroke my fingers through her long dark hair, but I can’t quite help myself. She still doesn’t understand. I take a deep breath. “If you have a child by one of us, that baby will have a safe childhood filled with love and caring. When they come of age, only then, they will train with me until they are ready to take over leadership of the territory.”
“What if they don’t want to lead?”
I shrug. “Then I suppose they’ll live a hopefully happy life until they die a peaceful death.” Obviously that’s not the preferred course of action, but forcing someone into a leadership position is a great way to ruin a territory. The best way to ensure we have a leader who wants the position is for Belladonna to bear several children while she’s here, but I don’t say as much now. She’s already twisted up about the idea of a child. I told my court that we would be patient, and I mean to be exactly that.
Belladonna turns to look around the square, and I try to see things through her eyes. The buildings are all low and simple but expertly made. Once a week—and more often during the warmer months—we have a market where folks come in from the surrounding farmland and sell their excess produce and products, and there’s a building designed for it, with stalls and the like, permanently set up opposite the manor. There is also a coffee and tea shop with small foodstuffs that people like to gather in, a clothing shop, a little health clinic, and a bakery. Farther out, there are lots of other shops and homes, but they can’t be seen from here.
Belladonna finally turns to me, her brows drawn together in a frown. “Where is your church?”
I almost laugh; only the seriousness of her question stops me. “We don’t worship any god you would recognize, darling—and when we do worship, it’s doing what we do best.”
She blinks slowly, as if debating asking the question I can see dancing on the tip of her tongue. Curiosity gets the best of her. “How do you worship?”
Even as I tell myself to keep my distance, the memory of her dream makes me reckless. I lean down until I can speak directly in her ear. “By fucking, love.” Her surprise and curiosity and, yes, lust, have me elaborating. “The more pleasure given, the greater the worship. The more orgasms, the more satisfied our deity.”
A little tremor works through her body, but she’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. She doesn’t crumple or flee. She just takes a careful inhale. “What deity wants worship like that?”