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)
It’s a full two hours later when we finally manage to shower off the evidence of our time in bed and dress. Belladonna has a secret smile that pulls at the edges of her lips whenever she looks at me, and I find myself returning it without thought. Giddiness takes hold as I lead her to the portal tucked away in the basement, behind armored guards. The portal that conveys us to Azazel’s city-state.
Ramanu is waiting for us the moment we step through, their smile self-satisfied, as if they’ve won a bet. “Good morning. You look like you slept . . . well.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re very observant. We’re here for a day trip.”
“Of course.” They motion gracefully for the door. “I’ll escort you out of the castle. When you’re ready to return to the portal, ask one of the guards at the door to fetch me.”
Belladonna watches them with wide eyes, but there’s no fear coloring her desires. There’s more a caution that makes me think Ramanu found some time to poke holes in the “truths” drilled into her from birth. They guide us through the corridors to a large arched double door. “Azazel may be free by the time you’re done.”
“Tell him not to worry himself on my account.” Even as I say it, I know there’s no escaping this. It was all but fated from the moment I decided to bring Belladonna here. He’s going to want to check on her personally, and I can’t fault him for his concern even if I resent it. She’s not his, not any longer. I don’t give a fuck what the contract says.
“You know better.” Ramanu laughs a little. “Enjoy the city. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Belladonna doesn’t speak until we’re well away from the castle. The city always seems to be bustling, demons going about their business. She watches everything with interest for several blocks before glancing at me. “They’re the only one I’ve seen with . . .” She motions to her eyes.
“Ramanu is half bargainer demon and half gargoyle.”
“Oh.” She says it slowly. “What happens if human is added to the mix?”
I should have known we wouldn’t be able to avoid this question indefinitely. I wrap up my frustration and tuck it away. “Humans have a tendency to birth babies more humanoid than not, regardless of their partner. It’s how all the peoples of this realm came to be.”
“What?”
This is easier to talk about. Preferable, even. I slide my arm around her shoulders and tuck her against my body as we walk. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that most of us here are humanoid, give or take some tentacles and a tail or two. It’s because some ancestor of yours wandered on the wild side and fucked a dragon, or a kraken, or a gargoyle, or . . . well, fire and shadows.”
Her eyes are massive in her face as she says, “Your ancestors are fire and shadows.”
“And lust.” I laugh. “Legend has it that we were more incorporeal in those days, living mostly in dreams. I’m not sure how my ancestors surpassed that barrier to impregnate a human—or be impregnated by one—but it happened, and often enough that here we are, all these generations later.”
Belladonna seems a little shell-shocked as I guide her into the first store, a suit shop that I favor when I have cause to be in the city. She stops just inside the door. “Wait, I suppose I could understand incubi and succubi, but you also said dragons and kraken. Weren’t they . . .” She holds her arms wide.
“Yes.”
If anything, her eyes get wider. “That’s . . . How did that work?”
“That, little one, is a question for another day.”
21
BELLADONNA
It takes Rusalka some time to coax me into trying on the clothes she’s picked for me, and even more time before I feel confident enough to step out of the changing room with an outfit on to show her. It’s strange that I’ve been naked in front of her but somehow this feels more intimate. She’s dressing me.
I run my hands over the luxurious red fabric and meet their gaze. “This is too much.”
“It pleases me to spoil you.” They lounge in a chair a few feet away, one long leg draped over the arm. “Really, you’re doing me a favor by allowing me to purchase clothing for you.”
“That logic is really ridiculous, but I recognize that it’s not an argument I’m going to win.” It strikes me as I slip back into the changing room that I’ve adjusted to their cloven hooves and tail—I hardly notice them as strange features anymore.
One by one, I try on the pieces she sends me. One by one, I step out to show them each piece. Every time, they tell me how perfect the clothing is on me, how beautiful I look . . . how they can’t wait to strip me out of it and have their wicked way with me. The praise makes me uncomfortable, but I can’t deny the heat that begins beneath my skin, promising more.