6. Rusalka

6

RUSALKA

“What do you mean, no one touches her?”

I bite back a sigh of irritation and turn to Zhenya. Ze is practically bouncing on zir toes, zir mass of dark curls following the movement a beat later. Zir shadows contract and expand with each bounce, creating a dizzying visual. Zhenya is tall for an incubus, nearly as tall as I am, and zir skin is medium brown in some places and pure white in others, forming a gorgeous pattern. Ze is filled with enough energy to outlast anyone I know. It’s a boon in so many ways, but right now I don’t have the patience for it.

The meeting with the Insomnior Court yesterday was mostly to bring them up to speed. They needed to understand the gift—and risk—Belladonna represents. The potential ramifications are something we’ll circle for some time, but I was too focused on getting Belladonna settled, knowing that further answers would come when she slept?.?.?. Well, they came, didn’t they? She’s a powder keg and must be handled gently.

Which means another conversation about boundaries. “I mean exactly what I said. Let her watch. Don’t touch her. Not yet.”

Belladonna is curious, but the damned shame blocks everything. I’m not so arrogant as to think I can unravel a lifetime of conditioning in a few days. Walking through dreams is easier when there’s only a single night of a human’s dreams to engage with. I don’t have to worry about what comes with the sunrise.

“But—”

“Rushing her risks harming her, which harms our people.”

“Rusalka is right.” Danik lounges on the couch, weaving fire between his claws. He looks well rested, his dark-brown skin gleaming in the flickering light. “Not just because the cost of harm is so high. She’s the first human to set foot in our territory in longer than anyone can remember. It would be shortsighted to fumble this opportunity.”

I manage a smile in response, but it feels distracted. Surely Belladonna is awake by now. Is she even now lying in bed, awash with cloying guilt and simmering need? Her dream surprised me. I should have kept my distance and allowed her to rest without interference, but her lust drew me in despite myself. I wanted to know what gave her such a delicious thrill. Imagine my shock when it was us, an image of me and Belladonna tangled intimately.

I didn’t have to manipulate a single thing, and the sheer need she exhibited gave me a surge of power that is still leaving me restless, hours later.

My little human is curious and lustful, and I want to get to her before she has a chance to retreat behind that wall of shame. Before I can give myself several very solid reasons not to move, I’m on my feet. “I’ll have her ready for the tour in a few hours. Make sure everything is ready.”

Danik laughs softly under his breath. “Everything will be perfect, Rusalka. Have no doubts about it.”

“I don’t.” I sweep out of the room, catch myself rushing, and check my stride. Even forcibly slowing myself down, I reach Belladonna’s room in short order. It’s tempting to walk in and surprise her, but that would cross a line. To even consider it at all rocks me back on my heels. I don’t misstep, not when the consequences are so damnably high. I haven’t forgotten to consider the risk to my people in any given situation in longer than I can remember, and the fact that I almost do in this moment worries me.

I take a breath and knock. The door opens so suddenly, she must have been standing in front of it. Gods help me, but I drink in the sight of her. Belladonna is deliciously rumpled, her dark hair tangled and wavy from sleep, her loose dress slightly askew, one strap slipping off her shoulder. I lick my lips before I can stop myself. “Good morning.”

“Rusalka.” Her voice squeaks in the middle of my name. “I, uh, hi. Hello. Good morning.”

All the tension bleeds out of me after a few seconds in her presence. She’s so nervous, it’s impossible for me to be nervous too. I smile. “I thought you might want something to eat. Then we’ll take a tour of the house. If you’re not dead on your feet at that point, we can walk the town square. My people are curious about you.”

Her eyes—a gorgeous deep brown—go wide. “I know the purpose I’ll serve here. Surely everyone doesn’t need to meet me. They’ll just—” She stops herself, straightens, and clears her throat. “A tour would be lovely.”

I wait for her to change and pull on shoes before I offer her my arm. I chew on her words—and what she didn’t say. Part of me threatens to bristle at the idea that she might find my people lesser. Though it’s nothing more than I’m used to. Every territory in this realm is certain that they’re miles better than the others, and they’re all sure they’re superior to the incubi and succubi. It stands to reason that humans think they’re better than us all.

Except?.?.?. superiority isn’t the feeling I get when Belladonna lightly presses her fingertips to my arm as if ready to jump away at any moment.

I reach out to brush my magic against her and nearly flinch. Shame coats my tongue and throat, souring the breakfast I ate earlier. I shake my head sharply, trying to clear it. She doesn’t think my people are beneath her. She’s worried that they won’t approve of her.

That should reassure me. Her thinking she has something to prove will make her easier to manipulate, or at least more likely to keep her word and have a child—or several—that will benefit my entire territory. I’ve lied, cheated, and played games that still turn my stomach in order to protect my people. Allowing one human to go through with something she agreed to when she signed the contract shouldn’t count as harm. Not even Azazel could argue that.

Even though we’d both know better.

I turn abruptly down the next hallway. “Change of plans.”

“Change of—” She trips over her feet, and I have to catch her elbow to keep her from falling. Belladonna shoves her hair out of her face. “Rusalka, slow down please.”

I check my stride, but only barely. I don’t understand the anger bubbling up inside me. I don’t know this woman. I have no right to feel so protective of someone I just met. “You are a gift.” How can she be anything else? By her own admission, she willingly gave seven years—and potentially a child—to save her sister. That kind of selflessness is rarer than lightning strikes. Even thinking about it puts a bad taste in my mouth. It’s abhorrent.

“What?”

We push through the main doors and out into the cool morning air. This isn’t how I planned to do things. I wanted to ease her into a very carefully curated experience of my home. To ensure she wasn’t afraid and had time to adjust. To show her that my people are worth fighting for.

Instead, we stand in the main square, garnering attention from passersby, their eyes wide and curious as they take us in. The house takes up one side of the square, and the other three sides are filled with small shops. We slept late, so most of them are open, filled with people going about their business. It’s nearly lunchtime and children run about in small packs, enjoying the afternoon break. Several of them wave as they sprint past, intent on their games.

“Rusalka.”Belladonna digs in her heels, nearly towing me to a stop. “Rusalka, I’m not ready.”

This might be a mistake, to rush things instead of playing them strategically, but I need her to understand. If she could just see what I’ve worked so hard to protect, then maybe she would understand that there’s no shame in this, no matter what her sadist of a god says. People moving about freely, without fear, interacting with love. We are not immune to the petty fights and bullshit that everyone experiences if they live long enough, but community is at the center of everything.

I don’t have a chance to come up with the words to explain myself or change my mind about bringing her out here. People flock to us. Some of them are only vaguely familiar, having traveled in from the outskirts for market day, but others I’ve known most of my life. Incubi and succubi, young and old and every age in between. They don’t rush, but they approach all the same, murmuring to one another in amazement as they take in the woman at my side.

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 youand 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?”

I force myself to ease back, to give her more breathing space. It won’t do to rush this, to pressure her. I shrug. “They have no name, no form we can comprehend. Our god, if you want to call them that, is unknowable.”

That cute little frown appears between her brows. “If they’re unknowable, then how do you know that, uh, sex pleases them?”

I smile slowly, pleased at the way her pulse seems to increase in response. “Because, darling, it’s what we were made for.”