9. Belladonna

9

BELLADONNA

Ikeep expecting Rusalka to return, but they don’t. Not through the long afternoon hours where the sun creates lazy beams through the window that I can hear people moving about the square through. Not as the sky deepens to a dusky blue color and stars begin to appear. Not when dinner is brought to my door by a cranky, short woman named Jitka who demands I eat the whole plate before leaving and slamming the door behind her.

That makes me wonder if I’ve upset Rusalka.

No, that’s not the truth.

I know I’ve upset them.

I want to pretend I don’t know why, to cling to some indignation at the fact that I’m giving her what she wants and now she doesn’t want it. That would be false indignation.

Rusalka is a good person. Maybe I haven’t known her long enough to make that claim unilaterally, but it’s hard to argue otherwise. In the same situation, my parents and Pastor John wouldn’t have hesitated to accept my sacrifice as their due. Even Ruth wouldn’t question the necessity of it, though it might bring her more sorrow than she’d show to anyone but me. Of course one person sacrificing to benefit the whole is the way to go. Of course we don’t need to worry about that single person. They’re doing the right thing.

I’m so distracted, I can’t even enjoy the rainbow of clothes that showed up in my wardrobe while I was out this morning. I’m nearly certain they’re the same as those options from Azazel’s castle, which raises questions I’m not sure I’m brave enough to ask.

I manage to pull on a pretty deep-red dress with an overlay that floats around me as if by magic and a fitted, shorter sheath bottom layer. Even as I pull my hair up into some semblance of order, I pretend I didn’t pick the dress because it’s red and made me think of Rusalka. I tell myself I don’t care what they think of it.

In short, I lie.

A knock on my door has my heart leaping into my throat. I rush over and throw it open, but my smile fades as I don’t find the person I’m most looking forward to seeing.

Instead, there. are two strangers. One is a few inches taller than me and has dark-brown skin, an athletic body, and flames flickering around their form. Succubus, then. They wear loose black pants that taper to their hooves and an equally loose gray shirt with a daring deep V that leaves most of their chest exposed.

The other is nearly as tall as Rusalka, with a mass of dark curls that seems to move in a wind I don’t feel and skin that’s a patterned combination of medium brown and a color pale enough to be termed literally white. I know what this is called. It takes a moment for the term to come to me—vitiligo. No flames to be seen. Is this an incubus? They have on a flowing set of robes in a deep orange that simultaneously shows off and hides a curvy body depending on how they move.

I realize I’m staring and clear my throat. “Hello.”

“You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” The curly-haired one takes a step toward me, but the succubus pulls them back. They give the succubus a pouting look. “I was just being friendly.”

“Save it for the party.” The dark-haired one turns to me and offers their arm. “I’m Danik. This is Zhenya.”

Zhenya jerks a thumb at Danik. “He/him.” They point to themselves. “Ze/zir. Rusalka said you would ask.”

To my shame, I’m already so overwhelmed, I don’t know if I would have remembered to ask.

They’re both beautiful in a way I don’t know how to define. It’s not necessarily the kind of beauty I grew up feeling shame from wanting to strive for—too sharp, too off-kilter—but it draws me all the same. “I’m Belladonna,” I finally manage.

“We know.” Zhenya doesn’t say it unkindly. Ze smiles. “Come play with us, pretty human.”

I set my hand on Danik’s arm in a daze. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So polite.” Danik’s smile is a little too wicked to be comforting. It makes my whole body go tight. I try to fight the feeling; it feels like a betrayal to Rusalka. From the way his smile widens, he senses my desire the same way Rusalka always seems to.

I’m too overwhelmed to come up with a response as they escort me down the hall to the stairs. This house is larger than any I’ve been in to date, Azazel’s castle excepted. It looks like something out of a movie, all luxurious carpet and deep greens on the walls and brown of the trim. The stairs are wide and curving and take us down to the foyer. There, we turn inward again, and go through yet more halls to a wide set of double doors.

Inside, the air smells of cloves and cinnamon, and it’s several degrees warmer than the rest of the house. There are strangely shaped couches and chairs arranged around the area, and a large chest is tucked in the corner near a wardrobe that’s easily twice the size of the one in my room.

“This will be fun, Belladonna. Don’t worry.” Zhenya drops onto one of the wavy couches, exposing one smooth thigh that morphs into hooves the same deep black that both succubi and incubi seem to have. Ze turns on zir side and props zir head on one hand. “Sit down. Danik will get you a drink.”

“I don’t really drink,” I say faintly. It’s one of those holdovers from the church, even though my reasoning for it now is less sin-related and more because I don’t like feeling out of control.

Zhenya waves that away. “No mind-altering substances for our darling human, don’t worry. Rusalka wants you in your right mind—at least initially.”

I don’t know what to say to that, because Danik is here, pressing a flute of some bubbly liquid into my hand. I take a cautious sip. “Oh wow.” It’s as spicy as the air smells—almost painful on my tongue, but in a good way. It confuses me, so I take another drink. “What is this?”

“It has a lot of names, but it’s essentially faerie wine,” Danik says.

“Without all the fun side effects,” Zhenya cuts in, still sounding on the verge of laughter. “We do have the more interesting version, but it’s for special occasions.”

“That’s?.?.?. nice.” I’m saved from saying something else by the doors opening again and another person coming through. This one is as short as me, with pale skin and deep-crimson hair and eyes. They smile sweetly at me, but my attention is caught by the person closing the door softly behind them.

Rusalka.

They look mouthwatering in a black dress as sheer as the overlay I’m wearing and in a similar style. The only difference between how we’re dressed is that there’s nothing underneath it.

Even as I tell myself to look away, I can’t help tracing the long lines of her body—so strong and beautiful—from the curve of her waist to the fullness of her breasts. I can see her nipples.

She crosses to me in a few smooth steps and takes my hands. “You look amazing, darling.”

I part my lips, but I can’t seem to speak.

Rusalka smiles. “Now that you’ve met Danik and Zhenya, let me introduce you to Inna. They’re the final member of my Insomnior Court, and I trust them all with my life—and yours. If you ever need something and I’m not available, don’t hesitate to reach out to one of them.”

I know I should be processing their words, but I’m so enamored with Rusalka’s beauty that I’m having a hard time following. “Oh.”

She squeezes my hands. “Come sit. Let us welcome you to the territory properly.” There’s a thread in their tone, something sensual and inviting, but I don’t know how to divine exactly what it means.

She leads me to a wide chair and, to my surprise and delight, sinks down next to me and drapes one long arm over the back of the chair. We end up pressed together from knee to shoulder, her warmth making me shiver. I glance up at her, but her attention is on the other three, her smile now soft and amused. “Shall we begin?”

“Don’t rush me.” Zhenya has a bit of a pout in zir voice, but ze rises and, with one practiced motion, drops zir robe. I can’t help my gasp as I stare at zir beauty. Gentle curves, stretch marks, dimpled skin, and a radiance that makes me dizzy. When I finally drag my gaze back to zir face, ze is grinning. “Oh, I like her.”

“Focus,” Rusalka says mildly.

Zhenya ignores her and strolls over to stand before me. Even this close, I can’t tell if ze smells different than the room or if zir proximity is increasing the clove scent hanging heavy in the air. Ze props zir hands on zir hips. “We’re going to have such fun together, Belladonna. Just wait.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to notice zir genitals. I can’t help it. They’re directly even with my face, the apex of their thighs an invitation that the ugly little voices in the back of my mind are screaming at me to ignore. I clear my voice. “What?.?.?. What should I?.?.?.??”

“Rusalka, she’s so polite.” Zhenya laughs, but it’s not like ze is laughing at me, more like ze is inviting me to be included in the joke. “May I?”

“Don’t ask me.” There’s a new edge to Rusalka’s voice. “Belladonna is our guest, and you are obviously intent on trampling on my plans for the night.” She waves a graceful hand, giving permission.

Zhenya leans down while gripping the back of the chair with one hand, bracketing me into my seat. “May I, Belladonna?” The playfulness hasn’t disappeared from zir voice, but there’s so much more there.

I don’t know what ze is asking me, but I suddenly want it desperately. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” ze purrs. Ze takes my hand and presses it to zir full chest. “Chest.” Ze pauses, as if waiting for me to pull away, but I’m mesmerized by zir softness. Ze slowly traces my hand down zir round stomach and stops just south of zir belly button. “Sex.”

“Oh.” I swallow past my suddenly dry throat. “Um, thank you.” Rusalka is right there, and I’m touching another person in a way that can’t be defined as anything other than sexual. I dart a look at her, but instead of looking jealous or angry, she seems?.?.?. intrigued.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” Zhenya rises, causing my fingertips to brush over zir sex, then releases me. “Inna prefers the terms ‘chest’ and ‘cock’ for their body. Danik as well.” Ze turns and walks back to the couch, a swivel in zir step that makes me squirm in my seat.

I want Rusalka. I’m not supposed to desire more people. Wanting her is complicated enough. Apparently I am just as bad as my parents always said, just as eager to fall into sin. No, damn it, no. I don’t believe what they believe, and I refuse to let their hate ruin the party Rusalka set up for me. Even so, I can’t help looking at her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Lust is natural, darling.” Rusalka twines a strand of my hair around their claw. “Acting on it is pure and good as long as it’s consensual. Zhenya loves to show off, and everyone in my court shares one another’s bed from time to time, as well as has sex with others. As long as everyone is in agreement about expectations, then no harm done.” She tugs a little, just hard enough to make a dull ache rise in my scalp. “But I’ll be put out if you fall face-first into someone else’s sex before I get a taste of yours.”

My skin heats and then heats more, until I feel like an inferno just below the surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zhenya giggle and Danik say something, but I can’t tear my gaze from Rusalka. “You want me?”

She gives an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Belladonna. And not simply for what you can give me—but for what I can give you. Now, settle in and enjoy the show.”