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Rusalka stops short. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll have your baby—the baby. Whoever’s baby. I consent.”
She drops her arm and turns to study my face. I don’t know what she sees there, but it doesn’t seem to make her happy. Her gorgeous face is carefully blank, some of the fire in her deep-orange eyes banked. The banked fire feels like a loss, but I don’t understand how I could lose something when I don’t have anything.
Rusalka shakes her head. “That’s not?—”
Something snaps inside me. I’m so heartily tired of being told I don’t know my own mind. “I would very much appreciate if you and Azazel and whoever else would stop telling me things I already know. I am aware I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I want to help.” All my life, I’ve never managed to measure up to anything, and now the only thing I have to do to help what I think is essentially a country full of people is the one thing I was taught was my purpose for existing.
Have a baby. And I don’t even have to marry some man who’s supposed to lead the relationship and shove me into a box that seems designed to suffocate me.
Rusalka tenses like she’s going to keep arguing, but she finally nods slowly. I can’t help sweeping my gaze over her. We’ve only been around each other for a day, and I’m already getting used to how perfectly the nonhuman parts of her meld with the rest of her. None of the demons I’ve seen depicted in church were feminine—none of the angels, either, now that I think of it—but if ever there was a person created to tempt me...
But I don’t really believe that, do I? Rusalka may be a literal succubus, but even with her powers of seduction, she’s shown me more care than most people I’ve known my entire life. More care than Ruth, even, because the only thing Rusalka questions is my decision to have a baby, not every element of my very existence.
She takes a deep breath. “If that’s still your choice at the end of the week, then I’ll honor it.” She holds up one black claw before I can protest. “We have seven years, Belladonna. One week is a small enough ask to make.”
“But—”
“I would like you to join me tonight for some entertainment.” They don’t give me a chance to respond. It feels like one moment I’m trying to find the words to tell them that I don’t need a week to make my decision, and the next Rusalka is stopping in front of my room and laying their hands on my shoulders. They peer down at me, as if searching for the answer to a question I don’t understand.
Rusalka presses a light kiss to my forehead. It’s a touch that should feel innocent—it’s certainly far from any known pleasure zones—but it goes through me like a tornado of fire. I shiver and stare up at them. “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing.” She smiles slowly. “Yet.”
8
RUSALKA
The moment I open the door to my bedroom, I register that I’m not alone. In the beat it takes to draw my powers around me, encircle my body in flames, a figure steps out of my closet, one of my favorite dresses draped over their arm. I recognize them immediately—Ramanu, one of Azazel’s pet bargainer demons, high enough up the chain of command that they wouldn’t dare trespass without explicit permission.
They smile and turn unerringly to face me despite the horns that curl from where eye sockets would be if they had eyes. It doesn’t seem to matter that they can’t see in the traditional sense. They make a good production of it. “Put away the fireworks, Rusalka.”
I dampen the heat but don’t withdraw it completely. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on Azazel’s contracted human, of course.” Their grin turns sharp and cutting. “It was in the fine print.”
“I read the contract.” I finish stepping into the room and close the door. “But you won’t find Belladonna in my bedroom, and you certainly won’t find her wearing that dress.” It’s a filmy thing, meant to seduce, falling in sensual lines from the neck to the floor—and completely transparent.
If I wear that dress, it might give Belladonna a stroke from fighting her desire for me. No doubt there would be some nonsense about leading the others around her into sin. I’m still not sure if I want to alchemize that shame into something hot and fiery or if I want to dig it out with my claws. I can count the time I’ve spent with her in mere hours, and yet it bothers me down to my core how much she hurts for the sake of others.
Her lived experience is so different from mine. I grew up wanting for nothing—certainly not love—and willingly stepped into this leadership position. I was a full adult, more than able to assess the cost, and I judged the sacrifices I would be called to make as worthy, benefiting the lives of many. We are not the same...
There’s still something about her that makes it feel like she’s staring at me, holding up a warped mirror.
“Pity. It would look as stunning on her as it no doubt does on you.” Ramanu tosses the dress carelessly onto my bed. “Interesting that you’re already so protective of her.”
“Of course I am,” I snap. They’re trying to get under my skin. I know better than to engage, but Belladonna has me too on edge to play word games. “She’s fine. Ready to martyr herself to serve a territory of people she doesn’t know.”
“Hmmm.” Ramanu gives a show of examining their claws, so similar to mine. They are supposedly the product of a bargainer demon and a gargoyle, but I suspect there’s a stray succubi or incubi in their family history as well.
I shake my head, already tired of this. “Spit it out, Ramanu. You’re no fool. If you wanted to talk to Belladonna, it’s easy enough to seek her out. You’re in my bedroom for a reason.”
“Maybe I’m here to seduce you.”
I burst out laughing. It feels good, a release of the pressure that’s been building since I brought a fatalistic human into my territory. “Darling, we’ve traveled those roads before, and while you were a thoroughly enjoyable partner, I think it’s safe to say that neither of us is interested in retreading that territory.” I suspect they have someone they’re interested in for more than mere sex, and that’s not something I could give them, even if they wanted it. Which they didn’t We work better as friends. The last thing I need is Azazel thinking he has some hold over me because I’m sleeping with one of his demons.
They give a chuckle of their own. “True enough.”
