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Another beast is tackled to the ground, savagely ripped apart by Ella as she digs out its innards. Fortunately, she spares us the pissing episode. Which is great, because it’s hard to feed on arousal when that smell halts anyone from getting turned on.
“Even Ella is commanded by my baby,” I go on.
“I give up,” Kya says from beside me.
Darting to my baby’s side, I gingerly lift her for the first time from Karma’s arms, cradling her to my chest. I’m a little weirded out by those black eyes of hers, but other than that, she’s completely perfect.
I can deal with the freaky eyes. Most of my friends have freaky eyes lately. Then there’s my demonic, doll-possessing girlfriend who is always creepy.
“She’s beautiful,” I say softly, wondering if my heart is about to explode when her tiny hand closes around one of my fingers.
“Support her head,” Alyssa says to me as I start walking toward the window, smearing a line of blood over baby Kicera’s left eyebrow, and then her right.
“What the hell are you doing?” one of the mean women snap at me as I lift my baby high, just like Rafiki did baby Simba when he was announced as the future ruler of the animal kingdom.
This is why she chose the red moon night to shoot out of her mother’s poor vagina.
Just as I start singing, “It’s the circle of life,” a vicious, savage werewolf snaps its slobbering jaws and attacks the barricade spell.
I stumble back, covering Kicera, protectively cradling her to my chest, and stare in horror.
“My baby will never be your future queen if that’s how you treat her!” I snap. “Hashtag, ungrateful savages.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, get over—”
The wall is ripped away, and one of the deformed monsters shatters through the barricade, eyes on me.
“Kya, get my baby,” I say quietly, seeing something sharp and black rise behind the beast’s head as its chest heaves harshly. “I’ll distract—”
Per the usual, it’s hard to finish a sentence around here, especially when the creature’s head suddenly starts sliding off its shoulders. Immortal speed is faster than thought. It’ll interrupt a sentence real damn quick when a head starts rolling toward you.
Quickly, I shield my baby’s eyes, since I read their first day in the world might set the precedent for how they turn out. So far, my daughter’s future looks about as bright as a murderous psychopath’s.
Great. My precious daughter is going to be Slade Jr.
Something dark shivers out of the body, and I get a little nauseated when it shoots free. A yelp is startled out of me when I realize my baby is sucking it in. Less than an hour of being a father, and already I’ve fucked up my kid.
“No,” I state firmly as my baby’s freakishly terrifying black eyes glisten and slowly fade to a dull, normal blue. “We don’t eat psychotic monster souls, not even on our birthdays. You hear me?” I tell her, but she makes no sound. Just once again wraps those tiny little adorable fingers around the one finger I’m pointing at her.
The body of the monster collapses, and Alyssa steps out from behind it, a bloody heart in her hand and black claws still extended from her fingertips.
She cracks her neck to the side, silver eyes glowing as she smirks. “That feels so much better than I expected,” she says.
“My baby just ate that soul,” I hiss, glaring at her, since clearly it’s her fault for killing it right in front of my sweet little Spangel. She’s the one fucking up my kid instead of me. Then I look down at my baby. “Spangel, spit it out right now. I mean now,” I say in a firm, but still very gentle tone, since she’s less than an hour old, and I don’t want to her to grow up with daddy issues that stemmed from her first night of life.
I mean, it’s likely she’ll still be a raging slut, and I’ll still be blamed for any sexual guilt she experiences the night after a regretful hookup—really hope she never feels comfortable enough to share those details with me. But that’s because I’m the reason she’s half succubus, not because I don’t love her enough. Hashtag, incubus parenting problems. Hashtag, new meaning to daddy issues.
Hashtag, fuck adulting.
“I’ve already said we weren’t naming her Spangel!” Karma, my lovely wet blanket, harps. I’ll have to stick with Kicera Kal-El Michaels, it seems.
Michaels is an oldie but a goodie.
“She ate an immortal soul?” Karma asks with wide eyes, as though that’s just processed.
“A monster’s immortal soul,” I gripe. “This is all your side of the family’s fault. My side are just sexy.”
Her eyes water as her smile grows. “She ate her first soul,” Karma says as if she’s enamored. “Aww.”
