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But I’ve never been hit so potently with an incubus’s power. Not even Dice—since he trained me against it after I turned, giving me small doses so I’d grow resistant.
It was awkward for the both of us until I got the hang of icing out the power. Like I’m slowly doing now, while still pretending to be lost in the fog. Caught off guard, a great deal of it has slipped past my defenses, so I don’t have to pretend too hard.
“A Princess would look very appealing in my harem, and would certainly up my power intake.”
“What’s he…talking…about?” I murmur, not faking the slowed words.
Dice scowls over at me like he’s pissed I’m even struggling against this power and is personally offended by my vulnerability.
I blame the magic-infused bars.
“Jeremiah is Type A incubus. The stronger his harem, the stronger his powers, since he feeds regularly off all of them and their never-ending state of lust he keeps them in.” He turns his cold eyes back to the said creeper. “And it’s reprehensibly illegal.”
Jeremiah smiles a sickeningly cold smile that could double as a barely disguised sneer. “And you grew morals when you joined the queen’s court? Maybe I should kill you now in case stupidity is catching.”
“Those were different times, mate. And my harem was always a willing set of participants who didn’t have to be constantly drugged. This is disgusting even by my standards.”
The women, now that I study them better, do seem like mindless drones. Can Dice impose that sort of influence over people?
Vacant eyes don’t even seem to notice us in the room, as they both consistently rub their hands over his chest. His aura seems to glow brighter, showcasing his powers like a proud beacon.
Even if I hadn’t seen his eyes, I’d still know exactly what he is. It’s actually considered indecent these days to expose an aura so blatantly.
The heady rush still vibrating through my body now makes me realize what I’ve been struggling with and why it’s not affecting Dice. It isn’t the bars weakening me.
It’s Jeremiah.
I really want to touch him…so I can rip his head off. Though I’d possibly kiss him a little first. Maybe sit in his lap and kiss him before ripping an arm off first. The longer I’m subjected to this, the less harm I want to inflict on him, as the desire to pleasure him starts to overwhelm me.
My blood boils, the memory of another man imposing his will on me, stealing from me, taking from me, bonding me in a way that sent me into a mindless spiral when I defended him from my own family.
The burning anger slowly eats away at some of the influence, allowing the need for pain to return.
I didn’t get the chance to kill the last man who broke sacred trusts; a man whose name shall not be spoken. He remained untouchable for far too long.
But Slade killed him.
My lips curl in dark delight, and Dice mutters a curse when I sway a little drunkenly, feeling a familiar high creep up.
“You really have no idea what diluting her ability to think will do. I’d rather not fucking die, so I respectfully request you cease at once,” Dice snaps, not sounding respectful at all.
I almost giggle.
Jeremiah laughs outright. “I already feel ten times stronger just feeding off her what little bit I have. I think the king should guard his daughter better if he wants to keep her. I’ve never been one for the monarchy anyway.”
A very icky smile dons his toxically immaculate lips—lips shaped too perfectly to hold a smile so uninviting.
“Maybe this will start their fall,” he adds.
A loud siren wails from outside, and the two girls vanish from his side. So we can dematerialize from in here without consequence?
I try…and fail. I glance around, seeing there certainly are markings to prevent such all along the bars confining me. There are thousands of markings, all tasked with a different responsibility of which powers to trap or contain.
Jeremiah leers at me a moment longer before saying, “As soon as my company is gone, I’ll be returning.” He cuts his gaze to Dice. “Then you can watch her become one of mine. It should remind you of the past, and you can watch helplessly from the sidelines.”
There’s a bitter bite to his words, a hard set to his jaw, and a rigid posture to his stance. I give Dice a dubious look that he pointedly ignores.
“You’ll regret this,” Dice assures him, not sounding like the funny guy he usually is in tense situations.
