I watched as King Marcelo tugged one of the women near him onto his lap, pressing a kiss to her neck. The sexual energy from that side of the table was insane, and no one seemed phased by it in the least. Nico wasn’t even looking, and Queen Anastasia was surrounded by two men herself, laughing about something as they kept their hands on her.
And that was why I denied that aspect of my nature.
I wasn’t positive why their actions bothered me. I had no issue with a healthy sex life… but something about them felt off. It felt so surface level. Empty. If I was going to feed off someone’s sexual energy and have sex, I wanted an emotional connection, not just the physical part.
The House of Sin didn’t treat sex that way though. For them, sex was transactional, like a meal or something else equally as utilitarian. It all left me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and I had to turn away from it as my mind flooded with painful thoughts of my mom.
“Holy shit.” I nearly choked on the water I’d tried to drink when I finally looked at the last three seats at the table. All I could see were the lightest, almost snow-white, blue eyes I’d ever encountered. They had specks of silver I could see from across the space, and they contrasted with his dark lashes so intensely that I wondered how they could be natural.
I blinked and tried to get a better look at the man. His dark hair was styled neatly and provided a stark contrast to his skin. My gaze ran down his jaw to the column of his throat, where his black suit started. It wasn’t a formal suit, in fact, the material looked almost like velvet, and his lean, muscled frame filled it perfectly. His large hand rested on the table as he relaxed back in his chair, watching me as I examined him.
A blush began to rise in my cheeks as I realized he had most likely heard my very verbal reaction to him and how I’d nearly choked on my water. There was no hiding it or my gawking at him, so I didn’t bother. In fact, the longer I looked at him, the more I realized how much there was to look at.
Then, I saw the tattoos peeking out from under his suit jacket at the wrist, and I felt ten times more intrigued than before. I swallowed and slowly met his gaze again, his eyes turning into a melted ocean blue for a moment before it seemed as if he slammed a wall up. His expression was almost naturally indifferent and apathetic to everything around him. Like all of this was a bore and he wanted to vanish at any moment.
Wraith. He was a Wraith, and that meant he had to be the heir from the House of Shadows.
“Adrien.” Drayven’s voice was tight and angry, and I saw the man glance at Drayven and nod once before looking back at me, his face completely void of emotion.
“House of Shadows?” I murmured from the corner of my mouth.
“His parents, King Victor and Queen Adira.” Who both looked equally as unimpressed as their son about everything going on.
I didn’t know much about the House of Shadows because they notoriously kept to themselves, but I didn’t get a bad vibe from them. Just a... nothing vibe. They seemed very clinical and distant in the way they were looking over everything.
I had a feeling that Drayven would maybe do better talking to them than I would. I wasn’t good when it came to quiet, reserved people—I tended to just bulldoze over them. It was usually embarrassing for me and sometimes for them. I just wasn’t good at peopling. Although...my gaze met Adrien’s again, and I wondered if maybe he wouldn’t mind it.
Ama! Damn it, no. Ignore the alluring men. This was for sure part of some plot to distract me from my goal here. There was no other way that I would happen to have a reaction like this to so many men in such a short period of time.
A crystal wine glass was placed in front of me, drawing my attention away from my problem as the server offered a bottle of wine. I nodded, and he filled my glass with white wine. My eyes darted down to the salad another server placed in front of me. Shit. No, no, no…
“It’s only the beginning. I’m sure there will be more,” Damien mused quietly, my eyes moving to him as I nearly sulked. I took a sip of wine and tipped my head back slightly, mustering the courage to fully immerse myself in the day and the night to come. Whatever that included.
Chapter Fifteen
Ama
Thankfully, Damien had been right when he said the salad was just the beginning. However, there was way too much time between courses. For each course that was pulled from the table, we had entertainers come in for a set. The musicians played a beautiful piece with a small orchestra of people after salad plates were taken away.
Following that had been a bowl of some sort of vegetable broth, or soup, or whatever they wanted to call the watery substance. I had stuck my tongue out at it, grumbling under my breath when it landed in front of me, and I had received a gentle elbow to the rib from Drayven, accompanied by a "Behave."
I had passed on the soup, not wanting to make myself have to pee any more than I already did from the energy drinks I’d downed. The only liquid entering my body would be wine.
After all, my body was a temple…a temple filled with energy drinks and wine. The best kind of temple.
The after-soup performance had been a jester of sorts, but I had found him to be about as dull as the soup—though others had clapped for him. To each their own. I found the thoughts in my head to be funnier, so I had amused myself for the duration. Specifically, with the idea of pissing the House of Fallen’s king off more. Or throwing something across the table into Colt’s shiny blonde hair. My lips pursed as I looked around for something to throw. Unfortunately, soup wouldn’t cut it.
Pot stickers had been next, and I had devoured them like a shark, foregoing utensils and depositing them directly into my mouth and munching happily. Finias mouthed, "That's hot," to me, and I tossed him a saucy wink, trying not to blush at the memory of what he had done to my body the night before.
Now that was hot.
Following the pot stickers had been a short play about the devil dramatically going to sleep and leaving the houses to rule in his absence. Yawn. We get it, the devil had decided this world was so boring that he didn't want to be awake for it anymore. Couldn't say I blamed the dude right now. I could happily have taken a nap through this entire process and woken up when the main entrees were delivered.
Finally, the real food arrived, and I wasn't disappointed. A large plate piled high with rice, noodles, and a combination of chicken and steak topped with a teriyaki drizzle was placed in front of us.
Groaning with delight, I picked up my fork and began to shovel it down, practically slurping up the long noodles as I went. My eyes probably rolled into the back of my head as the savory flavors of the steak hit my tongue. It was only then that I realized the room had gone completely silent. I looked around to see why…and found everyone staring at me.
Awesome.
The kings and queens from Fallen, Sin, and Runes wore blatant looks of disgust, while those from Shadows and Hellfire looked like they were trying to hide their amusement. Well, that made it fairly easy to tell who I would be friends with, didn’t it?
The heirs of each house didn’t have quite the same reaction as their parents. No, each one of them displayed a surprising amount of hunger and intensity. I didn’t really understand why they were looking at me like that, though.
Was it the food? Maybe they wanted my plate of food along with theirs. I mean, I couldn’t blame them—I was damn near ready to ask for seconds myself.
No, seriously. Why were they all looking at me like they wanted to eat me for their main course? Not that I was complaining. It was nice to feel desired.
Hoping Drayven would be able to shed some light on this awkward situation, I turned to him and was shocked to find his expression matched that of the princes. I whispered to him, "Dray? Why is everyone looking at me?"
His adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed and cleared his throat before leaning in, his breath tickling my ear as he muttered, "You just moaned while eating your food. Loudly."
Oh, fuck.
"Whore," King Celorn scoffed
in disgust, taking a sip of his wine, as if to rinse the bad taste of my behavior from his mouth.
Multiple chairs scraped against the floor as Drayven, Damien, and Finias all stood in a rush, each of them looking furious at his words. Were they defending my honor? Or attempting to? Well…that was surprising..and really attractive. I appreciated the gesture, but I wanted to handle this one on my own, since I apparently hadn’t gotten my point across before. I would not allow anyone to bully me.
I’d been playing nice for so long. For so damn long, I’d let people talk shit and spread rumors about me because I’d figured that it wasn’t worth it to do otherwise. Well, I’d finally decided it was worth it. This was absolute bullshit, and I wasn’t going to stand for being so disrespected simply because of how I had been born.
Celorn’s disrespect wasn’t just for me, either. It was a reflection on my house and more importantly, my father—and that, I could not stand for. I didn't give a shit who it was. In fact, moving forward, I planned on putting an end to all the bullying, even from my own house members. I was done trying to keep the peace, mind my manners, and not make waves.
No one deserved to be belittled and made to feel like there was something wrong with them just because they were different. Our differences were what made us unique, and in my eyes, that was true beauty.
If someone didn’t like that, then they could fuck off. Time to make some waves, Ama.
I raised my hands in the air and spoke in a nonchalant tone, "Thank you, guys. You can sit. He isn't worth your anger."
The subtle dig landed just the way I had intended it to, and I saw King Celorn stand, visibly vibrating with anger. I ignored him, inspecting my nails, which I had painted a deep red to match my pants and the bottoms of my heels. I knew it would have the intended effect of making him realize how little he bothered me—something that would, no doubt, enrage the asshole.
Celorn’s voice bellowed out with rage, "Why do we allow this hybrid scum to even sit at our table? We do not need to put up with her lewd behavior, and frankly, her presence at this table taints all of our titles."
Yawn. Honestly, I was bored by the unoriginal digs at my hybrid nature. People really needed to start getting new material if they wanted their words to have an impact on me.
Of course, there was an element of it that still stung a bit, but the more people said things like that, the less it hurt. Yes, it was slightly intimidating to stand up to someone as powerful as this asshole. But it was also clear that the man had a complex. He needed to wield the power in any dynamic—including, I suspect, his own family— to fulfill his own sense of self-worth. That made him less intimidating. It was sad, really.
I nearly felt bad for Colt. Nearly. Especially because he was looking at his father with an expression I couldn’t fully place. Not surprised, or even upset, just...thoughtful.
My inspection of my nails completed, I grabbed my wine, took a large gulp, and decided to push Celorn’s buttons just a little bit more. For fun. Because why not? I wasn't going to get their house’s vote either way.
Moaning suggestively, a bit louder than before, I infused my voice with a sultry tone as I asked, "Don't you love when the flavor just coats your tongue and leaves a delicious trail in its wake, making you long for more?"
Drayven coughed beside me and whispered, "Subtle, Ama. Real subtle."
It didn’t need to be subtle, though. While I never used it, my Succubus power was so strong it leaked through just enough that it seemed to make the entire group shift, as if they were suddenly realizing my potential. They had absolutely no idea. I might not have liked or identified with one half of my magic identity, but if I ever let loose, I had no doubt I could turn this place into an orgy, feeding off the sexual energy and life forces until I left them like hollowed-out corpses.
But they didn’t need to know that I didn’t like to use that power…yet.
Damien let out a full-on belly laugh from beside me, and his parents couldn't hold back their chuckles this time around, likely enjoying that someone was giving it right back to the arrogant king, who looked like a fish out of water as he gaped at me in shock.
"You should probably close your mouth before someone from the House of Sin decides to put something in there. For some reason, I just don't think you'd enjoy that. You only enjoy the one permanently up your ass," I mused with a sly smirk, getting in a two-for-one jab towards the Houses I disliked.
Celorn’s giant black wings snapped open, and he prepared to launch himself across the table at me, his face having turned a lovely shade of red.
“Ama, stop this! That’s too far,” Drayven seethed beside me. I would have normally assumed that he was embarrassed or some stupid shit… but maybe there was more to his reaction. He’d been acting weird lately, so maybe it was that he was worried I was putting myself in harm's way. It didn’t change that I wouldn’t back down.
Let Celorn come at me. I wasn't afraid of him and would relish the opportunity to show everyone that hybrids weren't weak. This surge of bravery brought with it a sense of freedom, and while I knew I was risking the other houses’ opinions of me, I found I didn’t care nearly as much as I possibly should have. They already thought poorly of me—this wouldn’t change anything. This was who I was.
Standing up, I let my own wings snap out as I stared Celorn down, my amusement fading as anger surged through me. I had absolutely no problem fighting if that was what he wanted. I was just about to summon my scythe when I was interrupted by Adrien popping up in front of me and laying a hand on my cheek, murmuring, "Do you have a death wish?"
Before I could retort that, as the Grim Reaper’s daughter, I was practically death incarnate, I was swept into the comforting embrace of Adrien’s shadows. My vision was obscured as blackness shrouded me, a pair of icy blue eyes the only color I saw. They pierced the darkness, capturing my attention. I felt weightless for a moment and tried to shriek at the sensation, alarmed and unsure of what was happening to me. No sound left my mouth, though.
Damnit, maybe Drayven was right when he’d said my life was on the line here.
From the shadows around me, Adrien’s soothing voice echoed, "Almost there."
Almost where? My grave?
The thought actually stirred an interesting question in my head. Where would I go when I died? I mean, we were already in hell, after all. Would my soul be reincarnated?
I wouldn't mind coming back as a lazy house cat in the human realm. In my few times up there, they had been hands down my favorite little creatures. I had accompanied Dad on one of his nights of reaping souls, and we had popped into the home of an old lady who had passed peacefully in her sleep.
Curled on top of her chest had been a chunky orange cat that had tugged at my heart strings. His golden eyes had turned to stare directly at me as if he could see us, and the sadness in his eyes had destroyed me. Cats were so much more insightful than I had imagined they could be. It was clear this one had known his owner was no longer there. I had pleaded with Dad to let me take him back home with us, as the kitty was clearly going to be alone until someone was alerted to the woman’s passing.
He had said, and I quote, "We cannot take in every animal that is left behind or our castle will be quickly overrun. The second I say yes to one, I'd have to say yes to the rest."
From the depth of pain visible in the cat’s eyes, and from his plump frame, it was clear that he had been loved dearly and had lacked for nothing in life. No responsibilities other than to be loved on and fed. That was the life, right there.
I was getting distracted. Focus, Ama. Focus, so you don’t get yourself killed.
Suddenly, the shadows around me cleared, and I was left wrapped in the arms of the Prince of Shadows, who was staring down intently at me, almost as if he was trying to look into my soul. His raven black hair was straight and hung to his jawline, framing his face and contrasting beautifully with his eyes and skin.
I attempted to formulate a sentence in my mind to ask why
he had whisked me away, but what tumbled from my lips was the exact opposite. "Are you aware, and you probably are, that you are ridiculously handsome?"
Smooth. I was so damn smooth.
My eyes widened, and my hand flew over my traitorous mouth. I didn't know how to act or speak anymore, apparently.
It was clear from the curve of his lips into an amused smirk that he found the situation humorous. He chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through our joint bodies, and my nipples instantly ached from the sensation. I bit my bottom lip harshly to clear my muddled brain and winced. Dropping my hand from my mouth, I squeaked out, "Sorry. I'm weird."
His hand traveled up from my lower back, trailing lightly up to my shoulder before lingering on my jaw in a featherlight touch. His low baritone voice somehow fit his mysterious vibe as he rebutted my apology, "Don't apologize. I find you to be very refreshing in this group of uptight, egotistical royals. It's why I couldn't allow you to be obliterated by the Fallen king before I had a chance to get to know you better."
Feigning mock offense, I lifted my hand to my chest and asked with heavy sarcasm, "Oh, so after you get to know me better, maybe then you'll allow him to obliterate me? And they say chivalry is dead!”
His smirk grew into a brilliant smile that lit up his face as he stepped back from our embrace and looked into the sky, bringing me back to the realization that he had somehow transported us elsewhere.
Leaning against the stone balcony, he glanced back at me and leveled me with a gaze that seemed to strip me naked emotionally—as if he was truly seeing me.
My breath hitched as he said, "I'll continue to protect you, beauty. I can tell there is something special about you that needs to be shared with the world. It'd be a shame if you were obliterated at any point, I think.” The wink he ended with did dirty things to me.
Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1) Page 13
