Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
My monster sinks into one of the upholstered chairs and stretches out their . . . hooves. They watch me with undisguised interest but show no signs of speaking.
I take a deep breath and catch the faint scent of cloves. I will be here for seven years. The very least I can do is dredge up some courtesy. “I’m Belladonna. What’s your name?”
“Rusalka.”
The name is just as beautiful and dangerous as this monster seems to be. I clear my throat. “What—um—I mean . . .” I can do this. I don’t know why my hard-won charm falters in the face of this monster’s increasing amusement. I try again. “What are your pronouns?”
“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” Rusalka murmurs. “I’m not overly precious about pronouns, but ‘she’ works well, or ‘they,’ I suppose, if you’d like to use that. Gender is a bit fluid for most of my people.”
She. They. Two pronouns. Okay. That bends my mind a little, but I’ll be damned before I ask her to explain. I’ll figure it out. I do my best to banish my mother’s derision to the recesses of my mind. It doesn’t matter what my mother thinks of pronouns. It matters what I do.
My smile feels brittle at the edges, shaky. “Your people?”
Something softens in her eyes, which I can now see are a deep amber that almost seems orange, though surely that’s impossible. People don’t have orange eyes. Then again, people don’t have cloven hooves and tails and fire that dances along their short blond hair either. Strange that the room feels just as pleasantly chilly as it did when we walked in.
Rusalka slowly crosses one leg over the other. “My people are the incubi and succubi.”
Incubi. Succubi.
These terms I know. Pastor John used to rant about the sins of the flesh, sins that somehow also extended to the mind, and he claimed a good person could be ensnared by the wiles and magic of a succubus. I’m pretty sure he meant women who aren’t afraid to have sex out of marriage, since he was always fond of exaggerated metaphors. Though if I pointed out as much to my mother, I was destined for . . .
I shudder. No. Damn it, no. I owe nothing to the parents I’ve been disappointing since birth. No marriage to a good God-fearing man who will lead the family, will protect, will . . . I shudder again.
“Belladonna.” Rusalka leans forward, drawing me out of the spiral threatening to suck me under. “Breathe, love. Just breathe. Slowly.” Her voice is soft, but there’s no ignoring the command in it.
If I were better at obeying commands, I wouldn’t be in this position to begin with, and yet I find myself inhaling, matching the cadence of my breathing with hers. Again and again, until surely she must be tired of coaching me through something instinctive to every other human in existence.
But Rusalka never takes her strange orange eyes from mine, never lets impatience enter her honeyed tones as she keeps speaking until I’ve calmed down.
I lick my lips. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to sign the contract, love. I’ll not force you, and Azazel would find some sword to fall on before he pressured you into this.”
So he’s told me. Several times. I don’t know what to do in the face of her unexpected kindness. The hell I was always threatened with is fiery and unfeeling and empty of any comforts. “I know.”
She waits, but I don’t accept her offer of a graceful exit. Rusalka sits back. “I understand why the canny old bastard came to me.”
I let their words slide over me. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I don’t suppose I need to know. “I’ll adjust. This is all new to me. I didn’t expect. . . you.”
Rusalka laughs, and the sound wraps around me like a warm embrace. “Few do.”
I don’t know what she would have said next, because the door opens and Azazel steps in. He glances from me to the monster beside me, and though it’s hard to tell on his equally monstrous face, he looks concerned. “Is there a problem?”
Rusalka doesn’t answer, leaving me to speak. “No.” I shake my head sharply. “Everything is fine. I’m ready to sign the secondary contract.” A contract that will bind me to Rusalka for the duration of my time here. Azazel explained it to me before I signed the first one—how he wouldn’t be the one I’d be dealing with for the duration of my service. I think he was hoping it would make me change my mind, but what does it matter who I serve?
“Belladonna,” he starts. “At least read the second contract before you do.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I don’t mean to say it. I’m not supposed to say things like that, to make people uncomfortable by revealing the deep well of hopelessness that resides inside me. A God-shaped hole, though the more I tried to offer myself to Him, the wider the hole became. Until I stopped trying entirely. According to my parents, I just needed to believe harder, to stop doubting, and that would fix everything. Even Ruth wanted that for me. Faith comes so effortlessly to her. She never really understood why I fought against it. If she loved me despite my so-called flaws, she could never quite forget the flaws exist.