Page 17 of Insurrection
The answer was yes. Always yes.
Chapter Seven
Colt
"What the fuck?!" I gruffly demanded while staring down at my sopping wet black shirt, which clung to my stomach now.
I’d just gotten this damn dress shirt.
The curvy beauty in front of me stared at me in doe-eyed shock, momentarily halting my anger. Her black silk dress fell to mid-calf, but the way the material hugged her body in all the right places made it seem a lot more indecent than it actually was.
The horns protruding and curling from her head instantly made everything click into place, even with her wings probably hidden with a glamour. Succubus. Of course she was, with that alluring body and mock-innocent expression—like she didn't know exactly what she was doing to me.
Her small hand reached out as her mouth fell open, those plush lips begging to have my cock between them. "I'm so sorry! Let me get you a napkin." Her voice was pleasant to my ears, and it had a seductive lilt and slight, sexy rasp.
She quickly grabbed a napkin from the booth to our left and reached towards me with the linen, dabbing it against my stomach.
Accidentally running into me to get my attention, followed by a fake 'I'm so sorry', as if her kind didn't have a reputation for doing exactly this. Maybe this worked on others, but I definitely wasn't gullible enough to fall for this act, no matter how much my cock begged for me to.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think I’d ever felt this intense of a physical reaction to a woman before, so it was throwing me off my game a bit—something I definitely couldn’t afford.
I was here for one sole purpose: to gather information on the King of the House of Death. And what better place to gather information than at the most popular restaurant and bar in Mortem?
As a prince, it was my duty to help my house claim the Supreme seat, and that duty was of the utmost importance to me. Whoever held the title of Supreme had the power to change things in their house’s favor, and we desperately needed that power. More Fallen joined us every day, and we needed to expand our territory to keep up with housing and food for the influx. I could not—would not—let my people down.
My hand reflexively grabbed the Succubus’ wrist, halting her ministrations to my shirt that were doing nothing to make the situation better. My shirt wasn't any dryer, and my cock was beginning to strain against my briefs, clouding my judgement.
"Stop. I know exactly what you're doing and it won't work," I sneered down at her. For all I knew, she worked for the House of Sin royals and knew exactly who I was and what I was doing. I could trust no one, especially not a Succubus in Reaper territory. It was rare to have a crossing of species into each other’s territories except for political reasons.
Confusion flickered in her pale pink eyes as she removed the napkin from me and spluttered, "What? I was just trying to help since this was my fault."
Wow, I had to give it to her—she was a good actress. But then again, so were a lot of her kind.
I barked out a dry laugh, "Yeah, sure. As if Succubi aren't known for putting themselves in these exact types of situations so they can feed off unsuspecting victims."
Her confusion morphed into anger as she threw the napkin at my face and seethed, "Devil forbid anyone just try to help clean up the mess they made because they're a decent person. You think all Succubi are the same? Well guess what? So are allmen...regardless of species!" I quirked a brow at the little spitfire before me, shocked by how she’d chosen to play this situation.
Her rant continued, her hands flying as she spoke, "I can't even offer someone a fucking 'hello' without them feeling some faint trace of my power. It’s not like I am doing it on purpose—trust me, I would love to not have that specific power at all. But every damn man thinks I'm trying to get in his pants, when all I'm doing is showing some damn manners."
My brow furrowed in confusion at her display of seemingly honest disgust at the implication of my words. She huffed when, instead of responding to her, I just continued to stare, trying to figure out her agenda. As she brushed past me, she knocked into me roughly with one shoulder to make her point before storming off in the direction of the bathroom.
I felt a desire to unravel the situation and decipher whether she was being honest or was just the most enrapturing Succubus I'd ever met. Shaking my head, I focused my thoughts on my mission. I'd never see the woman again, and I couldn’t afford to spend my time pursuing her simply to satisfy my curiosity.
Somehow, the House of Death had snagged the position of Supreme multiple centuries in a row. My parents told me it was because their king, Alaric, truly acted as a neutral force who had no quarrels with the other houses. You weren't allowed to vote for yourself for the position, and the rest of the houses were endlessly embroiled in one drama or another, so the votes continued to go to him.
I had been tasked with figuring out if King Alaric really was as honest and unbiased as he made himself out to be. There had to be some shady deals to uncover or something—some way to turn the other houses against him at the Summit.
This Summit would be the first I’d attended with my parents, and from the way they’d described it to me, I could expect multiple days of elaborate balls and mealtime political chess—all of which were vital opportunities to sway the other houses to your side before the vote on the final day.
We’d be traveling to the Summit tomorrow, so this would be my final day to stay incognito in House of Death territory as I tried to find some valuable information.
Alcohol and a full belly were two things that could make someone comfortable enough to loosen their lips and share information, so I headed back to the bar I had just gotten my bourbon from. I’d originally intended to grab a table where I could sit alone, observe, and decide who to target first, but now I felt like sitting at the bar might make me look approachable.
I was more likely to get information from someone who struck up a conversation with me first, and sitting alone at a table wouldn’t give off the right vibes for that.
Snagging a wooden barstool at the end of the bar, I signaled to the bartender who’d just helped me a few minutes ago. Her hips swayed a bit more than they had for other customers as she made her way to me with a smirk and asked, "Miss me already, handsome?"
Not in the slightest. But I'd absolutely make use of the opportunity that had just presented itself. Originally, I’d thought I'd have to get information from bar patrons. Now I was smacking myself for not going straight for the staff. They'd know all the gossip just from silently listening to guests who didn't think to guard their words.
