Page 3 of Insurrection
Drayven was powerful and had a strong sense of loyalty to Mortem that had quickly allowed him to rise through the ranks.
His gaze ran over my form before narrowing on my wings in a look of disgust, causing me to nearly let out a growl. The man was such an ass.
A gorgeous one, but still an ass.
My cheeks heated more as we walked past without saying a word to one another, and memories assaulted my brain. Even his friends were smart enough to not bring up the situation I’d still yet to live down to this day.
A moment that I’d promised myself I would never repeat.
Drayven and I had known one another our entire lives, and despite his being three years older than me, I had always had a massive crush on him. How could I not? He was the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on, with his confidence and powerful aura that seeped out of him effortlessly. People gravitated towards him, and it was so clear that he was a natural born leader. Something that I was more envious of than you would ever believe.
It didn’t hurt that he was also extremely tall, stacked with muscle, and had a twin set of dimples when he smiled. He might have the typical features of a Reaper—pale skin, silver hair, and black eyes—but there was something unique about him that drew me to him inexplicably, like a moth to a flame.
I was sixteen when I’d decided to tell him that. Publicly, after school. In front of everyone.
I had really thought the feelings were reciprocated, since the man had, you know, fucking kissed me two days before. But apparently, I’d read that situation wrong because he had not only shot me down but also said, and I quote…” You nearly sucked my soul from my body the other day. How could I ever be with a hybrid who can’t control her powers? You are a danger to us all.”
Yeah, you can probably imagine the wonders that did for my teenage confidence levels. I’d also been livid because I’d given my first—and likely last, due to the whole soul sucking thing—kiss to such an insensitive jerk.
Now, two years later, things were still uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to be in a room with him without having the urge to punch him in his ridiculously sharp jawline.
“Ama...” Zurie offered me a pointed look, and I glanced down at my hands, which were surrounded by a reddish-pink swirl of power. My Succubus side coming out to play.
“What?!” I offered in mock defense, “I’m just saying, I don’t think it would hurt the man to take a trip on the wild side. He’s so uptight.”
“You cannot use your powers to create a mass orgy here.” She shook her head, smiling at my most recent idea, as we turned the hall up ahead.
“I still think it’s a great idea.” I grinned in satisfaction at the thought, “He will never see it coming.”
I made a point to almost never use my Succubus powers…although, this felt like a pretty solid excuse to break my own rule. He had embarrassed me, so I’d do the same to him. I also needed to ignore the ridiculous surge of jealousy I felt at even the idea of him being part of said orgy, not only because it made no sense, considering the man was my arch nemesis of sorts, but also because I made a point of trying to feel nothing but hatred for him.
“Sounds like he will see a lot ofcomingif you do that,” Zurie deadpanned.
“Did you just make a sex joke?!” I exclaimed with a smile, feeling proud of myself. I was clearly converting her to the dark side. If the dark side included my dirty sense of humor, inner grumblings, and extreme lack of experience when it came to sex.
Yeah, I was apparently failing in that area as well. How many adult Succubi or Incubi do you know who are virgins? I can tell you how many I know. One. That one being me.
“Maybe.” She grinned and tugged my hand. “Come on, you have ten minutes until you have to go meet with your dad.”
She was right, which meant I needed to get ready because, while he was my father, no one kept the Grim Reaper waiting.
Chapter Two
Ama
Iknew I was going to be late the minute I stepped into the steam shower in my en suite. After being pelted by hard, cold rain and wind, zapped in the chest, and soaked to the bone, my feet wanted to stay firmly planted to this spot as my body relaxed. I also knew that I would rather be a little late and have my shit together than try to rush down there with wet hair, panting and out of breath. I was made fun of enough already—I’d much prefer to show up looking good, since people would talk crap either way. They’d at least be liars if they said I looked a mess.
After my first ten minutes in the shower, I had a feeling that Zurie had left and gone about her day. I didn’t blame her—she knew better than anyone how long I could take getting ready.
One time, when we were attending a ball, we’d been nearly three hours late because I couldn’t decide what dress I wanted to wear. Then, I’d been distracted by the music we were listening to and had opted to sing and dance instead of getting ready for the stuffy political event. Before I knew it, my father had sent the guards to check on me because of how late I was.Oops.
However, since I had no one waiting on me in my room this time, I carefully blow dried and straightened my hair, the black silky texture glowing with my crimson highlights. I applied a light amount of makeup, darkening my brows, and added a bit of dark red lipstick that brought out the pink in my eyes. After a quick nod in the mirror, I walked towards my extensive closet and began searching for the right outfit to wear.
My father wouldn’t have cared what I showed up in, but considering the crowd that filled his throne room, I knew it was more important than he let on. I plucked out a pair of dark jeans, tugging them on over a pair of pink lace panties and matching bra, before adding a dark tank top. I added a red crystal necklace that rested on my cleavage and a cherry-colored leather jacket to keep the chill away. Finally, I slid on a pair of combat boots, met my reflection in the mirror, and did a little turn, smiling at the results.
I knew it was a little stereotypical to love fashion so much, being a princess and all…but in my defense, I was crazy bored. When you only had one friend in a den of people who despised you, you found other means of entertainment that weren't socializing. Mine happened to be my not so little clothing obsession. My motto was that if you looked good, you felt good, and I needed every little piece of confidence I could muster to survive here.
As I made my way through my dark bedroom, the heavy curtains drawn, and my large red, gothic bed perfectly made from this morning, I found I'd been right. Zurie was gone.
