Page 23 of Insurrection
“Yeah, sorry, Drayven. I’m not exactly in the habit of pulling people into sex dreams. Especially not people who have avoided me like the plague since we kissed,” I muttered, pushing his hand off my leg.
“I haven’t—” his voice was tight and uncomfortable.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.” I interrupted him, not wanting to hear what he was accusing me of. It was all too apparent that my Succubus magic had acted out or something, and I just didn’t know how else to fix this besides apologizing and attempting to ignore it moving forward.
Self-hatred slammed into me hard as I realized that I was still, after all this time, at the mercy of a side of myself I didn’t even like. A side of myself that represented instability because of the woman who had given me that side then just up and left my father and I to follow her ‘nature.’
I continued before Drayven could say anything, “Could you sit back? I need you out of my space for a minute.” So I could lick my wounds and try to find some sense of pride to salvage. Would he be pissed if I kicked him out of the carriage so I didn’t have to spend the next few hours feeling mortified? I had a feeling he probably would. Maybe I could fly to the Summit instead.
Once we were at the Summit, I planned on being the queen of avoidance. Drayven was going to wonder if I was dead because he would see so little of me.
Drayven stared at me with such intensity that I wondered if he was considering killing me or something. After a long moment, he finally sat back, and I let out a small sigh of relief, able to once again think straight. The man moved to the exact opposite corner of the carriage, crossing his arms and leaning back, watching me closely. I didn’t blame him. Clearly, my magic was predatory and unstable.
If he wasn’t such an ass I probably would have apologized even more than I already had. As it stood, I felt like once was enough.
As I stared out the carriage window at the passing landscape, I briefly wondered if my mother was somewhere out there. Did she think about me? About my father? Or was she caught up in orgies twenty-four seven or some shit? My fingers twined with one another as I held them on my lap, trying to not feel the surge of heartbreak that usually accompanied thinking about my mom.
I had only been five when she left, so I didn’t remember a lot about her. I didn’t have any positive memories, really—just negative ones that were associated with her eventually leaving. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but I distinctly remember the feeling of seeing less of her and asking my father why. His answers had never been distinct though. Well, until the night that she’d left for good.
It had been time for bed and, despite her being absent most of the time, she had always said goodnight to me. This time, when she had come into my room, I could tell something was wrong. When she had pressed a kiss to my forehead, I’d noticed that she was wearing a coat, which was odd. I couldn’t tell you what she had said to me that night, but I had been left with a feeling of heartbreak and, after lying in my bed for a few hours, I had gotten up and gone to find my dad.
It was the only time I had ever seen the man cry. I had immediately given him a hug, and when I’d asked him where my mother was, he’d squeezed me even tighter. Then he’d told me that she’d left. That she was going on a trip and wouldn’t be back for a very long time.
I knew he’d thought he was saying the right thing, especially when trying to explain to a five-year-old where her mother was, but I really had thought she was on a trip. She’d gone on a lot of them, so I had clung to that until I was nearly eight and asked my dad again. That time, he had told me the truth.
My mother had decided that her freedom, her ability to express herself however she wanted, was more valuable to her than her own child. Her own husband. Her own family.
He had been far kinder, hashing out some bullshit about her feeling trapped by the territory’s expectations of her and the responsibilities of being a queen, but I knew what had happened. That was the day I’d learned that blood meant nothing. Family wasn’t genetic code—it was who you wanted in your life. People who truly loved you. So, while I hated how exiled I felt in Mortem, I knew I had my father and Zurie.
They were my family. They were all I needed.
Chapter Ten
Nico
“Nicolas, are you paying attention?” My mother’s sharp voice had me turning away from the massive bookshelf I’d been staring at, sorting through the titles with vague interest. I wasn’t a huge reader, but considering the large number of books in our suite and the fact that my only other option was to interact with my parents and their...many sexual partners, I was completely open to it.
“Yes,” I feigned a bit of interest in my voice, “You were talking about possible voting allies and how we couldn’t afford to let the House of Death win yet again.”
I hoped they won, just so my parents could end this pointless bid to “rule the houses.” They were power-hungry assholes, and that wasn’t how the Supreme position was supposed to work anyway.
I could recognize that I loved them as my parents, but I also didn’t think they were the best leaders. Honestly, sometimes I thought they fed off of power, politics, and deceit, far more than the sexual energy members of our house truly did feed on.
My eyes darted to the closed bedroom door, where there was a large amount of exactly that coming from my father and one of the women he kept on staff. I would have felt bad for my mother, but she had several lovers herself, and the excess allowed them constant access to power anytime they needed it.
They had tried to suggest that I bring some people along to the Summit as well, saying that it not only served the purpose of providing power but also showed your status. I wasn’t positive that was true, and I didn’t really need to show my status in such a manner, considering the crown on my head. I think they just liked the idea of me becoming more like them. Something that I was planning to avoid, no matter the cost. I could be loyal to my family and our house without wanting to be like them.
“I heard that the House of Death’s heir is attending instead of her father,” my mother continued after a moment, seeming satisfied with my answer. My ears perked up slightly with interest. The House of Death was fairly private, so no one knew a lot about the heir. She was probably just as boring as every other Reaper, but I still was curious, especially since she had been kept so hidden.
“So?” I asked my mother as I walked over to the large set of french doors that led to a balcony overlooking the beautifully manicured gardens, which stretched at least a mile in each direction. It was a small oasis in a massive urban capital city. In the distance, I could see the gates and large wall that surrounded the Summit center—a gothic structure that looked more like a castle than anything else. I wasn’t positive what they used this center for during the other ninety-nine years of each Summit cycle, but it was beautifully maintained and looked completely remodeled.
“I want you to try to get her vote,” she explained, and I froze. I turned and arched a brow, her serious expression making me realize the woman might have finally lost it.
“Why the hell would she vote for us?” I asked bluntly, hearing my mother’s jaw click at the reminder that no one ever voted for us. Oh well.
“She’s young and can be swayed.”
I muttered a curse, realizing she wanted me to seduce the House of Death heir as I looked back out at a dark carriage coming down the lane. Something about it held my attention as I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to say to my mother. I already knew I was going to do her bidding—I always did. But I definitely wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t one who would ever force my powers on unwilling participants, and I had never once had a Reaper to feed off of sexually. I had never found any I was compatible with, and I truly doubted this one would be any different.
