Page 48 of Insurrection
Fuck this.
Chapter Twenty
Colt
“She’s a whore—a hybrid whore who is fucking others to gain votes,” my father hissed to my mother, her attempts at trying to calm him ineffective as the man worked himself into a fit. The tick in my jaw and tension rolling through me at his words weren’t something I was willing to examine just yet. I nearly rolled my eyes at that, knowing exactly what it was, but instead kept them trained right where they’d been since she entered the room.
Ama.
I had absolutely no idea what to make of the woman, and it was both infuriating and exhilarating. I loved the way she continued to challenge everyone, including me. I’d also loved the sleepy little scowl on her face this morning when I’d gone to wake her up.
I wanted to push her until she lost control while basking in her interesting mix of magic that was like a euphoric buzzing sensation against my skin. I exhaled slowly, taking a sip of my drink, as I tried to not let that other feeling slide into my consciousness.
The one that told me to rip her out of the king’s arms. His Incubus power flooded the space around him as usual, as if he was trying to compensate for something.
Even if it didn’t affect her—if it was somehow nullified by her own Succubus magic—I hated the way he was touching her. I hated the leering way he leaned closer to her. The emotions I was feeling were ten times more than the annoyance I’d felt at her being in Damien’s arms. I didn’t like the Hellfire prince. At all. He was far better than the king, but still not my favorite person here.
It felt wrong that someone like Damien got to dance with Ama. What had the man done to deserve that? To deserve her attention? He was completely uncontrolled, and while he was terrifying to most, it was only because of his unpredictable nature. And the absolute chaos and massacres his Hellhound wrought upon enemies of the realm. It wasn’t because of his natural leadership ability—he was just a psychotic force to be reckoned with in his Hellhound form.
I would bet Ama didn’t know any of that. I would bet she had absolutely no idea what he turned into—shifting into not just a Hellhound, but a notoriously murderous one. I shook my head and tried to block out my father’s words as they began to grate on me. Why the hell wouldn’t he just let it go? Seriously, you would have thought the man cared about Ama’s opinion, based on the way he was griping and insulting her. I knew that wasn’t the case, though.
No, he’d just had his pride and ego absolutely decimated by Ama, so now he hated her more than he had before. It didn’t help that she was a hybrid, but he hated when any women stood up to him—which was why my mother was so damn submissive. I loved the woman, but watching her get walked all over by my father made me more and more uncomfortable as the years went on.
Ama would absolutely never be okay with that.
The thing I worried about was that my father was rather…irrational when it came to his pride. I was worried he would go after or try to hurt Ama. The idea infuriated me, and while I supported our territory, Angelus, I didn’t think I could justify hurting Ama just because of my father’s ego. I just hoped it didn’t come to that. I hoped I never needed to make that choice.
I really needed to get this woman out of my head, but instead, I found myself standing as she tried to push away from the House of Sin’s king. It wasn’t a hard shove, but the look of disgust on her face was enough that I was crossing the room, feeling more than validated in removing her from the presence of that asshole.
Good thing my parents hated the House of Sin as well. Hopefully, they wouldn’t think my actions were that odd. I didn’t have a good explanation for them.
“You’re seriously disgusting,” Ama hissed. “What is wrong with you?”
The man chuckled, his fingers digging into her back in a bruising hold that had me wanting to snap them off. “The only thing wrong right now is that I’m not getting a chance to see what’s under that tight fucking—”
I had never been so thankful for my strength and size as I was in that moment. I towered over the man, my fingers wrapping around his wrist as I exerted enough pressure that he cried out. Immediately, he let go of her, and she stumbled into me, her face flushed with anger as she narrowed her eyes at the bastard. I wouldn’t lie—I loved how she was leaning into me, allowing me to shield her from him. I shouldn’t love it, but I did.
“Prince Colt.” The king adjusted his outfit and tossed Ama a scowl, “If you had wanted a dance, you should have just asked.”
“Just like I asked you to let go?” Ama growled like a fierce kitten, her magic amping up as I smoothed a hand around her waist, lightly massaging the skin that was no doubt sore from his grip.
“You are not only a freak, but a prude one,” the king snarled, leaning towards us, “You don’t fit in anywhere, do you? Not in the House of Death, not in the House of Sin, and for sure not amongst royalty. I would start thinking about your options, Ama, because the only way you have a chance of surviving this experience is by spreading your pretty thighs.”
A low growl tore from my throat as I caught her around the waist, the Incubus fleeing like a little bitch as Ama tried to follow. I immediately spun her against me and grasped her jaw gently, forcing her to look away from the asshole in question and instead focus on me. Something that I found myself feeding off of. That couldn’t be healthy.
“Calm down, Princess, he’s not worth it. No one here respects the House of Sin. Trust me.”
“I don’t care about respect! I care about him being a creepy bastard,” Ama snarled, shaking my grip on her jaw off but not moving from my grasp.
“What exactly did he say to you?” I had to ask. Of course I had to ask—even though I knew it would no doubt piss me off.
Her face started to look less flushed, and she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against me as she attempted to calm down. My fingers were splayed gently against her waist, and I had to fight the urge to wrap her hair around my fist, wanting to feel the soft texture against my rough fingers. I cleared my throat so the groan at the image of her bent over as I fisted her hair didn’t break through. I knew she was trying to calm down—she would probably detonate if she discovered that I was being a bit of a creep as well.
At least I had the damn courtesy to keep those thoughts to myself.
“He said that he’d never fucked a hybrid before,” she muttered, shaking her head. “He thought it would be an ‘exotic experience.’ Who the hell says that to someone?”
“Someone from the House of Sin,” I answered immediately and winced at the face she made. How easy it was to forget the woman was from the House of Sin as well…genetically, at least. She clearly hadn’t been raised in their culture at all; she was completely different from them.
