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 all men...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.
Turning on my charm, I flirted back, "How did you know? I couldn’t help but feel drawn back here—back to you.
Would you mind grabbing me another bourbon on the rocks, love?
" Ending my question with the smirk that always got me my way, I saw her blush and bend over much more than necessary for the bottle of alcohol, giving me quite a view.
I was absolutely not into this Reaper chick, but I had to play the game.
She wasn't ugly, by any means—I just preferred my women with a bit more meat on their bones than Reapers typically had.
They were known for being tall and slender, and they had legs for days, which was a lot of other people's kryptonite. But not me.
My mind drifted back to the Succubus, who definitely was my type.
Not only did she have mouthwatering curves and a slender waist that I could imagine gripping onto as I bent her over, but she was also intriguing for a million other reasons.
Reasons that I couldn’t completely let go of, despite my intention otherwise.
She was full of fire, and that was one thing I liked even more than physical appearance.
I wanted a partner who could challenge me and who was mentally stimulating—someone who didn't let me walk all over them.
Maybe that made me sound like a piece of shit, but I just couldn't get into a woman who let me treat them however the hell I wanted.
If a woman felt like I was treating her poorly, I wanted her to tell me that. To tell me to go fuck myself. There was nothing sexier than a woman with a backbone who demanded to be treated the way she deserved.
Just like that Succubus had.
Fuck, she had my full attention still, and I couldn't get her out of my mind.
A thwack to the back of my head had me hissing in pain as I whirled on my seat to see who and what had attacked me.
Curvy hips swayed as black heels clicked against the ground, leathery black wings now tucked to her back. Speak of the devil.
She’d just hit me in the head with her damn wing as she walked by. The move made me chuckle, though it probably would have made most people furious. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I liked her feisty side.
Wait...her wings were black. I had never seen a Succubus with black wings. How peculiar.
Turning back in my stool to face the bartender, I tried to hide my grimace as I saw her looking disapprovingly at my interest in the Succubus. Her black eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to me over the wooden bar top, putting her cleavage on display as she did.
Batting her eyes at me she whispered, "You don't want that spoiled princess."
My head cocked to the side as I mused, "Princess?" That's an odd nickname for a Succubus in Reaper territory.
Her voice lowered as she glanced around, "You didn't hear it from me, but that's the princess of the House of Death. She's hybrid scum."