Binds of Desire

1. The Nephilim King

Aleiraah

As soon as Rozalin opens the door to the visitor's chamber, a strange sight snags my attention.

The Nephilim King, Ispahan Ellowraith, rolling on the floor––in the perfect impression of a burrito––wrapped in a blanket!

In my three hundred years of existence on Mytherra, I've visited the human realm a handful of times—mostly for snacks, glorious caffeine, self-discovery, and bad decisions.

Tried a burrito once, while exploring a wooded area called Central Park.

Still don't get the rice-hidden-in-a-tortilla thing. It felt like edible betrayal.

Mytherra, my home, is a sprawling, ancient realm soaked in magic and mystery.

Floating islands drift above enchanted forests, crumbling ruins whisper forgotten secrets, and seas glow under moonlight from age-old spells.

While bordering volcanoes simmer near chaotic, war-prone lands where goblins often targeted other factions, peace mostly reigns under the guidance of a supernatural council.

No one remembers Mytherra’s origin. Some say it was sung into existence by star-born gods.

Others whisper it unraveled from a fold in reality.

Magic is as natural as air here, and its diverse population—shifters, fae, vampires, witches, demons, sirens, fallen angels, orcs, nymphs, and more—have turned the art of 'barely getting along' into a thriving lifestyle.

Even the land itself feels alive. And somewhere between the spell storms and diplomatic disasters, life carries on—with flair, fire, and the occasional goblin shenanigans.

"Ispahan!" I greet in a faux welcoming voice, hoping he’d take the hint and act like an adult. "What troubles you, darling?"

As a succubus, I draw strength from the essence of lust, offered freely. I try to help supernaturals in need and sometimes an odd human or two. Relieving their plight.

It helps that my natural allure is a magnet for supernaturals and humans alike. The energy I derive invigorates me, helps me heal and powers my magic.

As glorious as it sounds, more often than not I feel like––what's the term fashionable humans use?––a sex-ed teacher or an agony aunt! Hence, this current predicament!

"Aleiraah!" He practically bursts out of the blanket and lands face first into the gauzy fabric covering my boobs, sniffling hard.

An eight feet behemoth trying to crash land on me while howling my name is not how I wanted to start my day universe...

"They're having a baby, Aleiraah!" He cries out in his booming voice.

Not caring for the snot, I try to push his face out of my cleavage, but he burrows himself further while kneeling before me.

Oh fine! Just treat my boobs as emotional support pillows, why don't you!

"They don't love me anymore, Aleiraah! They've all but forgotten me!"

Hmm...I have known Ispahan to throw tantrums every once in a while, but if a baby is involved, I assume the matter is serious.

"There...there." I pat him twice on the back while trying to make suitable sympathetic noises.

It's better to let him get it out all at once.

"And the neighboring land is dead set on disrupting my territory's borders. They want our females! How dare they?" He raises his head, blue eyes full of ire. "My world is falling apart!" His face flushes even redder. Cue the dramatic sobbing.

"Come." I say, maneuvering myself out of his death grip after a boatload of tears and snot, and lead him on his knees to the nearby divan.

"Who's having a baby?" I ask patiently while signaling my trusted attendant Rozalin to bring some refreshments. His energy is distressful. Poor guy needs to breathe.

"Zahara and Zenith." He howls as I hand him a kerchief and freshen my clothes with a tiny wave of magic.

His mates are expecting a baby? I guess their compatibility worked in their favor.

He met Zahara, as I recall, over a century ago.

Zenith is a relatively recent addition to their mated life.

They formed the ménage à trois that's been celebrated far and wide in the Nephilim kingdom ever since he proposed to Ispahan before the entire court.

Rumor has it that Ispahan had blushed so hard that the courtiers thought he was dying from asphyxiation!

I was glad to hear the news of their mating. We immortals live a long life, and I believe love keeps us from going mad every couple of centuries. Now apparently I need to fix whatever's rocked the said love-boat.

"Isn't that a good thing? Do you not want the baby?" I probe gently.

He jumps up from the divan and starts pacing. "Of course, I do! But they have been in their cocoon, leaving me out of everything! I don't feel needed, or loved, Aleiraah."

"Does she not share her cocoon with you anymore?

" I ask carefully. Zahara is a butterfly shifter and prefers to spend time in isolation within her opulent cocoon every now and then.

Butterfly shifters insist it's to strengthen their fragile constitution.

I call it bullshit—cough—attention seeking behavior.

Ispahan only shakes his head from side to side.

Shoulders slumped, cheeks damp, he looks so sad for a moment that I can't help but suggest, "Next time, why don't you bring them here? Perhaps a candid conversation is what's needed."

"I don't want to beg for anyone's affection." Ispahan proudly declares.

Ugh! Males and their egos!

I try a more encouraging tone. "Well, we won't know why they are treating you this way without a heart-to-heart, will we? Also, we must be circumspect about the baby's arrival."

As he mulls over it, I nudge the conversation to a safer topic.

"About your border disputes, have you tried holding matchmaking fairs with the neighboring land?

You do have an excess of females if the hummingbird surveys are to be believed.

If I recall correctly, before you married Zahara, you had a harem full of females from every possible species! "

"Should have never let them go." He mutters.

"Don't be an ass, Ispahan. You fell in love with Zahara and it was a sight worth witnessing. Zenith was the perfect bacon to your ménage BLT!"

Ispahan appears confused, silently mouthing 'BLT' as I wrap up my pep talk, "Both always have stars in their eyes when they look at you."

He's still scratching his head full of curly blond hair, but ambles toward the divan as Rozalin brings in a tray of refreshments. It’s laden with colorful moonberry and peach tarts, salted-caramel ashbark toffees, and lychee and raspberry pudding.

She pours us rose and basil tea in earthen cups then retreats on silent feet.

"Fine." Ispahan exhales a huge sigh after taking a sip. "I'll bring them to see you soon."

"Perfect! Now let's enjoy the desserts, shall we? The lychee and raspberry pudding smells divine!" I grin.