Page 7 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

I know he’s speaking out of kindness, but there’s a lot he doesn’t understand.

“It wouldn’t be fair to a human. I doubt they could keep up.” I suppose I could be with an incubus, another demon that needs sexual energy as much as me. But, I know it wouldn’t work. Our appetites would only drain us both.

“I think there are some ways that it could be overcome. My need to feed has been aided by science, why not yours?” Minegold encourages.

He has a point, but there’s so much more to the story. “I’m ‘spoken for.’” I give him a grim smile.

Jakob blinks in surprise. “You are? Oh! I had no idea, my dear. I am so sorry, I am waffling on without knowing the facts. Who is your lucky intended?”

This time, I waste the energy on a laugh. “He’s called Koshchei, and he’s the overlord of all rusalka, the head demon that spawns us. All rusalkas belong to him. He is our father, if you will, and eventually, he will take handmaids to spawn with. He’s a creature of regeneration, living and dying in cycles, mating and spawning in cycles, too. I don’t love him. I hate him. He’s half the reason rusalkas must kill. We need energy to live, but half of what we take goes to him. When he has enough stolen energy, he will return to a corporeal form on this plane. I’ve stopped sending him souls. I only take the sexual energy of willing men. It’s enough to feed me, but not him. I won’t help him rise again.”

Minegold is grave, and his fingers tighten on my arm. “He is dormant now?”

“And will be for another century or so. By then, I’ll have expired. My time will be over, and he won’t claim me. Or... force anything out of me.”

“Then why punish yourself? Why not find a mate, a spouse? Someone to love and cherish?”

Because no one would love and cherish me after knowing how many I’ve killed. How many more I’ve come close to killing. Minegold killed evil men to save helpless prisoners.

I killed because I couldn’t resist draining every drop...

Even if I suspect Jakob knows the full truth, I don’t confirm it. Instead, I shrug. “I spite him like this, while he can’t do anything about it. Other rusalkas have shunned me, and I’m forbidden to go home.” I pause for a minute. Icy seas. Black mountains with snowcaps that reflect in still lakes, frozen rivers where fishermen wait, tempting death and teasing us, begging us to tease them.

We were all lonely once.

There was someone, once, who took the loneliness away.

Thick, rough, red hands, windburnt face, and shaggy hair. A long blonde beard. Springy chest hair on corded muscles...

Two hundred years, and I see his face like it was yesterday.

He was the first one I let go...

The memory snaps as Minegold’s foot comes down on a twig. “I’m banned from home for refusing to kill. I’m allowed to live—as long as none of my sisters cross my path and decide to curry favor with Koshchei by ‘harvesting’ me for him.”

“Marina! Surely not?”

“We’re sisters. Not friends.” Once, I had their companionship, before they found out what I’d done. I still love them. Finding freedom has shown me what they really are—miserable beauties, talented hunters—but all locked in Koshchei’s relentless cycle.

With a shake, I force myself to speak if only to take my mind off the gnawing in my middle. “If I break any other of Koshchei’s rules, I’ll make it worse for my sisters who are still alive. The only ‘mate’ a rusalka may ever have is Koshchei. Our kills, our bodies, and our souls belong to him.”

Minegold stops and cocks his head, staring into my eyes. “My dear Marina... I will no more believe you are a meek little mouse than I will believe the moon is made of cheddar. This Koshchei sleeps for another century, and your kind has already shunned you.Ithink you’re scared of giving yourself to someone in love. Afraid of the pain of it. Thentheywould have power over you. You, my beautiful, deadly one, are used to havingallthe power.” His face twists and his voice fades to almost nothing. “It is the most beautiful, exquisite pain...”

God, I would love to ease that pain. And I’ve always imagined he would taste divine.

But he’s right. He’s usually right. “Jakob, go before I beg you to take me home. You can’t be killed. You might like it underwater. It’s such a soft, tempting bed.” I give in just a little, letting my body press into his. He’s all lines and angles, and I’m nothing but hills and valleys.

It’s been so long, and I’m still looking for someone who fits, someone who... who feels just right, not just in bed, but in my head and heart as well, whatever is left of it.

“Poor darling. You reallyarehungry. Shall I take you to the gym?”

God, I’m pathetic. Jakob didn’t even smirk. His look is pure pity.

“The gym in townjustopened a pool,” I say, going limp against him.

“Yes, yes. I know.”

Chapter Four

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