Page 61 of Her Males

The few shadows around stop to stare, and I do my best not to look too nervous as I turn to the nearest one.

“Can you take me to Mammon?” I ask, rocking back on my heels.

The shadow nods and gestures for me to follow him. He doesn’t try making conversation, and I remain silent as he leads me down a handful of identical hallways. This place is practically a castle, with echoing hallways and cold, stone walls that give off an almost eerie feeling.

Even the long rugs and decorated walls can’t hide it.

It makes me grateful for the smaller manor my males choose to live in. It’s still more space than anybody reasonably needs, but it’s cozier and harder to get lost in.

I hear Mammon before I see her, the woman loud as she speaks over screaming children.

The shadow comes to a halt and gestures to an open doorway down the hall.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

He leaves, and I take a moment to collect myself before stepping into the room. The chaos inside has me pausing, my foot freezing midair as I take in the sight in front of me.

The room is large, which is unsurprising, and it looks like a dining area mixed with a family room. Half of the room is empty, save for an eight-person wooden dining table and several shadows standing along the far wall, and the other half sports an oversized sectional surrounded by children’s playsets.

A toddler drags a pre-teen to a shelf full of toys, and I watch both boys whisper to one another, their eyes sliding to me before turning away in disinterest. A teenager is sitting on the couch watching the TV, his arm thrown over the back of it as he flips idly through the channels.

They’re all spitting images of Mammon, and they don’t seem to notice or care about my presence. My lips purse as I watch them, intrigued by the Queen’s personal life. How many children does she have?

Guessing by the photos I saw hung up in the sitting room, I’d say at least fifty.

I suppose there’s not much else to do when you live thousands of years.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Mammon says.

I jolt and spin in her direction, embarrassed to have been caught watching her children. She’s sitting at the head of the dining table, the baby from last night sitting in her lap.

Unlike last night, though, he’s awake and drooling all over himself. He’s also gnawing at his arm, and he screeches before wiggling and shoving his fist down the front of Mammon’s shirt.

It seems demon infants are similar to human ones. I’ve never actually met a human infant before, but I’ve read a lot about them in my books.

Mammon smoothly removes the drool-covered arm from her shirt and waves me over.

“Excuse the mess,” she says. “I don’t typically work out of here, but my husband’s not home and I don’t want to leave the heathens alone.”

The heathens in question grumble as they hear their mom’s casual insult.

“Come sit with me,” Mammon urges as she sees me hesitating over what to do.

I glance at the kids one last time before sitting in the chair to her left. She pulls her chair closer and slides her work in my direction. All I can focus on is how her arm brushes mine and the feeling of her body heat seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.

The small action reminds me of my mother.

I haven’t been around many women since being purchased, and I didn’t realize how much I miss it until now.

“I’ve been reading over the female report all morning, familiarizing myself with it, and I have a few questions,” Mammon says, flipping through the pages.

My eyes grow comically wide as I see how marked up the report is. Mammon’s made notes in the margins of almost every page, and I can’t help but smile as I read over a few.

In the eight hours since she’s been given this report, she’s shown more interest than my males have in the many years they had it. Even when we met with Levia, they never bothered to mark anything up or discuss specifics.

It reinforces my belief that I’m making the right decision.

“I don’t have much information beyond what’s already in here,” I admit.

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