Page 30 of The Librarian of Souls
Joanna turned such a lovely shade of blush, her arousal, syrupy sweet, seeping from her pores. It took everything in me to remain chaste after that. I could gaze at her for the rest of my days and never tire, but there was something truly sinful about the way the material of her leggings clung to her bottom. Walking around with my cock at half-mast is not exactly an enjoyable experience.
As we approached the café, however, she refused to let me purchase her drink.
“I found ten dollars in the pocket of these leggings this morning. I can buy our drinks. Save the big money for Thursday.”
I do not think she understands the depth of my coffers, but there was something like pride in her soft aura as she grabbed both of our cups from the barista and handed over her money. I want to nurture that feeling in her, that she should be proud of everything she does, by existing.
Now here I am, Tuesday evening, sulking in my wooden chair with my cracked ceramic mug of tea from an industrial-sized bag of some store brand variety mix. It has been one disastrous attempt at courtship after another. Even when I think I am making ground, Joanna pulls the rug out from underneath me. Oh, but does she have another thing coming. On Thursday, on our official date, I am going ravish and spoil and show her exactly what it will mean to be mine for eternity. How to be treated like the queen she shall become.
“Auggie. Augustine.”
A large, earth-toned hand waves in front of my face. Nora looks confusedly at me and then at my notebook, which is unopened on my lap.
“Just because you’re getting pussy, doesn’t mean you can’t take notes,” Ramón hisses, just as annoying and fearless as ever, like our disagreement last week never happened.
“Ramón, shut the fuck up,” Nora scowls at him, but there is little heat in her voice.
“I mean no disrespect,” Arlo’s soft Appalachian accent is almost shocking amongst our group. “But will she be joinin’ us on a count of her becomin’ immortal?”
He is looking healthier; his pallid skin almost has a flush to it now and he is not as fidgety as he once was. It seems that little meal he had last week did him some good. At least someone benefited from that insanity.
I purse my lips. To be perfectly honest, I had not thought about it because my main focus is keeping my queen all to myself.
“Not if she doesn’t get the cravings.” Kragnash spreads his legs before resting one ankle on his knee. Buster lays next to him, leash off and relaxed. The bags under his eyes tell me he has not restored his powers yet. His age is showing just enough to make you believe he really is centuries old. Maybe Ramón’s one-armed friend could be handled more efficiently than I had initially planned.
“She will not,” I assert, before quickly changing the subject. “Where is the sea witch? She is never late.”
“I haven’t seen Orthia since she stormed out last week,” Nora says.
“Do you thinkHer Lovehas taken over her again? I haven’t heard of anyone going missing in a while.” Ramón scratches a claw over his chest. “But then again, I’m not sure we really would. I’ll ask my guy.”
I try not to think about who or what guy Ramón means. It is not uncommon for the monster community of Gwenmore to have more unscrupulous connections, but Ramón has made running the underworld his life’s mission. The sewer rat views himself as some sort of don, but that always comes with baggage the group has to deal with. There is no denying that his connection to the human underworld is the best, which has come in handy many times.
“It’s not that,” Nora says. “I can’t feel their energy. Normally there is a rippling in the woods between the veils when they are feeding.”
“Where is Deg? This meeting needs to get rolling, I have a press breakfast in the morning.” Kragnash grunts, displeased as usual when things do not work to his time frame.
Again, as if speaking his name has summoned him, Deg’Doriel marches into the parish centre basement. A burst of flame and his human form turns to ash as his demon form expands. His lavender skin looks more grey than normal, and I find myself concerned for his well-being. However, his first words to me erase any concern I have for him.
“You haven’t completed the fucking bond yet. Thank fucking Lucifer.”
He sounds almost relieved, and I hate him for it. It exposes knowledge about me to others that they did not need to know and even though the demon is my friend, he would happily see me unhappy and mateless than with Joanna. I grit my teeth together to control the response that tickles my tongue and begs for my retort.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ramón leans forward on his stool. “Bond? B-O-N-D? Like mates and shit? Are you saying we get to have those with humans now?”
“Absolutely not.” Deg’Doriel’s voice shakes the ceiling tiles and flames flicker around his crown of horns.
“But then why does the tight-ass rule follower get one?” Nora asks.
“He shouldn’t get one at all.” Deg frowns at me. “There is a delicate balance that must be protected here. Mating with humans permanently is dangerous. We haven’t spent over three centuries building this world for us to coexist with them only for it to be ruined by a fucking one-night stand.”
“Wet dream.” Ramón snickers.
My human facade disintegrates as my sands explode from my body. Arlo and several of the other lesser monsters scatter to the corner and Deg’Doriel sneers at me with a viciousness I have never had directed at me. He does not understand. He has never known these feelings; the loveless beast claims he is incapable. The hellspawn knows nothing of what the mate bond is like on the mind and body. How it feels to have something slowly torn away, like a rack dragging over your skin until there is nothing left. He gobbles up souls so greedily for a being who has never had one. His aura is dark and sharp, an empty husk of foul emotions that taste of burn and blood.
“Alright, put your dicks away, lads.” Nora’s tone is ethereal, the fae queen’s eyes glowing bright white as she oozes the power she wields to soothe and pacify and lure her victims to their doom. “Let’s get this meeting over with. Not everyone here wants to listen to your bickering.”
I take a deep breath, my sands refusing to retreat, the spines having ripped through yet another one of my jackets. My tailor will be getting quite the bonus from me this month. I pull back enough to sit in my chair, but my claws and eyes refuse to shift. I can see the auras of emotions around the monsters in the room more clearly than when I mask my abilities to appear human.
