It felt like a trick, the possibility that this offer was truly benevolent less likely than her chances of escaping, but she didn’t know what choice she had.
“Fine.”
He chuckled.
“We’ll get you something to eat first. And then maybe after your belly is full, you’ll be more in the mood forfun.”
Isabelle groaned, though a small part of her was pleased he’d respected her wishes, even if it was in the smallest capacity possible. Even if, in reality, she was very much in the mood, the incubus’ strong embrace and tender kisses making her cunt tighten with erotic need.
“Does this place have any coffee?”
Rul quirked a brow as he sat across from her in the dining room, a half-eaten croissant on her plate. It tasted divine, the perfect mix of buttery and flaky, practically melting in her mouth. Whoever had made it would have given Margot–the woman who baked pastries for the café–a run for her money, certainly.
Isabelle wore a simple dress made of layers of sheer cloth, as pink as a tulip’s petal, her nipples visible if one looked close enough. A thrill had raced through her when she’d put it on, the silky smooth fabric divine against her bare skin and the expression on Rul’s face positively feral.
“I can get you some if that would please you,” he answered, and she nodded, taking another bite of her croissant.
She wondered if a servant would bring some in, but Rul didn’t move from his spot, instead raising his hands in front of him and clasping them together lightly. Before she could ask what he was doing, his hands separated, a ball of black light floating between them. He massaged the substance, which pulsed with its own energy, like it was a living, breathing being.
From the void, the intoxicating scent of freshly ground coffee bloomed, bringing her back to the café in Marilet. As the dark orb swirled, a porcelain cup appeared, white with dainty pink florals dotting the surface and a delicate saucer underneath. Wisps of steam rose as the liquid took form, a creamy brown that she recognized.
Café au lait.
Rul held the cup and saucer out to her, a pleased grin on his face.
“How did you do that?” she asked, taking the coffee and setting it on the table in front of her.
She inspected it, raising it to her lips and wondering if it was some sort of trick, though she knew she was too desperate to care.
“Those who are born of le Voile can learn how to shape it. Bellinor is an… exception, and much more skilled than I, though I can do some simple things. He prepared your feast last night.”
Isabelle took a tentative sip, the taste both deeply comforting and oddly electric, delivering the perfect zing.
“The whole feast?” she asked, savoring the warmth of the coffee, the energy it gave her after the strange day.
“Anything for his precious little human.”
Rul was mocking her, and she glared, heaving out a deep breath. She tried not to be happy about the efforts Bellinor went to in order to please her, the mountains of food that she never could have dreamed of back home. Far from the ascetic meals she shared with other devotees at the temple or the simple ones she cooked in her cottage, the overindulgence was obscene, though she had guiltily enjoyed it.
This place was supposed to be a hellish abyss, and yet he had crafted something so perfect from nothing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, taking another delicious sip.
Rul pursed his lips, resting his chin on his hand.
“I suppose you wouldn’t. It’s been a long while since he brought a human here for us. Decades actually, but you caught his eye.”
She ignored the strange focus on her, another part of his statement shocking her.
“Decades?”
He nodded.
“Time passes…differentlyhere. It can stretch on and on at times or rush by. Bellinor can keep me satiated on his own, so others are only brought at his whim.”
“Howoldare you?”
Rul chuckled, a delighted grin on his face.
