IN DEFENSE OF ACTING FOOLISHLY
Damien had never been quite so aware of Rapture’s friendliness. He had frequently bartered his company with the woman when he was close to the karsts and one of them needed something in trade. Misgivings only weaseled their way in about how he had struck a deal afterward, but those were easy to brush off—it was just how things were done in their circles.
Sometimes Rapture only requested blood or assistance with a mundane task: someone captured or killed that required daylight to be endured, the usual, but companionship was never offered without caveat. Rapture was an ally who could always be counted on, and during Damien’sindenturementto another, she never pushed for anything he wasn’t willing to give, but she also never…what was it?
Well, she never really cared about him, did she?
Of course, Rapture had clung to his side as she walked him along the den’s halls to a private chamber where they could have theirdiscussion, and she chose to sit them both on the smallest of seats, running fingers up his arm to his neck and behind his ear, all things he normally liked, but she always did that when he first arrived, and it wouldn’t last.
Rapture’s private room had been refurnished. The style was changed from the deep reds it had been last time, and the unfortunate white she’d gone with for a short-lived and messy time before that. She’d chosen green presently, rich and vibrant like the heart of a humid forest, and had added golden accents that reminded Damien of Amma and her penchant for trees. She would like the room, especially the vase of pink lilies beside the door. Except—Damien glanced down at how Rapture was lightly rubbing her shin against his own—maybe Amma actually wouldn’t like what was in the room at all.
Rapture had just finished saying something about a disturbance in the Innomina Wildwood to the south when Damien focused back on his host’s face—her captivatingly beautiful face. “The assistance I need from you, it is no small ask.”
The woman turned her head slightly, her expectant smile sliding downward, and she pulled her feet up on the short sofa they shared to fold beneath her. Now she was really looking, yellow eyes taking him in in that way he hated. “Tell me what you want,” she said, voice losing all of its throatiness.
“Lycoris.”
Rapture did not move for a full minute, features refusing to even twitch, but then immortality could do that to a person, making them forget time had meaning.
“I hope you’re not attempting to speak to me telepathically because it’s not working, if so.”
Rapture blinked heavily-lidded eyes, pushing herself up off the couch. Warmth returned to the space she left as she flitted to the far side of the chamber and poured herself a drink. The tinkling of the crystal carafe filled the room as thick, red liquid filled a matching goblet. She replaced the carafe upon a metal holder suspended over the flame of a stubby candle and turned back to him, resting her hips against the table. “You want me to wake Lycoris ahead of schedule?”
“It’s only a few decades.”
“Sixty-six years is more than a few decades.” She took a drink, steam from the viscous liquid inside rising up from her cold fingertips against the goblet. “I can’t imagine what could be so imperative. Or what you would be willing to barter.”
Damien stood, finding it impossible to sit there under her eye any longer. He was glad Kaz had fucked off somewhere else in the den and wasn’t around to grouse at him. “A favor, from Zagadoth.”
“Zagadoth is in no position to be granting favors,” she said with a bite, but grinned. She had to know what was coming—he had shared with her his plans once, years ago.
“Not yet.”
Rapture suddenly appeared in front of him though he hadn’t seen her move. The blood in her goblet sloshed as she stood still before him, nails tinkling against the crystal. Its contents smelled of human, predictably, but this time the stench made Damien anxious instead of amused. They really preferred the stuff fresh, and he had just abandoned a human in their midst he knew had to taste exceedingly sweet. But their agreement would be honored—it had to be—and like Damien himself, Rapture and her kind had standards.
“Not…yet?” Rapture’s tongue darted over her lips, considering the deal.
“I’m closer than ever to freeing him, but there are complications. Lycoris may be able to rectify those.”
“Your ambiguity is riveting,” she said, the throatiness returning to her voice as she lifted the goblet between them and took another drink, crimson staining her pointed teeth as she smiled. “I almost want to grant you this just for the Abyss of it.”
“Almost?”
Never one to actually pace, Rapture went back to her makeshift bar and placed down her glass, leaning back against the table, hips cocked to one side. Her dress hugged her rounded curves, so thin and taut there was little left to the imagination, though with his memories, he didn’t have to imagine. “Something this audacious isn’t up to me alone, you’ll need the other elders to agree your father’s favor is worth it, but my sway with them is heavy. Convince me.”
Damien clasped his hands behind his back, taking a step as he thought. “The power a demon lord holds is immeasurable. A favor from him—”
“No, no,” she said, humor to her voice as she crooked a finger at him. “Convinceme.”
A few more steps brought him up to her, the familiar distance of nothing between them. She pushed off the table and settled her arms on his shoulders, hands in his hair so that her nails slid over his scalp. He steeled himself for the pain of her fangs and waited.
Rapture’s kiss tasted of blood, the heat of it mingling with the frigidity of her lips. It was rough, as always, inviting in all the ways Damien usually gave in to, but he immediately pulled out of it.
“No?” she asked, brows knit with curiosity as she studied his face, fingers still scratching at him like they wanted to dig right into his mind. Her kind could glean flashes of one’s desires from physical contact, and Rapture was especially good at getting to the truth, but his violent reaction likely made further prodding unnecessary. “You’re not involved with that awful Delacroix woman again, are you?”
“Darkness, no.” He wiped at his mouth, a smear of blood on the back of his hand and something like regret in his gut. “But I would still rather persuade you with the alternative.”
Rapture pouted a thick, dark lip then it curved up into a grin, canines glinting in the candlelight.
