Page 77 of Insolence (Eisha’s Hidden Codices #1)

El

I t’s chaos that compels a demun to do what she’s wired for. It’s the element that drives her to ingest another’s life-force. She’s born with it. Born of it.

Chaos and magic are what she’s entirely composed of, although she’s physically identical to a natural human woman in every other way. Well. Until she isn’t .

That’s the wonder of chaos .

Chaos is the delightful contradiction that rules and renders her. The seed inside her that gestates and grows but doesn’t bloom. Not until the first day of her eighteenth year.

That’s when everything blossoms at once.

Abruptly she’s as strong as ten men. Can see, hear, and smell damn near everything . After her eighteenth birthday, a Succubus will emit pheromones when she’s strongly aroused. She’ll become irresistible to the object of her infatuation—as I’ve experienced firsthand on many occasions.

But chaos doesn’t bind to a demun until her first feeding. Beforehand it roils in the background. Waiting. Watching. Urging her to do what she’s designed for after eighteen.

She’s designed to feed. And, in the case of men, to kill under the right conditions.

The first feeding is what binds chaos to her soul. Threads it through her very spirit like ink under skin during a Mediation. Anchoring , it’s called.

It transforms her somehow, that first feeding. Completes her metamorphosis. Births a different type of being entirely. One who rapidly self-heals when she’s fed and lives up to two hundred years, if other factors don’t take her out first.

Hence, the urge to feed captivates her. Becomes her sole focus. That’s what I always heard, at least.

We never figured out how Tiss managed to make it to nearly nineteen on willpower alone. A new demun going so long before feeding is unheard of.

Was . Until Tiss. Most don’t make it three weeks. Few— very few—make it a month or two. Perhaps three at the absolute most.

After the fact, she told me the full force of her appetite didn’t hit until we met that day in Nehel. It’s why she didn’t fully know what she was. (Well, that and a healthy dose of denial.) When it did finally hit, its force was obliterating.

Out of the many lies I’ve fed her since she arrived at the temple, I was being entirely forthright when I told her how powerful she is. She is without a doubt the strongest demun—the strongest woman —I’ve had the privilege of knowing in my life.

The months leading up to our soul-tie were hell on her, although I didn’t know it at the time. Was far too focused on how it was hell on me.

I asked once how she didn’t figure it out. Wasn’t she ravenous? Wasn’t it torturous to deny herself?

She looked up from where she was lying next to me in bed, her head nestled on my shoulder.

Said very seriously and slowly, “I thought that’s what falling in love was supposed to feel like.

” She trailed her fingers over my naked breasts.

“The tormenting hunger. My skin aching for you. The longing clamoring through me every hour of every day.” Sighing, she pulled herself on top of me, her curves enticingly soft, arousing me all over again.

“And it is,” she purred in my ear. “I’ve had you a hundred times and let you have me, and still I burn for you, Elodie. El Asher. And I always will.”

I burned for her too. Still do. If I had the luxury of choice, I would anyway. Always. Always .

I barely sleep. Tiss’s claiming bite aches where my neck and shoulder meet. I know without looking there’s a swollen, angry bruise there that no poultice or salve will soothe.

When dawn creeps through the cracks in my curtains, I give up the pretext. Get out of bed.

Rubbing my eyes, I snap open the curtains covering my balcony doors. Expect to see the same retinue of finches that have visited me every morning since the day after Tiss arrived.

This routine has become so regular that I go through the motions, blind to what lies beyond the glass at first. Or, rather, what doesn’t.

In fact, I notice nothing is amiss until the door’s cracked.

A bitter breeze whips inside. Knocks the last shreds of fatigue from my brain. I stare, not knowing if I should be overjoyed or concerned or relieved.

As abruptly as they arrived, the finches are gone. Vanished without a trace.

I go back to Maida’s rooms with her after the day’s class. Fill her in on what happened last night, minus as many of the sordid details as I can spare.

She sits at her small table, looking askance at me. “Really, though. Flashbacks ?”

“Multiple and all jumbled up.” I take the opposite chair. “But how did she take me with her into our past? And why didn’t this happen when she and Sadrie, er—” Her withering look cuts me off.

She tosses her head primly. “I know this might come as a shock, but there’s a chance Tiss didn’t mention everything that happened between her and Sadrie.

In either case, you do share a soul-tie, as you call it.

” She blows on her steaming tea. “What I’d like to know is how she managed to neutralize the amnesia poison. ”

“I was hoping you’d have some insight there, too.”

“ Me ? Whatever possessed you of that idea?”

“You’ve been here damn near fifteen years, Maida.”

“Thirteen, El.”

“Fine. But you’re still the closest thing I have to an expert on bizarre magical phenomena. So. Any theories?”

“Ha! If that’s the case, you’re out of luck.” She takes a casual sip. But the creases on her forehead deepen.

That’s not a no. I drum my fingers on the table. “Feel free to chime in any time. I’m not panicking or anything.”

“Tiss is a demun ,” she huffs. Peevishly squares her shoulders. “Poisons and dark magic might work differently on her compared to us boring humans. And maybe there’s more to Deirdre keeping her little pets sedated. Have you considered that?”

Wait. Does that mean—

A series of sharp raps rattles Maida’s door. My friend rises to answer it, looking nearly as annoyed as I feel.

“Apologies, Lady Maida, but is the Second High Priestess in your company?” Viv's voice invades from the hallway. “Or are you apprised of her whereabouts?”

What the hell does that shrew want?

“Are you in my company, Second High Priestess?” Maida drops into her chair again.

I cross to the open door. “To what do I owe the profound and unexpected pleasure, dear Sister?”

Maida mutters wryly into her mug.

Viv’s pale eyes drift down my body, judgment etched on her face. “If it’s not an inconvenience , your holiness, the prioress has need of you. Immediately.” Without waiting for a reply, Viv turns and strides away.

I look to Maida, bewildered.

“You’re welcome.” She waggles her fingers in farewell. “Enjoy!”

Viv is so far ahead, I jog to catch up. With her rod-straight spine and stiff movements, she walks like a woman twice her age. Like Ailen.

We enter a concealed passageway off the atrium with the help of her brass keyring. Descending below ground level, we pass the floor that serves as living quarters for the guardsmen.

Cots line the walls. A communal dining table occupies its center, complete with shoddy stools. The place reminds me of an empty barracks and is about as depressing.

We descend another level. Arrive at a barrier of twisting, curling wrought iron.

I wait while Viv fumbles with her keyring. Shoves the wrong key in after the correct one doesn’t work. Switches back to the first key when that fails. Grumbles and smacks the gate with her free hand when it sticks.

Finally, the lock pops and the gate swings free on squealing hinges. We cross into the dim grotto where the betrothed reside. Beneath our feet lies the stagnant den where Deirdre carries out her twisted “ritual.”

I wait while Viv repeats the process, ensuring the elaborate enclosure is secured before taking off again. “Come on,” she snaps.

In my four years at the temple, I’ve only been down here one other time. The same dread seeps through me now as it did then.

The ceiling is low enough to feel claustrophobic. Wall-mounted gas lamps emit soft amber light. Rows of open doorways line each of the perimeter walls.

The betrothed aren’t permitted the luxury of doors or even curtains.

Their sleeping quarters are open for all to see.

Each girl has been assigned a room barely larger than a closet with a bed, a bureau, and a washbasin.

Temple Guardsmen stand at attention around the perimeter, stationed between rooms.

The armed men watch in silence as Viv leads me past an indoor pond. Pleasant splashing issues from a quaint stone waterfall, breaking up the otherwise eerie silence. Potted plants peek from between plush furniture surrounding the pool.

The serenity is lost on the room’s occupants.

Eisha’s betrothed lounge around like unfeeling statues. Their empty eyes and blank expressions fix on nothing, reminding me of posed dolls. One girl is perched on the pond’s edge, feet in the water. The blank look on her face sends a tremor through me.

I don’t want to imagine the alcohol-fueled, blood-sucking orgy that occurred here last night.

Motionless other than breathing and blinking, Deirdre’s precious pets are once more in a drugged stupor. Haunted husks barely resembling living beings.

Naturally, she can’t have them running amok. Feeding on each other all over the place. Especially considering how orgasmic Vampire bites are rumored to be.

Before the lottery, it’s the Signet Silver collars that keep “the problems” among them toeing the line. And gods forbid the Five find out she’s given them anything stronger than Altered jewelry before they can arrive to take stock of their property .

Afterward? Well. Here they are kept and carefully controlled.

Each and every one of them is a demun.

Absolutely none were given their usual dose of sedatives yesterday. Instead, they were plied with as much wine as they could drink. Kept just incapacitated enough to manage while not being blocked off from their need to feed.

They feed on life-force. Naturally, the method of feeding varies by type.