Page 45 of The Devil's Menage

“It doesn’t have to be that way…”

“Oh? Can I go home?”

Rul growled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then whatdoyou mean? Am I supposed to be yourplaythinguntil what? Until I die?”

He considered her words with a sheepish look, like she’d caught him in a lie.

“You could be more than that,” he finally said, his voice so low she almost couldn’t hear, even in the quiet of the room.

“What do you mean?”

Rul looked away, staring at the ceiling and pulling her into the crook of his neck.

“I… don’t know exactly. Can’t we just be content with enjoying each other’s company?”

“You’re a demon,” she said with a scoff, like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

He smiled, a dazzling grin that coiled tension in her core.

“And?”

“You’re evil.”

That’s all this was, an incubus who knew exactly what she craved, twisting her in his clutches until she bent to his will.

“Is that what your religion tells you?”

“You kidnap people and use them for your pleasure. I don’t need the Goddess to tell me anything.”

Rul shook his head, like a parent reprimanding their child.

“As I said before, no one iskidnapped. They always have a choice.”

“So, I choose to go home.”

He circled his hand around her throat like a necklace, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Is that really what you want? To return to asceticism, all for a goddess you knownothingabout?”

Isabelle tried to push out of his grasp, but he held her tight, not letting her escape.

“And what do you know of the moon mother?”

“More than you’d think.”

Rul released her, and she scrambled away from him, her heart racing. She got out of bed, hurrying to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. This place was full of secrets, ones that no one seemed willing to share with her, vague accusations about the moon mother that sent a tremor through her.

Moreover, she felt Celeste slipping away with each moment spent with Rul and Bellinor, her wicked, hedonistic thoughts making her forget herself. She was a servant of the Goddess. A Goddess who loved her, even if she didn’t physically feel that love. It was her job to have faith, even when it was difficult. Even when she wanted to stray from the path.

Even when Rul’s domination and praise made her feel more cherished than she ever had before.

She looked in the mirror, her hair untamed and disheveled, her body marred with scars. She wished she had her cilice, though even that was a reminder of her depravity, the way her cunt wept from the sharp sting of the tines.

There was a knock at the door, and she took a few calming breaths, splashing water onto her face.