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I look at him and then around our camp, then the woods, waiting for her to come sauntering out of them, laughing and saying something snarky likeyou two should have seen your faces.
Goddess, I would punish her for it.
I would grab her throat and take her to the ground and punish her with my teeth and tongue and cock for playing this kind of jest on me, onus. Making us think she ran, making us worry?—
The succubus’s scream breaks the silent night air, a bloodcurdling sound that stalls the breath in my lungs and freezes my bones.
“Liv!” Jagger shouts, already sprinting into the woods after the sound.
I throw her satchel over my shoulder and mount Rain, chasing after Jagger.
Chapter 17
Livana
Asmall wooden box slightly bigger than the size of my hand sits opened on our little kitchen table.
Mama never brings out her jewelry, and I glance around, wondering why she left this out here. She takes very good care of her jewelry. Especially her talisman that she never takes off.
So why is this here?
I tiptoe toward it, unable to resist my curiosity as I see the beautiful colored gemstones set among gold rings or bracelets or necklaces, all tucked neatly in their perfect spots inside the box.
Maybe she left this out becausemytalisman is in there.
I can't resist the thought, not when I've been dreaming of finding my own since she told me the story of how she found hers.
Maybe she just wanted me to see all the beautiful things she's collected over the years.
I lean over the table, my eyes unable to settle on one piece, they're all so beautiful.
I close my eyes and tap into my power, doing my best to listen to it like Mama taught me.
I don't feel anything. Nothing that would say one of these pieces belongs to me, so I open my eyes again and just appreciate them.
I've asked to wear some of these before, but she's never let me.
Still, what could it hurt if I try one on?
I reach for one of the ruby rings?—
Smack! My hand is batted away so hard it stings, and I cradle it to my chest as I jump back, my heart pounding at the sight of Mama standing over me.
“Ah, silly dearest,” she says. “Those aren't yours. You know you shouldn't touch things that aren't yours.”
“Yes, Mama,” I say, doing my best to hold back the tears from the pain in my hand. It's always worse when I cry. Mama hates it. I think it's because it hurts her too much to see me cry?—
The sharp, burning sensation in my hand intensifies, jolting me awake.
I blink a few times, my head throbbing at the base of my skull.
“Look who’s finally awake,” a familiar male voice says.
Reality crashes down on top of me.
Balan, the drifter leader who tried to take me before, grins as he pushes off the wall of what looks like a dilapidated hut. His other men are scattered about the room, their stares leery and smug. Some are sharpening knives, others are picking their teeth, but they all share a victorious air about them.
I suck in a sharp breath, doing my best to take stock of my surroundings. The air is sharp and crisp, tainted by the scent of wet moss and mud.
