Page 39 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

“Your payment shall be a kiss and a touch,” she said, curling her fingers against the smooth wood floor as if imagining it already.

Shumei stiffened, ill at ease with the new level of intimacy Majo demanded, but if she was asking for payment, then she must have an answer for her. Shumei reluctantly nodded.

Licking her lips, Majo crawled toward her. She sat next to Shumei and leaned close, holding her weight on one hand. Shumei closed her eyes, telling herself it would be over soon, and it indeed was. The witch withdrew after a moment, pulling her hand from the fold of Shumei’s dress and licking Shumei’s lips one last time before sitting back.

Shumei could neither repress the shudder that swept over her nor could she stop herself from wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She wished she didn’t have to trade something like this with such a monster. Hopefully, this would be the last question she would need answered. She didn’t want to know what any future payments would be.

“Do not recoil so. You’ll get what you asked for. Now listen carefully. I shall say this only once.” The witch seated herself on her cushion again, hands folded in her lap. Shumei gave Majo her full attention.

“In my years of personal study,” Majo began, “including a recent, enlightening trip to Houfu, I acquired a great deal of magical knowledge. However, I cannot decipher some of it. Having grown up in this backwoods village, I hadn’t learned how to read or write well in my own language, let alone the other languages of the world, some of them old and rarely used—some of them forbidden. The process of learning a new language, or rather, an old one, is time-consuming.

“For this reason, I cannot give you a detailed answer, but according to what I can read, the Incubus Curse can be cured. The curse itself requires a special circle drawn upon the floor, and an altar must stand in the center. The focus, or magic-user, must obtain the curse’s main component, semen, from the one to be cursed, who must also be in the circle, upon the altar.

“An invocation must then be spoken, but I cannot decipher it, nor can I read what exactly is done with the main ingredient. However, an outline of the ritual for a cure follows the curse. It is done in the same manner, but the invocation is different, obviously. The main component is used in a different manner as well.”

Nodding, Shumei felt a spark of hope. She could cure Vallen, she knew it. New questions were popping up like daisies, but the one to ask was not sitting in front of her.

“I see. Thank you, madam.”

Something about Majo’s explanation was bugging her, though. The witch had mentioned a special “circle” as if she had seen something too complicated to describe. She had talked of not being able to read something—old languages and invocations.

The witch had a book. A spell book. Slowly, Shumei turned her gaze to the thick volumes sitting in a tall stack by Majo’s sleeping mat. She had a feeling the witch wouldn’t keep such a thing sitting out, though. It would be somewhere safe. Somewhere with a lock.

“Ah, sweet Shumei. How glad I would be to tell you all you ever wished to know, if you would only give me access for the night.” Majo sounded as breathless as she looked, and Shumei gulped as the witch seductively drew her hand down her neck.

Shumei hastily stood, her nearly-empty medicine bag in one hand.

“Until next week, Madam Majo,” she blurted, walking to the door and slipping on her boots. Majo bid her a good day, but Shumei didn’t bother to acknowledge it as she whipped the door open and darted outside. She ran all the way to her next delivery.

Chapter Nine

Lying in Vallen’s arms, Shumei sighed in contentment as the flutters in her belly continued to send little pulses of remembered pleasure throughout her loins. When she had come to the field at dawn today, the binding had combined his ache and hers, creating a pulsing fire in her sex and making it dripping wet as she emerged from the trees. Whereas he had been calm and composed last week, this morning had found him agitated, pacing back and forth impatiently.

He swept her up in his arms before a single word had been spoken. After swiftly carrying her to the tent, in a new location today, he had wasted no time shucking their clothing. The next fifteen minutes had been nothing but hard, sweaty, toe-curling sex. However, he had been in his right mind enough to have a small cloth on hand this time to catch his pleasure after he had pulled out, saving them from cleaning it up afterward.

Having caught her breath, she curled closer to the warmth of her demon lover and remembered the news she had wanted to tell him since yesterday morning. She had many questions to ask him, not all of them about his curse, but for now, she enjoyed the orgasm still sitting warm inside her.

Vallen held Shumei close, a little saner after a week without her. He had nearly screamed in his need to be kissing her, holding her, pleasuring her so well that her nails left indents in his skin. And the last few minutes of waiting before she’d arrived had been the most gut-wrenching moments he’d had in too many years to count. He had watched her walking toward him, impatience clawing at his insides. He knew every curve hidden under her dress, but he’d wanted to see her naked flesh. He knew the flavor of her skin and her lips, but he’d wanted to taste her.

He had all but ripped off her clothes when they’d reached the tent, then pushed her on a pile of pillows before following her down. After a frantic moment of foreplay culminating with sliding his fingers inside her to double-check if she was ready, he’d wasted no time before plunging inside her. Her legs had been tight around his waist, and her heels dug into his clenching buttocks as he’d rammed his way to release.

He knew he would take her again before she left that day, should she allow it, which he had the feeling she would. He might even take her twice more.

“Good morning,” she sighed, smoothing her hand across his chest. Her cheek was pressed to his chest, one leg thrown over his thighs. Her black hair was spread out behind her, draped over his arm.

He smiled, realizing that, except for some whispered or groaned words before, they hadn’t yet said anything to each other.

“Now it is,” he answered, stroking her shoulder.

“Tell me more about the continent. I’ve now heard of the Black Sands and Stillwood. Where else have you been?”

“Hmm,” he said, wondering where to begin. He could tell her of the Northern Highlands, where they had a…different way of controlling crows. Or the area known to most as the Barrier Forest, which held back… “The Creep is a lifeless wetland that lays partway between here and the Black Sands. It is largely uninhabitable, but there are a few settlements.”

“How can a wetland be lifeless?” she remarked, lightly exploring the muscles of his abdomen.

“It’s not really known. Something in the soil, perhaps. I know the water isn’t safe to drink, but it rains almost constantly. The locals survive by selling rainwater to travelers, and dried peat to traders.

“On top of the mud traps that can suck you in you’re not paying attention, the mire stretches for many leagues, and the lack of sunlight or color can make a solitary traveler feel just as lifeless as the mire.”