Page 3 of The Fae’s Treasure

“No? What if I change the stakes from sex to something higher?”

“There’s nothing more valuable than my soul,” I laugh, shaking my head at her folly.

Saz hesitates, and everything about her stills. Shifts. Something sinister replaces the sensual. “What about your son?” She smiles.

“I don’t have a son.” I can’t have one, not with Saz, a demon. My kind once spawned with everything in sight, creating thousands of monsters and creatures that roam the hills and rivers of our islands. That was long ago, when our magic was strong. Now, most fae have no children, and the ones that exist are either coveted, cosseted fae royalty, or often half-human, increasing the odds of survival with an injection of mortal blood. Saz told me succubi can’t spawn with fae.

And I trusted her. It occurs to me that our trysts were secret, hidden. If someone in my distant, scattered circle knew otherwise, they wouldn’t have known to tell me if she spoke the truth or if she was earning the stereotypes that demons always lie.

“You said succubi and fae weren’t able to spawn,” I hiss, angry and uncertain.

“And you said you loved me,” she mocks.

Did I say that? No. Well... Perhaps. In the heat of passion, I might have cried it out, claiming that I loved what she was doing. “We have never been in love—there has not been time. My kind don’t fall in months; we fall in love over decades.”

“And you are so certain that only your time matters, or your definition of love matters,” Saz chuckles. “A week in your realm is months in others,” she croons and strikes a pose, profile showing me that her delectable figure in clinging black looks different now. Rounder. Fuller. As if she’s gained weight, but only in a few specific places, breasts and middle.

“What have you done?” I whisper, horrified.

“I’ve carried your seed. Let it grow outside of your slow, drowsy realm where days are seasons elsewhere.” She rubs her middle, making a full circle above it, and then skims her hand down, going back to the slightly full middle that only accents her come-hither hips. “I’ve had your faeling. A pretty babe, a boy. Your wings. My eyes. He’s safe... for now. But my power grows, brews blacker, thicker, and stronger by the day—in the human realm, where your autumn powers are so prettily on display. If you won’t give me your soul, then I’ll take his. A halfling soul is better than none, and half of my freedom is better than losing it all.”

“What are you talking about? You come and go as you please, you—”

Saz cuts me off with a jagged motion. Brimstone flies from her fingers and splatters on the cobbles of my palace floor. “You arrogant, idiotic fairy! Succubi are never free from the need to feed, and the souls we collect are all owed to our master, which you would understand if you didn’t content yourself up here with moonbeams and thunderstorms! An immortal’s soul can’t be taken from me, and I can keep myself fed. Forever. Free forever. You won’t even miss it, Dair. You don’t do a damn thing with it.”

“It doesn’t matter; it’s mine,” I growl. “And... And I don’t believe you. How can I?”

“You don’t have to believe me. It was a gamble anyway, and while you were my original target, Pretty Wings, you weren’t the only plan. I’d still like a whole better than a half, and I know how decrepit you ‘pure fae’ are. I thought you might like some young blood around her, some glimpse at a future.”

A son. My son.

She could be lying.

But if she isn’t?

Something ancient and territorial stirs inside of me. It’s not even about royalty or succession, or someone to carry on the jobs I want to pass on. It’s about my magic, my blood, pieces of me—stolen.

If she has her way—sacrificed.

I don’t want Saz in charge of my soul or any other parts of me. I don’t want to think about what she’d do with her power, because right now, it doesn’t seem as though she simply wants to live in peace, or she would be able to stay in the mortal realm in which she visits.

I don’t like to use fae trickery, but this is not for me. This is for my son.

By thunder and wind, I will have my child beside me, and I will raise him.

“Fine,” I sigh, the air of dejection just miserable enough. Saz thinks I’m someone she can manipulate and mislead, someone she can bribe. Let’s let her think that, shall we? “Tell me where the babe is, and I’ll give you half—but only half, Saz, and you must promise never to bother me or the child again.”

Saz’s eyes light up, greedy and glowing, and before I know it, she pounces on me and bowls me over, knocking me to the mossy floor. She leers over me, her talons in my arm, ruby drops welling up on my skin as she rakes her arm with her free hand, bringing black, treacle-y blood to mix with mine.

Her blood burns like acid on my skin, and mine glows and beads up on hers.

There is no mixing, no blood oath made. Not yet. My blood is like a barrier, a golden net that keeps the demon’s blood at bay. For now.

“Yes, yes, oh, this will be... You have no idea...”

“Just get on with it,” I hiss. “This is rather uncomfortable. And you’re sure I won’t miss half my soul?”

Saz’s eyes flicker black, then back to their customary red. “You won’t feel a thing,” she whispers, and her tone is... Well, frankly, her tone is terrifying. It sounds like two voices speaking at once: something deep, dark, and cavernous speaking from her middle while her normal throaty, seductive tones purr past her lips.