Viviana
The party is in the too-large ballroom in the farthest part of the academy grounds. Everything is decorated like we're celebrating a war that lasted centuries. The high ceilings had candlelit chandeliers dangling from them. The whole room was too bright for my eyes. Snacks and drinks are being walked around by servants; there's a long table against the far wall to the left, full of foods probably imported from different parts of the world. If the room were just a little smaller, there would be no room to walk. But Seraphine has her arm linked to mine, pulling across the ballroom to the far right side of the wall, where a fancy tower of champagne sits on a table full of other alcoholic beverages.
Arin is close behind us with his hands in his trousers. For a man who seems disinterested in literally everything, he's always down for a party. Says that the most fun can be had at a party because that's when the most drama happens. I don't agree, but then again, I've avoided formal parties just as this one my entire life.
"So," Seraphine starts, "have you seen him?"
I don't need her to clarify to know what she means. I haven't seen Asmodeus, but then again, I just got here and am not looking for an archdemon. I do want to enjoy my night. "No," I say as I grab a glass of wine.
I take a sip of wine before Arin takes the glass from me and takes a sip of his own. "I heard they aren't coming until a little later." He says as his eyes scan over the bodies that fill the ballroom.
"Yeah," Seraphine says, "take notice of how Headmistress isn't here."
I did notice that, but I was sure that she was just lost in the crowd. It's almost funny, we look like we're secret judges scanning the competition to see potential winners. Seraphine and Arin are scanning the crowd until they both stop in one direction. No one speaks, and my curiosity piques. I follow their gazes across the ballroom to the long table that holds all the food and snacks. Zilla Norman. Three men are by her side. Ryn Sterling. Kael Draven. And The Sleeper. No one is surprised to see them all together. The men are dating her. But I wonder how that is going. Three men, one woman. There must be some jealousy going on in that relationship.
I can see the desire rolling off the three of them in waves. Perks of being a Red Witch. I can see everyone's desires but my own. If I'm in love, I cannot see my lover's desire. Now that is the downside. It doesn't matter to me, but I'm sure it matters to her, especially when her electric blue eyes meet my mismatched ones. The Sleeper is whispering in Zilla's ear while his golden eye stares at me from the corner.
Kael and The Sleeper look almost identical. They have the same tan skin, hard bodies, and tall stature, but their facial features are different. Kael's face is slightly softer, but still hard from years of untold secrets and pain. And they're wearing two different colored suits. Well, Kael wears a full suit, white to match the tip of Zilla's hair, while The Sleeper wears red slacks and a white button-up. Ryn is such a contrast to the other two. He's more lean while they're bulky, his hair long and dark against pale skin, hair that covers one of his red eyes. His suit is black and white, his hands in his pockets.
The three of them look at the three of us. We all stare at each other. The Sleeper knows what Zilla put Seraphine through. We all do. And unlike her, I can see the desire the men have for her. I can see the desire she has for them. A desire I can choose to enhance. Maybe I will just because I can. I mean, them having an orgy in front of everyone? Now that would be funny.
"Leave them alone." Seraphine's voice comes from my right. I look up at her, her heels adding four inches to her height. "It's a party, remember? Let's enjoy ourselves."
It's almost maddening how Seraphine always knows what I'm thinking before I even say it. I would say it's because of our lifelong friendship, but it isn't like that. Unlike witches, every other race gains their magic as soon as they're born. Witches have to wait until we're sixteen before our magic manifests. I don't know the extent of Seraphine's magic, but I know it has something to do with sensing the feel of someone's emotion rather than actually reading their minds. I'm not a hundred percent sure since she isn't very forthcoming with her magic.
Arin wraps an arm around my shoulder, and we all move. I grab another glass of wine before we walk away from the beverage table.
An hour has passed, and honestly, this party is boring. It's all about formalities. Everyone — mostly the witches — has tried talking to The Sleeper. Curiosity gets the better of the three of us, and we walk over to the other trio. Seraphine is the first to offer a smile and an outstretched hand toward Zilla. Zilla takes my friend's hand with half a smile.
"I'm glad to see you're alive," Seraphine speaks to Zilla with a familiarity only she could manage.
"And why wouldn't I be?" Zilla doesn't even try to hide the challenge in her voice.
"I don't know," Arin says, "maybe because The Sleeper isn't known for keeping his toys alive."
Zilla's blue eyes narrow on the elf. "His name is Kaelith."
"His name isn't something we give a shit about." I'm the one to speak next.
The Sleep- Kaelith wraps his arms around Zilla's waist as if he's silently supporting her. My eyes narrow on the pair. Kaelith has so much desire for her, I'm surprised he's keeping it contained. Well, not for long anyway. Enhancing someone's desire is as simple as tugging at a strand of hair. I pull at his desire, making it come to the surface instead of letting it simmer beneath it.
"Then why are you here?" Zilla asks as Kaelith's grip tightens around her.
"Curiosity," I say with a shrug.
"Curiosity of what?" Zilla asks as I start pulling at her desire. Her thighs clench together, not as subtly as I bet she hopes the action is.
"You," Arin says.
"Do you know what you did, Zilla?" Seraphine asks. Her voice is much softer than mine and Arin's. More sympathetic than accusatory.
"Yes," the Red Witch says without hesitation.
She doesn't know what she did. If she did, she wouldn't be standing here with such unrelenting confidence. Instead of lightly tugging on their desire, I full-on yank on them. She has no idea what she did. She has no idea what she's doing. I used to be 21 years old once. Used to be a naive second year. But at least I wasn't as stupid as Zilla is.
"No," I say, "you don't. Because if you did, then you wouldn't have set him"— I point at Kaelith —"free. I don't know if you realized this, Norman, but you set free not only the demon we owe our magic to, but also the ruler of all Hell. So, no, you don't know what you did."
Kaelith's hands grip the thin fabric of Zilla's long, black dress. Zilla is leaning into Kaelith's touch like she's depending on him to stand. They want each other— need each other. And who am I to deny them?
"As if you would know anything." Zilla counters as I take some of my own desire and fuel theirs.
"I know more than you." I challenge as I watch Kaeltih pull Zilla closer to him, rubbing himself against her. He isn't paying attention to what we're saying. Neither are Arin and Seraphine, as I know they know what I'm doing to them. "I was born here, Norman. My parents didn't hide my history; they didn't hide the prophecy. They didn't allow me to enter this academy without a signal bit of knowledge about myself and where I come from."
"And where do you come from?" Everything freezes. The voice comes from behind me, smooth like silk, deep and sultry. It makes my thighs clench, makes me want to do what Zilla and Kaelith are doing to the man behind me. Asmodeus.
My hold on Zilla and Kaelith loosens, and I'm quick to turn around. He's tall, too tall. Dark skin like he's been out in the sun for centuries, hair as dark as night, slicked back. Eyes red as blood. A strong neck with broad shoulders. My eyes travel down to his white button-up shirt; two of the top buttons are undone, revealing the line of his pectoral muscles. His shirt looks almost too tight, not bothering to hide his defined muscles. My eyes travel lower to his black slacks and the bulge between his legs that has me staring.
A chuckle makes my eyes snap up too fast to meet his. He wears a smirk across his plump lips that I have a feeling never truly leaves his face. "I asked a question, siren," Asmodeus crosses his arms.
My shock immediately turns to anger. I glare at the archdemon as I completely release my hold on Kaelith's and Zilla's desire. I will not fuel this demon before me. "You know exactly where." The offering that my magic had demanded from me is my own desire. An offering I cannot give for a long while.
Amusement laces Asmodeus' crimson eyes. I hear shuffling behind me, and assume it's Zilla and her three dogs going to satiate their hunger. "Your bite is as sharp as a siren's too." Asmodeus takes a step closer to me, and I watch through my peripheral vision as Arin and Seraphine step away.
What's with this guy and sirens? "Um..." My voice trails off as I take a step back. "I don't know how you want me to respond to that," I say honestly. I look around, noticing that my traitorous friends have indeed abandoned me to this monster.
A deep chuckle escapes his lips. Even as a Red Witch, I'm not immune to Asmodeus and what he embodies. But I can deny it. Deny him, and the feelings swelling between my legs. He reaches out and grabs a strand of my black hair between his fingers. He studies the tight curls with such gentleness that it almost makes my mind falter. "I've never met a witch who used my magic in an act of malice." He says as his eyes lazily drag down my body. I watch him as he takes in my non-existent breasts, the curve of my waist, the small dip in my hips, and the fullness of my thighs. He doesn't shy away from staring at my exposed legs.
I should feel self-conscious, but I'm not. I know I look like, how attractive I am. His staring doesn't bother me in the slightest; it annoys me. "Do you have a problem with that?" I shift my weight to one leg as I cross my arms.
His eyes slowly drag back up my body, taking his sweet time to look into my eyes. He lets go of my hair. "No, just a curious little thing." He says, then offers me a hand. "Have a drink with me." His words are more of a demand than an offer.
Despite myself, I take his hand. He leads me outside the ballroom to a beautiful black circular gazebo. The peak of the structure is so sharp that it looks like it would stab me just by looking at it. Vines curl around the open frame, the leaves glowing like soft green flames that illuminate the gothic structure. With a wave of his large hand, a table appears in the middle of the gazebo with two glasses of champagne. He walks me up the two steps into the gazebo, and I already hate the atmosphere it already has. Asmodeus picks up the flutes of champagne and hands one to me. I take it, but don't bring it anywhere near my lips.
"What do you want?" I lean against the archway of the gazebo.
Asmodeus is deeper into the gazebo, his back turned to me like he isn't afraid that I might just break this glass flute over his fucking perfect head. Would it really be so wrong to kill a deadly sin? I mean, sure, it won't erase the sin from the world, but it would get rid of the embodiment of it. And then, I would be seen as a hero. Now, that's a nice thought.
A thought, I'm sure, Asmodeus can see on my face. The smirk that creeps up a little higher can be described as nothing better than a challenge. An open - almost flirtatious - challenge. "Can't I just want to get to know one of my descendants?" His sultry voice has an annoying way of getting between my legs.
I'm starting to really not like this demon. My eyes narrow on the demon. "No," I say bluntly. "You aren't interested in knowing the descendant that released you." And that's what's having all my alarms going off in my head.
I'm not an idiot; I know when a demon approaches me, they have less than pure intentions.
"And why would I be interested in her when I have a descendant who uses my magic in vain?" If Asmodeus wasn't Asmodeus, I would get on my knees and suck his cock. His voice has that much of an effect on me.
Finally, I bring the champagne up to my lips and take a sip. I have no words for him; he makes a valid point. But that doesn't mean I want to openly admit that to him. I take a sip of the champagne. "An idiot," I say simply. "You are an idiot. Think about it, your curiosity in me is only for the fact that I used your magic in vain, but the Witch who used your magic to free you doesn't pique your interest?"
He chuckles as if my blatant disrespect amuses him. It probably does. "And why would it?" He seems genuinely curious. "She has three men to keep her occupied. And she used her magic the way it was always meant to be used. But you, Viviana, are—"
"Don't finish that sentence." I raise my hand, palm facing him. "You don't know me enough to say I'm different. I don't care what else you have to say. This isn't going to be some cliche. I'm not different, I'm sure there are other witches willing to do what I did for the right reasons."