Chapter 64: Growl and laugh
Stefan’s POV
My head whipped around toward the low sound...
It was strange.
I listened and it came again. A growl, low and rumbling like it had crawled up from somewhere ancient. Followed by laughter, high, breathless, the kind of laugh that came from somewhere a person couldn’t fully control.
Growl and laugh... Did they go together?
I furrowed my brows with curiosity and I followed it, slower now, my steps quiet against the gold-veined floor, and stepped through the archway into a room that made me stop dead in the doorway.
Steam curled up off the surface of the water in thick, lazy ribbons, catching the light pouring in from somewhere above, some gap in the ceiling I couldn’t see clearly through the haze. The whole room smelled like crushed flowers and something faintly sweet underneath it, oils maybe, or whatever these women used instead of soap.
Warriors. A handful of them, the same women who had torn through fifty giant wolves without blinking, sat submerged to their shoulders in tubs carved from solid gold, the water around them scattered with flower petals that somehow still gleamed gold themselves in the morning light.
Thin silk wraps clung to them where the water hit, soaked through and nearly transparent, doing nothing to hide the heavy swell of their breasts floating just above the surface, nipples pressing dark and visible against the wet fabric.
Court ladies knelt beside each tub, their hands moving slow and careful over shoulders, along collarbones, down arms thick with old scars, some of the scars still pink and raised, fresh enough that they must have come from the very war these women had just returned from.
One of the warriors jerked so hard she nearly sent water sloshing over the rim, a helpless, strangled laugh tearing out of her as a court lady’s fingers found a spot just under her ribs, her breasts bouncing heavy against the thin silk with the motion.
I laughed too, loud, before I could stop myself.
"Oh, this is incredible."
Because it was. It was absolutely, spectacularly ridiculous, watching a woman who could probably remove my head with one hand dissolve into giggles over a ticklish rib.
Another warrior a few tubs down had her whole face screwed up, biting down on her own lip trying to hold a straight face, and losing badly, a snort escaping through her nose that set the court lady beside her giggling too.
A third warrior sat rigid, her arms crossed even in the water, clearly suspicious of the whole affair, eyeing the court lady beside her like the woman might produce a blade instead of a bar of soap. I grinned at that one especially. At least somebody in this room understood my exact level of bewilderment.
I scanned the room, my eyes moving tub to tub, and I realized I was looking for someone specific before I had even fully decided to.
Jonquil wasn’t there.
I frowned at the empty space where she should’ve been, some tub with her name practically written on it in my head, and felt an odd little twist of disappointment.
"Come on, babe. Loosen up a little." I muttered to no one.
I knew she wouldn’t want to come experience this kind of softness.
Anyway, she wasn’t the only one. With that fact, my mind wandered somewhere it had no business wandering.
Belladonna...
I actually laughed out loud again, picturing it, the General herself sunk into rose-gold water, some poor court lady’s hands sliding over that iron posture, trying to coax a laugh out of a woman who probably hadn’t laughed since birth.
I could see her face already, flat, murderous, the exact look she would give someone right before breaking their jaw for touching her without permission.
I pictured the court lady’s hand reaching for her ribs the way it had just reached for the warrior in front of me, and Belladonna’s fist closing around the poor woman’s wrist before she had even finished the motion.
I was still grinning at the image when the system dinged.
[INCUBUS ASCENSION PATH] Development Arc
**Purpose**: An Incubus shows affection to every one of his women, and learns to love them equally.
**Mission**: Encourage Jonquil to accept the soft treatment. Encourage Belladonna to accept it too.
**Deadline**: Before the treatment session ends.
**Reward**: 50 Miracle Authority, +10 Charm, 1x Wooden Chest.
**Penalty**: -50 Miracle Authority.
I blinked at it twice, certain I had misread something, then read it a third time just to be sure I hadn’t.
I stepped to the side, out of the doorway, putting my back to the wall where none of the court ladies could see me apparently arguing with the empty air, and hissed under my breath at the system.
"When exactly did we sign a contract that said I had to love anybody?"
Silence.
"I don’t believe in love," I said, low, sharp, jabbing a finger at nothing in particular. "I’ve never loved a woman in my life. Not one. Never even came close. And you want me to what, love five hundred of them equally? Do you understand how math works? That is not affection, that is a spreadsheet."
[An incubus does not simply take his harem to bed. He loves them.] The system replied, calm, infuriatingly calm,
"I have a primary mission," I snapped, my jaw tightening. "The Queen. Before sunset. Remember that one? The one where failing doubles a queen’s difficulty rating?"
[Is host not curious about the wooden chest, and what waits inside it?] The system said instead, ignoring me completely.
"No." I snapped immediately.
[Host should be curious. It is something host would love.]
I actually barked out a laugh at that, loud enough that one of the court ladies glanced toward the archway before returning to her work.
"Are you being persuasive with me right now? You?"
[Host may also fail and lose fifty miracle authority instead.]
I groaned, dragging both hands down my face, feeling the sting of every hard grind I had endured to scrape that MA together in the first place.
"The timing is short." I mumbled.
[Host has sufficient time to achieve the mission.] The system replied.
I frowned hard at nothing, at the wall, at my own reflection warped in the gold tiling. I took a slow breath, running the math in my head, and had to admit, at least, that Jonquil wouldn’t be the hard part.
She still did whatever I told her to, mostly, submissive down to her bones in a way that made this whole thing feel bearable. I could already picture leading her by the hand toward one of those empty tubs, her brow furrowing the way it always did when she didn’t understand why something felt good until it already did.
Belladonna, though.
I pushed off the wall and glanced back through the archway one more time, watching another warrior surrender to laughter despite herself, water sloshing gently against gold, her wet silk clinging tighter to her chest with every shudder of it.
Whatever softened these women eventually, whatever cracked them open even for a moment, Belladonna had built something around herself that made the rest of them look loose by comparison. I could already picture her frown deepen at the mere suggestion of comfort, like softness itself was an insult aimed directly at her.
I stared at the empty archway leading further into the palace, somewhere in the direction I assumed the General had been given quarters, and felt the full, ridiculous weight of the problem settle onto my shoulders.
How in the actual hell was I supposed to convince that woman to do anything?