In an instant, Sorrow goes from playful to seductive, lids drooping, mouth curving up just enough to flash a single fang.
“Firstborn child, yes, you predicted that part,” he whispers, reaching out to tease his fingertips along my arm. Our eyes meet and I suck in a sharp breath. “But I bet you didn’t guess that Rumpel would want the three of us to give it to you.”
The food that Sorrow ordered is fucking boss. Like, it’s the best I’ve eaten in a while: a full steak dinner with sides delivered. The meat is fresh and almost bloody, the mashed potatoes creamy, the rolls crisp on the outside and soft on the in. I’d be in heaven if I didn’t have such mixed feelings about this whole give me a baby thing.
I mean, I can’t have a child, so there’s that at least.
But by agreeing to this contract, I’m agreeing to let Sorrow, Vyce, and Wolfe try. And try. And try. Holy mother.
“This is a little like prostitution,” I tell him as I stab another bite of juicy steak and pop it between my lips. “And I’ve never heard of Rumpel making a deal like this ever.” I narrow my eyes on the handsome vamp/demon lounging on my bed, plastic fork teasing what’s left of his mashed potatoes.
“How so?” he asks, watching me with those pale blue eyes. They’re so much less saturated than mine. Well, my one eye anyway. The other is gray, more like Wolfe’s. Pale blue and steel gray are two of the more common vampire eye colors, followed by red and purple. You never see brown or green ever. Catch sight of a gaze that color in court and you know for sure you’re looking at a dhampir.
“Uh, you’re offering me something in exchange for sex?” I query back at him, finishing my food and closing the container lid. I toss it onto the floor next to the bed to deal with later and Sorrow grimaces, taking his own trash and picking mine up on the way before he disposes of it all in the kitchen trash can.
“No, we’re offering you something in exchange for a baby. But this time, Rumpel wants it to be one of ours. We’re the three best performers in the house with the highest number of clients, the highest number of successes.” He comes back over to stand in front of me, hands on hips, and smirks. “He can’t decide who to name as the head of House Stiltz, so the first one to have an heir of their own gets the throne.”
“That seems a little silly, coming from a guy who’s just stolen babies his whole life.” Sorrow must hear something in my tone because he sighs, the smirk slides away, and he comes over to sit beside me. “Besides, why would he give up acting as head of House Stiltz anyway?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Sorrow says, his voice low and soothing. It’s deceptive, beckoning me with long fingers to lay down beside him, relax, spread my legs. Ugh. My hormones are going to get me killed one day. One day soon probably, seeing as I’m sitting in my apartment with a complete stranger capable of tearing me limb from limb. “Why don’t you tell me why you had two hellhounds on your ass?”
“Just lucky, I guess?” I quip and Sorrow sighs, smiling and scooting a bit closer to me. Our bodies are lined up, faces close enough to kiss if we were so inclined.
“So informative,” he says with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. “Well, if you’re not willing to talk about that, let’s talk about the contract again. You don’t have to have sex with us, you know. It’s specifically written in there.”
No, I don’t have to sleep with them. I can elect to have an embryo fertilized and implanted, a sure way to reveal my infertility. Besides, looking at Sorrow now, it doesn’t seem like such a chore.
The question now is: what happens when they figure out I’m never going to give them a firstborn child? House Verenim is one of three houses on the North American continent that’s considered more powerful than House Stiltz. Can I use my new throne to crush them and get out of the contract?
Mom did it.
So why can’t I?
“I’ll sign the contract,” I tell Sorrow, and his white-blond brows raise up his forehead, “and then…shall we get started?”
“Started?” he asks, mouth quirking up on one side.
Reaching out a hand, I cup the side of his face and bring him in close for a kiss, one that reminds me how deliciously low-cut my nightie is.
“Let’s sign it and get to work; I don’t like doctors and I really don’t like them looking at my snatch, so let’s try this the old-fashioned way, shall we?” Swirling my tongue inside Sorrow’s mouth, I manage to coax his hand to my hip, his fingers chasing my nightie up and exposing my bare flesh to the cool air of the apartment.
“Now, this is a plan that I like,” Sorrow growls, yanking me against him, the entire length of my body pressed to his. I can feel the hardness in his pants grinding against me as we kiss, but if he thinks this is going any further without a signed contract, he’s got another thing coming.
I like Sorrow, and Vyce, and…Wolfe is hot, at least. Having sex with them is no chore to me. I’d do it for free. I did do it for free. But if I can convince Sorrow to let me sign without getting an exam then …
“But to make the contract official, we need to get you seen by a healer.”
“A vamp healer?” I growl out against his lips, and he nods. I pretend to be irritated, but in reality, I’m fucking thrilled. Vamp doctors don’t know shit about dhampirs. That, and besides a few blood tests, they’ll use magic and magic alone to diagnose me. And yet magic bounces right off.
Lucky me.
“Yep,” Sorrow says, pressing closer, sliding his hand higher and…
I pull back and slap his hand away, sitting up and smirking down at him.
“Contract first and then we’ll see about this.” I swirl my finger in the air between us.
The look of frustration on Sorrow Stiltz’ face is priceless.
7
My appointment with the vamp healer goes exactly like I thought it would. She stares at me like I’m some sort of monstrosity that should’ve been culled at birth, takes a few samples of blood that she then sniffs like some sort of serial killer, and then casts several spells on me. When none of them come back with any negative information, she declares me fit for the bargain barring any unusual results from the blood tests.
Lucky me, again.
“This is your last chance to back out,” Wolfe tells me, voice gruff and distant and cold. His gray eyes stay locked on mine as he puts a palm on the contract. It’s sitting on the desk, this ancient piece of vellum—that’s paper made of lambskin—and ink just dripping with magic. It looks pretty goddamn weird sitting next to Wolfe’s laptop and cellphone, a throwback to another time. But there’s just no magic in technology; they’re anathema to one another. So a contract between Rumpel Stiltz’ kin and his clients is signed the same way now as it was in 1812, when the Brothers Grimm first penned Rumpel’s story. Of course, the vamp himself is much older than that.
“I understand that,” I say, taking the tiny hollow point needle and pricking the tip of my finger. Blood runs up the small tube and the eyes of all three men track it, pupils dilating slightly. “I sign this contract of my own free will, and to the terms and conditions I find myself bound.”
Magic swirls through the room, ruffling the decorative bouquet of flowers, teasing my gold hair, Sorrow’s red and white, Vyce’s rainbow of blues and greens. Wolfe’s dark hair is too short to ruffle, but his long brown trench does sway slightly with the rush of power. Thing is, the magic doesn’t bind to me the way it should, just like it didn’t bind to my mother.
Bending low, I make sure to show off my ass in the tight red leather pants I picked out specifically for this meeting. I can feel all three men watching me as I sign my name in blood. It glimmers gold as I write it, mocking my wish.
When I’m done, I stand up and move aside so Sorrow, Vyce, and with great reluctance, Wolfe, can sign the contract next. There’s a clause in there in case the blood tests do come back with something, but I’m not worried about that.