Succubus Soul Read online

  “You. You of all people think it’s a good idea to arrange a marriage,” I sputtered. “You never got married because you couldn’t decide between four people!” I didn’t bother to weigh the fact that according to Nelia tradition, a Nelian can marry any number of people they feel drawn to—as my aunt, Alanna, had married four—because I was too angry to be reasonable.

  “Bryony Haddix,” said Dad Jayden sharply. “Don’t speak to your mother—”

  Mom laid a gentle hand on his chest, stopping him. “No, I understand. Honey, it’s not what you think. You don’t have to marry any of them.” She bit her lip and her eyes darted over my head. I turned to see what she was looking at and found Derek several yards behind us, ducking slowly into the college wing door. “If you’ve felt the Nelian sense with someone, I’d be the first to wish you joy and happiness,” continued Mom, “but you haven’t—”

  “I don’t know!” I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know if I’ve felt it. I don’t know what it’s like. Maybe since I’m half-Nelian, I’m defective—not like we can compare me to any single other living creature on Earth or Nelia combined.” My aunt had chosen not to have children—apparently, Nelian women could turn that on and off with a thought. Did it work the same for me? Who knew? Between schoolwork and responsibilities and hanging with friends and having the Nelian heir stuff hanging over my head, I hadn’t gotten beyond second base with anyone.

  I was a late bloomer. So sue me. Rajani could tease me all she wanted, but I had other things to think about.

  And now my inexperience was going to bite me in the ass because my parents were picking up the slack and arranging my life for me in every way conceivably possible.

  “Baby girl, please, calm down.” Pop Nash stepped closer to me and I realized I was pacing, my hands threading through my hair and clutching two clumps of it by the roots. “I spoke too hastily, okay? You don’t have to get married to one of these princes. You don’t have to marry anyone.”

  My eyes bubbled up with tears as I stared up at him.

  “Of course you don’t have to marry any of them,” said Mom, scrambling to embrace me. “We just thought… We thought you might consider it,” she said as she pulled away.

  “It would be a pivotal moment in history.” Dad Jayden’s lips were a thin line. “The joining of Earth and Nelia—”

  “I’m already proof of that!” I stepped back and tossed up my hands. “And Princess Alanna married four Earthlings.”

  “But this would be a formal alliance between two royal houses,” continued Jayden, pushing his glasses up his nose with one hand. “It would be symbolic—”

  “Jayden,” whispered Mom harshly under her breath.

  He went silent.

  Everyone was quiet enough for my brain to clear so I could hear Papa Zander’s telepathic voice over our bond. “So they told you.”

  You knew? Of course, I snapped back at him. My whole family is against me.

  “I’m picking up the delegations right now. The boys are headed straight to Veras Academy.”

  I sent Papa Zander an image of me sticking my tongue out and hoped he got the message.

  “What about Sage?” I asked, looking this way and that for my brother. But that was right. He must have gone in already. Lacey was nowhere to be found, either.

  “What about him?” asked Dad Jayden.

  I whirled on him. “You’re not arranging a marriage between him and some princess?”

  “Sage isn’t a Nelian heir,” said Pop Nash.

  I ground my teeth. “And why not? Because he doesn’t have these?” I flicked aside a chunk of my hair and jabbed a finger at my pointed ear. “You always told us you were all our fathers.”

  “We are,” said Jayden.

  “Then why am I the only Nelian heir? He has the ‘prince’ title when it’s convenient.”

  “Bry, you know why,” said Nash bluntly.

  My blood boiled. “You don’t know that Daddy Alarik isn’t Sage’s biological father! Maybe he just didn’t inherit the markers. I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense for us to share the same dad?”

  Professor Wade, the resident Veras Academy scientist, had explained that it certainly wasn’t impossible for another one of Mom’s lovers to be Sage’s father—I didn’t want to think about what that meant, exactly—but I wasn’t completely wrong, either.

  They were the ones who’d never done a DNA test. Squeezing my ear in frustration, I let out a low growl.

  “Bryony, stop that,” snapped Mom, tugging my hand away from my head. I let her, but I still clenched my fists.

  “Before this gets any more heated,” said Professor Chastity, interrupting, “why don’t we agree to a cease fire?”

  I side-eyed her, listening, but not letting my traitorous parents out of my sight.

  “Bryony, you and the princes both have been informed about the possibility of a marriage,” she continued.

  “And how much advanced warning did they get?” I muttered under my breath. Pop Nash turned away and Mom averted her gaze.

  “But you’ve all been informed that there’s no harm done if none of you agree to it,” added Professor Chastity, unabated. “So you just have to treat them cordially through a few interactions and then it’ll all be over.”

  “I can do that,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Alarik and the princes’ parents do expect some effort,” said Dad Jayden. I whipped my head in his direction and his chin dipped, his posture slumping somewhat. But he continued. “A date or two with each.”

  “Should we invite a camera crew along?” I suggested harshly. “Broadcast the charade to the world?”

  “That wouldn’t be too bad an idea—” said Pop Nash, but Mom elbowed him and he let out an oof.

  “No cameras,” said Mom. “And if there’s no spark, then that’s the end of it. We promise.” She sent a sharp glare toward Dad Jayden.

  “Fine,” I said. “But you better mean that.”

  Though if they didn’t, I wouldn’t feel one ounce of guilt for shirking all responsibilities and abdicating my throne to spend the rest of my life traveling with Derek, taking in the splendors of the world.

  The splendors of the world just showed up on my doorstep. Not the verdant fields and bounteous mountain variety. The what-business-do-you-have-being-so-hot-and-born-into-riches variety.

  It didn’t matter. I would not be moved.

  “Class,” said Professor Wade, threading his hands behind his back and trying to appear serious. He was shaking somewhat from potentially messing up his duties as our biology teacher in front of royalty or because even he turned to gelatin in the presence of such blinding beauty. They were probably at least twenty years younger than the married professor, whose husband was a Typical, but the nervous researcher was clearly more used to having his face shoved up against his dozen computer screens than being in the presence of such exquisiteness. “May I introduce—that is, well, these are our guests who are going to be observing for a bit.”

  “Please,” said the prince standing in the middle. His proper British accent lent an air of regalness to his words. “Don’t go to any trouble on our account. We’re merely here to observe a few days or perhaps weeks.” His eyes scanned the classroom and landed pointedly on me. “Think of us as exchange students.”

  Without thinking, I fluffed my bright red hair over the front of my shoulder, as if to hide my ear better.

  But someone would have shown or told them what I looked like. I didn’t think the dyed hair and unexposed ears alone would do the trick.

  Professor Wade scrambled to snatch his tablet, his shaggy black-and-gray hair whipping over his glasses. “Perhaps before we begin, Your Highnesses can share something about yourselves. About your bodies of power—I mean, your countries and abilities and…” He said something then, in what I guessed was Japanese to the prince of that nation. Though Professor Wade was Filipino-American himself, his Natch abilities also made him a genius—he’d probabl
y learned to speak all the languages in the world on a lark.

  “Please,” he said when the Japanese prince nodded at him. He gestured to the middle of the projection board.

  “Now that is what I call a guest lecturer,” mumbled Hazel under her breath a few seats over. Pepper and Sheila giggled. Jerry was too frozen in his seat to react, the only movement the slight brushing of his fingertips across his loose collar.

  “Not another one of those nature-loving freaks,” said Sheila for emphasis, as if what Hazel had been implying needed to be said out loud.

  All four of them sent a scathing look my way. Perhaps they did think it needed emphasis.

  I sank down into my chair. Of course these princes would come to interrupt the only class I had with neither Derek nor Rajani this semester. They would have had my back. As it was, I was in no mood to disturb the class, however already off-course it may have been, to draw more attention to myself.

  But the three princes had already zeroed in on me.

  “I’m Prince Trey,” said the only prince who’d spoken thus far. He was dreadfully pale, his skin as white as snow, which somehow beautifully complemented the white-gold of wavy, short but coiffed hair and the round, bright blue of his eyes. Tall and neither too thin nor too broad, there was the hint of defined muscles popping out even under his ornamental garb, a white suit decorated with all sorts of colorful military-style ribbons, complete with golden ropes encircling his shoulders and a little ceremonial cape hitting his mid-back behind him. His posture conveyed not a hint of sagginess, his overall air that of one of superiority, though his dazzling white smile softened that somewhat, whether intentionally or not. “I’m the third in line to the British throne—currently seating my grandfather—after my mother and older brother. No one expects me to ever sit on that chair.” He winked, and Sheila let out a low groan. She was too easy. They all were.

  He continued. “My family inherited the throne after an alliance with the European Natch Coalition decreed that ceremonial positions in our quarter of the world should be reserved for Natch families only. It doesn’t hurt that we have a claim through the original line on my great-grandfather’s side, all the way back to John of Gaunt.”

  He leaned forward aggressively, as if he expected some kind of challenge. “Right,” he said, standing taller. “My abilities are…” His proper London-style accent gave even the word “are” a distinguished flair. “Instructor, may I demonstrate them on you?”

  Professor Wade, who’d been hanging back in the corner, jumped to attention, his expression slack, as if totally unexpecting to be noticed. He cleared his throat and tried to seem more in control. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  Prince Trey nodded. “Right. Well, do a little jig.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Professor Wade began to dance, pumping his arms up and down in a line in front of his fast-flying feet.

  The class broke out into laughter, but my blood went cold. Unless they had prearranged this demonstration, he was controlling him. It wasn’t funny.

  “All right, that’s enough, professor. Thank you. You’re in control,” said Trey. Professor Wade stopped dancing at once and stood there, blinking. Trey turned back to the class as if he hadn’t just overridden our instructor’s free will. “I get others to do as I command.” His smirk grew broader, and I could practically hear the gleam shining off those perfect teeth. “And I don’t mean just because I’m a prince.”

  “He can command me any day,” mumbled Jerry, and his gaggle of gal friends tittered in response.

  I sat up straighter, refusing to crack the slightest smile, looking anywhere but at Prince Trey.

  “Okay, well, then, thank you,” said Professor Wade, gesturing for the class to settle down. “And you, Your Highness?”

  The prince from Japan stepped forward next. He hadn’t reacted to any of Prince Trey’s smarmy sense of humor—neither of the other princes had. His black hair hung more loosely over his dark, dark brown eyes, his amber skin smooth, the perfect complement to a sharp, angular face that seemed sculpted by a master’s hands. His dark blue pants—hakama, I thought they were called—popped against his white kimono folded across his chest. He was thin but tall, and though difficult to tell through his puffy sleeves, there was a sense that he carried himself in the manner of a man confident in his lean physique.

  “I am Prince Rio,” he said, the slightest touch of an accent to his words, to the way he spoke each consonant carefully, almost too precisely. “I am second in line to the imperial throne of Nihon. My grandfather married my grandmother, who was a Natch unbeknownst to him, and their heirs have all manifested abilities over time.” He paused a second, then with a rush of noise that could only be described like a zipper across the air around us, the curtains opened up behind me, letting in a stream of light. Everyone turned and began to murmur. Prince Rio seemed motionless, but the more I stared at him, the surer I was that his lips curled up in the smallest of smiles. “My ability is simply speed,” he said after the class quieted down.

  I turned around again and stared at the window. So he’d physically gone there and opened them himself, not with telekinesis like Uncle Rhett? And no one had seen him move.

  Impressive.

  Dangerous.

  I tapped a finger atop my desk and tried not to let him know he’d rattled me.

  “And you, Your Highness?” Professor Wade asked the third prince after a spell.

  The last prince sat on top of Professor Wade’s desk and made no move to get up, letting out a throaty growl halfway between irritation and the need to clear his passageways. “Prince Zeke,” he said succinctly, running a hand through his shoulder-length red hair. He was broad-shouldered and shorter than the other two, though just barely, and certainly a head taller than me at least. His tanned complexion spoke of many hours spent in the sun, his gray eyes penetrating even from here. He barely seemed to have made an effort to dress ceremonially: a simple navy business suit and a navy tie, loosened at the collar of his crisp white shirt.

  “New Zealand named my father king about ten years back,” he said, his Kiwi accent combined with his laid-back attitude somehow making it seem as if it were no big deal at all. He rubbed his stubble-covered chin as if to hammer that point home. “Ceremonial position, though, eh?”

  He waved his hand in the air, and the classroom disappeared—replaced seamlessly with an endless, gorgeous field at the base of a majestic set of mountains, even though we were all still in our desks. The class collectively gasped and Sheila outright shrieked, Hazel nudging her to be quiet. A bright, yellow flower grew up around the leg of my desk, and I reached out for it. But my hand closed in on itself, grabbing nothing, seeming to pass through the bloom without disturbing it in the least.

  Prince Zeke waved again and the scenic view vanished, replaced now with empty blue sky, fluffy clouds and—

  Pepper, Sheila, and Hazel all let out a collective scream, followed shortly by virtually everyone else in class. My stomach leaped up into my throat as I realized we were falling, the clouds soaring higher, barren ground appearing below us, moving closer—closer.

  “Enough,” snapped Prince Trey as he stepped in front—through the sky—of the falling desk housing Prince Zeke.

  It was then I realized that Zeke’s longer hair wasn’t fluttering at all, that none of us were actually moving. “Stop this illusion at once,” said Prince Trey.

  Prince Zeke waved his hand quickly and then we were all back in the classroom, the deep breathing, the murmuring ringing throughout the room the only sign anything had happened at all.

  “Thank you,” said Prince Trey, dusting off the sleeve of his jacket as if we’d all actually fallen out of the sky. “Zeke, you’re in control.”

  Prince Zeke tossed his head back and looked away, but he caught my eyes as he did and smirked as Professor Wade tried to calm the class into silence.

  Hazel shot to her feet, her legs still trembling from her fright, and offered the princes a
resounding round of applause, quickly followed by her clique, then the rest of class, more reluctantly, stumbling to their feet.

  I didn’t move, yet it was clear all three princes’ attention was zeroed in on me.

  Command. Stealth. Deception.

  These princes were not to be taken lightly.

  I had a perturbing, if irrational, feeling—these were the princes of several of Earth’s most prosperous nations, after all—that it wasn’t just these so-called dates I had ahead of me that warranted my growing sense of impending doom.

  Chapter Four

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” said Rajani, holding both hands out in front of her, as if I were pushing my force field of protection against her. I wasn’t. “You have to marry a prince and you’re just now telling me…?”

  I groaned and punched my pillow, burying my face into its fluffy cushion. “I don’t have to—” I started.

  “Bry, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

  Sighing, I sat back up on my twin XL bed, socked the pillow once again for good measure. “I don’t have to marry one of them,” I said, trying to force a flittering smile on lips. “So my parents claim. But they also didn’t happen to mention any of this until just this morning, so…”

  Rajani chewed her bottom lip, cradling her own pillow to her chest on her bed across the room from mine. Both our comforters were thick, black, our academy-issued sheets red beneath. I’d been to Rajani’s parents’ place, though, and she’d decked her room out there to the nines, with floral patterns and pastel colors that popped much more than the plain white walls of our converted bedroom. I wondered briefly what it might have been like to have a place all you like that. A place anywhere but here. A place on Earth anywhere but here, that was. I’d lived here all my life—half my parents were founding members of Veras. First, I’d shared a room with Sage, and then I’d gotten a roommate in middle school. She’d moved after a few years and in high school I’d been assigned Rajani, who went home every summer. Not that having an academy-decked dorm room to myself all summer was better.