The Lightning-Struck Heart (Tales From Verania 1) - Page 131

It would be comforting, if I allowed it.

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t supposed to feel safe with him. Not like that.

We followed Moishe up the stairs, all eyes in the room on us as we ascended. I ignored them. Ryan growled at them. Whatever.

We were led down a long hallway, and the sounds of sex and fucking echoed around us behind closed doors. Someone asked if Daddy liked that. Another begged in a broken voice. Still another just groaned. I had learned to disregard the sounds of the brothel, but Ryan’s eyes were wide and he reached out and grabbed my arm again, fingers biting into my skin. I thought to pull myself away again but didn’t.

A large ornate door stood at the end of the hallway. MAMA was burned into the wood, surrounded by carved leaves and trees made to look like dicks. She loved nature and cock, she’d told me once, so why not combine the two? I had had no argument to the contrary over such a thing. I rarely did with Mama.

Moishe knocked twice, waited a beat, then opened the door.

The office was circular, the walls covered in paintings of her favorite courtesans, all in various risqué positions, some more obscene than others. There was a large bookshelf on one side filled with everything from ancient philosophy to hardcore porn. Mama was brilliant and ruthless, but she was also smutty and knew more about the world than almost anyone else I knew. She had spent her younger years traveling across Verania and beyond its borders. She’d told me many stories of the lands to the east, where people spoke in a language that sounded like dogs barking. Once, she’d gotten lost there and somehow ended up in a three-way with two men who had ten-inch dicks while a volcano rumbled threateningly in the background. She’d said they couldn’t understand each other at all, but one didn’t need to understand when one could allow the body to do the talking.

Sometimes, I think Mama is full of shit.

But I wouldn’t put it past her to have been spit-roasted with lava nearby. She’s just that type of person.

And here she was, sitting behind her massive desk, regal and proud and intimidating as all fuck. Well, to most people, I guess. Not to me. Mostly.

She wore a blonde wig, cut short and severe around her face. The pale skin of her face was immaculately covered with makeup, the rouge dark on her cheeks, her eyes smoky, lips red and shiny. A tight black corset pushed up her chest, the illusion of breasts so well done that it was impossible to see that they were fake. I never asked her how she did it, how she made everything look so real, because she’d told me that a lady, like a wizard, never revealed her secrets. I never asked her for her real name and she never told me. She would always be Mama until she said otherwise.

And she towered over most men. She called herself the tallest woman in captivity. I’d told her she seemed freer than anyone else I’d ever known. She’d been sad then, for a moment. But like most real emotions from her, it passed in an instant, replaced by a salacious smile, a bawdy innuendo.

She was large, callous, loudmouthed, and brash—and absolutely wonderful.

Moishe stood by the door as I walked past him. Ryan dropped his grip from my arm. My fairy drag mother pressed a long fingernail to her lip, the skin dimpling as her gaze locked onto me.

“Sam,” she purred, voice deep and strong. “What a pleasant surprise this is.”

“Mama,” I said in greeting. I walked around the desk and took her hand in mine, kissing the back of it. “You’re looking beautiful as always.”

She chuckled. “Don’t I? I woke up this morning and thought to myself how wonderful it is that I am able to grace others with my presence.”

I kissed her hand again before letting it go. “Humble, that.”

“I have no use for humble,” she said. “Humble means weakness.”

“I’m humble,” I told her. “I’m not weak.”

“You’re not humble,” she said. “Your magic won’t allow you to be.”

Oh how she and I danced. “Or maybe it affords me modesty.” I moved back around the desk. Ryan looked between the two of us, eyes narrowed.

“You think so?” she asked. “How positively illuminating. In my experience, most wizards don’t even know the meaning of modesty.”

“I’m not most wizards.”

“Oh, how I have missed you,” Mama said, clapping her hands t

ogether. “It’s been far too long, precious. I don’t like it when you’re gone from me for too long. Tell me. Are the rumors true?”

I almost didn’t want to ask, but Mama expected me to. She would have her say with or without me prompting her. “And what rumors would those be?”

She glanced over at Ryan, the first time she’d acknowledged him since we’d come in the room, and I knew. She could play coy, but Mama had never met subtlety. They weren’t even passing acquaintances. I didn’t think you could be subtle and be a drag queen. It just wasn’t possible. “A knight, then?” she asked innocently, though her eyes gave her away.

“Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Betrothed to Prince Justin. The future King Consort.”

“Sir,” he said. Then he coughed. Choked, maybe. “Er. Ma’am. Lady Mama. Your Majesty.”

Tags: T.J. Klune Tales From Verania Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024