That does it.
My doll springs into action like a wind-up toy and quickly follows me outside.
Settling onto one of the couches facing the harbor, I reach for a small compartment in the table next to me while Veil perches herself on the edge of the love seat, facing me.
I pull out a metal cigarette case and the accompanying Zippo. Popping the case open, I take out one of the pre-rolled joints and slip it between my lips. With a strike of the Zippo on my thigh, a small flame bursts to life, and I light the joint with a deep inhale.
Veil silently watches me through it all, and I inconspicuously preen under her undivided attention. Pushing out a long billow of smoke into the inky night, I languidly stretch my body slightly sideways on the cushions, my free arm draped over the back of the couch.
My eyes slide to pin Veil with my steady gaze, and her shoulders straighten a fraction.
“I know nothing about your god.”
Those same shoulders drop, and I barely conceal the chuckle that escapes my lips.
“You said you had answers,” she mutters dejectedly.
“I know everything about being a servant to our gods, pet.” I take another long inhale, then reach over, offering her the joint. “Just not yours specifically.”
She eyes the joint like I’m handing her poison.
“I won’t kill you,” I say with a sneaky grin.
Her brown eyes flick up warily.
“Besides, I no longer can.” I give my hand a small twirl, still holding the joint between two fingers. “Divine law and all.”
Finally, she takes the joint out of my hand at the same speed as a snail running a marathon. She studies me as I lean back into the couch, a gentle buzz softly settling over my senses.
Her mouth wraps around the filter of the joint, her lips touching the same spot mine just did. The thought zips straight down to my cock. I drag my tongue over my teeth while she regards me, and my skin heats.
“Divine law?” she says after exhaling the smoke from her lungs.
I nod my head, taking the joint back. “Lesson number one, doll.” My gaze turns dark and conspiratorial, my smile just as clandestine. “You are no longer one ofthem,” I say, waving vaguely toward the twinkling skyline of Pravitia. “We are our gods’ gift to this city. The onlylawswe abide by are those given to us directly from them.”
I expect my delivery to impress Veil, but her expression stays flat.
Tough crowd.
I take another drag of the joint and continue with a lot less flair this time, a tinge of vexation in my voice. “Heirs can’t kill one another. It’s how your family was exiled in the first place.”
She furrows her brows together, a small crease appearing between them. “Damna … damnatio mem?—”
“Damnatio memoriae—correct. Or damnation of memory.” I lazily swipe my hand through the air, smoke curling around my fingers, idly rising skyward. “Wiped out of our history records and banished. It’s why I know nothing about your dear god of thievery.”
She stands up abruptly, like the chair is suddenly on fire, but quickly sits back down, smoothing out her dress.
I chuckle at her erratic behavior.
She eyes me distrustfully, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “How did you know it was the god of thievery then?”
Cunning little thing.
Before answering, I prop my elbow on the armrest and bring my foot up on the couch, resting my other arm loosely on my knee. “Power of deduction, love. And some veryinterestingcontext clues.”
The small drag of the joint she took seems to finally take effect, her body slowly relaxing as she rests her back against the love seat. But her burning curiosity still flares in her gaze. “Like what?” she asks.
I hum, tapping my finger, making a show of pretending to think. “Yourcompulsion, for one.”
