Feeding the Demon King

"Human... how are you..."

Lucien Desrosiers, the Demon King of the dark court, took one stunned step back.

The noise behind him died at once. The hall was packed with elders, guards, and newly chosen sacrificial consorts, yet everyone seemed to forget how to breathe.

Someone whispered, "She is not afraid of him? The Demon King's whole body carries the lust-curse. Any woman who gets too close starts collapsing within three seconds. Why is she fine?"

Another voice followed, deliberately loud enough for me to hear. "Every woman who came near him before swore she could endure it. None lasted. Whenever the curse flares, it takes a hundred women to calm it. But this one..."

"His true form is not something ordinary women can survive. She rushed at him herself. Does she have a death wish?"

They were waiting for me to hear those warnings, panic, and leap away.

Instead, I held on tighter.

"Your Majesty," I said, pressing myself against the heat of him, "do not hold back just because I look delicate."

For most people, a lust-curse was poison. For my kind, it was spring water in the desert.

I was not an ordinary woman. I was a high-ranking succubus who had spent years pretending to be human in the modern world, starving and withering for lack of true nourishment. Now I had landed inside a shameless dark-fantasy romance novel, in front of a devastatingly handsome Demon King burning with exactly the curse I needed.

Everyone else avoided him as if he were death.

To me, he smelled like dinner.

Lucien's pale gray face flushed faintly. His vertical pupils widened, as if he had never been handled this way in his life.

"You are not afraid of me?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be? You are handsome, and you smell wonderful. I want to cling to you, not run from you."

The hall erupted.

The old ministers nearly choked. The other girls stared at me like I had lost my mind.

Lucien's expression cracked for the first time.

"Good," he said at last, though his eyes remained fixed on me with suspicion. "Add her to the consort registry for the trial in two days. We still need ninety-nine more. Does anyone else volunteer?"

At the mention of ninety-nine more, every head lowered.

Only Elodie Tremblay, my best friend, timidly raised her hand.

"I... I can try."

She looked at me like she had decided to die with me.

The moment she stepped toward Lucien, a feverish flush crawled up her neck. The curse had already started affecting her.

My body moved before my mind did. I darted forward and blocked her path.

"Your Majesty," I said sweetly, catching Lucien's sleeve, "why do you need anyone else? Isn't one of me enough?"

I rubbed against him just enough to make every elder in the hall suck in a scandalized breath.

Lucien's stern mask fractured again.

Everyone knew he had always needed a hundred consorts to survive the curse. I had just declared, in front of the entire court, that I would take it all alone.

The others looked at me with pity, as if they were already planning my funeral.

Only Lucien looked intrigued.

He lowered his head and caught my chin between his fingers. "You are saying you alone can restrain my curse?"

"Yes."

"And if you fail?"

"I will not."