The Creators: Book One by

“I know all kinds of things.” Brandon grinned up at her. The two gods connected lips, and the rest of us collectively rolled our eyes. Even Corruption cringed a little.

WILLOWBUD

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Brandon said as we watched Tera and Astrid slaughter their way through a team of centaurs, “that your cousin is your slave.”

“So?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders and glancing at Angela, who was sitting as far as she could from us in the box, “Half of her is still free, so I don’t see the problem.”

Tera jumped onto a centaur’s back, immediately enslaving the beast and riding it around the arena, much to the joy of the crowd. Astrid flipped through the air and jumped on another’s back, her strong legs keeping her from being bucked off, her strong arms preventing the enraged beast from stabbing her. The two women rode side-by-side, making a mockery of the rest of the mounted warriors, and turning the spectacle of death into a comedy act. Astrid opened her wings and ascended, carrying the centaur a hundred feet above the arena. The hoofed half-man thrashed uselessly between Astrid’s legs as she cupped her hand to her ear, and egged the stadium on. The people screamed and stomped, working themselves into a frenzy, begging the Valkyrie to drop the poor beast. When Astrid was satisfied with their expressions of need, she opened her legs. The call of the crowd grew louder with each foot the screaming beast fell, until he broke upon the sands to a deafening roar. Astrid swooped along the front row, high-fiving spectators as Tera lassoed a centaur with her whip whilst riding horseback atop his comrade. This was a fucking joke, but it was the best competition I could get on short notice. At least my fighters were making the most of it.

“Why is she your slave?” Brandon asked.

“You know how it works,” I smiled at him, “succubi can only be enslaved if they fail an enslavement. Justina tried to take me, and it backfired. I don’t feel like giving her another chance.”