“Saints preserve him,” I mutter. After Lane’s dramatic exit, the room goes about its business, but tension lingers. Watching a tragedy unfold is uncomfortable, even if it has no bearing on my life. I hate that he had his heart crushed, I feel for the man, I do, but another part of me thinks it’s his just desserts. What did he think he was doing, ambushing her like that? In a crowded room, no less. I can only guess that he wasn’t thinking.

And another, terrible part of me is happy he was rejected. Thinks he’s not good enough for the redhead, despite knowing next to nothing about the man and thinking well of him after we talked in the garden. It’s sad but they don’t match my ideal when it comes to romance.

My lusty brain that craves the sight of beautiful women embracing one another is delighted that another beautiful woman isn’t going to be spoiled by the hairier sex. At least, not in front of my eyes. I hope. There’s still plenty of opportunity for the instructor to find company for the night. Hm. She never mentioned what her type is, just that Lane isn’t it.

“If Alyssa had to take someone here to bed, who do you think it would be?” I ask the air.

“If she has any taste, you,” Cloud immediately reassures me, flashing a wide grin when I look her way. What a friend.

“That is the name of the redhead?” Shake makes a thoughtful noise when I nod. “The moon and sun are forever intertwined, chasing each other across the sky.”

“…what?”

“People want what they do not have and opposites are drawn to one another. She is older, experienced, and aggressive. She would do well with a partner that is younger, a little naive, and submissive.”

“…like the man she just sent packing?”

“People also rarely choose what is good for them, instead running toward the opposite of what they need.”

“So, she needs someone like Lane but she’s going to choose the opposite? Someone just like her?”

“If I were to guess.”

“Then she likes people like herself. Older, experienced, aggressive. That sounds like my wife.”

“Or perhaps the friend she brought along.”

I look at the scruffy hunter and wince, my lusty brain cringing at the image the thought conjures. “Never mind that.” In the end, Alyssa’s romantic pursuits are her own business. Unless she propositions me. I’d hardly refuse her, tonight of all nights. “A more important consideration. I need something else to keep my guests entertained.”

“That is easy.” Shake stands from the couch, drawing my eyes as she stretches. “I think it is time to roast the pig.”

-

Never would I have imagined roasting a pig to be so complicated. Sure, I expected things to involve a little more than popping the hunk of meat in an oven given its size, but the whole ceremony involved is shocking. The ladies, and single gentlemen, from the Temple enthusiastically carry their meat out to the garden, followed by Geneva and Bell, along with a few members of the crowd, drawn by the interesting sight.

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The members of the Temple, the Templetees heh, bow their heads and, I think, pray over the massive hog as Geneva tears into it with sharp claws, expertly gutting the thing.

While she works, Earl comes out of the building with a bag of spices I can smell at a distance. Gajin is the next to come running, pushing a wheelbarrow in front of him, a shovel inside it. As my succubus continues to prepare the meat, Earl shovels the unwanted parts into the wheelbarrow and my gardener disappears with it, hurrying deeper into the garden. I don’t think too deeply about what he’s going to do with that stuff.

Once the pig is cleaned up, Geneva rubs the spices all over it and the Templetees help her push the spit through its enormous body. Then it is hoisted onto two poles of solid earth with y-shaped ends. Earl appears with firewood, Bell quickly forming a wide pit for him to dump it into. The magical flames that set them alight make the Templetees cheer, but I have my doubts. There’s no way that enormous thing is going to be cooked all the way through from that flame, right?

[Of course not, my summoner. I imagine they are accustomed to eating their meat crispy on the outside and pink on the inside, but we can do much better. The fire is just for show. I will ensure the pig is cooked thoroughly with heat.]

Thank the saints.

To my amusement, they start to sing. Well, it’s less a song and more of a vigorous chant, led by Shake’s deep and powerful voice. That woman can really bellow when she puts her chest into it. The chanting is accompanied by clapping hands and stomping feet. It’s…unusual music but they’re enjoying themselves, swaying to the rhythm created by their rising and falling voices. All the while, Geneva handles the spit, turning the meat for show while she magically cooks it.

It looks a little silly, but it’s glorious for the simple reason that it’s something I never thought I’d see. To think the day would come that I would have family and friends gathered under my roof, celebrating with me at a casual whim. People of all walks of life coming together just because I invited them. Laughing and crying, in the case of poor Lane. Sharing themselves.

For a girl who grew up in an empty home, fully believing I would spend my life alone, in every sense that matters, and unhappy, thanks to efforts of the Grimoires, this whole night has been a dream come true. And it doesn’t have to end here.

Sure, I’m a wanted woman that’s about to assault a noble, might have to go to war with the guilds, and definitely will have to wage war in the north next winter, but between all of that, I can throw another party and these wonderful people will come together to celebrate with me again. When I’m not partying, I’ll be with my wives, one pending, who love me, growing and learning.

Life…is good.

My mood is so good, I don’t fight when Cloud grabs me by the hand and drags me into their group. I even join in the chanting. It’s not hard, as the beat is simple and the chant is four lines. I have no idea what they’re saying, as they aren’t speaking Common, but given the smiles on their face, I doubt it’s something I’d be embarrassed to repeat. I give myself over to the energy, dancing and clapping alongside them.

To my amusement, Kierra joins in, dragging Talia with her. And of course, the addition of the flower turns the happy little chant into something artistic. My wife has feet blessed by the saints. Despite the lack of music, she twirls Talia around as if they are on a ballroom floor, both easily continuing the chant. Their energy spurs us on, our combined voices carrying through the empty night.

I’m a ball of feeling as the night progresses, the chanting turning to humming but the dance continuing. We only stop once the pig is finished cooking, smelling as delicious as any other food Geneva lays her hands on.

Shake produces a knife and proceeds to cut away slabs of meat, handing them out. The Templetees devour the meat like hungry dogs, tearing into it with snapping jaws while juices smear their chins and fingers. It’s a wild and savage display, interspersed with groans of pleasure. A sentiment I understand once I get my own taste of the pig. A succubus never disappoints.

Despite the ample food, no one from inside comes to claim their share. I understand. They’ve been gorging themselves all night. It may be a good thing as the animals slowly ridding themselves of their human guises decimate the poor pig, tearing into it with a gluttony that could almost rival my unparalleled ability to consume in my ooze form. When their bellies are full and their eyes lidded, Shake, the leader of their group, finally says the words I’ve been waiting for all night.

“Shall we go to bed, sister?”