Starglow Basin phantasma

she could be a wealthy man’s wife, if she so desired. soto has not missed the care she places in her routine, the elegance she adds to their rustic camp. 

this is how one pulls together the strings that make a beautiful tapestry; it is a little bit skill, a little bit luck — and one long, golden thread pulled through to total tension. 

she will make the men work hard to be noticed. she will make the women work harder to outcompete her - this is the order soto understands of animal nature, and leto’s one true task is to be the glue that binds them all together. 

he finds her lounging, no scent of green lingering on her breath. if she’s met osiel, she bears no trace of him on her prissy fur. 

donde esta tu novio, beau? soto asks innocently, enjoying the decorous slope of every feminine curve that comprises of leto.

She hears Soto's footsteps, greeting him with a smile before he speaks.

He speaks in his tongue that she is yet to fully understand, Leto finding that her full attention is required to pick up on the words. Beau has taken the time to teach her, and she has picked up some on her own from her eavesdropping.

It takes her a moment, but then a giggle sounds from her throat as she comes to understand what he has said. El es un amigo. A friend, nothing more.

It is a good question, of course. Where has Beau gone? She had not seen him leave, and he had not told her of any trips. Hunting, she assumes. He must not be far.

only a friend? his eyes snap back from the hungry roving of her body’s soft plains. 

is this what beau believed? just friends?

ah. soto grins, resisting the urge to lay aside her. 

instead his gaze travels to the stone quarters, reflecting but saying nothing further.

She watches his eyes, the way the snap away from her. For a brief moment, she frowns.

¿No te quedarás? Her words were unsteady, lacking skill. She tilts her head, eyes attempting to search his as she awaits his answer.

Beau is not here, she has been left on her own. Her trip to the coast had given her more then enough time alone, she wished to avoid it where she could.

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those sultry eyes give him a once over. fuck me, they beg. 

it’d be easy. pull her hips close to his own, push, pull again. enter before her doe eyes widen in alarm, bury his senses in the luxuriant flavors of her silky ruff — 

but he doesn’t do it. 

because he’s disciplined. 

and because he knows his senses are all the sharper hungry. 

no. he answers, the guttural drift in his tone signaling unfettered appetite. he allows himself another indulgent study of her shapely thigh, and then abruptly his one eye snaps back to her soft face devoid of hunger. 

he wants her to know it is as easy to imagine fucking her brains out as it is to imagine killing her. she is a business asset tied to the cartel; and sometimes those assets must be spent. 

tengo una tarea para tí.

a task all her own, though soto imagines she won’t much care for it.

She is disappointed, but she will not voice it. Her expression is honest, however. It always is.

Leto understands, she knows that there are far more important things to be done. He has a task for her.

She thinks back to Saya, the way she begged for forgiveness and cried. Leto knows she cannot fail.

Dímelo entonces.

me harás hijos. soto states simply, unflinchingly — as if he has not just commanded the single most costly thing of a woman. 

again, his singular eye arcs with some unbidden emotion. 

not his own seed to be planted; but he will sow her oats just the same. he does not care how it is done, only —

encuentra un hombre, tráelo de vuelta. 

the anaconda leans back, satisfied with his own clever scheming. leto will produce the first of many willing sons for the cartel — and her daughters will do as daughters have only ever done since the beginning of time. 

serve as the dazzling beacon luring men to their thorny hearth.

She expects something simple, maybe with some risk, but his words catch her off guard. She only stares for a moment. Is this why Juarez had asked her? Was this what she had been brought here for?

But she feels that she can only accept. With some hesitation she nods, rising to her paws. She does not know whether she should be flattered or horrified.

The task is simple in theory. Her luck with men has been nothing if not miraculous. But she had come to the lowlands worried for what the heat would do to her fur, what would having children do to her body? When they are born, what will be done with them? With her?

She keeps her worries to herself. For now she is quick to take her leave, her nerves evident on her expression.

she says nothing.

no lodging complaint. no protest.

but he can sense she is shaken all the same, as she sweeps away in a gown of bridal whites almost too pure to be sullied by the carnal mess of childbirth.

soto watches her go.

juarez eclipses his thoughts.

you could fuck her, you know. he offers sagely, picking at something between his crooked teeth. soto ignores the apparition, but it does not leave. put babies in her yourself. raise them; teach them the omerta. finish what we started. his brother leans close with a hideous grin.

none of that shit like with marciela.

a fresh start.

soto snaps his head back in an abrupt shake that sends juarez's shape disintegrating into smoke. no mas, he thinks. no mas phantasmas.

he decides to return to the stone quarter; verapaz needs a fresh well.