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br /> “I believe there were wagers made at court as to exactly how long I would last, all of which have now expired.”
“But . . . did you know what it would be like when you—”
“No.” Pritkin huffed out a humorless laugh. “No.”
“But you must have thought—”
“At the time, I don’t believe I was capable of much thought of any kind. But insofar as I was . . . I truly did not believe I would ever want intimacy again. The very idea was repulsive, on every possible level. I was horrified at what I had done, at what I had become—”
“You didn’t become anything! It was your father’s fault, your wife’s decision. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Other than the fact that I was the instrument of her death.”
“Yes, which makes you the victim here, not the . . . the monster!”
“Not in the eyes of my fellow monsters. Unlike most of the other races, the incubi have a reputation for showing . . . some consideration . . . for their partners. It is often selfish, of course; it is easier than constantly finding new prey. But nonetheless, there were those at my father’s court who shunned me after what happened. Creatures I had long held in disdain were ashamed—ashamed—to be associated with me. And I didn’t blame them. I felt like I would never want to feed again.”
“And later?” I asked softly. It was none of my business, but I just couldn’t imagine what it must have been like. I didn’t know too many humans who could shun all intimacy like that, much less someone whose body was specifically designed to need it.
“Later . . .” His lips twisted. “I began to understand why my father had been willing to make that deal. I had understood intellectually from the first, of course, but the reality was . . . somewhat different.”
“You still feel like this, don’t you?” I asked, in shock. “What I’m feeling now—all the time?”
“Not all the time, no. It was almost constant for more than a decade—”
“A decade?” He shot me a glance, and for some reason, it was amused. Because clearly, the man was insane. “How—”
“I am ashamed to say that I became rather addicted to a number of substances during that time, in an attempt to . . . to survive, I suppose you would say. It didn’t help much, nothing did, but the struggle became easier over time, as the demon part of me became weaker. And I obtained an outlet for my energies in hunting down those who had done as I had—only on purpose.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. I watched the sand turn mauve and crimson and honey as the night slowly retreated before the sun. And thought about what it would be like to have a part of yourself literally starving to death and yet unable to die. And to know that if you gave in, even once, to the constant, gnawing hunger, you would forever forfeit your freedom.
“Your father is a son of a bitch,” I said, with feeling.
“I wouldn’t argue the point,” he said drily. “However, from his perspective, he feels cheated. He spent a considerable amount of time over the centuries trying and failing to have a physical child. And when he finally managed it, against all the odds, the result was not . . . quite what he’d expected.”
“Too damned bad! A lot of parents have children who aren’t exactly what they thought they would be. But they learn to love them anyway.”
“Most parents aren’t demon lords. And love was never the issue.”
“It should have been.”
“For someone who deals in it, or its physical manifestation, as much as my father, he knows astonishingly little about it.”
Pritkin was quiet for a few moments, and I knew I should probably drop it. But he opened up so rarely, I fully expected tomorrow to come and the lid to be clamped down again, tight. If I didn’t ask now, I might never have a chance. And it wasn’t like the guy was shy. If he didn’t want to talk, he’d tell me. Probably pretty bluntly.
“Is that why you’re a health nut now?” I asked. “To make up for those early days?”
“No, it was more an attempt to compensate slightly for the power loss I had sustained when I stopped feeding.”
“What power loss?”
“As I told you, I had never merged with other demons, never tried to enhance what I was born with, as it would have merely made me more useful to my father. And him that much less likely to let me go. But much of my strength had nonetheless always come from . . . my other half, if you like. And once it was incapacitated, I had to find other ways to compensate.”
“Like the potions.”
He nodded. “I was never greatly interested in them before. But they became a way of balancing the power loss. And I find making them to be . . . calming. Some of the more deadly require utter concentration, and I discovered that when I was focused on something so completely, it helped to curb the hunger. Do you not agree?”
I didn’t know what he meant for a second, until I realized—the flashback was gone. My breathing was normal, my heart rate steady, my hands still sweaty, but only as a leftover. I relaxed back against the seat with a sigh.
