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"You have more than the others had. The rain. The burning. It's more. Ace knows how valuable that is. He has a lot of hopes that you can do what the others haven't."
"What's that?" I asked. "What do you want us for? Does it kill us? Is that why you need a new one every generation?"
"It doesn't kill you," he told me. And as forthcoming as he was being suddenly, I could also sense there was a lot he was keeping to himself, that he didn't want me to know.
"Well, something does."
"Yeah, babe, something kills everyone eventually."
"Except you," I said, shaking my head.
"Witches can have immortality if they want it."
"That is dark magic," I objected, feeling a cool sensation wash over me at the very idea.
In my coven, dark magic was talked of in hushed whispers with a lot of head shaking and gasps of disapproval about the methods involved.
"Yes. And even light witches can use dark magic."
"It is selfish," I objected.
"All the best things in life are," he shot back.
"That is a horrible thing to think. Selflessness is—"
"Not something my kind is known for," he cut me off. "Though, I can be generous in some things," he added, giving me a wicked look as his tongue flicked to the side of his mouth, making my sex clench hard at the memory of how it felt on me. "What?" he asked when my gaze fell to the floor. "The fuck is it now?"
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Act nice one moment after being cruel right before?"
"Cruelty is my nature, babe."
"And the kindness?"
"Shit. That must be from being up here for so long," he said, shrugging. "The humans rub off on you even if you don't want them to."
"Is it so terrible to be good like them?"
"Oh, babe, come the fuck on," he said, snorting. "Humans aren't good. If they were, the world wouldn't need me or my brothers up there. One human might be good, but as a whole, they're self-absorbed and selfish and petty and nasty. Not even for good reasons, either. Just shitty mortal pride. A need to be right. Don't place humans on a pedestal. They're not better than us."
"You're a demon," I shot back, shaking my head at him.
"And I don't act like anything else. I don't lie to get what I want. What you see, is what you get. There is some honor in that. Even if you don't like what I do."
That was, admittedly, fair.
"You act like you care about me," I told him, lifting my chin.
"Fuck," he hissed, turning away from me, inspecting the wall mural for a long moment. "That isn't pretending," he admitted after a meditative moment.
"You are telling me you care about me? As more than a witch for whatever you need my powers for?"
"It makes no fucking sense, but yeah. Yeah. Is that what you want to hear? Something is off here. I feel shit for you that I have no business feeling. Shit I've never felt before. It's fucked up."
"It's... fucked up... to feel something toward me?"
"Toward anyone, babe. I don't catch feelings. I didn't think I was capable. That any of us could be. But here we are. There are feelings. And not just the carnal kind. Though there is that."
"What other feelings?" I pressed, not sure I would ever catch him so candid again, and wanting to understand the situation completely.
"Possessive ones," he admitted, starting with what seemed to be the easiest to admit. Possessiveness was, at its core, a robust, manly trait, an easy feeling to experience, and to admit to having experienced. "You're not mine, but it feels like it. It makes no sense, but that's how it is."
"So you want to... own me?" I pressed, wanting to understand completely.
"Yes. No. Both, I guess," he told me, sighing. "Something inside me looks at you and says, "Mine." And with that comes the need to protect you. Make you happy. I don't fucking understand it, babe. It just is."
"I should hate you," I told him, watching as his head whipped over, gaze penetrating. "That is what I'm supposed to do to a man who took me from my home, my loved ones, who kept me captive, who talked down to me and shamed me and snapped at me even when I did nothing wrong. I should hate you."
"But?" he prompted when I didn't go on. If I wasn't mistaken, there was some vulnerability in his eyes as he asked as well. A demon shouldn't have been capable of it. Vulnerability was a trait of the light, and demons were all dark. Maybe he was right, though. All this time on earth had softened him.
"But I don't. When the shifters found me, and took me back to their home, all I thought about was you," I admitted, the admission making heat creep up the sides of my neck.
