Page 65 of Wicked Bonds
“Why what?”
“Why the restraint? Why the good behavior? What’s your angle?”
He laughs. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t have one?”
“No.”
“Smart.” He traces patterns on the desk with one finger, not looking at me. “Let’s say I’ve recently been reminded that thereare consequences to taking what you want without consideration for the aftermath.”
“Meaning?”
His finger stills. “Meaning I’ve survived by knowing when to push and when to pull back. And right now, Rose Smith, you look like you’re about to shatter into a thousand pieces. I may be a demon, but I’m not interested in feeding on broken things.”
“I’m not broken.”
“No,” he says quietly. “But you’re close. I can taste it on you, the desperation. It’s…” He stops. “Unappetizing.”
I snort. “Sorry my emotional state isn’t seasoned to your liking.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He finally looks at me directly. “When I feed, I take energy, yes. But I also take what you might call essence. Pieces of who someone is. And when someone is as close to breaking as you are right now, those pieces are sharp. They cut both ways.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“More than I’d like.” He shifts in his chair, and I notice the way his hands tense when I lean forward to set down my drink. Still interested, still hungry, but holding it back.
“How does it work? The feeding. Not the dream stuff, I’ve got that firsthand experience, thanks. But the actual process. How much can you take? What are the limits?”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Think of it like a well, or a spring. Every person has a reservoir of energy. Some deeper than others. When I feed, I’m drawing from that well. Take too little, and it’s barely noticeable. Take too much…”
“They die?”
“Or worse. They live, but empty. Hollow.” His fingers start their tracing again, abstract patterns that might be symbols I don’t know. “It’s why most of us learn control early. A dead food source is a useless food source.”
“How practical.”
“Survival usually is.” He meets my eyes again, holds them. “The subconscious provides a buffer, makes it easier for both parties.”
“Why sex? Why is that the energy you feed from as an incubus?” Until a short time ago I thought that demons and incubi were myths and legends. I want to know what’s real and what’s just made up stuff.
He shrugs. “Because it’s the most potent. The most primal. Fear can be rich, sure, but it’s fleeting. Love is nice, but it’s complicated, layered with other things. Sex is pure, undiluted want. It’s actually the closest humans get to real magic, though they don’t realize it.”
I try to imagine what it would be like to need that, to live on it, to walk into a room and immediately sense who wants what, who needs who, who is dying for a fuck and who’s just pretending. It sounds exhausting. I say as much.
Soren grins. “You have no idea. Most mortals think being an incubus means endless orgies and pleasure. They don’t see the other side of it.”
“Which is?”
“Loneliness. Addiction. Never being able to get close to anyone.” He looks away, swirling the whiskey. “I fed from someone once, years ago, in a moment of desperate hunger. Took too much, toofast. I still carry pieces of them with me. Their memories, their fears, their loves. They survived, but they were never the same. And neither was I.” He stands up and walks to the window, looking out.
The unexpected confession hangs between us as I watch his reflection, the way his shoulders tense like he’s waiting for judgment.
“That’s why you pulled back,” I say. “In my room. You weren’t just being dramatic. You were actually…”
“Concerned. Yes.” He turns to face me, leans against the windowsill. “You’re more than just a meal, Rose. You’re a feast. And if I’m not careful, we’ll both choke to death on it.”
We stare at each other across the room, and I feel that familiar pull, the one that makes me want to do stupid things like trust him. But I can’t afford trust. Not now.
I drum my fingers on the side of the tumbler, then take a deep breath, steadying myself. Here goes nothing. “The Accord,” I say. “I found out something. Something that could help me.”
