Chapter 7
My eyes spring open, and for a hot second, I’m sure I’ve killed him.
His lids are shut, and his limbs sprawl heavy into the mattress, still and limp as a wilted flower.
What if he was wrong about this being safe?
Physical or not, feeding still means I’ve drained his life energy.
And that’s basically all he is, right? Energy of some kind? What if I just gobbled him all up?!
I pull in a quick, panicked breath, and he opens his eyes. They are bright with joy.
“That was pure class, Alvin. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but it was my first time, too. I couldn’t have asked for any better.”
“Are you… okay?” I ask, feeling both tranquilized by the gooey contentment inside me, but also terrified that I’ve hurt him in some way I won’t be able to fix.
I guess my fear is what comes through, because Collin’s expression becomes compassionate. “Feeding on me this time felt different, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, brows knit. “Very different.”
He turns and extends his arm to hover over my side, smiling at me with affection.
“C’mere.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he wants us to do, but after he rotates his hand above me a couple times, I get it.
I turn around and roll onto my own side, tucking my back against his chest. His right elbow slides under my neck, and he uses both arms to pull me in so we’re spooning.
My spine squishes against warm wetness on his chest and stomach, which at first is a little weird.
But then I realize it’s our come, mixed together, and once he’s snuggled me in, it’s all so sweet and intimate, I actually wind up digging it.
This is very much boyfriend stuff—and even if I couldn’t have anticipated the specifics, it’s kind of a dream come true.
His firm embrace immediately calms me down. But I still can’t help wondering if I screwed up.
“I, uh, didn’t do anything to protect you. I was completely selfish. And… I feel like I drained a lot more from you than the other times.”
His tenor brogue vibrates warmly behind my neck.
“You feel that way because we both came. It’s nothing compared to what you’d get with someone flesh and blood, but finishing with me still makes a difference.
At the very least, the effects should last a few minutes longer than the last time.
But I promise you, you can’t hurt me. Not with your incubus powers, anyway. I’m absolutely grand.”
I exhale and release tension from my shoulders I didn’t even know was there. “Mom was surprisingly unhelpful when it came to ‘the talk,’ but the one thing she did make clear is that if I wasn’t deliberately careful, I could easily kill someone I have sex with.”
“I’m sure, in her case, that’s true.”
“Are you saying it wouldn’t be for me?” I twist my head, trying to see his expression. “If you were ‘flesh and blood,’ would I have killed you?”
His face is deeply sincere. “Not a chance. Someone physical would likely feel a fair bit knackered, sure, but he’d also feel wonderful.” His eyes brighten. “Just like I do, right now.”
“And… you’re sure of that?”
“100%. You’re not your mother. You’re not her ‘friends,’ either. Their acts of violence aren’t the result of carelessness—it comes from who they are. Is it possible for you to hurt people with your power? Of course. But you’d have to work at it. It would never happen by accident.”
Huh. Based on what I’ve believed all my life, I have a hard time wrapping my head around that.
When it comes to sex, I’ve always been made to feel like I’m some kind of ticking time bomb.
But I should consider the source—Mom—who is the opposite of trustworthy.
Collin, on the other hand, supposedly can’t lie. So, I guess it must be true.
But how?
The possibility that I could have been wrong about this all along pulls open some vulnerable hole inside me. So, I rest my cheek back onto my pillow and pull the Irish boy’s arms into a tighter snuggle against my chest.
“I wasn’t ready to listen before. The last time we were here in my apartment, I mean. But you did stop me from going full monster back in Hunter’s Point, so maybe you could tell me a little bit about why you think my demonic powers don’t have to hurt people.”
He huff-chuckles, and it tickles the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Well, for one, they’re not actually ‘demonic.’ Certainly not how humans understand that term.
Your abilities are based on love. Love can make people vulnerable, sometimes dangerously so, but its main purpose is to lift us up.
To become more than we would on our own.
An incubus can draw considerable physical power from another person but, when done properly, what their partner gets is just as valuable. ”
“And what’s that exactly?”
“A direct connection with the divine. For a short time, they become part of the highest reaches of the universe, for lack of a better explanation, and that creates an opportunity for tremendous growth.”
That claim feels like a huge reach in itself. I turn in his arms to face him. It requires a little awkward maneuvering, but he makes room, and I like seeing his cheery face. Mine is full-on skeptical.
“Uhh, I can believe the sex might feel heavenly, Collin, but I’ve seen what happens to Mom’s partners. They aren’t better off. After being with her for just a couple weeks, they start to waste away, like they’re on meth or something.”
“That’s because she gives them nothing. You’re not like that. It’s hard to put into words what you gave me, but it’s a form of strength, too. It’s divine inspiration and hope and… food for the soul, I suppose.”
I cock an eyebrow. “All that from a hand job?”
He laughs. “An absolute belter of a hand job! Don’t sell yourself short!
” His eyes remain crinkled, even as the corners of his mouth relax.
“Alvin, incubi have gone by many names here on Earth. But I think the best match comes from Ancient Greece.” He raises his brows at me. “They used to call you ‘muses.’”
I blink several times, trying to process that. I’m not sure I can. “You mean, like, those Greek women who would show up to inspire artists?”
He tilts his head, his expression a mix of amusement and gentle correction.
“That’s only a small fraction of what they did.
And remember, the accounts that survived for the public record were created by male writers, sharing their own experience.
Let’s just say your so-called ‘demons’ helped many become great who would otherwise have been small.
Incubi were never meant to be predators. They were meant to be like you.”
“But my power can make people do things, terrible things, against their will! And when I look inside, it’s a hungry monster that looks back at me. How can you be sure I’m any different than the others?”
“It’s because I know you, Alvin.” He pulls up my hand and plants a gentle kiss on the back, his stare a little naughty.
“That well? After just two days?”
I then remember our very first conversation, and I tilt my head as the connection is made. “But you knew me from before, because of that question you asked…”
His eyes hold mine with warmth. “Where you were the answer, that’s right.”
“Can I ask you now what that question was?”
“You can… But if it’s okay with you, I’d still like to wait to tell you. It really is nothing bad, I promise. It’s just kind of an intense story”—he laces his fingers with mine—“and I want to enjoy this moment with you here and now.”
I can’t argue with that. The exhaustion from before is setting back in, and simply being here with him is what I want, too. The truth is, I’ve already gotten all the answers I need for tonight.
“Okay,” I say. Then I kiss him. Not sexy—just sweet and tender—but the quiet, familiar intimacy says what’s in my heart better than words ever could.
We hug close like that for a good while after—face-to-face on our sides, his calf resting on mine, our warm bodies pressed together, holding hands—before he shifts and rolls around in my arms so I can spoon him.
Collin curves in, both solid and soft in my embrace, and his breath swells and ebbs, slow and steady and gentle against me.
It’s not long before I start to drift toward sleep, contentment humming in my chest.
I know this moment can’t last forever. I know there’s still a ton up in the air and so much to do. I know some really hard, scary things are likely ahead. But at least for right now, for the first time in my life, I can say something I never could before:
I finally know what it feels like to be truly happy.
I’m woken with a gentle rub of my chest. We’ve switched positions. I’m on my back now, arm extended, and Collin’s head rests in the little nook created by my shoulder. I feel warm, relaxed, and at peace—and still hella groggy.
It must show in my eyes.
“Sorry,” he whispers, glancing up. “You can go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you my database updated. All the kids are still alive. I thought you’d want to know.”
His words are like a splash of cold water. It’s what I hoped to hear, but of course there are worse things than death.
I push my free elbow down against the mattress so I can sit up slightly. Collin adjusts to his side, off my chest.
“Are they hurt?” I correct myself. “Or more hurt? Did the vampires feed on them?”
He glances off in that searching way of his, but only for a second.
“They did get fed on, but not too badly. From what I can tell based on the most recent human knowledge, after all the damage you and Rafa did, there are loads fewer vampires at the Benevolent Society. And keeping the children alive and well seems to be the priority. For now, at least.”
Based on human knowledge. He’s used that term before when talking about his database updates.
“You can’t get information about the vampires directly? Like exact numbers?”
“Paranormal beings are outside of my scope. I don’t get any answers to questions about them, unless the answer can be inferred from their interactions with humans, or if it’s through the watch owner’s senses.
It’s a hard limit. For the thousands of years I’ve been trapped in the watch, there’s only been one exception to that rule…
” He catches my eye, a small smile flickering.
Me. I’m the exception. Because of that question he asked.
Now I’m even more curious what that was. But then I realize what human knowledge his database would need to draw on.
“The kids are still in that dungeon?”
“Yes,” he replies. “And they’ve recently received food and water. They’ll be weak, but when we rescue them, they should fully recover.”
I like that he uses “when” instead of “if.”
“Well, that’s something. Can you get any information on whether Rafa was able to convince the clan to stage a rescue?”
Collin gives a small, regretful shake of his head. “No. It could be because Monster Hunters have made themselves into something more than human, but the only answers I’ve ever gotten about Rafa have come from your senses. I don’t know how he’s gotten on since you both parted.”
Right. So, I’ll need to find out the old-fashioned way.
I reluctantly extricate my arm out from under the Irish boy and swing my legs over the side of the mattress so I can reach for my phone on the small Formica table next to the bed. There are no new notifications. Rafa hasn’t texted me yet.
It’s 2:05 a.m. I must have slept about four hours.
Surprisingly, now that I’ve woken up a little, I feel pretty good.
That might have something to do with my incubus power getting charged up.
Then again, it might just be because the sex and the cuddling in itself was the best experience of my entire life.
I pull up Rafa’s name in my messages and quickly type out: “Avatar says kids still alive and OKish. Any luck on your end?” The message shows as “Delivered” but it doesn’t tag as “Read” even after I give it several beats.
I frown at my phone and briefly consider hunting for its charging cable on the floor, when Collin's fingers scrape lightly across the sheet next to him, smoothing an inviting landing spot. “You should try to get a bit more sleep, Alvin. If the clan does choose to help, they’ll want to wait for dawn. Especially once they know the children aren’t in imminent danger. ”
It’s a good point. And even better when I look at the cute naked boy I get to snuggle with.
Still a little drowsy, I nod my assent so I can nestle into his waiting arms. I put the phone down and close my eyes as he pulls me in. It only takes a few moments of his delicious skin-on-skin warmth to float me back to sleep.
I’m woken again by the phone buzzing like an angry hornet against the tabletop.
It can’t have been much more than an hour. I’m so comfy that for a half-second I consider just leaving it—but then I lever myself up while Collin scoots out of the way. The wry expression on his face must mimic mine. We both know that if this is Rafa, it can’t wait.
The message is, in fact, from Rafa’s phone. But it’s not from him.
It says: “Sorry, Alvin. I’m afraid my son won’t be able to text you back. If you ever want to see him alive again, bring the Avatar and no one else. The longer you make me wait, the more he bleeds. And there’s only *so* long I can resist…” It ends with a green smiley face with fangs emoji.
The next message is a camshot: Rafa slumped on the floor, beaten badly, his back against the bars of one of the cells in the vampire dungeon. His duster and chambray shirt have been removed, and his head hangs limply over the chest of his tank top.
An angry slash carves a line along his neck, and the wound soaks the white fabric beneath with a spreading bloom of scarlet blood.