Let's see what I can do. You'll notice as we go that there isn't a ton of action, since that isn't the focus of the story. So please suspend disbelief that they have this much free time in the middle of a war. XD

(-)

I'd lied. I wanted to check on Pritkin, make sure he was doing okay. He'd been limping slightly when he walked away. What I saw when I shifted into his room made my heart stop. "Pritkin, what the actual fuck?!"

He was on his bed, his face sweaty and pained, as a sort of heat cooked his leg, slowly spreading. It was burning through his jeans and leaving his skin blackened like an ill-attended piece of meat on an open flame. And he was just lying there, letting it happen.

"Damn it, Pritkin! Why didn't you say something?!" I demanded, sitting beside him on the bed, not touching the leg, but putting a hand to hold his face. It said bad things that he actually leaned into the touch.

"Nothing you can do," he said in a strained voice.

"Why aren't you healing it?" I asked. His half-demon heritage gave him regenerative capabilities almost as formidable as a vampire's.

"Nothing left," he said. "Too much energy used up in the fight."

My mind was racing, because no way was I losing him to some stray curse. And then I had an idea. "I didn't fight. Take some of my energy." Maybe I was a little too eager for this solution, because I was remembering how it felt to be pinned to his bed while his mouth devoured mine like he was starving. And that had been right before I first discovered he was half-incubus, so maybe he had been.

I leaned in to kiss him, heart hammering, but he feebly pushed at me, trying to keep me away. "No! Please, don't do this. I can't do this; I can't kill you."

"So don't. But I'm not sitting here and watching you die." I leaned forward again, and he really panicked.

"Then close your eyes! Leave! Just don't do this," he said, and there was such desperation in his voice.

I stroked down the side of his face again. "I trust you. And you have to trust me, because, like it or not, I'll do what I have to do to keep you from dying."

He just shook his head, but his protesting hand pushing my arm was weak, and it quickly gripped me when our lips met. The relieved moan that escaped him was rewarding, proof that he only fought so hard against this because he wanted it so badly. And the power drain started immediately, but it was nothing like his father's. It started slow, heat creeping into my body as pleasure already began pulsing through me.

Pritkin was hungry, obviously starving, but he was still determined to control himself, even as he rolled me under him, cursed leg sticking out to keep from touching me with it. He wasn't quite gentle, but he was just firmly insistent, not using bruising force. That is, until I tried to stroke him through his jeans. He let out a strangled cry and my hands were suddenly pinned to the bed above my head, the grip unforgiving steel. Yeah, that was going to bruise. When I let out a pained whine, he relented a little. But I still wasn't moving my hands.

"Miss Palmer, if we are doing this, I have to be in control." His voice was crisp and precise even as he panted and started unbuttoning my shorts.

"I told you: when you've got me pinned to your bed, you can call me Cassie. And I'm pretty sure having sex involves losing control at some point."

He nearly flinched at the word. "This isn't sex."

I laughed before I let out a little cry as his hand slipped inside my panties to stroke across my entrance gently, teasingly. "What the hell else would you call it?"

"An emergency." And he didn't let me say anything else, mouth covering mine with a moan.

Damn, he liked being in control. My hands were restrained, his weight kept me pinned to the bed, and that hand teasing me had waves of pleasure washing through me. He was hardly even trying, and I was already wondering how long I could hold on.

When our lips parted, he said, "Is it too much?"

It took me a second to realize that he was talking about the power drain, which had become a steady pull that felt so good it made my thoughts a little fuzzy and incoherent. That's what I blamed my next statement on anyway: "Too much? I didn't think any kind of incubus would leave a girl unsatisfied."

And, oh, that challenge got a response. His eyes, which had been filled with emerald fire, dimmed slightly as his pupils expanded to an unnatural degree. It was the first visible proof that the man I had in bed with me wasn't a human. But I liked it, and I liked even more how his hand grew more forceful, pressing fingers inside me, the sudden intrusion not overly painful due to the fact that all that teasing had me soaking wet. I cried out.

"Unsatisfied? I've never had anyone feed me quite like this," he said, voice rough. I whimpered when he removed his fingers, but he just moved the slick digits to tease my clit, and I practically screamed as I arched up against him. God, he felt good, and not just that hand. The weight of him, the feel of all those muscles holding me down. And when I had moved, I had felt the hard length of him brush against me. It would have been better without the jeans between us.

"Like what?" I barely managed to say. Thought was fleeing more rapidly now, the strokes of those fingers taking me higher, making me shake and cry out.

"You're different," he said, panting right along with me. "It isn't just your power. You feel…you taste better."

I liked that. I liked the idea that I was special, that I could give him something no one else ever had. But what was it? "Why?"

"It's more than pleasure," he said. "It's so fulfilling. I've never felt anything like it…and no one has looked at me the way you are now." So much for control. This much talking, this much revealing dialogue meant Pritkin had lost it.

And I thought I might understand, even though my brain was almost blind with bright white pleasure that threatened to engulf me any moment. "I know what you are, and I still see who you are. I like who you are, all of you."

The stunned look he gave me when I said that was short lived. I came seconds later, crying out, and I couldn't see past the pleasure that coursed through me. It was hot and intense, and it wasn't stopping. Those fingers hadn't stopped, and it was drawing out my orgasm to the point I couldn't breathe.

His eyes were entirely black now, and, okay, maybe losing control was bad. But as overwhelming as it was, as intense as the drain was, I wasn't afraid of him. I managed to get enough air to say, "Pritkin. Stop."

Instantly, both his hands left me, and I was suddenly in his arms as he sat up. Aftershocks of pleasure were still wracking my body, but his hold was soothing, relaxing. "I'm sorry."

I started giggling, still drunk on pleasure. "You don't apologize for making a girl orgasm her brains out."

A tighter squeeze before he said, "I went too far. I took too much."

"It's fine. You didn't hurt me." I sighed, finally able to relax into his embrace. "You tired me out, but mind-blowing pleasure will do that."

But Pritkin wasn't accepting that. "I let go. Let loose like the craven creature I am and-"

"Pritkin!" I said, trying to sound stern when I was melting into him. It was difficult. "I told you to stop, and that's when you let go. That's who you are."

He pulled me closer to him, and as I slid my arms around him, I realized I never would have thought I'd be hugged by Pritkin, or that he'd be so good at it. It was tight without being constricting, and gentle enough to make me feel precious.

"You're insane. You should be running away from me."

Another giggle escaped me. "I won't be running anywhere for a while. I don't think my legs will hold me." I let a hand slide down against him, so hot and hard and straining against the denim that it had to be painful. "And I don't want to leave you," I said as he gasped and moaned, and his hips pushed into my touch.

My hand was suddenly captive again. "Miss Palmer, refrain from doing things like that." The crisp, prim voice was back, although it was tight with strain. And here I thought we'd made progress.

"Why not?" I looked at his eyes and saw that, while not the complete blackness of before, his pupils were still unnaturally wide. Which made sense since, even if he'd fed, he hadn't been satisfied.

"Because I don't want to leave you," he said shortly. He laid me back down on his bed and stood up. I noticed that, although his jeans were still burnt and ruined, his leg was back to that tanned perfection. And I'd forgotten that's why we had started this.

"Rest," he said before I could ask him to elaborate. "I'm going to shower." He grabbed a pair of jeans that had been flung over a chair before retreating into the bathroom.

I didn't have much of a choice. Even if pleasure still hummed through me, I was wiped out. I'd need to build some stamina if I ever wanted to have sex with him. Although, that assumed I would ever get him to have sex with me. Even if he clearly wanted it, he wouldn't allow it for some reason. I'd have to figure something out. Who would have thought it'd be so hard to seduce an incubus?

(-)

When I woke, he was cleaning a gun. Because of course he was. I sat up, still feeling a little drained, but not as bone-weary as before my nap. I stretched slightly, noticing how his eyes followed the motion. And when I looked a little closer, I could swear that he looked nervous.

"We need to talk," he said, voice business-like.

I didn't like that. In that tone, I heard gates closing that we'd just opened. Even just this new personal and emotional intimacy was about to go away, I was sure of it. "Why?"

"Because that can't happen again." Now his voice was hard.

There it was. My chest felt tight. "Why not?" I tried to ignore the part of me that suddenly felt used. I had insisted on it, and I didn't regret it since it saved his life, but that was all it was, I guessed. He didn't want to have sex with me unless he needed to feed to heal.

"I can't feed unless I'm dying," Pritkin said, words coming out in a sudden rush. I realized that he was nervous, that he was forcing himself to tell me this. And he had all of my attention because of that.

"Why?" I asked. I wanted to move closer to him, but there was no second chair at the little table he was using. Not to mention I doubted that he'd picked the spot in the room farthest from the bed on accident. He wanted his space.

He set down the gun parts and said, "Being banished from Hell wasn't the first choice of punishment."

When Casanova had said "kicked out of Hell" I had kind of assumed it was an exile, not a punishment. "What do you mean? I thought they kicked you out because demons bring out the best of your winning personality." Maybe some humor would make him look less apprehensive, because it looked weird on him.

That got me a grim smirk. "They do, which is why I was facing a death sentence. Rosier, however, didn't want his pet project destroyed. So he suggested they banish me to Earth instead."

I raised an eyebrow. "For you, that seems more like a reward for bad behavior."

"That was their opinion as well. So Rosier suggested that it be a sort of probation. The only time I'm allowed to feed is to heal life-threatening injuries. Anything else will immediately take me back to Hell."

The implications of that hit me like a rock. "A starving man at a buffet." He obviously could survive without feeding, but he was an incubus, even if just half. And beyond that, he was a man, with all the needs and desires that entailed. "No wonder you're so prickly and pissy all the time." I hadn't meant to say it out loud.

To my surprise, that got me a chuckle, and a small but genuine smile. "I believe there was a pool amongst the Demon Lords betting how long it would take for me to break and end up back there." The smile became a satisfied grin. "All of the bets have long expired."

They clearly hadn't spent enough time with him to know what a stubborn son of a bitch Pritkin was. "I remember when you told me you take advantage of being underestimated. I can see how that would apply here."

"Yes." There was a pause before he said, "I'm only telling you this so you don't continue to pursue me. It is foolish and futile and a waste of your time."

That hurt. Not just the rejection: Pritkin thought he wasn't worth pursuing if we couldn't have sex. I'd admit that it would be hard, pun sorta intended, to be involved with a half-incubus and not sleep with him, but I'd try it. "I don't think so." His head snapped to look right at me. "Sex isn't everything, Pritkin."

He shook his head, and it was almost frantic. "No, we aren't doing this. My control around you is tenuous as it is. If I allow myself to get close to you…I'll lose it."

The man who had gone centuries without sex was worried that I would make him lose control. It was crazy. "You wouldn't hurt me, Pritkin."

Now he glared. "No, it wouldn't hurt, but that isn't the point. You got so upset that I started talking to you less; imagine what me being gone entirely, forever would do. Because you're basically my ticket back to Hell."

It was like he'd slapped me. Not just the last part, which felt like an insult, even if it wasn't, but the point that he'd be gone if anything happened. Everything my life had become…all the enemies I still had to face…I wouldn't be able to do anything without him. Not just his war mage skills: him. He kept me together when our world was falling apart. Whatever was happening, as long as I had Pritkin at my side, I felt like I could survive.

But now that I knew that I wanted more, and he clearly did too, the idea of maintaining distance was painful. It wasn't all about sex: being held by him was a special kind of pleasure. Finding out that Pritkin had a soft side, and that I was a big factor in revealing it…I wanted nothing more than to explore further.

Of course, if I thought it was painful, how must he feel? He'd just been given a taste of me, and now I was off limits again. I could see the hunger he was leashing as he looked at me. And he was waiting for me to say something.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special," was what came out of my mouth.

He sighed. "I didn't mean…" It looked like he was choking on his next words: "You are special. That's the problem."

And it seemed laughable. So I let the amusement show in my voice as I said, "The half-incubus war mage formerly known as Merlin thinks I'm special."

Flinching when I said the bastardized version of his given name, he said, "I've been around for a long time and faced countless temptations. The fact that you've managed to get as close to me as you have despite all my efforts to keep you away…" He looked at me, green eyes warm. "There's no one else even close to being like you, Cassie."

Okay, I was breathing faster now. I couldn't brush off that serious expression when he looked me in the eye and said that. And my chest tightened as I realized it didn't matter. "But you can't be close to me because of that."

Shaking his head, he said, "No. It's why I tried so hard not to even talk about this. But I know you," he said, a rueful quirk to his lips, "and I know that you wouldn't stop trying unless you understood why."

There was a heavy silence, and a longing for even a little bit of closeness was eating at me. "Are hugs too much?"

He frowned, clearly confused. "What?"

I felt my face warm. "You're…surprisingly good at hugging. So, maybe every once in a while…? Just, you know, after a hard day or something…" Someone please shut me up.

It almost looked like Pritkin was embarrassed. "I…suppose that would be all right."

And why, after his cursed leg and getting me off to feed on me to heal and all the kissing and revelations, was a request for hugging this awkward? "Good. It's really…nice."

I'm not sure why I didn't think of it sooner, but it occurred to me that we were in a hotel full of vampires. "Um, did you think about the fact that if there are any vamps nearby, they could hear everything we've said?"

He shook his head. "The room has wards that include silencing charms on them strong enough to stop even their ears. Not to mention it's shielded from all magical observations. Tracking spells won't show you in here, meaning Mircea can't find you that way. Had you walked in, they could have traced your movements, but given that you came directly inside the wards, you just disappeared from their point of view."

"Tracking spell?" I asked, feeling anger rise inside me.

Now he looked uncomfortable. "You have three. Mine is the best and most well-hidden, but Mircea and someone else also have them on you."

Oh, hell no. "You've been tracking me and didn't tell me?!"

"Given your penchant for getting into unprecedented amounts and types of trouble, yes. If you expect me to look frantically for you every time you disappear instead of taking reasonable measures to negate the need for that, you're going to be disappointed." He'd gone from uncomfortable to defensive and indignant. It was comfortingly familiar.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd admitted he panicked when he couldn't find me that settled my anger. And, yes, I could admit that it was comforting to know that if I got dragged off somewhere, he'd be able to come to the rescue promptly. But… "Why let Mircea and some unknown person track me too?"

"I told you mine is hidden deepest. If you were captured, they would expect such spells to be laid on you. After finding and removing one or two…"

"They wouldn't look for a third." Okay, I could appreciate his tactic, if not the deception. "Just tell me next time."

He raised an eyebrow. "I assumed you would have Francois remove them all. Which would make the whole thing pointless."

Pritkin only wanted my location for safety reasons, so that was tolerable. But I was sure that the other two spells were placed with manipulation in mind as well. "I might have, if I found out that Mircea was using another method to keep control…of…me…Oh crap!" I got up abruptly, and my legs were still unsteady enough that I nearly fell. Pritkin was across the room to support me in a heartbeat.

"What is it?"

"Well, you just told me that Mircea can't find me, so he's probably freaking out. And if he finds me in your room, smelling like…this, we're going to have a very pissed off master vampire on our hands." This was bad.

"You can shower-" he began.

"And smell like your soap and shampoo? Let's just advertise that we're hiding the fact that you've had your hands all over me!"

"Calm down," he said, and in addition to steadying me, he was also holding me. A pleasant hum thrummed through me. I'd never heard of incubus hugs, but I liked them. And even without that sensation, it was pleasant enough that I was glad we'd negotiated future hugging opportunities. "He may merely assume that you shifted back in time. You would disappear from his spell's view then as well."

Okay, I could work with that. "Do you have some gunpowder?" I asked. When he frowned at me, I explained. "If I went back in time with you and had our zany adventures full of near-death experiences, I'd probably smell like gunpowder. Or stinking river. But gunpowder is handier. Even if I shower, he'll be able to get traces of what was on me before, so I'd like something to cover your scent before I wash it off."

A look I couldn't quite interpret was on his face as he sat me down and went to the table, coming back with a small can. I closed my eyes and dumped it over my head, then I shook enough away from my face so I could open them again. And saw Pritkin trying to hold back laughter. "Hey, you got a better idea? Because I'm not telling Mircea the real reason this happened, and since you don't want to pursue anything, telling him we were fooling around for the hell of it won't go well."

That sobered him slightly. "I was just wanting to point out that being in a place where guns go off is different than covering yourself in gunpowder. The smell will be different." He still looked amused.

Well, damn it. He was right. Okay, why would I get covered in gunpowder? "…someone was trying to mess with Guy Fawkes's plan," I said.

And Pritkin burst out laughing. I slapped his arm slightly, which only made him laugh harder. So I got to unsteady feet, saying, "You are so not helpful. I'm going to shower and hope all the gunpowder will cover any residual smells of you kissing me and pinning me down and making me cum." That shut him up instantly. I closed the bathroom door and sighed.

I still wanted him. The way he held me only added another facet to my attraction. Pritkin could be gentle with me. Who knew? Bruising force, soft embrace…the man was made of contradictions. Celibate incubus. Yeah, "contradictory" summed him up well.

(-)

"Is it just me, or is your mage in a better mood than I've ever seen?" Tami asked a few days later.

I got nervous at that statement. We were out on my balcony while the kids swam in the pool there. While I occasionally went swimming, it was somewhat wasted until I had the idea to have the kids over. Now it was the epicenter of laughter and childhood finally looking like it should. It was the sweetest thing.

"He isn't my mage," I said. "He's just sworn an oath to protect the Pythia, and he keeps his word no matter what."

Tami laughed. "Maybe, but anyone with eyes can tell that you could be a scrim and he'd still follow you into all the madness anyway."

I glanced at the balcony doors. Even if they were closed, Marco would hear every word we said. So I turned my face away from the windows and mouthed, "Not now," and hoped she'd get the message. It just made her smile, clearly amused, but she nodded.

"Are you talking about the good mage?" Jeannie asked. She was dripping, which meant the teddy bear she had just reclaimed from our guardianship was getting wet in her hands, but it didn't matter.

It was startling to hear Pritkin called a "good mage". I mean, yeah, he was a good guy, but he was a war mage for heaven's sake, and a homicidal lunatic even among them. But then I realized why she said it.

To Jeannie, war mages were monsters that hunted her and her adopted family, trying to take them and lock them away. And we'd had a Circle attack not too long after the geis was broken, and some of the war mages had managed to grab some of the kids, including Jeannie. The ones that had grabbed Jesse and Alfred had a struggle on their hands, but Jeannie was a five-year-old clairvoyant. She had nothing to fight with.

But Pritkin had been there, and he'd rescued the shrieking girl before fighting the mage who had taken her until the opportunity finally came to snap the man's neck. I'd really have preferred she hadn't seen that, especially since it seemed to impress her. Sure, he was impressive, wearing down and outsmarting a war mage until he could kill the bastard with his bare hands, but, at her age, I'd have preferred she not get a taste for violence. Clairvoyants weren't equipped to battle people with our powers, so I didn't want her to get any ideas. Of course, she also had a bad role model like me hanging around.

Tami beamed though, and said, "Yes, we were talking about Mr. Pritkin."

"He's nice," the little girl said. "His room smells funny. Like when he makes potions."

My brain stuttered to a halt. "You know where his room is?" Okay, that was a dumb question. Jeannie's visions most often helped her find people and things, like how they'd found me. She could have followed a vision right to his doorstep. "I mean, you've spent time with him?"

The usually paranoid den mother nodded at the same time Jeannie did. "The first time she wandered off to find him, I was worried sick. When he brought her back, I told her she shouldn't bother him. Then he said he didn't mind, so long as she didn't touch anything in his room. And I agreed that she could go visit if she got my permission first."

What the hell? "We are talking about Pritkin, right?"

That got me another smile. "Yes. Given how he handles adults, I was surprised with how patient he was with Jeannie." And a sly look stole across Tami's face as she said, "Maybe he has a soft spot for clairvoyants."

I ignored that. "Maybe Jeannie is just too sweet to turn away." All the time spent with the Misfits had taken me back to my days as a Misfit, except that these children were even more tight-knit and family-like than we had ever been. And I remembered how Tami had been this impossibly wonderful person who had given me a home and place to belong, with people who, like me, were unwanted or hunted because of who and what they were.

And little by little, the Misfits were feeling like family again. Of course, this time I was more in Tami's position, feeling protective of the children, although I felt more like a much older sister than a mother. But it had never occurred to me that an extremely dangerous, overgrown, and fairly ancient Misfit might be compatible with the family. Pritkin was an outsider, a freak, just like we were. And I had never stopped to think about how Pritkin would handle kids. I mean, he'd gotten married and planned to settle down with his wife. He probably planned on having kids before he knew the kind of hellish life they would inherit with his genes.

But Pritkin was kind to little girls. A little clairvoyant. It made me absurdly happy and warm inside just thinking about it. Of course, we'd established that he and I couldn't be close. I shouldn't be entertaining ideas of trying to bring him into the Misfit family. But…children were safe. In fact, maybe that's why he enjoyed Jeannie's company. She was in no danger from any of his incubus hunger or instincts. He didn't need to push her away the way he did adults. It must be relaxing not to be wary and guarded.

So now I needed to bring him into the family. Tami was giving me a knowing look, so I said, "Maybe Pritkin would enjoy spending time with all of us. We'll have to invite him sometime."

The way Jeannie's face lit up told me that Pritkin would be joining us sooner rather than later. I could just see the five-year-old bullying and pleading until he came out to play. And he would. The big bad war mage had a soft spot for children, I was sure of it.

"Can we?" Jeannie asked, jumping up and down a little as she hugged her bear, her swimsuit still wet enough to soak the thing.

Tami looked pleased. "Of course. We'll see if he's free tomorrow?" She looked over at me. We'd already planned to let the kids swim again if nothing horrible happened to get in the way.

"I'll ask. Although I get the feeling a five-year-old would be better at convincing him than me." And that was still ridiculous and sweet.

Jeannie frowned at me. "I'm almost six!"

And old enough to be getting an attitude about it. "I stand corrected. An almost-six-year-old would be good at convincing him."

Tami smirked. "I think you'll manage."

(-)

Well, this is getting really adorbs. I hadn't originally planned to include the Misfits, but I wanted her to have a conversation with someone about Pritkin, and Sal or Francoise didn't quite fit, so I went with Tami.