<em>I.</em><br/><br/><em>I shouldn't care, I am not supposed to care. I am not used to the feeling of caring. Angels care and demons do not.  I am used to passion, desire and carnal favors. I am used to serving, commanding, and drawing the last cry of pleasure from a body until they are spent and nothing without me. And... and I cannot think of doing that to you. I think it is because of how you summoned me.</em><br/><br/>He reached over and to the hand she had cut, looking at the flawless skin, not even a hint of the wound the night before. He looked at her hand, starring at it for a moment.<br/><br/><em>I think I have morals and I don't know what to do. Should I run screaming from you instead of sit in confusion wondering what I am to do? Should I be afraid of you, that your desire and mine will send me over the edge, and I will want you to understand pleasure in a way you might not understand? I don't think so. We are notoriously curious, Incubi that is. There is another option, let me be what you summoned me to be. You wanted a lover, let me actually be one, or try to be one. </em><br/><br/>He got very quiet.<br/><br/><em>And I know you dying would... I don't want you to die.</em><br/>