Page 23 of A Kiss of Deception

Milkor's lip curls in disgust. "They're guardians, of a sort. Ancient beings that fancy themselves protectors of the mortal realms. They draw their power from the very essence of creation, making them formidable opponents even for demons like myself."

"But why are they considered myths?"

"Because they prefer to work from the shadows," he explains, his voice dripping with contempt. "They rarely show themselves, instead manipulating events from afar. It's easier to dismiss them as legends when no one's ever seen one in the flesh."

I frown, processing this new information. "So they're like... cosmic police?"

Milkor barks out a harsh laugh. "More like self-righteous meddlers. They impose their idea of 'balance' on the universe, regardless of the consequences."

His fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I nestle closer, eager to hear more.

"What did the purna do to you?"

Milkor's grip on me tightens, his nails digging into my flesh. I bite back a moan, relishing the pain.

"She bound my essence," he spits out. "Trapped me in this... this weak elven form."

I run my hand along his arm, feeling the lean muscle beneath his ashen skin. "Weak? You seem pretty strong to me."

He snorts. "This body is nothing compared to my true form. I was a being of pure power, of primal hunger. Now I'm stuck in this... pretty shell."

The disgust in his voice is palpable. I press a gentle kiss to his chest, tasting his skin.

Milkor's self-loathing radiates from him like a dark aura. I can almost taste the bitterness on my tongue. His silver eyes, once alluring, now seem hollow and haunted.

"This body," he snarls, gesturing at himself with disgust. "It's a prison. Every moment, I'm reminded of what I've lost."

I trace the lines of his face, trying to understand. "But you're still powerful. You killed my mother without breaking a sweat."

He laughs, a harsh, grating sound. "A parlor trick compared to what I once was. I used to devour souls, revel in chaos. Now?" He flexes his fingers, staring at them as if they've betrayed him. "I'm barely more than human."

The weight of his words sinks in. This curse isn't just about trapping him in a different form. It's about making him despise every fiber of his being.

"You hate yourself," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

Milkor's eyes snap to mine, blazing with fury. "Hate doesn't begin to cover it. Every breath in this form is agony. Every reflection a mockery of what I once was."

"What was it like?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Before the curse, I mean."

Milkor's eyes grow distant, a mix of longing and rage flickering across his face. "I was... magnificent," he says, his voice low and intense. "I could tear through the fabric of reality, travel between worlds on a whim. My very presence inspired terror in lesser beings."

He flexes his fingers again.

"I could manipulate the essence of life itself, drain entire cities of their vitality with a mere thought. Now?" He scoffs. "I can barely muster enough power to light a candle without exhausting myself."

I shiver, both awed and terrified by the picture he paints. "And the purna took all that away?"

"In an instant," he snarls, his grip on me tightening painfully.

I sit up, the sheet falling away as I face him. "But you're still you inside, aren't you? Your essence, your... demon-ness. It's still there."

He reaches out, cupping my face with a gentleness that belies his words. "You don't understand, little human. This body, this curse... it's changing me. Making me weak. Making me... feel."

The disgust in his voice when he says "feel" sends a chill down my spine. I lean into his touch, trying to offer comfort I'm not sure he wants.

"Is that why you agreed to help me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "To try and reclaim some of your old power?"

Milkor's hand drops away, leaving my skin cold. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just desperate for any shred of my former glory."

---