Desires of a Monster - Roe Horvat Page 0,1

you admire one, and it’s gone before you blink. It was better he left.

In the early days, I’d known demons who’d hunted people out of boredom. They’d raped and murdered, plundered the country, and fought among each other, obsessed with power and greed. For what? Sooner or later, everything they’d gained died around them while they continued to live without purpose. They had destroyed each other, one by one disappearing from earth.

I was the last one. There were no others, hadn’t been for one thousand years. No ancient magic remained in the world except for that running through my veins.

Maybe that was why I survived. I didn’t care about power and didn’t see a point in hoarding treasures. While I didn’t recognize a purpose to my existence any clearer than the others, I owned enough to be safe and comfortable. I liked my horses, and I liked good people working for me, taking care of my land and animals. I provided them with livelihood and protection and got the satisfaction of seeing their families thrive in many generations. I tried not to care about what happened behind the borders of my estate, and I visited the Town only when business required me to.

Maybe I could have been a noble landlord, popular and benevolent, beloved by the peasants, respected by the aristocrats. I could have attended the balls and exhibitions in Town, even gone into politics and done business without having to deal with superstition. However, I was an immortal monster, towering over humans, my skin the color of ash and my veins like glowing coal, my silver eyes fear-inducing, and my tastes unacceptable in refined society.

I had one special interest, which made me subject to upsetting, mostly untrue legends. Because of my preference, I was a monster despised by preachers—feared by most, sought out by some.

I fucked human men.

I enjoyed the warmth of their bodies, their primitive urges, their scent and taste, the way they wanted. I liked them eager, grateful, and pliant. Seduced.

I’d done it for centuries, and I intended to continue to the end of time. It brought me joy, tamed my temper, and despite some disgusting rumors, all my lovers experienced incomparable pleasure when I touched them. Some tried to come back for more, but most of them understood they wouldn’t be welcome again. Like the one who’d left a short while ago. He knew. Barely one hour had passed, and I’d already forgotten the color of his eyes.

Tonight, I’d savor my solitude. Tomorrow, my hunters would find another man to sleep in my bed.

2

Rees

“Quick! Look down!”

With the heavy load on my shoulders, I wasn’t keen on dancing around. I only wanted to take the last steps and dump the bag on top of the pile. I was soon to be done for the day; I couldn’t wait to leave here. I’d get my salary tonight. I’d buy a piece of bread with cheese, maybe a pint of beer, and I’d go to sleep right after dinner. Only to forget the pain for a few hours.

The pier crawled with people, and at first, I couldn’t see what could have created the commotion among the loaders.

“Eyes down, boy! Do you want to be bred by Satan?”

I smirked at the ridiculous question. The foreman gave up on me and sat on a box, bending his head and obscuring his eyes with his wide hat. The other loaders hid their faces or even cowered behind bags and barrels.

The tallest horse I’d ever seen walked along the anchorage, slow, graceful steps clunking on the stone pavement. The animal’s eyes shone like jewels against her black coat. She held her head high, and her long mane gently swayed along her neck. A magnificent creature. The crowd opened for her master, and the whole harbor quieted as if night had fallen in the middle of the day.

Above the sea of bent heads and averted faces, the Demon rode proudly on his grand mare.

I didn’t fear him.

I’d heard all the legends: the ones told loudly at churches and the ones murmured in dark alleys behind pubs and wineries. I didn’t care about what the clergy said, but the stories whispered by the butterfly boys intrigued me. Never trust a whore, people said. Yet I learned that the whores spoke more truth than the preachers and tradesmen in Town. Most of the boys and women who sold pleasures in the harbor had suffered, sooner or later, at the hand of a sailor, a merchant, or