Gods and Monsters, Books 1-3: A Dark Gods Bully Romance (Gods and Monsters Box Set)

by Klarissa King

  With a snort, I waved bye to the tense trio by the fireplace then let Ava drag me back into the chill of the isle.

  2

  By the time music lifted up from the lively village and crowded dock, Ava and I were primed and ready.

  One of the balneum girls braided narrow strands of my silvery hair, then twisted loose pieces around sky-blue ribbons. Now, a fancy half-up-do was ready to be undone by a stranger’s wandering fingers.

  Madame Jasmeen wrapped us in black, low-hanging harem pants, embellished at the hips with tinkling coin-belts, and black sandals whose soles were so thin and soft that we could have snuck up on a God if it weren’t for the belts. Strappy tops, woven from cheap satin, clung to our breasts too tightly; the hems cut off before our midriffs could be shielded from the Rain Season.

  Nerves got their hooks in me as I watched shadows slither over the isle from the dusty balneum window.

  Behind me, Ava fiddled with her free-falling copper curls. They were too wild to tame, like the giant cats in the woods.

  “How’s it look out there?” she mumbled as Madame Jasmeen fastened her straps at the back.

  A grin took my mouth. “Busy and dark.”

  I could feel the mischief creeping into my emerald eyes.

  “Tonight, you’re out there to lure,” the Madame reminded us. “Show ‘em a good time, tickle their fancies, and once they’re hot and heavy, send ‘em our way.”

  Gaze on the window, I gave a nod.

  Tonight, Ava and I were the seducers. We would entertain, dance, laugh—then send our catches up hill to the balneum for all sorts of trouble; dark parlour rooms, shadowy gambling dens, and private bedrooms upstairs that charged by the hour.

  That wasn’t for me. The thrill of the chase was what I liked but boredom was quick to take me after I caught my prize.

  Remember what I said about boredom?

  I couldn’t let Monster out.

  Besides, the hot stink of opium in the balneum made me feel suffocated sometimes.

  “Let me have a look at you.”

  I turned at the Madame’s command, arms stiff at my side.

  Her inspection of me was thorough, as always. She studied the spiral strokes of paint decorating my arms, my red-stained lips and kohl-lined eyes, and even sniffed my hands to make sure the faint smell of seafood was overpowered by soap and perfume.

  Fishy stinks tended to come with the Commos Isles.

  Soap traders made a small fortune off of us.

  Satisfied, Madame Jasmeen sent us down to the village with bottles of chevki and rolled tobacco for pipes.

  But I had little intention of working tonight.

  It was a dark sky painted in navy blue swirls and white glittering dots—a magical sky for a magical night.

  One to remember.

  Crow wings flapped in the dark above me, reminding me of old sheets caught on the drying-line down the side of our cabin.

  Every heavy flap of their wings sounded like infant thunder claps to me. It was a wonder no one else heard them over the fast beats of drums pounding through the village.

  Guess it was just me who paid crows any mind. I’d always liked them.

  I was standing with a brown-haired pirate when a load of starbursts took off into the sky and spooked away the last of the lingering crows.

  My mouth turned down at the corner as I watched the starbursts explode above with a thunderous boom, then bright, dazzling sparks scattered the sky.

  “Not a fan of starbursts?” the pirate asked, turning his virgin-wood eyes upwards. “We brought them. Our gift to your isle for having us this night.”

  The sparks took shape into white and red roses.

  I took a swig of the bottle of chevki we shared; a cheap, clear drink that could land you on your backside in a tussle or a fumble—depending on how your night went.

  The sharp drink burned my throat and tickled bile in the pit of my stomach, but I washed it down with another harsh gulp.

  “Not really,” I coughed. “They’re nowhere near as pretty as the real sky and stars. Don’t know why we need fake ones to bury the real thing.”

  The pirate took the bottle for himself.

  As he drank, his curious gaze roamed my face. Even silent and studious, mischief seemed to cling to his dirt-brown eyes.

  “And,” I admitted, a chevki-fuelled heat on my cheeks, “they’re a bit loud. Scare off all the birds.” I shrugged. “I think it’s a bit cruel.”

  The pirate smiled, then rested the chevki bottle on the tree stump beside us. “Real cruelty would be to waste a moment like this.”

  His eyes twinkled with trouble as he gestured between us, then up at the starburst sky.

  The sparks above twisted from a discoloured rose into clusters of bleeding hearts and a perfect, round moon. The stars might have been fake, the moon too, but the light from the illusion wasn’t.

  White moonlight rushed over the isle and illuminated every shadowy nook where kisses and fumbles were revealed.

  I laughed as a couple came scrambling out from behind an empty market stall, undressed from the waist-down.

  “So you think talking is a waste of a moment?” I challenged, bringing my attention back to the pirate.

  He wore a charming, too-gentle smile and leaned himself against the tall tree-stump. His elbow dared get too close to the bottle of chevki.

  “If a moment is spent on anything other than kissing, fumbling, killing or stealing, then it’s a terrible waste.”

  A laugh fought to escape me, but I just grinned and shook my head. Pirates called to Monster. They spoke to her, not the ‘me’ I pretended to be.

  “Well I’m not in the mood to kill or steal tonight,” I said and reached for the clear bottle nervously close to his elbow. One wrong move and a good amount of work would have spilled onto the soil. “And if I’m going to fumble, I might want to know the murderous pirate for at least a whole day.”

  “Kissing then?” His grin tickled my stomach. Or was that his not-so-secret cruelty? After all, he didn’t so much as flinch when I called him murderous.

  I wondered, distantly, what it would have been like to be so free, to never have to hide what you really are. Pirates and crows, free to fly and sail away.

  I shook off the thought with a searing gulp from the bottle.

  As the rim left my lips, I let out a choked cough and offered him some.

  “Name’s Jasper, by the way.” He brought the bottle to his lips, but didn’t sip. Instead, his eyes twinkled at me like little starbursts of their own. “Now can we kiss?”

  “Please,” I scoffed. “Like I give a damn what your name is.”

  His laugh was drowned out by sudden shouts:

  “Got one! I’ve got one! Down here!”

  I looked up just as a trio of shadows came barrelling down the hill, headed right for us.

  I drew closer to the stump, eyes narrowing. With the too-bright glow of the starburst moon starting to fade, my sight was left stained by white dots blurring my vision.

  “Lissa?” The girl leading the way down at us waved.

  My shoulders sagged as a breathy sigh came from me.

  It was only Ava and some of the other girls from the balneum.

  Then, my relief collapsed under the weight of what was in her waving hand—a red ribbon.

  I recognised the game the girls were playing, and I wasn’t having it, not one bit.

  “Ava,” I snapped as she staggered to a heavy stop beside Jasper. “Back off—”

  Too late.

  She snatched Jasper’s face and reeled him in for a kiss, one that was way too hot and heavy for the middle of a stone-paved path between the village centre and the rocky shore.

  Jasper stilled. Just for a second. Then his arms came around Ava’s curvy waist, and he held her to him.

  My mouth twisted as I glared at the pair of them, entwined, right in front of me.

  He hadn’t been a fair target for their game.

  The oth
er two girls that came down with Ava knew that, and they stood on the other side of the snogging pair, looking uncomfortable.

  One mouthed ‘Sorry’ before they turned and swept back up the path to find their own targets.

  What the hell could I do with a sorry?

  Not rewind time, that was for sure. I couldn’t take their sorrys and stumble back to the start of the night to find a different target of my own.

  Ribbons and Lips, that was the game.

  We all had ribbons, those of us who worked at the balneum, and we dished them out throughout the night. It was a claim—blue-wearing men were mine. But I hadn’t wrapped a ribbon around Jasper yet.

  All that time I wasted on him, and now that Ava slipped her ribbon around his neck, he would be added to Ava’s tally for the night. Madame Jasmeen would think she put in all the hard work, when all she did was steal the cream off of my cake.

  I saw red, and it wasn’t just Ava’s ribbon.

  “He’s mine,” I gritted out.

  She was too slow to hear me, so I stomped forward and snatched both of their arms in a vice-like grip, ready to wrench them apart—

  It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have touched them—especially not him.

  I cried out in surprise.

  Ava choked on a scream and stumbled back from the pirate.

  But Jasper was no pirate…

  His skin was suddenly glowing. Then the glow faltered before it slipped into me.

  Stunned, I watched his glow wriggle its way up my bare arm, along my collarbone, then rush down the other arm, where it sank into Ava’s skin.

  I stole Jasper’s glow, his essence—his power.

  With my touch, I’d dragged his power out from his skin and channelled it through my own body into Ava’s.

  Mortiz was right. I should have stayed home. Stayed alive.

  “Aniel,” whispered Ava, her disbelieving eyes fixed on Jasper.

  He looked just as shocked as we did.

  But I had no choice other than to snap the hell out of it and get as far away from him as possible.

  This was what my mother died to protect me from—

  No one can know what I am. A thief of power. No one can know—especially not an aniel, the child of a God.

  I snatched Ava’s wrist harder than before. Her bones creaked under my grip.

  “Run!”

  3

  Boots pounded against the stony path, gaining on us.

  Ava and I belted down the path, towards the shore.

  Behind us, Jasper shouted to his fellow sailors. Soon, there were a half-dozen of them chasing us.

  I couldn’t let them catch us. My life would be severed much like my mother’s was. I was an avsky, an abomination, a human with a forbidden ability. Only Gods and their children, the aniels, should have abilities.

  Vilas like me were not normal. We were so unheard of that we couldn’t even be called ‘rare’.

  Just for being something I couldn’t control, I would be annihilated.

  So I ran. I ran faster than I thought possible, and dragged Ava alongside me.

  Our sandals weren’t made for running, and less so for running on a rocky seashore.

  We stumbled onto the beach. Not a second later, Ava cried out as a jagged stone cut along her foot. She tilted, falling to the rocks.

  For a moment, I hesitated.

  Pausing to help her might lead to my easy capture. To my death. But if I left Ava behind, she could point them in the direction of my cabin.

  Not that I could run home. It was too obvious.

  My hesitation already cost me too many seconds.

  A groan crawled up my throat as I grabbed Ava by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

  I chanced a look over her head, where the mouth of the path was overrun by Jasper and his comrades—only a few steps away from us.

  “Come on,” I hissed and wrenched her into a rocky sprint.

  “Go around!”

  Jasper’s order boomed over the shore, loud enough that a bud of hope appeared in my chest.

  What if someone heard him and came to investigate? I might not have been adored by the people of my isle, but we were one—and they would come to my aid. Ava’s too.

  Ava had the same thought.

  “Help!” she screamed, her voice broken up by her panting.

  The drums from uphill beat too hard and loud for her cries to carry far.

  “Somebody help us! Down he—”

  A bulky man tackled her right off her feet.

  I heard the crunch of their landing.

  I almost stopped. But Ava wasn’t the one they were after.

  “Not her!” Jasper’s voice boomed like the earlier starbursts. “The other one! Grab the other one!”

  My legs had never moved faster.

  I was racing across the shore, dodging sharp rocks and little holes as I went. Silvery hair whipped my face like lashes of icy wind, but I didn’t feel the bite of the cold on my skin. I only felt the pounding of my heart, in rhythm with the village drums. It punched against my ribs as I skidded right, heading for the coarse shrubbery that led to the woods.

  I couldn’t go home. The aniel and his crew would follow me there, and who knew what they would do to my family?

  If I ran home, I would be running myself into a trap.

  The woods were my best bet.

  The shrubs climbed closer—my hope climbed with them.

  But before I could reach the hill, a heavy body slammed into my side.

  I was knocked off my feet.

  I landed on the shore. An explosion of pain erupted right above my temple. I must have hit a rock on landing.

  I groaned and tried to roll onto my belly. Meaty hands were on my shoulders before I could and yanked me onto my back.

  A whimper choked in my throat.

  Blurs warped my sight, but I saw their silhouettes.

  The beefy one who took me down towered above me, a mean look on his face, half-hidden by a bulbous beard.

  A few shadows skittered around me, but none of them stood out the way Jasper did.

  Jasper loomed up against the night sky. Behind him, the true stars winked down at us mockingly.

  The tether to my consciousness was weakening.

  Slowly, sleep strengthened its grip on me, and I fought to stay awake.

  Still, I could see that the awe hadn’t left Jasper’s eyes. He gazed down at me, studying every inch of my face.

  He was no sailor. And neither were the other shadows.

  The ship that docked at our isle wasn’t filled with sailors or privateers or pirates—it was much worse than that.

  My gut churned with the realisation.

  They were a vessel of the Gods—aniels and worshipers. Those who did the biddings of the Gods. Those who would hack me into pieces for being what I was.

  At least I was slipping away, mind from body, before they could hurt me.

  Sleep was closing in, fast.

  Distantly, I heard a cry—my name.

  “Ava…” I breathed.

  It was all I could manage before the night sky swallowed everything whole and left me in complete darkness.

  4

  I was trapped within four walls made of rusty bars.

  Down in the brig, water dripped from the wood panels above, and the moisture in the air carried a sharper cold than the wildest winds on the isle.

  All I had with me in that cell was a lidded chamber pot and a rough blanket that scratched my skin and sprouted a rash along my bare arms. The floor swayed with the rocky rhythm of the ship sweeping over the seas.

  When I first woke, I had the foolish thought that I was lucky to be alive. But then, I realised I was alive.

  That was nothing to be glad for.

  It meant that this ship of aniels and worshippers were taking me to the last place in the world someone like me should go—

  Scocie; the Land of the Gods.

  Like a match striking, a spark of unease ran thro
ugh me, all the way down to my curling toes. And it wasn’t the cold, either.

  Alone, aniels were foreboding creatures to be despaired and avoided. They were the true children of the Gods. Hand-made. Fearsome and powerful.

  Since that day an aniel killed my mother, I feared them and all that they could do. Maybe I didn’t avoid them as best as I should have, but the fear was forever within me.

  I would forever remember the day that fear was planted in my heart.

  I’m a child, covered in mud. My clothes are soaked from hours playing in the foamy part of the sea.

  Two ships are docked at the long wooden port. Mother has been talking to a sailor for ages. She told me to stay on the shore, but it’s starting to get dark, I’m cold, and I want to meet the traders.

  Sometimes, they have pretty silks and ribbons to sell. I gather a few special seashells before I run up the pier to find mother.

  She’s trading with a man who has kind eyes and wears a black ribbon on his wrist. That means he’s married. Maybe he has children. Maybe he’ll trade with me.

  I don’t have a dad, but mother told me once that dads are like dust; ‘they’re everywhere but useless’.

  So I’m not sad that I don’t have one.

  I stumble at mother’s feet and look up at the trader.

  “What can I get for these?” I ask him and hold out my cupped hands, where a pile of pretty shells are stacked.

  Mother throws me a dark look that tells me she’s going to smack me later.

  I pout.

  “What’cha got there, then?” The kind-faced man crouches and picks through my shells. “Oh, that’s a nice one. My lass will like this.”

  My pout stays, because he plucks away the biggest shell—the one I should have pocketed before I tried to trade with him.

  “Will you take a sweet?” From out his shirt pocket, he pulls a—lollipop!

  They only come from Scocie. The biggest isle in the centre of the whole world, where all the Gods live with their aniels and worshippers.

  “That’ll do, Valissa.” Mother takes the lollipop from the man and gestures for me to go home. I’m not supposed to touch strangers, or anyone really. Mother says my hands do strange things and scare people.