by Lyssa Dering
As we leave the house behind, I’m perfectly comfortable in an outfit that looks almost exactly like Fiend’s—all black, t-shirt and jeans, sans the trench coat. I asked him before we left if I needed a jacket, but he said I didn’t. I’m assuming he only wears his to look cool and intimidating (which is sort of cute).
Closing my eyes as I relish a faint breeze, I don’t know what in the Universe to think. On the one hand, I’m supposed to be wary of Fiend, and I am, but seeing him so vulnerable earlier, talking about his past… I hate the fact that Fiend was apparently present during all my humiliating moments with Wish, but I know what it’s like to be born a certain way and suffer because of it. It’s hard to imagine being a monster in someone’s head, yet a monster is what non-specials saw me as; they looked at me like a freak they had to protect themselves from.
On the other hand, Wish has made a lot of mistakes, but he’s always done his best to protect other specials. And he made Fiend. Shouldn’t he know him better than anyone? At least, if he’s not too close to be subjective. If Fiend really is Wish’s bogeyman—which is almost too crazy for me to wrap my head around—it only makes sense Wish would warn people away from him. Bogeymen frighten; it’s what they do, right? I had one, too, and of course, he wasn’t real, but all he ever did was loom. And aren’t parents always right when they say there’s nothing to fear from the monster under the bed?
Right now, Fiend’s holding my hand, thumb stroking over mine, and I want to transform into a puddle he can step into, regardless of how dangerous he might be. There’s a part of me that aches for more sexual pain from him: more choking, maybe something else.
Please, please, Universe, don’t let Fiend hurt me in a way I can’t fix. Let me have something good for longer than one night, even if it all goes to hell in the end.
It’s dusk in Wish City. The sky is a partially clouded, pink-to-blue gradient, obscured in sections by impossibly tall skyscrapers glinting in the light from the setting sun. I stare up at the buildings so long window shapes imprint themselves on my retinas.
“I asked my soldier, Neisha, where I should take you,” says Fiend. “She suggested a meal. Are you hungry?”
I blink away the temporary blindness. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“What about pizza?”
It’s as if “pizza” is a trigger word someone hypnotized into to me to make me starved. Pizza! I haven’t had any in years. “Fiend, that would—” I squeeze his hand. “That would seriously make my life. I’m not kidding.”
Fiend laughs, the sound musical and rich. “You mean afterlife.”
A vintage pink Chevrolet drives past us, the reflection from its mirror putting another shape in my retinas.
“I should have brought sunglasses,” I grumble. Fiend’s wearing them, and he’s got a ball cap on his bald head that’s a little out of place with the rest of his outfit.
Without warning, Fiend grabs me and puts me in front of him before placing a hand over my eyes. “I agree. The sun is terrible.”
Laughing, I struggle to remain coordinated after the sudden shift in position and no sight to orient myself.
Fiend wraps his arm around my waist to keep me steady. “The pizza parlor’s just up here,” he says softly against my ear.
I bite my lip hard against a surge of arousal. If I get a boner in these tight, tight jeans, it’ll be painful and obvious.
Fiend brings us to a halt, and I open my eyes to a brick exterior and a lavender neon sign reading “Purple Lantern Pizzeria.” Fiend holds open the door for me, and I stroll into the restaurant, the inside walls of which are covered in the same brown brick as the exterior. Wooden tables shine as if they’ve been freshly polished between cushy, red leather booths. The chatter is low amongst the patrons already seated, the music upbeat without being annoying. I can smell the pizza from here.
My mouth waters.
Fiend sets a hand on my lower back and guides me to an empty booth. After I sit, he tries to hand me a large leather menu, but I bat it away. “I already know what I want.”
He takes off his hat and sunglasses. “And what’s that?”
“Classic pepperoni. Light cheese, well-done. And I want some ranch to dip it in.” Slight panic clutches my chest. “They do have ranch, don’t they?”
“They have every type of sauce there is. I myself will be getting blue juice.” He says it with a smile and like it doesn’t bother him that he doesn’t eat solid food, so I resolve not to let it bother me, either. This is another thing Fiend probably can’t help. I guess whatever he has to do to get sustenance, Wish had to have made him that way.
I trace a carving on the table that reads “NB + RG.” “So…how was work?”
Fiend shifts, the leather of his trench coat squeaking. “Fine. Tell me more about ‘Gay Tentacle Monsters From Space.’”
I put a hand to my chest and pretend to be affronted. “Are you telling me you haven’t read it?” Earlier, when I was coming up with excuses for Mercer to leave me alone, I went looking for something to entertain me. Of course, he followed me to the spare bedroom with Wish’s pulp novel collection. He watched me like a hawk while I browsed, but at least I was able to ascertain that there’s probably not a secret doorway hidden in the bookshelf.
As for Gay Tentacle Monsters From Space? Surprisingly well-written. At least, the parts I could focus on when my mind wasn’t buzzing with all the strange details I’ve learned about Wish City. If the words on the pages had been jumbled and nonsensical, I’d have decided this whole thing was an elaborate, near-death dream.
“No, I haven’t read it,” says Fiend. “I don’t have a lot of time to read.”
“Well, it’s pretty hot so far. A guy gets abducted by aliens and forced to be a sex slave on their ship.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
Fiend’s eyes gleam. “Really? What do they do to him?”
I can’t resist teasing him. “They put him in these mechanical cuff things.” I lean closer to Fiend and lower my voice. “Then they fuck, like, every single one of his holes, and he squirms and pretends to hate it, but secretly, he loves it. He comes like three times.”
Fiend blushes adorably and looks down.
I lean back, smirking. “I think you’d like it.” Under the table, I nudge his shoe with mine, and he looks up, giving me those bedroom eyes again, enhanced by his creepily pale irises. I like that he’s a contradiction: rigid yet yielding, scary yet sweet. I bite my lip, giving him bedroom eyes in return.
“What’s going on inside your pretty head?” Fiend sets his hands on the table and wiggles his fingers. “Do you wish I had tentacles?”
Imagining Fiend with tentacles for fingers, I burst out laughing. “No! Universe, no. But if you wanted to tie me up…”
It’s at that exact moment that a waiter approaches, and I pick up the menu to hide my reddening face and continued laughter. Maybe talking about sex in the middle of a restaurant wasn’t the best call. I mean, there is a family a few tables away.
“Do you need a few more minutes?” says the waiter.
“No, we’re ready.” Fiend orders my pizza just how I said I wanted it, ranch dip and all. Then he curls his fingers over the top of the menu I’m holding and lowers it enough to see my eyes. “My darling, what would you like to drink?”
“Soda, please.” I glance up at the waiter. “Whatever kind you have.”
“We have every kind,” he says. But of course they do.
I order lemon-lime. Then Fiend and I are alone again.
Fiend snatches the menu from me. “Don’t hide that beautiful face.” He folds it and sets it in its holder then looks at me with such intensity that butterflies begin to flap in my stomach. They’re a lot gentler than the ones I got on Love, but I still want Fiend to help me take care of them.
My cheeks burn even more fiercely as Fiend continues to take me in, and I realize I’ve never been on an actual date before. I’m probably much more charming half-drunk and yelling “Want to get out of he
re?” over the bass in a club.
“Do they serve alcohol here?” I ask.
“I believe so. Do you want to get drunk?”
I wonder how much Fiend knows about what I used to do, about who I used to fuck besides Wish. Does he think I’m easy? Is his motive for locking me up with him as simple as that? He did say he was inexperienced. For somebody looking to see what all sex has to offer, the sluttiest boy in the dimension is probably the best one to go for.
“Maybe just a little buzzed.” I scratch at the edge of the table with my thumb nail. “I’m used to doing this in clubs. Talking to attractive men…” I flick my gaze up like I know Fiend likes.
Fiend’s smiling with his eyes all squinty. “After you eat something, you may have some alcohol.”
The casual dominance warms the back of my neck. “You telling me what I can and can’t have?” I tease.
Fiend’s eyes widen slightly. “If that offends you—”
“It doesn’t.” I tap his foot with mine again. “I’m just messing with you. See? I’m bad at flirting without booze.”
Fiend glances under the table. “Why do you keep kicking me?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Haven’t you ever heard of footsie?”
“No.”
“It’s just an excuse to touch you, I guess.” I slide my arm across the table and upturn my palm. “Or we could hold hands.”
Instead of putting his hand in mine, Fiend scratches lightly down my palm and the inside of my wrist, tickling me deliciously. “If you want to touch me so badly, come to my side of the booth.” He fixes me with a dark look, and it’s as if he’s asking me to join him in the tiger’s cage.
I snatch my hand away, grinning. “I don’t think so.”
Fiend smiles with every single one of his teeth. “Chicken.”
The waiter brings our drinks, and then a few minutes later, the pizza. I might as well be gawking at the Universe made manifest watching the waiter set that tray of cheesy and carby deliciousness between Fiend and me. I cover my first slice in Parmesan cheese, red pepper flakes, and salt, and that initial bite of crispy-on-the-edges pepperoni, warm mozzarella, and well-done crust has me moaning. The ranch dip takes it to a whole other level. I struggle not to inhale all eight pieces.
Fiend’s watching me with a glint in his eye, but the pizza tastes so good I don’t have the focus to be self-conscious. And the lemon-lime soda is light and crisp. It’s the perfect meal—almost better than sex.
Once I’m sated, and Fiend’s juice box is empty and crushed in his hand, Fiend lets me order a cocktail. It’s only after I’ve downed two amaretto sours that I’m brave enough to come over to his side of the booth.
Fiend wraps his arm around me, pulling me flush against his side. “Did you want dessert, my love?”
I shake my head. “Too full.” I turn into him, nuzzling his shoulder, inhaling his coat’s leather scent. “I’m ready to be a different kind of full…”
Fiend hums lowly. He pets my hair, then the side of my neck. His fingers are cold, and I shiver.
“You are so cute like this.” Fiend kisses the top of my head. “Did I make you happy tonight, my sweet?”
I nod against his neck, getting lost in his skin. For me, the overdose of intimate touch was the best part of all those one-night stands. Being around Wish, it was like my skin was starving. And nobody in the hideout was touchy overall. I guess they didn’t want to get too close to people they could lose in an instant. But I’ve never had that problem. I take what I can get. I love affection.
Fiend massages the shell of my ear, and it feels so good I think I might fall asleep right here in this booth.
“If I could make you happy every night, I wouldn’t have to have my soldiers watch you,” says Fiend. “It’s just that I would be so very sad if you ran away. Please understand.”
Even through the haze of my buzz, my heart aches at Fiend’s tone, and how his voice breaks over the plea. It doesn’t make the fact that he’s locked me up okay. But if, when I was alive, I’d had the chance to trap Wish in a room with me for just a few minutes—and make him listen and face the pain in my heart—I might have taken it. I guess the difference is, such a power play would never have occurred to me.
“Baby, don’t say things like that,” I mumble against Fiend’s throat. I’m not going to run away. I’m sure it’s what he wants to hear, but I won’t lie to him.
Fiend slides a hand across my stomach and flirts with the hem of my shirt. “Let’s get you home, my darling. Where it’s safe and secure.”
Sera
I don’t plan on running tonight, but if I can get Fiend to take me out regularly, it could be the perfect opportunity to flee. As we leave the pizza parlor, once more hand-in-hand, I take everything in. Wish City is much busier after sundown. We pass a lot of people on the sidewalk, and several of them know Fiend. They nod at him, smile, call him “Boss.” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t lying when he said he was the most powerful man in Wish City.
“Hey, Fiend?” I lean closer as a noisy truck rumbles past us. “Does Wish City have police? A government?”
Fiend smiles down at me. “I’m the government, precious, and my soldiers are the police.” The words coupled with his easy tone give me the chills.
If this were Chicago, my options would be just as limited as they are here in Fiend’s clutches. When you’re on the run from the government, you can’t exactly call the cops in an emergency, or flag down someone for help, since that’s just another path to the cops. When the time comes to run from Fiend, I won’t be able to take a chance on anyone in the city being willing to help me. Which isn’t news, I guess, but now it’s been confirmed.
With nowhere else to seek comfort, I squeeze Fiend’s hand.
He kisses my hair.
By the time we get back to the house, my buzz is completely gone. Following Fiend inside, I squint and groan at the too-bright fluorescents in the foyer/living room. Then Fiend does something on his phone, and it’s only neon strips lighting our way, the living room glowing green and the kitchen pink.
I drink water from my hands at the kitchen sink while Fiend stands in the white glow from the inside of the refrigerator, struggling, apparently, to find a spot for the box of leftover pizza.
I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Do you have plastic wrap or paper towels? We could wrap the slices individually and stick them in between all your juice boxes. Or we could take some juice boxes out.”
Fiend gives an exaggerated sigh, closing the refrigerator door. The magnetic letters glare at me, still in the scattered shape I put them in this afternoon. I glance away from them like they’re a pushy guy stalking me in a club.
“The juice might spoil,” says Fiend. “And I want to be inside you. I don’t want to deal with any of that.” The words don’t come off as dirty—more like heartsick, like all he really wants is to be close. Or he does only care about getting laid, but it’s all the same to me. I want him, too.
I take the pizza box from him and set it on the counter. “I’ll do it later.”
“Good.” Fiend tugs on my hand, pulling me against him, face to face. He brushes his nose against mine, and I can’t help but grin stupidly; no one’s ever done that to me before. He pushes me backward until my lower back hits the edge of the counter.
I shove the pizza box behind me out of the way so I can hop up onto the countertop. Then I wrap my legs around Fiend.
He grunts. “This is an awkward position.”
I hook my arms around his neck, giving him my most charming smile. “You put me here. You can take me wherever you want, though. I know you’re strong enough to carry me.”
Fiend presses our foreheads together, closing his eyes. “I want to do something tonight that you might not like.” He slides his hands up my thighs, pressing down into my skin and muscle through the tight denim.
Arousal stirs in my belly. I close my eyes, too. “Run it by me.”
“I w
ant you afraid.” I can feel his breath puffing against my lips as he speaks, and it intensifies the chill that rushes through my body at his words.
“Pretending like before when I said no?”
Fiend shakes his head. “No pretending.”
Maybe there’s something wrong with me because my nipples harden under my t-shirt, and my cock fills at the idea of being scared for Fiend. If it were a normal hookup, it wouldn’t be as big of a deal for a little fear play to turn me on. But I’m already watching Fiend’s every move, waiting for him to reveal that he’s evil. I shouldn’t trust him with this.
And yet… “If I say ‘elephant,’ will you stop?” I ask. “Or at least, remind me that you’re not going to do anything too bad to me? I like going to the edge, but I have to be okay afterward. Please, Fiend. Don’t hurt me.” Unwelcome and all-too-real emotions dig their claws into me, making my voice shake. Please prove Wish’s warning wrong.
Fiend sniffs audibly by my cheek and then licks me there. It’s not as gross as I remember, but I can’t help tensing at the wet feeling.
“You’re already afraid,” says Fiend.
Suddenly I’m thinking about the magnetic letters again. And I get the stupid urge to tell Fiend about the message. My heart pounds in an aching chest. I want so bad to be free of my burden, but I can’t ask him to reassure me when his options could be either to reveal himself or lie. I don’t want a lie.
Now, the wet feeling on my cheeks is my tears. “Please don’t hurt me, Fiend. I’m so scared you’ll hurt me. Wish hurt me so bad. Please.” Gripping the lapels of his trench coat, I hide in his neck. “I like you. I want you. Don’t take advantage.” My mind’s eye recalls Wish’s awkward wince, and my body remembers the bitter taste of rejection. “Us having sex was a one-time thing. I thought you got that.”
“Oh, precious…” Fiend gently pulls my fingers free of his lapels. Then he takes off his coat, letting it fall to the floor.
I run my hands over the dark cotton covering his shoulders. Fiend isn’t Wish. He’s already had me once, and he wants me again. He wants me.
Fiend holds my face and stares into my eyes. His eyes are calm and serious, but there’s a hint of something else there—anguish? “I don’t want to hurt you, my sweet. I won’t scare you anymore tonight.” He wipes my tears away. “I am sorry for upsetting you. It is all I can manage to do.” That hint of anguish swells and drowns out everything else in his otherworldly gaze.
