My Fair Monster

by Lila Dubois

  “They should. They’re dreadful, cumbersome things. I hate not having my wings.” Michael rolled his shoulders, which felt uncomfortably naked.

  “Even if Jane is this great creature of passion, that doesn’t mean you need to tutor her.”

  “What?” Michael turned to look at his friend. The idea that someone would not want to feel, experience, the extreme highs and lows of great sexual passion was beyond him. They, the monsters, had grown to become a fatalistic race, and as far as Michael was concerned this time upon the Earth was meant to be lived to its fullest.

  “What if Jane doesn’t want to know passion?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “She’s human.”

  “I think that I understand humans better than you.”

  “A lifetime of listening to old family stories does not make you an expert on humans, An—”

  “Stop. I hate that word.”

  “Fine. Corrupt Jane. Have your wicked way with her. Then what? Will you mate her as Luke’s done to Lena?”

  “Maybe,” Michael said. In reality he was not thinking in those terms. True he wanted sex with Jane. Again true he found himself thinking about her at odd times, all the time really. And of course he would kill any other man who touched her and the death would be slow, lingering and as painful as possible. And occasionally he would hear a beautiful love song, think of her and tears would come to his eyes… But that didn’t mean he wanted to mate her, or love her, as the humans were so fond of saying.

  “You’ll hurt her.”

  “I won’t.” Sudden jealousy whipped through Michael and in one leap he was across the room, pinning Henry’s head to the back of the couch by a death grip on his throat. “What’s your interest in my woman?”

  Henry’s face was turning red, then slightly purple. The air around him wavered and Henry’s skin began to ripple. His neck thickened, his body growing even as he sat on the couch. Henry was changing from human to his true form as a monster.

  Michael drew on the spell that bound him in human form, rooted in the elaborate tattoo along his spine. Henry’s fingers, now scaled and tipped in claws, wrapped around his arm, the tips digging in, just short of drawing blood.

  “Whoa, what the hell?”

  Lena stood in the door, shopping bags in her hands. Luke, busy closing the door, looked up at her exclamation, saw what was happening and shoved Lena into the kitchen, ordering her to stay there, out of harm’s way.

  Luke, still in full human form, moved between them, shoving the half-monster half-human creatures apart. “Complete your change or return to human,” he commanded. “It’s dangerous to take a half-form.”

  Luke’s words hit them like a slap, and Michael released his friend’s throat, backing away. Henry pushed up from the couch, bowed his head and returned to his human form. Michael did the same.

  Michael’s T-shirt was shredded, and his jeans had split at the side seam. Luckily his shoes were okay as his change hadn’t reached his feet.

  “What happened?” Luke demanded in a low voice.

  “Michael’s losing control.”

  Michael snarled and Henry’s words. “My control is fine. Henry has designs on my woman.”

  “See?” Henry demanded.

  “Ah…Jane.”

  “He’s seeing her tonight,” Henry advised.

  “Henry, are you interested in her?” Luke looked at Michael as he asked the question.

  “No, but I am concerned—”

  “Not now. You are not interested in her, that’s what’s important.”

  “She’s human. She’s fragile. Michael’s going to hurt her, break her,” Henry protested.

  “I know more about humans that you do,” Michael retorted.

  “Doesn’t seem like it,” Henry replied.

  “Stupid fucker,” Michael growled.

  “Asshole,” Henry replied.

  “Morons,” Luke broke in, “you’re both being fucking morons. I know more about humans, especially human women, then both of you. Jane is very sweet, but she can take care of herself. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that human women are not fragile.”

  “Damn right!” Lena shouted from the kitchen.

  Chapter Four

  Casual dinner. This was just a casual dinner. Jane tugged at her thin white cardigan. She’d pair the sweater with a robin’s-egg blue tank top and dangly silver earrings. She’d gone back and forth between jeans and a tailored white skirt for a few minutes, okay, two hours, and settled on the skirt.

  It was the perfect, casual summer outfit. It was a bit more daytime than she might have liked for a seven p.m. meeting, but the sun was still out, so it would have to do. She brushed her fingers through her bangs, making sure they were in place, before ringing the doorbell.

  Michael opened the door, and Jane swallowed, hard. He was sin in black slacks.

  “Hello, come in.” He stepped back, all cool confidence, and Jane had to remind herself to breathe.

  “Hello,” Jane managed, taking a small step. That step brought her in range of his long arm and Michael took her hand, guiding her into the foyer. Michael pushed the door closed and raised her hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, her knuckles and fingertips. Then he raised her other hand and repeated the process. By the time he was done any pretense of this being a casual, research-oriented get-together was gone.

  “I’ll take this for you.” Michael took her purse, then slipped her cardigan off her shoulders. Her outfit went from summer casual to date-appropriate in one easy step. Jane swallowed. Her mouth was dry, her palms and lower back sweaty, and she was very, very nervous.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  Jane jerked her head in a nod.

  He laid her sweater and purse on a table in the foyer, then slid his arm around her waist, leading her into the living room. Jane stopped in her tracks as they came around the corner. Small halogen spotlights accented the art on the walls lighting the living room. The only other light came from a plethora of navy candles that dotted every table and lamp stand. They pearl gray carpet looked plush and soft while the red suede couch and chairs were muted to burgundy by the lighting.

  “Wher-where’s Henry?” Jane stammered.

  Michael tightened his hold on her waist, turning her towards him. “Why do you care where Henry is?” There was something menacing, dangerous, in his voice.

  “I thought…thought we were having dinner.”

  “You wanted to have dinner with Henry?” Michael pulled her to him until Jane’s hips were pressed to his. She arched her back to keep her breasts from touching his chest.

  “No, but I thought we were having a friendly dinner. The three of us.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Good question. It was only Jane’s amazing powers of self-delusion that allowed her to imagine tonight to be anything other that what it was—a night of seduction.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Are you disappointed that it’s just us?”

  “Disappointed? No. I’m not disappointed. I’m terrified.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you. I never have been, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “I know, but I can’t help being scared.”

  Michael cupped her cheek in his hand, tilting her face up. He looked at her for a moment, and Jane wondered what he could see in her face, in her eyes. He was not human, did not have a lifetime’s worth of experience reading someone else’s emotions in their face to fall back on.

  Whatever skills he did have, whatever he read in her face, made him smile softly as he led Jane to the couch. Set out on the coffee table were two plates of food, wineglasses and silverware.

  Jane knew the condo had a dining room, she’d seen it when she’d helped Michael and Henry move in. Clearly they never used it. Otherwise it would have occurred to him to set up dinner there. The flaw in the otherwise-stately pageant he was conducting relaxed Jane, and she smiled at Michael, who was fussing with a
bottle of wine.

  He poured them each of glass of red, which was far too dry to be paired with the chicken and salad on their plates. Jane hid a second smile when she saw the take-out bag tucked under the coffee table.

  “A toast,” Michael said, holding up his glass.

  Jane raised hers, a small, amused smile playing around her mouth. Michael looked at her, and seemed to freeze. They stayed like that, looking at one another, glasses raised, for over a minute.

  “Um…Michael?” she prompted, fighting the urge to widen her smile.

  “Hmm?”

  “The toast?”

  “Oh, right.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Your smile is so beautiful. It distracted me.”

  Jane felt a blush heat her cheeks and dipped her chin. Michael’s hand on her cheek raised her face, until she was once more looking into his eyes.

  “To you, to your beauty and kindness and grace.”

  “Oh, Michael,” she whispered, charmed, not by the words, but by the unstudied sincerity in his voice.

  He raised his glass to his lips and drank, his gaze never leaving hers. She sipped the wine and when he took her glass, setting it on the table, beside his, she did not protest.

  He cupped her face once more, this time with two hands. “I dream about you,” he confided in a whisper, and then he kissed her.

  Jane melted beneath his touch. Unlike last night at the club, he was not all over her. The only place he touched was her face with his hands and her lips with his. It was sweet and gentle, the movements small and precious, with no hint of tongue. It felt like a first kiss, though he tasted of red wine and a man far older than any first kiss partner should be.

  Jane could only blame herself for what happened next, as she was the one who took it to the next step. She stroked his forearm, tracing up his arm to his shoulder. She laid her hand there, light as a butterfly’s wing. He shivered. This powerful man, all muscle and heat, shivered at her touch. Jane sighed against his lips and then grabbed him, digging her nails into his shoulder.

  Michael jerked in surprise, and in the next moment Jane was on her back on the couch, her shirt riding up to the bottom of her bra as his hand roamed over the hot flesh of her belly.

  The kiss turned savage. His lips opened against hers, his tongue thrust deep into her mouth, dueling with hers. Jane freed her other hand from where it had become trapped between her body and the couch and reached up, wrapping it around Michael to pull him closer. Teeth scraped lips, the slight stubble on his chin rasped her cheeks and Michael’s fingers found their way under her skirt.

  Jane turned her head and gasped, “Michael, wait.”

  “What?”

  “This is…this is going too fast.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean move your hand.” He shifted the hand that cupped her shoulder. “Your other hand.”

  “Oh.” Michael slid his hand out from under her skirt, petting her inner thigh as he did so.

  “I’m sorry,” Jane said, sitting up. “I’m not ready for this.”

  Michael turned away for a moment and Jane could see the muscles in his jaw working. “When? When will you be ready?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I will ever be ready, Michael.”

  “I don’t understand you. You want this, I can tell, I can feel it when I touch you.”

  “I am physically attracted to you. I’m not denying that. I’m just not sure I’m ready to start anything with you. I’m not sure I’m ready for a relationship.”

  Michael blinked, once, and a ball of acid formed in Jane’s stomach.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I’d assumed you wanted something more than a quick fuck.” She spat out the last word as her mood swung from embarrassed to angry.

  “I don’t want just a fuck,” Michael said calmly, which made her angrier.

  “Good, because that would be really insulting if you did.”

  “I want you.”

  “In what way, Michael? I assumed, from what Luke and Lena have, that anything between us would be serious. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a physical relationship with you knowing it would lead to a more serious relationship. And now that I know all you wanted was sex, I’m really fucking glad that I said stop.”

  Jane jumped from the couch and paced across the floor. Michael slowly rose from the couch.

  “I don’t want just a fuck. I want more.”

  “But you don’t want a relationship, do you? I can see it on your face.”

  “I don’t want just a fuck.”

  “Stop saying that! Talk to me!” Jane hated fighting with people who wouldn’t fight back. She rarely got angry or lost her temper, but when she did she expected everyone to fight.

  One minute Jane was glaring at the seemingly passive Michael, the next she was in his arms, her feet dangling from the floor.

  “Talk to you? From the moment we’ve met I’ve listened to every word you’ve said. I’ve had to stop myself from kissing you a thousand times over. I think about you all the time, day and night, and my cock gets hard every time you walk into the room. Do you know what that’s like? Being so out of control that I can’t stop this disgusting human body from reacting to you.”

  His eyes were still blue, but now there was lightning in them. Jane’s breath caught in terror as she watched strikes of lightning dance in the irises of his eyes.

  “What are you?” she whispered.

  “A monster,” he growled. He kissed her. This time there was more than passion in it. There was anger and frustration. He held her pressed to him with arms like steel bands, and her neck was bent back at a terrible angle.

  Jane whimpered into his mouth, and Michael released her.

  Jane ran for the door, snatching up her purse as she went. She opened the door, and without looking back, fled.

  Chapter Five

  Jane stopped in the hall.

  What was she doing?

  Pressing her back to the wall, Jane rubbed her mouth with her hand. She needed to calm down. She’d clearly written too many dramatic scenes in screenplays if she thought running out of the condo was an appropriate response to the situation. Real people didn’t do that, real people sat and talked about their feelings and needs, even if one of those people happened to be a monster.

  Jane fixed her bangs, then retraced her steps to the door. Just as she put her hand on the knob there was a heavy thunk from inside. She recoiled, fingers wiggling indecisively. There were no further noises from inside. Jane knocked.

  There was a long pause before she heard steps approach the door.

  Michael, his right hand wrapped in a dishtowel, opened the door. The moment he saw her, his whole body went stiff, as if braced for battle. Jane smiled slowly and hoped this, undoubtedly bad, plan worked.

  “Hello, Michael.”

  “Hello,” he said, voice as stiff as his posture.

  “I’m here for our meeting. I hope you don’t mind that I’m late.”

  Michael’s brows drew together, but he stepped back, letting her in. He didn’t touch her.

  Jane placed her purse on top of the sweater she’d left on the table in the foyer. Above the table was a fist-shaped indent in the wall.

  She turned to Michael, smiled and then headed into the living room. The main overhead lights were on, though the candles were still lit. She picked up the plates of food and carried them into the kitchen, skirting Michael, who was still standing in the foyer.

  She combined the salad on one plate, the chicken on the other, and stuck the chicken into the microwave to warm up.

  “I thought we could maybe talk a bit about you all, the monsters I mean.”

  Michael stood in the kitchen door, and didn’t respond, though he accepted the plates Jane handed him. She snagged their wineglasses off the coffee table and took them to the dinning room, with Michael trailing in her wake. She dashed back for the silverware, and when she returned to the dining room Michael had set down the plate
s and situated the wineglasses next to them. Jane handed him silverware and then sat. Michael took a seat and they dug into the food, eating in silence for several moments.

  Jane watched him as he ate, waiting for the frown line that marred his brow to smooth before speaking.

  “The food is lovely, did you cook?”

  Michael looked up and Jane winked, showing she was teasing. Michael smiled in relief, then said, “Lucky for you I didn’t cook. I have no idea how to work anything in the kitchen. I like human food, but don’t know how to cook any of it.”

  “Where did you learn to like human food?”

  “Did Luke tell you how we used to sneak into a farmer’s house when we were young?”

  “He did, but I’d like to hear the story from you.”

  Michael finished his chicken, wiped his mouth and leaned back in his seat. Jane smiled encouragingly and picked up her wine. Michael tilted his head and looked at her, finally saying, in a whisper, “Thank you.”

  Jane leaned over and whispered, “You’re welcome.”

  She hoped he was apologizing for the kiss, the one that had nearly broken her neck, and not for anything else. She didn’t believe that people had to apologize for their feelings. All you had to do was respect that other people could have different feelings.

  “Luke, Henry and I all come from the same clan.”

  “What’s a clan?”

  “Clans used to be distinct…races of monsters. Each clan elected a member to a Council. But as the monsters died, as lack of space drove some races to give up, there were no longer enough of each species to call a clan. Clans became groups who lived together in one place, like a human city.”

  “Luke said that all monsters are unique, but it sounds like there are races of the same.”

  “Yes and no. There were clans who were similar, with the same…” He frowned at her, needing a word.

  “Characteristics?”

  “Yes. All would have wings, similar height, body shape. But beyond that they would be different. The color of skin and wings, amount of fur or hair, all different.”

  “How many monsters are there, all together?”

  “I don’t know. But the numbers are not great, nothing close to the billions of humanity. There may be more than even the Council knows about. Some clans broke away from the Council. They decided the best defense would be to hide, even from the rest of us.”