Monsters

by Katie May

  Frankie is dressed as Fred, complete with the white shirt and abnormally tight pants. Jack is our resident Scooby with magically created dog ears and black spots on his brown sweater.

  Both men roar with laughter when they see me.

  “Laugh it up, assholes. I doubt you’ll be laughing as much when Violet’s head is under my skirt.” With a huff, I throw myself onto the couch between them. They both glance at each other over my head, turn towards me, and break into raucous laughter once more.

  On the bright side, I’ll get to see Violet as Daphne. My girl can pull almost anything off. But a skin tight purple dress? Fuck yes.

  Mason swaggers downstairs, his hands shoved in his pockets and a confident sway to his hips. He still wears his customary beanie, but his flannel has been replaced by a long green shirt.

  “Isn’t Shaggy supposed to have...like...shaggy hair?” I ask, still irritated with Violet. And myself, if I am being completely honest. I haven’t even officially mated with her yet—and we’re sure as fuck not in a relationship—but she already has me wrapped around her little fingers.

  Hopefully, my dick will be one of those things.

  Wrapped, I mean. Around her fingers.

  Well...it’s not as if my dick can wrap around her fingers, so I suppose, technically, it’ll be her fingers wrapped around my cock instead of the other way around.

  Or her entire hand.

  Or her mouth.

  Or her sweet cunt…

  “What the hell?” Mason exclaims, eyes flying towards the door. My mouth drops open as Violet enters, Cal and Barret trailing behind her with wide eyes. I’ve heard that the school releases all of the monsters during this sacreligious holiday, but to see it in person is an entirely different thing. The monster hunter in me perceives them as a threat and wants to stab a sword through each of their bodies. The man in me knows they mean us no harm.

  Well, they mean Violet no harm.

  “You ready for the party?” Violet asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  All I can do is stare at the little temptress in horror. She’s not dressed as Daphne. There’s actually not a lick of purple on her person.

  Instead, her blonde hair is brushed back into a low ponytail. She wears a long brown trench coat with a black suit beneath it. Cal, the leaner of the two, is wearing a dark green jacket, and Barret is wearing a loose flannel shirt.

  “What the fuck are you?” Mason continues.

  “Monster hunters. Duh. I’m Castiel. And they’re Sam and Dean.” She indicates Barret and Cal respectively.

  I stand up slowly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  She takes one look at me...and breaks into laughter.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” she asks between giggles.

  “Your damn costume,” I mutter. I don’t necessarily feel self-conscious, but it’s not like I want the girl I’m falling in love with to see me this way. Ducking my head, I stare at my currently bare feet…

  Until my glasses slide off my nose.

  That makes Violet laugh even louder, clutching her stomach and falling into Cal who screams, “Don’t mess up the hair!”

  I dare a glance up when she says my name.

  “Vin, sweetie,” she repeats, wiping tears from her eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I didn’t send you that costume.”

  “I thought you wanted to be the Scooby Gang?” I ask, confused. “You sent me this.”

  She giggles. “I texted Mason yesterday telling him that we were all going to be different monster hunters, from different movies and television shows. You're supposed to be one of the Men in Black. I sent the costume yesterday as well.”

  Barret’s eyes lower, resting on my bare—hairy—thighs not concealed by the knee high socks.

  “He looks good,” he says with an unashamed wink. Cal straightens to his full, impressive height, red wings fluttering behind him. I wonder if there are cuts in his jacket for them.

  “Not as good as I look,” he argues with a huff. Both Barret and Violet simultaneously roll their eyes.

  “Get changed.” Violet claps her hands together. “We have a party to get to!” She punctuates this statement with a fist to the air and a butt wiggle. Barret immediately copies her until I have Dracula’s daughter and the Boogeyman twerking in my living room. While I’m dressed as Velma.

  What a fucking day.

  “I’m going to murder you,” I whisper to Mason as I pass.

  “In my closet to the right,” he replies—the location of my missing costume. Grumbling, I take the stairs two at a time, easily slipping into Mason’s trashed room.

  There’s a few empty containers of fairy dust on the dresser and more on the bed.

  I know Mason wants to quit for Violet, but if he tries to do it cold turkey, I fear what the consequences will be. There’s a reason fairy dust is one of the most addictive ingredients in the monster world.

  Sidestepping a mountain of clothes on the ground, I head to his closet and grab a black suit and sunglasses. This costume I can get behind. Hopefully, Violet is one of those women who can appreciate a man in a suit.

  Instead of going to my room, I opt to change in Mason’s. Maybe I’ll fuck with him and get rid of all his clothes, so all that’s left is the Velma outfit.

  I’m just slipping the jacket on when a book on his nightstand captures my attention. I honestly can’t tell you why. Maybe because it’s old, with fading yellow pages and indecipherable words. Maybe it’s because I’m a nosey bastard.

  Either way, I step over to the nightstand and glance at the page he was currently reading. Most of the words are faded, but there’s one section that stands out. My body grows cold; my lungs struggle to replenish the rapidly leaving air.

  It’s a book about mates and mate bonds.

  More importantly, it’s a book about how to sever a mate bond.

  And kill the recipient of the bond in the process.

  Chapter 35

  Violet

  The last party I went to involved fancy dresses, bottles of wine mixed with blood, and a wall of chained humans.

  As I step through the door, I brace myself for the pungent, familiar scent of blood and sweat to assault my senses. I do smell sweat, but thankfully, there are no chained humans.

  The party takes place in a house next door to the guys’. Cheryl’s and her friends’, if the pictures adorning the walls are any indication. My stomach twists painfully when one picture on the wall captures my attention.

  It’s Cheryl and Vin, the hunter’s arm wrapped around her waist. Cheryl is glancing up at him like he holds the moon, but Vin’s expression is closed off. Blank.

  “I hate parties,” Vin murmurs, oblivious to the direction of my gaze. I have to admit he looks handsome, sexy even, in his form-fitting black suit, cufflinks, and dark tie. He looks positively dashing.

  Though I do prefer the Velma outfit. Something about seeing his muscular legs…

  “Ohhh! Violet! Look!” Cal says, bouncing up and down like an excited little boy. He wraps one of his arms around my shoulders and points with the other. I try to see what he’s seeing, but all I spot is a crowded room with blaring music and dim lights. “They’re dancing. I miss dancing. I don’t get to dance often in my prison. Dance with me!”

  “Last time I danced I broke my neck,” I reply dryly. When Cal pushes out his lower lip, pouting—honest to God pouting—I groan. “Don’t make that face at me. You’re a grownass monster. You shouldn’t pout.”

  “But I want to dance,” he whines, attempting to sway my body side to side. I laugh despite myself at his antics. Honesty, Cal reminds me of a large man-baby. His childlike energy is infectious, but I can’t blame him. He has spent years hidden in the top floors of the academy with the other dangerous monsters. The only time he is allowed a reprieve is during important holidays, such as Halloween. The magic embedded in his skin forces him back to the academy at midnight.

  A real life, monstrous, Cinde
rella story.

  But he’s one of my best friends, and if he wants to dance during his night free, then we’ll fucking dance.

  “Save me one, Pinkie!” Mason calls as I allow Cal to pull me onto the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Barret moving to a game of beer pong, body vibrating with excitement. Vin leans against the far wall, away from the dancing bodies and drunk monsters. Frankie and Jack stand a little bit away from him, deep in conversation. As I watch, transfixed, an unfamiliar female steps up and says something to the two males. An uncontrollable bout of jealousy spears my chest. I can’t hear what is said, but the girl walks away appearing dejected.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Cal whispers in my ear, body twitching with the music. Literally twitching. For a powerful Incubus demon and the world-renowned Cupid, he has horrible rhythm. His large red wings ram into anyone and everyone that gets too close. When a handsome man, who has danced up behind me, gets knocked on his ass, I have to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

  “No trouble,” I say, pretending to push a shopping cart and pulling invisible items down from the shelf. “No paradise.”

  “Oh please,” Cal snorts. He does what appears to be an offbeat version of the sprinkler. “I’m all about love. Literally. I see love and feel love and create love.” The last statement is said with a flutter of his wings for emphasis. “And those guys?” He nods first to Vin, Frankie, and Jack, still hiding against the wall, and then to Mason who has partnered up with Barret for beer pong. “They’re halfway there already.”

  Halfway there.

  Halfway in love.

  My stomach tightens, churns, flutters like a thousand butterflies taking flight.

  “Halfway isn’t all the way there,” I point out breathlessly, unsure if I can believe his dogmatic words. “If we’re running a race, halfway isn’t the finish line. It means you lose.”

  I’m babbling, I know it. Sue me.

  Cal smiles knowingly. “Believe me, sweetheart. I have had over a thousand women and men in love with me. I know what it is.”

  “Have you?” I ask, peering up at his handsome face.

  “Have I what?” I wonder if he’s purposefully being dense. His long lashes flutter as he twists and turns to the music.

  “Been in love.”

  He stops dancing abruptly, and I realize my question hasn’t been as obvious as I thought. Warm, golden eyes peer down at me. I suppose I haven’t ever paid attention to his eye color before, but they’re beautiful. Glistening orbs of molten gold.

  After a moment, he wrenches his head up to look at a spot over my shoulder.

  “No,” he says at last. “I thought I was. Once. Maybe twice. But it’s hard to tell what’s love and what’s simply lust.” He shrugs his shoulders, but there’s no hiding the brief stab of pain that flashes across his face. Those memories haunt him, torment him. They create the shadows in his eyes—the ghosts only he can see. “But never true love. At least, not yet.” His tone turns wistful, heavy with pain, regret, and longing.

  “What about Barret?” I ask, remembering the compromising position I found them in. Well, heard them in. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory.

  “No, not love. He’s my best friend, sure, but I need sex to survive. Sometimes, he’s the only person available.” He pauses, releasing a heavy sigh. There’s such longing in his gaze, such longing dripping from every word, that my stomach tightens. What must it be like to be locked away? To be hidden from the world? What makes him so bad and scary in a world full of darkness that he is imprisoned? His mouth sets into a grim, unforgiving line. “Maybe I’ll find love.”

  I offer him a soft smile. “I’ll help.” And I will. Whatever he needs. Whenever.

  After a moment, he gifts me a tremulous smile.

  “We should get you back to the others. I can’t hog you…even though I’m prettier than all of them.” He pauses, staring down at me with earnest eyes. They burrow themselves in my very soul, chipping a piece of my heart. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “Thank you for not killing me and making me choke on your cock,” I deadpan.

  The expression on his face? Priceless.

  As we move through the throng of students, my eyes are drawn to a familiar figure leaning against the wall with a severe expression. Headmaster. When we make eye contact—you all know the type, awkward as fuck—he nods in greeting. I awkwardly wave, spotting Ms. Stevens beside him and another of my professors beside her.

  No Dimitri.

  “Why are the teachers here?” I query as we move to the edge of the dance floor.

  “Chaperones,” Cal answers, lips curling in distaste. It’s hard for me to remember that these teachers, the same teachers who have been nothing but kind to me (minus Dimitri), have locked him away. “It is a school event after all.”

  He grabs my hand and drags me towards where Barret and Mason are demolishing the opposite team at beer pong.

  “How many of you are up there?” I ask, motioning vaguely towards the ceiling, even though we’re not even in the academic building at the moment.

  “About a dozen. There’s three floors of us.”

  “And it’s only you and Barret on your floor?” I ask, and he goes silent. Pensive. I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to offer him comfort through touch alone. I can’t say I understand what he’s going through, but I imagine he’s immensely lonely. Despite that, there’s tenebrous determination hiding behind his soft smile.

  “Pinkie!” Mason cheers before Cal can answer, running towards me and spinning me around. The opponents of the beer pong game grumble, but indulge Mason.

  “Pinkie!” Barret echoes, taking me from Mason.

  Mason’s eyes flare at his use of my nickname. I half expect him to start growling, lifting his leg to urinate on my leg and claim me as his.

  Goodness gracious. Where had that thought come from?

  Normal people should not pee. Well, they should pee, but just not on people. Unless that person has wronged you, then you have permission to pee away. Preferably in the mouth.

  “My nickname,” Mason hisses, and Barret blinks his eyes innocently.

  “Fine,” Barret concedes at last. “Then I want my own nickname. Hmmm.”

  “Nothing stupid,” I warn. “Or cheesy. Or girly.”

  “Oh! How about Cheese Curd?” He flashes me a bright grin, showcasing two rows of perfectly white teeth. For a man who eats humans, he has very good hygiene.

  “Cheese Curd?” I parrot, but fuck, how can I resist that smile?

  Don’t give in, Violet. Don’t give in.

  “It’s perfect,” I finish, flashing him a smile of my own.

  Dammit. No strength.

  Mason smothers his laughter with his hand.

  “Really, really good,” I continue, pleased when my voice isn’t belligerent. Barret positively beams looking so damn adorable with his green hair and dark skin and flashing white teeth. It’s impossible to be impervious to his beguiling brown eyes. The last thing I want to do is take candy from a baby.

  Or a cheese curd from the Boogeyman.

  “Now,” I say, turning back towards the carefully arranged plastic cups. “Who wants to have their ass not beaten in beer pong?”

  Unsurprisingly, no asses are beaten but mine. Badly. Honestly, at this point, I would expect one of the guys to show me some mercy.

  Instead, they remain relentless, combative predators.

  Competitive assholes.

  When I lose—again—and Mason whoops like he won the lottery—again—I storm away from the boys and into the kitchen.

  Not that I’m a poor loser or anything.

  During the hour we’ve been playing, the party had come to life. More than one monster has a glazed, indifferent look to their eyes. I don’t know what the teachers are chaperoning, but it sure as hell isn’t the alcohol and fairy drug consumption.

  The headmaster is standing at the drink table, eyes intense as he surveys the students. When h
e sees me, he nods his head once more in a barely decipherable greeting. Wordlessly, he hands me a drink spiked with blood and something stronger. Something pungent. Alcohol, more than likely, mixed with fairy piss. I almost consider declining based on that alone before decide why the hell not? It’s a party.

  Taking a sip, I wrinkle my nose at the disgusting taste of stale blood. Bagged blood. Nothing like the enticing taste of Vin’s or Jack’s.

  “Your father called me today.” Headmaster’s slashing eyebrows pull low over glowering eyes.

  “What did he want?” I take another small sip.

  “He’s worried about you.” He sounds...aghast by the prospect. Shocked, almost, as if it’s difficult to believe that Dracula could care about anyone but himself.

  “What did you tell him?”

  Headmaster’s eyes remain fixed on the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Behind his tangled beard, I can’t even be sure his lips are moving.

  “I told him that you’re safe and well. And that is not a lie, is it?” He finally pierces me with a penetrating glare, one brow raised. I can understand his unease. Dad is immensely powerful in the monster world. If he felt the need, my dad could destroy Headmaster and this school. Wolf Man or not, he has nothing on Dracula.

  “It is not a lie.” We exchange a glance of solidarity, a silent agreement to keep the horrors plaguing this campus far from my father. Who the hell knows how he’ll react?

  I move away from Headmaster when I spot a familiar shock of dark hair and a scar marring a scowling face. Hux.

  “I always forget how horrid I find these parties,” he murmurs when I arrive. I have to admit my monster looks cute as fuck with his puppy dog ears and nose.

  “You don’t have to stay that much longer,” I say.

  “For you, my precious treasure, I’ll stay for eternity.” He grabs my wrist, and I swear warmth migrates from where our bare skin touches, settling in my chest. Heat radiates throughout my body accompanied by a kaleidoscope of emotions.

  He can whisper “my precious treasure” all night long. In twenty different languages. Or he can just bark it like a dog. Either way, I’ll be one very happy—very thirsty—monster.