by Katie May
Before I can do any of that, she turns on her heel and, with a burst of vampiric speed, races away.
When her golden mane disappears around the corner, I feel my heart splinter down the center. One section remains with me, but the other…
The other leaves with her.
CHAPTER 5
VIOLET
There’s a gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be.
Literally.
As I watch, my flesh stitches back together, concealing the organs inside. Mrs. Talling—my teacher for Introductions to Paranormal Anatomy—claps her hands together gleefully.
“Thank you so much for volunteering, Violet,” she gushes.
Because what better way to study a vampire’s body than actually have a vampire cut open in front of you? And as an added bonus, she was considering this extra credit.
As the class begins to shove books and notepads into their backpacks, I turn my back to the room and drop my boob coverings—a scratchy sheet of paper that left very little to the imagination. Quickly, I pull my favorite pink bra on, covered in tiny black bats, and throw a solid black shirt over my head. It contrasts rather nicely with my hot pink skirt.
By the time I’m dressed, the rest of the monsters have already left the classroom.
“Have a great day, Violet,” Mrs. Talling says, smiling pleasantly. Immediately, I bare my fangs at the teacher and hiss menacingly. I made the mistake of trusting a teacher once, only to have her quite literally stab me in the back.
Never again, Satan. Never again.
I shrug my backpack over my shoulders, remove my phone from my jacket pocket, and head into the crowded hallway. I have Practical Theory with Mr. Pumpkin next, and I’d spent all night completing a twenty-page thesis for him.
Have you ever wondered about a monster’s internet search history?
Don’t.
Seriously, don’t.
A text from Mason appears on the screen, and a giddy smile immediately comes to my face, as it always does with him. He makes me feel like a fucking child, not the most fearsome monster in all of existence.
Correction—the daughter of the most fearsome monster in all of existence. Daddy wears that medal proudly—and I’m being literal. The award ceremony took place in Prague.
Mason: thinking of you. Dinner tonite?
Violet: Not if you don’t learn how to spell.
Mason: weirdo
Violet: Takes one to know one.
Mason: so, seriously, dinner? I’ll eat your pussy
I pause, thumbs hovering over my phone as I read his most recent text. And reread and reread and reread.
Mason: damn autocorrect. I meant I’ll buy you pizza.
Snorting, I shake my head as I sidestep a group of students hurrying in my direction.
Violet: sureeeee you did. But I can’t tonight. Meeting with Bar and Cal. You wanna come?
Mason: I always want to come when you’re around. You can’t taunt my little Mason, baby
Violet: you talking about your dick?
Mason sends me back a dozen eggplant emojis and heart-eyes.
Mason: I’ll be there
Still smiling, I slip my phone back into my pocket. That smile abruptly fades when I spot Vin and Gills—aka Cheryl—together on the other side of the hall. As I watch, she takes a step closer to him, and he bends his head down. I can’t hear what is being said, but her face puckers in annoyance and something akin to hurt.
He’s not your boyfriend, Violet. He can do whatever he wants when he wants with whomever he wants.
Then why does the sight of them together kill me?
Before I can make my hasty retreat, Gills’s eyes flicker towards mine, and the hurt in them quickly transforms into avarice. She turns back to Vin, pushes herself onto her tiptoes, and kisses him.
The room begins to spin rapidly like I’ve been caught in a whirlpool. I place a hand against the wall to steady myself, remind myself where I am. Conversations from passing students enter one ear and then immediately exit out the other. My heart hiccups once before stilling as pain bombards me. It’s like he tied a rope around my neck and hanged me from the gallows.
Gills sashays away with an exaggerated sway to her hips, but I barely notice her. I barely notice anything, actually.
Don’t care. Don’t care. Don’t care.
You are a strong and mighty warrior, Violet. You will cut off his penis and give him a severed cock blowjob as his tears bleed life into you.
Vin finally turns in my direction, and the anguished expression marring his face claws at the black hole where my heart should be.
“Violet,” he pleads, but I’m already backing away.
I feel…betrayed, almost. And something else, something I don’t want to put into words.
Dammit, I’m jealous.
His face twists, settling into a determined frown, as he begins to eat up the distance between us.
“Violet!” he bellows, shoving aside a passing werewolf.
But I can’t be around him right now. For a while, I thought he liked me. As in, liked liked me. That sliver of hope pierced the painstakingly constructed shelter around my heart.
Now? That hope has shriveled and died, leaving behind impenetrable barriers that I’m not sure anyone can ever conquer.
Fuck, did Vin break me?
I refuse to believe that. There was a reason I swore off men and cocks. I’m stronger than one broken heart, one bad day, one depressive episode. I’m stronger than the world—than the monsters and humans alike—give me credit for.
With a burst of speed, I race away from the rapidly approaching Vin Van Helsing. I have to remind myself who he is. Namely, my sworn enemy.
I’m done being pushed around by idiotic boys. If Vin wants to break my heart, good for him. He can have the entire organ.
Fuck him.
And fuck me too for developing “emotions” for him.
It’s just a giant fuck party. The only problem? There’s no lube, and the world has deemed it fitting to repeatedly fuck me in the ass.
WHAT MAKES A PERSON A MONSTER?
And no, I’m not being sarcastic.
Is it their genetics? An intrinsic part of a person that they have no control over?
Or is it their actions—the things they do, words they say, lives they take?
I don’t believe one person is inherently good or bad. Everybody has darkness nipping at their heels, swirling around in their stomachs, and demanding an outlet. At the same time, those people are capable of acts of good.
Maybe that’s what makes us monsters. One day, we can be slaughtering cities, and the next, we’re building shelters for the homeless. There are numerous facets in every aspect of nature, and human nature is no different. The unpredictability, however, is what terrifies people. We’re fallible monsters capable of horrendous acts. But we’re also capable of expressing love and kindness, and showing compassion to those who need it.
“Popcorn for your thoughts?” Barret questions, holding up a popped kernel.
“My thoughts are dumb,” I murmur, focusing on the bat pattern decorating my skirt.
“Don’t say that.” He places a gentle hand beneath my chin, guiding my face up to meet his penetrating gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Barret—otherwise known as the Boogeyman—is an intimidating monster standing at over six feet tall. He has dark skin the color of obsidian stones and green-tipped hair. Power ripples just beneath his skin, illuminating his veins in shades of green.
Before I can respond, the door to the teacher’s lounge is kicked open, and Mason and Cal enter carrying an assortment of chocolate food. I spot everything from candy bars to ice cream to chocolate-covered strawberries.
Cal drops the items down with an exaggerated huff.
“Pretty men like me shouldn’t be carrying stuff,” he laments, dramatically fanning his face. I can’t help but snort at Cal’s petty-ass attitude.
Not that he’s wrong. The man is gorgeo
us.
The world depicts Cupid as being a pudgy baby wearing a diaper. The reality? Cupid is a sexy hunk of man meat. His light pink hair is rumpled, and I can’t tell if I find it endearing or concerning. Cal is obsessed with his appearance, so I’m going to go with the latter. His skin is lightly tanned, devoid of any blemishes, and his broad shoulders narrow down to a tapered waist. Brilliant red wings sprout from his back, swaying with each movement he makes.
“I’m pretty,” Mason retorts, dropping his own container of ice cream onto the dusty counter. “You’re…well, you’re not hideous.”
Cal ruffles his feathers, eyes narrowing into slits, as Mason flashes a shit-eating grin.
“He’s Cupid,” Barret mutters. “Of course he’s not hideous.”
The Boogeyman? Sweet as can be, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn’t really understand sarcasm.
“Enough!” I step in between Medusa’s son and Cupid, placing a hand on both of their chests. I push Cal backwards, planting myself firmly in front of him as I face Mason. As always, he is bedecked in a purple flannel shirt unbuttoned over a simple gray one. His signature beanie rests snugly on his head, magicked by Frankie to remain on him no matter the situation. When I turn back towards Cal, he flicks his eyes downwards and offers me a wry grin.
“What were my two favorite people doing before I arrived? You weren’t having fun without me, were you?” Though his tone is teasing, I detect jealousy lingering just beneath the surface.
I’ve always known that Cal has a serious case of FOMO—Fear Of Missing Out—but lately, he has been taking it to an extreme.
Not that I can blame him. Both Cal and Barret are trapped in the upper levels of the Academy. They’re deemed too dangerous to associate with the other students, though why people would think that remains a mystery. They’re nothing but teddy bears to me.
Murderous teddy bears, but teddy bears all the same.
Their prison also serves as “detention” for the other monsters. Misbehaving students are sent here when they either need to be scared straight or killed.
In our world? There is no in-between.
“Cheese Curd is sad,” Barret pipes in helpfully.
“What’s the matter, Pinkie?” Mason asks immediately, sidling up so he’s between me and Cal, shoving the winged man back with a jab of his hips. He wraps his muscular arms around my waist, and I lean into his calming touch. Licks of fire spark across my skin, setting me ablaze at the menial contact.
Cal’s brows scrunch together over Mason’s shoulders as he surveys me. “It looks as if…as if her heart has been broken.”
“I don’t have a heart,” I protest immediately. All three men exchange wary looks, which only serves to piss me off further. “Seriously. I don’t. I’m the most feared monster in this entire fucking Academy. I can’t afford to.”
Mason’s arms tighten around me almost imperceptibly as Cal takes a step closer. His foreboding yet sympathetic expression immediately puts me on guard.
“It’s okay to have your heart broken, Violet,” he says, and his words eerily remind me of Jack’s from last night. “It’s also okay to cut up the man’s body and eat it for supper.”
Barret licks his lips, a faraway, wistful glaze to his eyes. “Yum. I haven’t had man meat in a while.”
“You’ll get your man meat soon,” I assure my terrifying monster friend. Immediately, my mind flickers to the erotic scene I witnessed between Cal and Barret.
Oh, yes. He’ll definitely have some man meat soon.
“I don’t know what happened,” Cal continues, intentionally ignoring my attempt to change the subject. “But you’re not less of a monster because you feel hurt, Vi.”
With great reluctance, I detangle myself from Mason’s embrace and step into Cal’s.
“Why do men have to suck so much?” I whisper, inhaling his pine and coppery smell. It reminds me distinctly of nature, of being outdoors. They’re not scents I would normally associate with the incubus.
“Because we’re dumb,” Barret adds, sandwiching me between them. The heat their combined bodies emit is almost palpable. I shiver delicately as Barret runs his nose along the side of my neck.
“Well, we’re not dumb,” Cal protests vehemently. “I have a doctorate degree from Yale.”
At that, I pull away from him to stare into his eyes. “For real?”
“For real.” He bobs his head decisively. “In Molecular Biology.” Cal’s practically preening, his wings fluttering around him in shades of pearlescent pink and red.
“Um…speaking about M-words,” Barret ventures timidly. I turn in Cal’s arms towards the mountainous man. He forks his fingers through his green hair uncomfortably. “Where did Mason go?”
CHAPTER 6
MASON
“What the fuck did you do?” I roar as I storm into Vin’s room in our shared house. The man himself is sitting at his desk, absently twirling a blade between his fingers.
He doesn’t look up when I enter, and that pisses me off more than anything else.
“Answer me, dammit!” I explode, lunging forward and turning his chair to face me. My breath rushes out of my lungs when I note his despondent, agonized expression. The dude looks like someone ate his puppy.
My anger diminishes as I release his shoulders and collapse onto the floor in front of him. I’m a monster, but even I’m not heartless enough to kick an already fallen man.
In a softer tone, I ask, “What the fuck did you do?”
Reaching into my shirt pocket, I grab a lighter and a joint of Fairy Blossom. When I offer a second one to Vin, he surprises the shit out of me by accepting it. In all the years I’ve known him, Vin has never partaken in drugs, except for a few times at parties. But depression smoking? Hell no. He must be more upset than I initially suspected.
“I fucked up, Mase,” he whispers brokenly, scrubbing a calloused hand down his face. I spread my legs out in front of me and rest back on my palms. My joint dangles precariously from my lips as I inhale sharply. Immediately, tingles race up and down my spine as the drug’s magic cocoons me.
“Tell your old friend Mason all about it,” I say, patting my lap. “Come here. Let me cuddle you.”
His disgusted look? Fucking hilarious.
“I keep screwing things up with Violet,” he admits at last, taking a long drag of Fairy Blossom. When he blows, purple smoke suffuses the room in a light sheen. “I’ve never had a girl I actually cared about before, you know?” He leans back in his desk chair and closes his eyes. “She’s my mate, man. My fucking mate.”
I freeze, shock making me momentarily immobile. I stare up at my best friend, my brother, and confusion and anger war for dominance within me.
“But…but you’re a Van Helsing,” I protest feebly, dropping my joint onto the ground with shaky fingers. “You can’t have a mate.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He scoffs, shifting uncomfortably in his leather chair. “But she… I don’t know how to explain it. I just know, okay? I just fucking know.”
Is that why I don’t feel jealous or possessive when Violet’s around Vin and the other guys? Because they’re her mates too?
There must be something in my expression, something hinting at my rapidly percolating thoughts, because Vin quirks one dark brow at me. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I blurt instantly. When Vin continues watching me with shrewd eyes, I ramble, “So what the fuck did you do that hurt her so badly?”
Because friend or not, brother or not, I will not hesitate to rip out his spine and gift it to Violet as a macabre necklace.
Sort of like a macaroni necklace but with…bones.
“She saw Cheryl kissing me,” he responds pensively.
Like a dam with too much pressure applied, I fucking crack. In the next moment, I’m on my feet and barreling down on the dumbass hunter, dropping my joint in my haste. He doesn’t lift a hand to stop me, despite easily being able to. I’ve just punched him
a second time when I feel hands on my shoulders, pulling me backwards.
“What the hell?” I seethe, facing the intruder. Frankie holds his hands up placatingly and takes an automatic step backwards.
“I heard fighting,” he deadpans, flickering his gaze from a bloody Vin to a livid me. “I needed to make sure I didn’t need to hide a body.” He uses his middle finger to push up his thick glasses. “Now, what the bloody hell is going on?”
“Bloody hell,” Vin mocks, staggering to his feet. He wipes at a blob of blood that has formed on the corner of his lips. “You’re not even British.”
“This asshole,” I hiss, seriously wishing I had Violet’s skill at coming up with creative insults and nicknames, “kissed Cheryl in front of Violet.”
The change that comes over Frankie’s face is drastic. Before, it had been merely impassive, almost bored with the conversation at large, but at my words, his eyes flash coldly and his lips curl into a hideous sneer. He looks seconds away from pouncing on Vin and finishing what I’d started.
“She kissed me,” Vin protests immediately. Now at his full, impressive height, he towers over both me and Frankie. The intricate pattern of tattoos on his skin undulate, ripple, as he flexes. “The last thing I wanted was that viper putting her lips on me.”
I shift uncomfortably at the pointed stare Vin throws my way. Months ago, Vin and Cheryl had dated. It was a loveless relationship, but a relationship all the same. During that time, Cheryl believed herself to be in love with him and was tremendously hurt when he only saw her as a body to warm his bed.
So she came to me, crying and sobbing that Vin had broken up with her. If I had been sober, I might’ve seen through her tearful façade, but alas, I’d been high as a kite. We’d fucked, and Vin barreled in just as she orgasmed. To say he was pissed is an understatement. Not because he cared about her or was jealous…but because Vin didn’t like being betrayed.
Cheryl played both of us that day and had nearly broken our already tenuous relationship.
“You broke Violet’s heart,” I tell him now, taking great pleasure in seeing pain flash across his face. Fuck, I’m a sadistic bastard, aren’t I? I blame the fairy weed.
