Playing With Monsters

by Amelia Hutchins

  In the garden she was more aware, but the first time I kissed her? Her lips moved, and yet no sound had come out, fish out of motherfucking water. She wasn’t even my type. I liked my women fast and easy, disposable. And I didn’t fucking kiss; kissing insinuated feelings. I didn’t feel. Not anymore. I laughed silently. I kissed her. I didn’t break my own fucking rules, ever, not for anyone, no matter how much I wanted them.

  The last woman I kissed and felt something for was dead; her portrait hung above my mantel. A reminder of the fucking monster I’d become. I was more than she could handle. I fucked like I fought: Dirty, ruthless, and without a single ounce of mercy.

  I was the person you don’t want to get close to. I wasn’t a good person, and didn’t fucking care to be, either. I was the one you called when you want something done without question. Don’t ask, I wouldn’t fucking tell. I could make people disappear without a fucking trace. I was the creature that the other monsters feared. I was the one who hid in the shadows, tracking my prey and killing them before they even knew I was there. They didn’t see me coming unless I wanted them to. I enjoyed killing; that subtle rush of adrenaline reminded me of who I was, what I was. It was the only emotion I could feel. Until her.

  She had darkness inside of her that I’d only seen a few times before. A darkness that slithered just beneath the surface, and was deadly once it had been released. She was a little broken, and yet there was a light in her eyes that I couldn’t ignore. She’d looked unsure standing at the entrance to the party. I’d felt her fears; known the moment she’d been about to run. I couldn’t let that happen. Not without tasting her first. She was fire to my ice, sun to my moon, lace to my leather. Polar fucking opposites that shouldn’t attract.

  The moment I kissed her, I forgot where I was and what I was doing. I was gentle with her, and I wasn’t fucking gentle. I broke bones, killed worlds. I was the villain, not the fucking hero. I didn’t even taste her blood yet; fucking idiot. I walked away, confidence in check as I moved inside. She was unaware that I’d followed close behind her, stalking my prey.

  When she’d gone out to the garden, I followed her. Watched her. The moment she left the party, she became my prey. Hunted. It should have ended at the first kiss. Instead, I needed another taste, and once I’d sampled her blood in the garden, and knew she wasn’t my target…that should have settled it. It didn’t. I needed to own her, to hear her scream my name. To feel her flesh pound against mine; continually pounding it until she was nothing more than a hot, quivering mess.

  Her sister hadn’t been a match either, but twins were irregular in covens. I needed to know why they’d been born now, and why they bore such a resemblance to her. Katarina loved games, and she loved her pathetic coven more. She’d included them every time she was reborn in our twisted game of revenge. I’m almost positive that it was one of her family’s descendants who built this estate, and the maze that I’d almost fucked Magdalena in.

  Somehow, I knew once wouldn’t be enough with her. The moment she had pulled back, I got cocky, watched her eyes become aware of the prick in front of her as her inner bitch unsheathed her claws. I’d smiled, knowing she’d want distance, and I needed it. My cock needed distance from her supple curves, and inside the house was far enough. It would give me enough time to remind myself of what was at stake.

  I didn’t show anyone the monster I’d become. Instead, I projected formality and civility. It placated the witches. It gave them a false sense of security to think a being such as I could merely be human. I was so fucking far from it. Most thought I was Lucifer’s right-hand man, but I was so fucking much more. Time had no meaning for me, or my kind. Worlds died. We didn’t. We moved on to the next, evolved, dug in, and repeated the cycle.

  I was fucked if I wanted this little girl. Me, the scariest fucking monster currently residing in this world, with some sweet little witch, one who hasn’t even been awoken to her powers? Fucking pathetic. I chose to believe it was that scent of hers that was drawing me in, making my dick sore with how fucking hard it was. She needed to be thrown down and fucked until she’s reduced to nothing more than a hot, trembling mess. Until her mind could no longer determine where pain ended and pleasure began. In the end, they always screamed and begged for more, and I loved it when they begged me, bartering with me.

  I didn’t have any mercy and I didn’t pretend otherwise.

  I watched her as she left the porch, unaware that a monster was watching her every move. Barefooted, skirt hiked up enough to reveal cream-colored flesh as she walked to the small cottage alone. She stopped at the midway point to the cottage and looked around as if she could sense she was being watched. Could she feel me? Impossible. Her head tilted to the side, listening. Eyes glanced at the spot where I stood, bathed in the shadows.

  What. The. Fuck. She had not been through the Awakening; she couldn’t fucking sense me. I watched her scan the shadows where I stood. It would be so fucking easy to crook my finger and whisper the words of dark compulsion to bring her right to my front door.

  She was different from the others I’d encountered so far in the coven; smarter. She pulled away first. She had a strong moral compass buried inside of her. I liked to own things, make them mindless, and mine. This one, she’d be wild to own; she’d put up one hell of a fight before ever allowing another to own her submission. Tonight she wanted to throw that moral compass out the window and fuck like animals on the dirty ground of her own estate; I’d felt it. She pulled away. It pissed me off. No one has ever denied me; they all ended up exactly where I wanted them in the end.

  She started to move again, eyes open wide, watching, looking for something. Me? My eyes traced the lines of her supple body. She’s slender, petite even, definitely not my type, she’s fucking breakable. I liked my women hardy, able to handle what I gave them without the fear of breaking them, not that I bloody fucking cared if they broke in the end. Her breasts were small, at best a handful for my large hands. I liked them bigger, liked to watch them bounce as I pounded into their body. Rock-fucking-hard from a single pinch. Fuck. Her hips were slim, too slim. Not nearly as full as they should have been. Yet my mind played out a vision of her, ass up, head down, and me fucking pounding her sweet flesh, why? Head case much?

  Would she be like the others I fucked, and lose a little piece of her soul when she shattered at the end of it? Would she even realize what she’d lost by fucking someone like me? The others never had; clueless as fuck. Only one had felt my invasion, and she’d paid for it. Turned against me, and ended up hunted down and…

  Don’t go there. Dick gets hard, the fiend stirs. It’s dark in there.

  Witches are different than human men and women; I liked their breed. Ethics, bitches didn’t have them. They were as fucked up as I was. They bred and would often kick their partner out like fucking trash on garbage day. Witches were smart, they got to the point. No fuss, no muss. Spread those pretty little legs open, fuck for days to breed the next generation, and then it was over as quickly as it began. Power received for those of age, baby in the oven, and they moved on. Even the mated ones moved on.

  Maybe it explained why this little wisp of a girl had the balls to look me in the eyes when most full-grown men couldn’t do it. Most knew they looked upon death in human form, and yet she held my stare without fear. Ballsy, even for a witch.

  I liked the way her body moved, the way she moved. Slow and sure of her surroundings, she was searching for evil in the shadows, her eyes looking around, carefully taking everything in. Most wouldn’t notice it, but I did. She was careful with her life, and yet so weak in my presence.

  She grabbed my dick.

  There was more than chemistry there. Explosive, cataclysmic events unfolded before she released it. I’d let it happen; I got hard before she released it…she’d felt it. She didn’t flinch from the size; she flinched because of what she was holding. I’d discovered sever
al facts in those seconds as her hand gripped my dick. One, she wasn’t skilled at fucking. A dick’s a hard fucking thing to not notice. Literally. Two, she’s not a virgin like half the whimpering bitches at the party. She got fucked, but it was probably one hell of a letdown. I’d find him, and end him. Do the women of this world a kindness. No one touched what I wanted, or what I planned to own, even if I didn’t plan on keeping it.

  I’d set myself directly in her fucking path. Head-on collision, same as she did to me at the entrance of the maze. Tit for motherfucking tat. I needed to know if she felt me as strongly as I felt her presence. She didn’t. Head slammed against my chest, teeth chattered, and I let her fall to my feet. Bastard that I am. It took a lot not to follow her to the ground and take what I craved and needed more of. And I needed her in a room, with no escape, willing, and no fucking witnesses.

  A weaker being wouldn’t have won that silent battle. Most didn’t have the patience or the time. I had time, and I had patience in spades. I knew where she slept, where she ate, and she had my scent all over her. Not by accident, by design. No other creature would dare to fucking touch her with my scent on her. It’s certain death if they even fucking tried.

  I inhaled her scent before she could slip inside the house; again, she paused at the door.

  I learned it.

  Knew it.

  I could track her for miles; so could my men.

  She was so fucked.

  I smiled coldly, knowingly. Images of her body covered in sweat, twisted in sheets, me on her, under her, inside of her. I growled; imagining everything I planned to do to her excited the monster that I was, but her body? It was exciting the man I once was, before I became this thing.

  “You’re mine now, little witch,” I purred, and watched as she moved inside and slammed the door. As if it could keep me out? She had protection set up around the cottage. Black salt circled it, while white salt lined the window sills. Normally it would hold the monsters at bay and protect her from those wishing to do harm. Normally.

  “Claiming her?” Deviant asked carefully, his eyes on the woman visible now only through the window.

  “She’s off limits. What did you discover?” I asked, turning to look at my men who watched the girl with open curiosity before they dismissed her.

  “She’s been out of town for a good amount of time. Off the grid. The timing was before we moved in and set up shop, probably why we only got bits and pieces of the story. Most I assume are nothing more than rumors. It’s too bad they forgot to mention the identical twin part in their incessant yapping. She moved to Pacific City soon after the passing of her brother, who died in Afghanistan in a bombing, but we already knew that based off her sister’s profile. She studied alchemy guised in agriculture and shit, basic witch-off-the-grid tactics. She was pretty active in the party scene in Portland about three years ago, and then she just wasn’t.”

  “What else did you learn?” I asked, taking note that she’d moved into the bathroom, and was removing her clothes. Easy, way too easy, Lena. I turned away, allowing her privacy as she bathed.

  “She pretty much kept to herself, didn’t try to make friends, and everyone I talked to barely knew she existed. Not even the men; it was as if she was so plain, that they didn’t even notice her. Explain that one, because she’s anything but plain-looking. One neighbor thought she was there, hidden in the witness protection program.”

  “She had to use magic; at least it would be my guess. It would allow her to live amongst the humans without the need to interact. She’d be almost invisible, and no one would remember much about her. It would have also kept her off the Guilds’ radar. Her coven is one of the original covens, but you already know that. These assholes lock up their children’s powers to fly under the radar; they have for centuries, and I still manage to find them every time. Knowing that, how did she manage to cast that strong of a spell?” I mumbled.

  A woman who purposely didn’t want to be seen by others? Most would add the components to be noticed by men, and yet she’d purposely included both men and women. Why?

  “This coven looks like the others, same shit as the fucking Guilds,” he noted and I turned to look at him.

  He was younger than most of us, and hadn’t been present for most of this fucking mess.

  “This coven was started by one of the most powerful witches in creation. Her offspring cursed us, don’t forget that. The moment you forget, you become weak. These people may look weak, but they’re deadly. They hide it well, but that’s why they’re easy to find. They stick to traditions. I want to know why she left here. Something drove her away from her coven and their protection.”

  “Her father left her mother a few months before Magdalena was supposed to get married. Her fiancé fucked Cassidy Smithers; cold bastard did it right in her own bedroom too. A couple weeks later, she and her family were informed about her brother’s passing, and she stayed just long enough to see him buried but was gone by the following week. I’m guessing she was too weak to withstand it. Took off instead of dealing,” he concluded.

  “She’s not weak,” I growled in warning. “There’s more to this, even if she didn’t realize it at the time. Witches band together; they seldom ever stray from their coven. In grief, they band even closer. Something made her break tradition; something she may not even have known was pushing her away from them. I want to know why. Tell Devlin to get credentials, and a full background secured. I want him here to attend the functions that I cannot, and he’s to watch her. He needs to get her attention and hold it. He’s not to fuck her, or even look at her wrong. She’s mine, I’ve already marked her. Make sure he knows it.”

  “Is she the one we seek? If so, shouldn’t we be ending her existence?” he questioned.

  “Do you give the orders, or do I?” I growled coldly, a warning; I wouldn’t give a second one.

  “I’m only asking. We have to find your girl, and fast. We got less than two months to hunt her down and kill her before shit gets twisted. We know she’s here, so where the fuck is she? It’s not like they have a whole lot of places to hide her.”

  “It’s your first game, and if there’s one thing I can tell you, it’s never expect it to be as easy as walking in and ending her life. She’s a master at hiding, and we usually identify which one she is after the Awakening ceremony. She’ll be found when it’s time. I’ve never failed yet, and I’m not about to. I never lose. Until then, do as I ask.”

  My eyes moved to the candle that flickered in the small bathroom as Deviant left me to my thoughts. I could hear the music she’d turned on; it was muted, probably earphones. I closed my eyes, picturing her naked, running soap over her soft curves. I’d be slipping on a mask of civility to get closer to her, which wasn’t my favorite thing to do.

  I could easily fuck her and get her out of my system, but I wanted her to know what was happening. I wanted her to be willing, and to understand just who she was fucking when she did it. I wanted her permission before I took what I wanted from her. It would be a first for me, since I was used to taking what I wanted with no fucking conscience or consequences.

  Humans were always oblivious to the evil that walked among them. Most couldn’t fight or fuck their way out of a wet paper bag, and yet I somehow knew she was different. She’d fucking told me to go have pretty babies.

  Breeding wouldn’t happen for her, not this go ‘round. She was going to be in bed with death, and getting her pregnant wasn’t an option. I just needed a few hours with her, uninterrupted. It would have to be enough, because we had a game to play. If she wasn’t the one I was looking for, she would be a pleasant diversion. If she was, the game would be far more interesting this time.

  “Lucian,” Spyder growled as he moved onto the balcony.

  “Spyder,” I mumbled as I continued to listen to the music. Humans and their fucking music; some I could h
andle, some, not so much.

  “What about the girl?”

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “The job; she’s in the basement.”

  “Finish it,” I whispered, not bothering to turn around. “A life for a life,” I growled, low and deep. Sometimes it was good to be the monster that I’d become.

  Chapter Six

  I lowered my body into the old fashioned claw-foot tub. After travelling to get here and what happened at the party, I was drained and exhausted. There wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t achy. There was a fire in my lady parts, caused by a certain male who had started a blaze and hadn’t extinguished it. I rested my head against the tub and closed my eyes as I placed my earbuds in, and tried to find some semblance of the peace I was used to living alone.

  Images of Lucian and his hands touching me in places, brought them right back open. I growled as I removed the buds and slipped beneath the water. I wondered if anyone would notice if I drowned from my absolute embarrassment at my behavior tonight.

  I’d kissed a total stranger, which, since I’d had a one-night stand with my tattoo artist, technically wasn’t a completely new concept for me, but I’d at least known his damn name before I’d kissed him. With Lucian, he’d taken total control of me; his mouth touched mine and I didn’t stop him, didn’t question it. I kissed him back! Not just once, but twice, and I’d allowed him to almost seduce me in the maze. I’d been more than tempted to let it play out.

  Right up until he’d told me to go make pretty babies like some breeding cow. Men sucked, no matter how hot they were. No, the hotter they were, the more they sucked.