Damaged Gods (Monsters of Saint Mark's #1)

by K. C. Cross

  And the only thing the caretakers have been focused on is how to get out of their curse.

  And pleasing me. Because, for whatever reason, this is part of the deal. Maybe it’s payment for my services?

  But the caretakers have never really pleased me. All those tasks in the Book of Debt are intimate. Never mind the sexual things—which none of them ever did. The feet washing, the horn polishing, the bathing… it’s all very personal. I never wanted any of them touching me.

  Until now.

  Until Pie.

  Maybe I don’t want her to stay forever, but it would be nice if I had a chance to get to know her without the interference of that stupid eros sheriff.

  She’s not going to like him.

  She better not like him.

  I’m not OK with this date.

  By the time I’m done tidying up the apothecary it’s evening. And even though I do not want to walk down to Pie’s cottage and see her off on her date, I can’t help myself.

  I can hear her music when I cross over the top of the hill. It’s blaring up from the house even though all the windows are closed. I knock, but she doesn’t hear it. Inside, her music is deafening.

  “Pie?” I call up the stairs. The upstairs of the cottage is really more of a loft. There are walls, but not four of them. There’s a half-wall on one side and even from the bottom of the steps, I can see right into her bedroom. The top of the canopy, the valance of one window, the pale plaster of the far wall.

  But no Pie.

  “Pie?” I call again. Louder.

  Nothing.

  I go up. It’s my duty. She could’ve slipped in the bathroom. She could be passed out right now.

  Who am I kidding? I want to see her naked.

  This actually makes me smirk. She’s seen me naked. Fair is fair.

  But when I get up there, she’s not naked. She’s dancing in the bathroom, twirling her hair around a hot iron as she sings to herself in the mirror.

  This is a unique opportunity to watch her and I like what I see. She’s cleaned up, all traces of potions gone wrong wiped away. Her long blonde hair is shiny and straight, except for the parts she’s already curled. And she’s wearing makeup. Not a lot, but her eyes are dark enough to make her look different. Less innocent. More… worldly. Maybe even magical and bad.

  Well, she is one of Saturn’s creatures, after all. That’s how she got in here. An eros is always alluring.

  But I’m not swooning over her. I’m not losing my mind with lust. So she’s not like any other eros in the history of Saint Mark’s. Because every time a new caretaker shows up, my stupid ass swoons all over the place. Sometimes I have to lock myself in my tomb until the magic settles.

  Pie didn’t evoke any of these urges when she showed up.

  I was angry that night.

  Pie is not dressed trashy, like the way she was when she arrived. But the cute velour pants and white t-shirt are not present either.

  She is… sexy.

  That’s the only word for it.

  Especially when she wiggles her ass as she does her little dance in front of the mirror.

  She’s wearing a very short black dress balanced out with opaque black tights. The dress has long sleeves that end in a bell shape at her wrists. The whole thing is very alluring, but at the same time, she is showing almost no skin.

  Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and then she’s whirling around. “Holy shit! Pell! What the fuck!”

  Oops.

  “Why are you here?” She walks over to her pocket phone, clicks the music off, and glares at me. “Well, what do you want?”

  “I just…” But there is no good reason to be here. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful one more time.”

  She walks forward, places one hand on my chest, and pushes me backwards. “I get it. Now leave. I don’t need a big brother watching me get ready for a date.”

  “Big brother?” I scowl at her. “And what the actual fuck yourself? You’re not gonna let him down easy. You’re going to date him for real.”

  She points her hot iron at me. “Get out.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He put a spell on me. Of course I like him.”

  “Speaking of,” I snarl. “Where’s your fucking amulet?”

  She grabs at the counter behind her. Holds up the lavender leather pouch. “Right here.”

  “You’re supposed to have it on. Never take it off.”

  She slips it over her head. “There. Satisfied?”

  And… no. I’m not. I want to forbid her from going out. I want to lock her in this cottage. I want her to stay here, with me, and only think about me.

  And in a few minutes, she will walk out of here. And maybe she thinks about me on that drive into town, but the moment the sheriff shows up, her mind will be wiped. She will swoon over him.

  This is my last chance to stop it. Not by forbidding her from going, either. That will just make her like him more. I take four steps and close the distance between us. She looks startled for a moment and takes a step back. But there’s nowhere to go in this little bathroom. She’s trapped.

  “What are you doing?”

  I reach for the string of the amulet and then tug on the top of her dress to open it up. I dangle the amulet pouch over her cleavage—our eyes locked on each other—and then I drop it down inside.

  She lets out a breath. “O-kaaay. What’s this about?”

  I don’t take my eyes off her. But my hand comes up and my knuckles gently swipe down the side of her cheek. “You will be careful tonight.”

  She tries to swipe my hand away, but I grab her wrist.

  “Do you hear me, Pie?”

  “Yeah. I hear you. I said I would.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously. You’re up here, dancing around, doing your hair, putting on makeup like this is going to be fun.”

  “It could be fun.”

  I stare at her for a long moment, nodding. “It could. But it’s unlikely, Pie.” My hand slips down and I place my palm on the side of her neck, my thumb caressing the little dent of her throat. Then I slide my fingers around the back of her neck and squeeze just a little. She gasps. Her eyes are locked on mine. Like she’s powerless. Like she’s caught. And she is. The satyr blood coursing through my veins might not be good for much, but it is good for this. I can hold them captive with my sexuality. And I do that now.

  I feel myself starting to become excited, so I close my eyes and will that desire back into submission, then open them again, completely in control when I lean down and touch my lips to hers. I do not kiss her. One breath. That’s what we exchange. One breath of my essence slips into her mouth and she swallows. I feel the muscles of her throat move when she consumes my claim.

  Then I pull back, release my hand, and back out of her room, only turning around once I reach the stairs. I go down, leave the cottage, and walk up the hill where I sit on the ruin of a stone tomb and watch as she leaves her cottage, walks through the gate, and goes into town for her date.

  Then I walk back to her cottage and wait for her to come home.

  Because I am going to make her tell me everything.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - PIE

  What did he just do to me?

  It wasn’t a kiss. Our lips barely touched. It was something else. He… I dunno. He gave me a breath. It’s like the way he breathed into the amulet pouch earlier today. Magic. He filled me up with something. I could feel it enter me. He’s inside me now.

  For a moment I’m not sure if this is creepy or erotic. Then a familiar throbbing begins between my legs and that mystery is solved.

  Wow. My life is seriously weird.

  And the weirdest part isn’t that I was given a breath of magic from a satyr chimera. The weirdest part is that I’m standing in a bathroom getting ready to go on a date with a cupid so I can distract him from the fact that I now live in a cursed cemetery filled with stone monsters and my master is now a guy called Pell who has h
orns and hooves.

  No. That’s not the weirdest part. The weirdest part is I might be OK with this.

  Oh, sure. I’m putting up the good fight. I tell Pell that I’m gonna break that curse and move on.

  But… is that really what I’m doing here?

  I just stand there in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror for several minutes. Thinking about how I got to this moment in time. Because this is when I fully internalize that I might actually be insane.

  Sure, I always kinda knew this. But it was a little bit cute, right? My quaint imaginary talking friend, the sparrow. It was like how some people embrace a stupid hairstyle or have a thing for ugly vintage clothes. Just a fun, quirky piece of me. Part of my character that made me unique.

  But I dunno if I buy that anymore.

  I let out a long breath, then turn and look at the room. It’s so pretty. I like it. I like all this stuff, actually. I might even like that sheriff. I’m even starting to turn the corner on Pell. I’m not sure how he did it, but that breath-kiss didn’t hurt his likeability score, that’s for sure.

  Maybe I’m still drunk?

  Maybe I’m still passed out at the college?

  Maybe this is all a dream?

  Snap out of it, Pie. If Pia were here, that’s what she would say. Life is a mystery and you stumbled into something special. That’s what this is. It’s special. I’m special.

  And even though this line of thinking mostly starts out as an internal pep talk, I feel it. I do.

  I like having Pia as my friend. And even though she’s missing now, I will find her. I have no doubts at all that I will get her back. And sure, this place is a little bit creepy, not to mention it has some borderline evil symbology—but Tomas is super nice. And he was right about Pell. He’s not that bad. If I have to be stuck in a curse, I could do a lot worse than those two.

  And fuck it. If I really am crazy and this is all some kind of delusional hallucination or dream, then nothing can hurt me. So why not enjoy it?

  Yeah. I’m going with this line of thinking.

  I quickly finish curling my hair, take one last look at myself, and grab my purse.

  The moment I walk out of the gate and take a fresh breath of lake air, my head clears, and most of my thoughts about insanity fade as I concentrate on how kinda cool this new life might be.

  I conquered the sanctuary tonight. A part of me feels like it’s trying to throw every possible inconvenience at me that it can. But it’s not working. I’ve figured out that there’s always a workaround.

  Take my phone, for instance. I can’t charge it at the sanctuary. But I can charge it in my car. And the twenty-minute ride to and from town is just enough. There is no internet, obviously, and I can’t make calls or send texts, either. But the point is, the phone still works. It still plays music and it still takes pictures.

  And even though I shouldn’t be able to use the curling iron in the cottage, I can. Because I cut off the cord, stuck it inside the hot coal thingy that heats up the water, got it just hot enough, and boom. I had myself an old-fashioned curling iron. Then I put some coals on a plate, put the iron on the coals, took it upstairs, and that kept the iron hot enough to put some bounce in my hair in front of the mirror.

  I feel like I took charge of things today. Maybe I didn’t find my place just yet, but I definitely found my footing and I’m now convinced that I won’t miss anything about modern technological conveniences. So I put aside my worries and get serious. If the sheriff is magical, I need to stay aware. Who knows how many curses there are out there? I could stumble into another one if I’m not careful.

  And that’s the last thing I need.

  There aren’t many places to park here in Granite Springs because it’s a tiny town and most of it is built on the side of a hilly mountain. Main Street is narrow and paved with bricks, one of those old-timey roads that are common in some parts of PA. And there is probably some kind of historic rule that you can’t disrupt said bricks for posterity reasons, so it has never been widened to accommodate cars and buses. This gives the downtown a bit of a claustrophobic feel and even though I’ve only been at the sanctuary for a few days, I find myself feeling uneasy in the presence of others.

  I finally find a parking spot in back of the candle shop. And then I walk-jog down the hill to the steakhouse. It smells pretty good and my mouth is already watering when I open the door and practically smash into the hard, muscular chest of Sheriff Russ Roth.

  “Oh, shit! Sorry!”

  His wide grin is immediate and his eyes drink me in. “I didn’t mean to run into you, Pie. But I saw you coming and wanted to be the first thing you laid eyes on when you opened these doors.”

  And… cue the cupid. My head is suddenly all flighty and butterflies flitter around in my stomach.

  Pell was right. Russ makes me swoon.

  Sheriff Roth takes both my hands, brings them up to his lips, and kisses each and every one of my knuckles and he gazes down into my eyes.

  “Uhhh…” I’m at a loss for words. I want to pull my hands away, but he’s not giving them up and I don’t want this to become a fight. And… the longer he keeps a hold of them, the less I seem to care. “Hi!” I finally manage. My grin is so big, my cheeks are stretching.

  Russ’s eyes slide down my body and this makes me tingle all over.

  Fucking hell. Pell was right about the amulet too. It’s not protecting me from shit!

  Then again… I’m not sure I want it to.

  Focus, Pie. Remember why you’re here.

  Why am I here again?

  Russ’s eyes track back up to meet mine and ho-lee crap. I want him to bend me over the nearest table and fuck me from behind right now.

  No. No, no, no! That is not how this ends, Pie. You cannot let the sheriff pork you tonight!

  Definitely not in the plan.

  “I’ve got our booth ready over here, Pie.” He says my name with that little western PA accent, which usually sounds a little too hick to be sexy, but not this time. And then he kisses my hands again before leading me into the dark dining room.

  We pass a slew of other diners, most of whom greet the sheriff. He’s not wearing his uniform tonight. He’s got a crisp, white button-down shirt with a pair of tight gray slacks that hug his ass like a glove.

  Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.

  Shit. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I don’t think thoughts like this. I mean, I’ve had my share of dirty moments, but there is a time and a place for thoughts like that. And they usually come with copious amounts of alcohol and occur much, much later in the evening.

  We’re just getting started here and I’m already starting to feel out of control.

  The sheriff bows and presents me with a little three-quarter circle booth near the back of the restaurant and kinda secluded between some strategically-placed potted trees.

  Privacy.

  Maybe he wants to get dirty in the corner with me? I go all hot just picturing it.

  No. Stop it. Pull yourself together, Pie!

  “This booth is so cute.”

  Russ Roth winks at me. “We call it the Lovers’ Nest booth.” Of course he does. “It’s where everyone wants to bring their first date.”

  “So they can make out?” Why do I sound breathless?

  Russ looks confused. “Well. Maybe. But that’s not why I brought you here.”

  I slide into the booth and pat the seat next to me, looking up at him like I’m a siren calling him to the rocks. “It’s OK. I get it. Privacy is good on the first date.”

  “Ye…ah.” He nods his head, starts to look concerned. “Yes. I understand what you’re thinking. But”—he places his hand over his heart—“I promise you, Miss Vita, I am a gentleman through and through. My mama would whoop my ass if I ever tried to make out with a woman in the Lover’s Nest booth.”

  He slides in next to me and we are very close. Not squished, but comfortably… snug.

  Wow. That’s kind of a sexy word. Sn
ug.

  Am I losing control here? And why is it so hot?

  “What are you thinking about?” Russ asks. “You’ve got a look on your face I’d pay a thousand dollars to understand.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I was distracted by our… snugginess.”

  “Snugginess.” He laughs at the word.

  OK. OK, OK, OK. Hold on, Pie. Maybe I’m reading too much into things? He’s not sending me sexy vibes here. And if he’s not sending them, then… who is? I look around, trying to find some other monster creature who might be interfering with my thought process. But no one is paying any attention to us.

  “This is nice.”

  Before I can ask what he’s talking about Russ’s fingertips are brushing against my collarbone just above the neckline of my dress. I was careful to cover up as much skin as possible so he didn’t get any fancy ideas about where this night was going. But there’s enough skin there to feel the warmth of his fingers against my breastbone. And then he’s pulling the lavender leather string up until my amulet appears in his hand. “Oh,” he says, momentarily looking confused. Then he seems to get embarrassed, because he blushes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was something personal.”

  I am quiet through all of this. Not because I don’t know what to say but because my lady bits are absolutely throbbing with… what’s the word? Mmm. Let me think. Maybe let’s just call it burning desire?

  This is not going well and I’ve only been here thirty seconds.

  I don’t know what else to do, so I just tuck the little pouch back inside my dress and try to get my female urges under control.

  “What’s wrong?” He reaches for my face and before I can protest, or tell him I’m fine, his palm is flat against my cheek checking for fever. “Cheese and rice, Pie. You’re burning up. Are you feeling OK?”

  I’m not. I’m really not. Because in my head I am picturing myself doing things to this man. Things… so many things. Things I wouldn’t normally do unless I’ve been with a man for a long time and since I have never been in a long-term relationship, these kind of things have never happened. Not even in my dreams.