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

by K. C. Cross

  Fire inside him.

  Literally, I guess.

  This is what burns. He is made of bubbling brimstone.

  A creature of Hell, no doubt. I looked up the satyrs in the books. They are lecherous monsters. Well, I think maybe monster is a strong word. They are more like… frat boys.

  I snort a little thinking of frat boys. Because just a few days ago, that’s who I was partying with on Halloween.

  I mean, OK. No. Those boys from Mount Aloysius College weren’t frat boys in the literal sense. No Greek scene at that place.

  A muffled snore draws me back to my present situation.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re falling asleep when I’m in the middle of giving you the best hornjob you’ve ever had?”

  He doesn’t wake up. Even when I laugh out loud.

  I guess he really does like this. And when I look over my shoulder at the book, my page is glowing. A set of words is lit up in light purple. And then, right before my eyes, the entire line disappears.

  I’ve erased a debt!

  I keep going, putting more effort into the hornjob. But try as I might, no other debts are erased.

  A sudden flash of economics class comes to mind. This must be a real-life example of diminishing returns. He has gotten all the satisfaction he’s gonna get from my hornjob. So no matter how much longer I keep going, no more debt will be erased.

  I guess it makes sense, but that means that I can’t just give him hornjobs all the time. I have to mix it up. Probably he will still get pleasure the next time I do it, but it won’t be anything like this time.

  It seems that the Book of Debt’s algorithms reward freshness.

  I pause my massage, my eyes still drawn to the muscles of his back. And then I dip my fingers into the pot of soothing paste, and begin working it into them.

  Pell stirs at this change and sleepily looks over his shoulder at me. “What are you doing?”

  “The hornjob is over. The Book of Debt said so. But I figured you could use a back massage too. You’re kinda tense.”

  He just stares at me.

  “Should I not?”

  Then he puts his head back down and mumbles something that I assume is permission.

  I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction as my fingers resume their workings. I push into the tight muscles and he groans. But not with the satisfaction of the hornjob. It’s more of a painful reaction.

  “Am I hurting you?” He shakes his head, so I keep going. I press my fingertips into the long muscles that line either side of his spine, sliding them up and down.

  He groans again.

  “Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

  “Pie.”

  “What?”

  “Look at the book. Then you tell me if it hurts.”

  I glance over at the book and there are three lines of debt lit up purple. I can’t hide the chuckle. “I guess it feels good then.”

  “So fucking good,” he whispers.

  It’s such a small thing, too. A back massage. I mean, this is something couples do on the regular in the real world, right? But he’s been here for two thousand years with no woman. And assuming he’s not into men and didn’t have affairs or get hornjobs and back massages from any of his other caretakers, that… sucks.

  This makes me want to do a good job. I’m not any kind of expert on massages, but it’s not that hard to find the tight muscles. And he’s got so many of them, by the time I’ve gone over every square inch of his back, my hands are actually cramping.

  I stop to shake them out and then, exhausted, I sit down on the extra length of stone bench behind him.

  He lazily turns to the side and peeps at me from under his hooded eyelids. “Tired?”

  I nod and laugh a little as I shake out my hands. “I’ve got a cramp.”

  He sits up, turns, and suddenly he’s straddling the stone bench, facing me.

  I’m so surprised when he reaches for my hands, I pull them away. “What are you doing?”

  He grabs one back and start pushing on my palms as one corner of his mouth lifts up in a half smile. “You ask way too many questions.”

  “Oh.” It comes out with my breath. And then I don’t know what to do. Let him massage my cramped hands? Or stop this before it turns into something too much?

  I let him keep going and I’m almost immediately sorry when he just… stares at me, looking straight into my eyes like he’s some sort of charmer and this is his superpower. Because his intense yellow-orange gaze renders me speechless and paralyzed.

  “You don’t like it?” The other side of his mouth lifts up now. And he’s wearing a full-on smile.

  “I like it.” I barely manage to get those words out because my whole body is suddenly on fire. Almost the same way it was back in the restaurant with Russ.

  “Wait.” I pull my hand away. “Just…” I have to take a deep breath. “Just hold on. I have to tell you something.”

  “You really are magic and you’re gonna take on Grant and save me and the sanctuary?”

  “What?” A laugh bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it. “No. Definitely not.”

  He shrugs. “A guy can dream, right?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I just gave you the best hornjob you’ve ever had and you’re thinking about the stupid curse?”

  “First of all”—he points at me—“I love that word.” He licks his lips like he wants to taste me. “Hornjob is the very best thing about this day. And second, I’m always thinking about that stupid curse.” I open my mouth to say something back, but he presses his flat palm towards me. “You can’t hold that against me. I’ve been here for two thousand years.”

  “OK. Then I won’t.”

  “Good. Now seriously, what were you gonna say?”

  “Well.” Where to start? “When I was with Russ, I got all heated up and hot. Like, he was checking me for fever and everything.” Pell’s face changes instantly. So I hurry past this and get to the point. “I got all hot then, and now I’m getting all hot again, so I’m thinking… this… what I’m feeling right now, it’s part of the spell I put on myself.”

  Now he looks confused. “And you think this why?”

  “Grant fucked up the books, remember? I think I put a love spell on myself.”

  “No. I mean… why are you thinking about this now?”

  “Oh.” Shit. “Well. You’re making me hot, and he was making me hot, so it’s… the love spell.”

  “Are you sure it’s the love spell?”

  “What else could it be?”

  He’s all smirk when he chuckles, points at me, and says, “Definitely cute.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Never mind. If this is bothering you, Pie, I will stop. How’s that?”

  “Well.” I look down at my hands. It does feel pretty good. But I need to be practical about this. “I just don’t want us to get caught up in a love spell.”

  “Oh.” He nods. Pretends to look serious. “Well, then we should wait.”

  “Wait?” For some reason, this conversation suddenly has sexual undertones and I’m not sure how that happened. “I’m literally just talking about a hand massage.”

  “A handjob?” He laughs out loud.

  “No.” And I laugh too. “Not a handjob. My God. See? This is what I mean. This is getting all mixed up when it shouldn’t.”

  “Shouldn’t it?”

  I sigh. “You know what I’m talking about. You’re just trying to be difficult.”

  “Fine.” He stands up and stretches his back. His arms go up towards the cave ceiling and he closes his eyes as he yawns. His fangs are long and sharp and he looks every bit like a beast in this moment. A lazy, content, I-am-the-king-of-this-jungle beast.

  And I’m suddenly on fire. So I get up too, then start fanning myself, like I was in the restaurant. “Yep. This is definitely the love spell working right now.”

  Pell just grins at me. “If you say so, Pie. I’m going to bed
, I guess. Want me to walk you home so the monsters don’t get you?”

  “No. I think I’ll sleep on the apothecary couch.”

  He frowns. “Why?”

  “The cottage is too far away. I don’t like being so far away.”

  He looks around. Like he’s thinking. When he looks back at me, I know what he’s gonna say. “Want me to stay with you?”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  We both laugh out loud. Then he grabs my hand and starts pulling me out of the cave. “We’ll figure something out tomorrow. But you’re not sleeping in the apothecary. That was Grant’s realm. It’s far safer for you in that distant cottage than it is in there.”

  “Fuck. That’s true.”

  “I’ll stay with you tonight.”

  I expect him to let go of my hand when we get to the stairs, but he doesn’t. He keeps it. Holds it firmly all the way down the path to the cottage. And everything about this walk home is awkward. But when we get inside and I look upstairs, and he looks upstairs, it’s more than awkward. It’s embarrassing.

  We both say, “I’ll take the couch,” at the same time.

  Then, again, together, we say, “No, you take the bed.”

  Then we both laugh.

  “Pell.” I place a hand on his chest, acutely aware that he’s still got a hold of my other one. “You’re like seven feet tall. You cannot sleep on that couch. Take the bedroom.”

  But he’s already shaking his head. “I’m not letting you sleep down here alone. It kinda defeats the purpose of staying over to make you feel safe.”

  And yep. There’s only one way this goes after that.

  “Well. That bed should be big enough for both of us.”

  And there it is.

  It’s out there.

  He nods and starts up the stairs. And because we are attached at the hand, I go with him.

  I am going to bed with the monster of Saint Mark’s.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - PELL

  One thing is abundantly clear when we reach the top of the stairs and stand in front of her bed. It’s definitely not big enough for the two of us. It’s barely big enough for me.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” I say.

  “No. Don’t be dumb. It’s my fault you’re staying over in the first place.”

  I don’t mean to sneer down at her, but I do. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

  She shrugs. “Then I guess we’re sleeping together.” She points at me. “You know the good part about walking around naked all the time?”

  I grin.

  “You don’t have to change clothes at bedtime. But I do. BRB.”

  She grabs some clothes from her closet and disappears into the bathroom while I circle the bed trying to imagine how this will go. It’s a nice bed, for sure. A cool canopy. Very elegant and old-fashioned. It’s a mess of covers, so she doesn’t make her bed up when she wakes, which I sorta love. There’s nothing worse than an uptight bedmaker. We will fit. Obviously. But there will be no way to avoid contact with each other.

  I’m still standing there when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of tight black shorts and an equally tight black top. And her breasts are… yeah.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice snaps me out of the image I’m forming of her breasts.

  “I wasn’t looking.” It comes out defensive and this makes her laugh.

  “Oh, my God. Is the monster blushing? Is he shy? Is he”—she pauses to smile—“a gentleman?”

  I snort. “Get in the bed, woman.”

  “Oh, he’s a caveman.” She sends me a sly smile as she slides between the sheets. I walk over to the gas lamp and turn it off. And it’s immediately dark. So dark I have to feel my way along the bed before getting in next to her.

  I sigh. Because I’m fucking huge and this bed—

  “Just relax, Pell. Think about how nice it was to get a hornjob.”

  I almost guffaw. “Trust me. That’s not the answer.”

  She turns on her side, which gives me more room, and I settle on my side as well, so we’re facing each other in the dark.

  “So this is real, huh?”

  “Obviously, it’s not ideal. I get that. But Saint Mark’s isn’t that bad.”

  “Says the monster who was lecturing me two days ago about how my entire job here involves breaking your curse.”

  “I did say that.” I wish there was more moonlight because I’d like to see her face once more before this night ends. This whole day definitely took a strange turn.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “You.”

  “Good? Bad? Or ugly?”

  “Cute,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I was wondering earlier if you were slow, stupid, or naïve. And then I just decided on cute.”

  “Cute.” She says it like she’s mulling it over. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute.”

  “Then they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

  She shifts position and her bare leg brushes up against mine. Then she hums out a, “Hmm.”

  “Should I ask what that hmm means?”

  “Your legs are soft.” She illustrates this by rubbing her thigh against mine.

  “Are you trying to pet me?”

  A giggle in the dark. “No. Maybe tomorrow though. Tonight…” She yawns. “Tonight, I think I’ll just go to sleep.”

  We lie there in the dark. Silent.

  Then she says, “Good night, monster.”

  And I whisper back, “Good night, Pie.”

  She hums a little, then turns over. Pushing her ass right up against me.

  And even though I want to flip her over and ravish her like a sex slave—I don’t.

  Because I want to take her somewhere tomorrow.

  I want to show her that being stuck here with me isn’t all about the curse.

  It can be a fun place.

  She could be happy here.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - PIE

  Three things go through my mind simultaneously when I wake in the morning.

  One. He’s still here. He’s still in my bed.

  Two. He’s got his arms around me. Like, we are full-on spooning. And that means his morning wood is pressing right up against my ass.

  Three. None of this is terrible.

  I mean, he’s half monster. There’s no getting around that. But his monster bits aren’t as scary today as they were earlier in the week. Seeing him come at me that first day—that was like seeing a demon out of Hell. He was terrifying on a level that I wasn’t able to comprehend.

  And yes, he was kind of a dick the first couple days. But yesterday he was… well. On a micro-level, he was my hero. He pulled me back from the edge. And OK, I wasn’t in danger of actually jumping, but I was in the middle of a serious struggle and he put me in the Jeep so he could refocus me.

  Talking to Jacqueline was the reality check I needed. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until I heard her voice on the other end of the phone last night. She is my tether to the outside. That’s what Pell did for me last night.

  He gave me a tether. He was my hero.

  Sure, I’m still stuck in the curse, but we’re stuck here together. It could be worse.

  He stirs behind me, but doesn’t wake.

  I gently move his arms so I can slip out of the bed, then go downstairs and throw some more wood into the water heater thing. He’s still sleeping when I get back upstairs, so I use the bathroom. When I’m done, I check myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. My hair is a little wild, but in a sexy way. I splash cold water on my cheeks, apply some of the fancy lip balm I bought in the spa boutique during the shopping spree that cost me my eternal soul, then take a deep breath and step back into the bedroom.

  He’s awake, sitting up in bed with his lower half hidden under the covers, and even though the horns kinda ruin the illusion that he is just another man and not really a monster, there is no way to deny tha
t Pell is sexy as fuck. And he’s grinning at me.

  I walk over to the closet and pull a light satin robe off the hanger. I bite the tags off with my teeth, then slip it on, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

  He grins bigger. But all he says is, “Cute.”

  “Right.” I point at him. “Is she slow, stupid, or just naïve?”

  “Cute,” he repeats.

  And now it’s getting awkward. “So. I guess it’s time to feed you. What do you want for breakfast?”

  He doesn’t say it, but I hear it anyway. You.

  I bite my lip, unsure what to do. Maybe letting him sleep in my bed was a huge mistake? Does he think we’re like… a couple now? Because we’re not. He’s got a very nice upper body and no lie, that dick of his would definitely be a pleaser. But he’s still a monster. I’m pretty sure there are rules against falling in love with a monster.

  He pushes the covers away, swings his legs out of bed, then bends over with his face in his hands, like he’s a slow waker and needs a moment.

  But that’s not what he’s doing. He’s thinking or something. I’m just about to leave and go make breakfast when he slowly turns his head towards me. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Me?” I point to my chest. “What am I thinking? I’m not thinking anything.”

  “You’re thinking, He’s a beast. He’s half animal. He and I aren’t going anywhere. And I get it.” He pauses here to stare into my eyes, checking to see if I’m listening. Checking to see if I’m taking him seriously. “I get it. You’re a very pretty human. And you’re stuck here with me. Tomas and I are the only people you will ever get to be yourself with. And that can lead to things, or feelings—”

  “Pell. Look. We slept next to each other for one night. It’s no big deal. You were being… heroic last night. Saving me from my fear of living all the way down here in the cottage. That’s all it was.” I smile broadly at him, trying to make myself believe that line of bullshit I just spewed. But my heart is beating wildly because everything is different right now. Nothing is the same between us. And it’s not about the hornjob or sleeping next to each other last night.

  There is something different about us.