Page 62 of Their Pretty Little Monster

It hangs low, and I swear I’m seeing two things dangle there, but I could be imagining things because I’m going to pass out from the constant surprises coming my way.

His attention suddenly swings in my direction, and I shoot to my feet, but he looks right through me. That’s strange.

He turns on the spot, and my attention tumbles to the long black tail whipping at the shrubs behind him. My mouth falls open at the sight, at the muscles rippling across his back. He’s tall but not as big as Killian in his monster form, yet still large enough to tower over me, to intimidate.

“Sage,” he growls, black smoke rising from around his body, darkening wherever he goes. He’s snarling, brow creasing, and I notice cracks appearing on half his face, glowing amber as if he’s about to detonate.

“I’m here,” I finally answer, and his gaze lands on me, blinking. I step closer to him.

He struts forward, finally seeing me, taking my hand with his clawed one, dragging me into an embrace.

“I thought I lost you.” The way he says that sounds almost genuine, almost caring.

I can’t find my words at first, not when I’m pressed up against a naked Wolfe. His skin is an inferno, and those dangling cocks are hardening and pressing against my lower stomach.

“I-I was here the whole time.” I can’t concentrate on anything but his body, too afraid to move in case I accidentally touch… them.

“You must have been deep in the shadows,” he states, sounding more like he’s convincing himself than me.

His hand rises to my face, and a claw tips under my chin, lifting so I glance up at this monster who’s every bit as terrifying as Killian. Yet, there’s something darker behind Wolfe’s eyes, as if he’s capable of the most heinous of acts and wouldn’t bat an eye at his actions.

“Did you see who was chasing you? I didn’t get to the bastard in time, then heard the door slam, but I wasn’t going to leave you here alone,” he explains, his other hand sliding up my arms gingerly, leaving me quivering with unexpected need. “Did they hurt you?”

“It was s-something slithery. A gross snake creature. It only hissed, didn’t say anything.”

His wide brow furrows. “A Sylar, kept as fucking pets by many of this vessel because they can be trained to do your bidding, including hunting down someone, eating them, making them disappear. Never liked those things, but I would never make anyone get rid of their pets because of my own personal tastes.”

I gasp, hating the sound of those things. “And they throw darts?”

“Well, not the creatures,” he murmurs, while his gaze drops to my lips and lower, both hands now on my hips, fingers digging into me as if he can’t decide if he’s going to complete his sentence or have his way with me.

I draw in a breath, my hands on his chest, and I don’t remember moving them.

Around us the mist is still pumping out, falling around us like snow.

I blink, trying to shake my head to clear the fogginess.

“The Sylar,” he says as if struggling, and I don’t even remember what we were talking about. My touch slides up his chest, resting on those flexing pecs, and I giggle.

Fates, did I just giggle at him squeezing his muscles?

Wolfe’s gaze narrows, and he suddenly asks, “Howler, who was in the room with us a few moments ago?”

“A Sylar,” Howler replies.

“Who else?” Wolfe presses.

“Sorry, but I didn’t detect anyone else.”

“The fuck!” he mutters under his breath. “And who did the Sylar belong to?”

“I cannot detect.”

Wolfe’s snarl is low and feral.

“What does this mean?” I ask, my head so foggy I’m struggling to keep up.

“Someone’s using magic to cloak themselves from Howler,” he explains, exhaling loudly. “Something I thought we had Howler programmed to overcome.”

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