Page 11 of Their Pretty Little Monster

“I was… collecting herbs for my mother,” I answer, striving to conceal my nerves. If he believes me, maybe he’ll let me return home.

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. When the breeze wafts through again, it carries his scent, overwhelming my senses and nearly buckling my knees. He smells like the deep forest, mingled with the embers of a fire and the sweetness of freshly cooked caramel.

“You know you’re not permitted to be out at such a late hour on your own,” he says in a low, commanding voice. “It’s dangerous for a girl like you…”

“I-I’m sorry. I was thinking… I needed to get some… some herbs.” I glance around the garden, pretending to search for them.

“You’re not in trouble, Sage, but I should get you home,” he confirms, his mouth quirking up at the corners. He reaches out, his hand grasping the back of my arm firmly yet gently, enough to pull me away from the tree.

His touch sends a sharp jolt through me, reminding me of the accidental burn from a flame. I wince, shuddering as the sensation, rather than stinging, turns strangely comforting. Confused, I look up at him; his eyes are wide, and a smile is beginning to form.

His gaze remains fixed on me. My heart pounds, urging me to lower my eyes, but the view of his chest right in front of my face isn’t any less disconcerting than the fiery sensation spreading between my thighs.

“It’s you,” he whispers, his words cryptic yet causing something deep within me to stir—a pulse that starts in my stomach and radiates lower.

Then, his grip tightens, and suddenly, we’re moving quickly across the garden.

“Viscount,” I utter, alarmed by the abrupt intensity of the sensation in my stomach.

“Call me Killian,” he insists. “I’ve been searching for you, Sage.”

“You have?” I ask as I fail at easily matching his brisk pace, looking up at this daunting Viscount who confuses me.

The rest of our walk is shrouded in silence, his hand firmly around my arm, the reality that he’s been searching for me echoing in my mind.

Relief washes over me when we reach my front door, allowing me to feel a level of safety. I turn to face him, my back against the door, and he steps closer, his warm breath brushing my cheek as he leans in.

“I have been in search of an Offering,” he whispers.

“Wait, what?” I blink, pressing my spine against the door, my hand frantically reaching for the door handle. I’m breathless, heart slamming into my rib cage. “I’m sorry for being outside late into the night, but I’m not interested,” I plead, finally pulling my arm free from his grasp.

There’s no surprise on his face, only a thin smile. “Head inside, Sage, and say your farewells to your mother. We leave tonight.”

“What?” I gasp. “No, I-I can’t…” I feel the medicine in my pocket, knowing it will only last a few days at most. Then what? “My mom’s sick. I can’t leave. Please…”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me, and there’s that unusual glint in his eyes.

“This isn’t negotiable, Sage. You are needed.”

“But my mother…” I start, desperation clawing at my throat.

“She will be cared for,” he says, his voice softer. “I give you my word. I will return in a few days to ensure her safety.”

His words mean nothing to me, and it’s not as if I can tell the Viscount I’m buying medicine snuck into the village to guarantee he ensures she has a constant supply.

He studies me in silence, and my head hurts with how much everything spins. With how the truth that he’s not going to let this go settles into me like I’m carrying a mountain on my shoulders.

“And me? I’m not returning to Nightingale Village?” I murmur, a tremble starting deep in my chest and spreading through me.

There’s softness sweeping across his face, but there’s something else there, too. Danger. When he doesn’t respond, I have my answer.

I’m being dropped off with monsters.

Tears well up in my eyes, my throat thickening.

“Quickly now, go inside. We have little time.”

I blink at him, hands trembling. “But?—”

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