Page 2 of Monsters we Crave

"Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be out here alone.”

Ugh. His voice was dripping with sleaze.

“I’m not alone,” I lied, despite it being pitifully obvious I had no one with me.

He took another step closer, holding out one hand. “Come here, let's find somewhere safe.”

I wondered if he thought I was stupid and naïve, or if he was somehow unaware how bad off he looked. “That’s all right. I really need to go. I have people waiting on me.” I crab walked away, knowing it would all be over if I put my back to him.

He watched me and began to nod his head. Up and down one too many times. “Okay, yeah. You should get back, then.”

I’d only put a few feet between us when he suddenly lunged toward me. I screamed so loud a critter that had been hiding in the brush took off. A paralyzing fear threatened to overtake my senses as he managed to get one arm around me. His sweat and grime-covered hand collided with my face. Pain bloomed across my cheek and my mouth.

I ignored it, latching onto him with my teeth. The revolting taste of sweat and dirt filled my mouth, along with a hint of blood from my split lip.

He jerked free with a curse and held me tighter. I didn’t know if he was trying to pick me up or take me down. We grappled and lost our balance, falling to the cold ground. The air was knocked from my lungs as he landed on top of me. Leaves and twigs dug into my spine as I continued to struggle. “Get off!” I reached up and raked my nails down his face, hissing as one broke in the middle.

“You little bitch.” He bellowed in pain and slammed a fist into my side.

I cried out, my vision flashing white, tears swimming in my eyes. I couldn’t hold him off. I was too weak and far too small. Practicing self-defense with Ophelia didn’t come close to this. I let myself go limp, praying his blatant lack of intelligence would work in my favor.

“Have you had enough?” he growled down at me like some kind of geriatric bear.

I nodded and forced myself to remain lying still as he reached for the button of my cloak. Adrenaline was the only thing that kept me from succumbing to the soul-crushing fear I felt. He kissed my cheek, hot breath fanning across my face. God, what the heck was that? I tried—failed—not gagging. The stench combined with his body odor had nausea churning in my stomach.

He continued to fumble with my buttons, and I took advantage of the distraction. With a last-ditch effort, I managed to pull my knife from my pocket. I engaged the thin blade and thrust it into his side, aiming blindly. He howled in pain and recoiled, blood dripping onto the ground. I sucked in a breath and scrambled to my feet, intending to run. A tight grip on my ankle halted my escape. It felt like the weight of the world latched onto me as I was dragged backward. I couldn’t keep my balance. I hit the ground with a cry of frustration, landing on my stomach.

“Let go!” I rolled and kicked at the man with my other leg, catching him in the chin. “Just let me go,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

His bloodshot eyes filled with rage. Whatever he was on made his wound nothing more than a minor annoyance despite how much it was bleeding. I fought as hard as I could, exhaustion threatening to take hold. Branches began to snap around us, growing louder with each passing second. Before I could process what was happening, the man’s shackled grip was abruptly broken.

Disoriented, I fumbled into a sitting position, breath coming in ragged gasps. An imposing figure stood over him, one distinctly different from my attacker. When he tried to get up, a boot connected with his chest, sending him sprawling. The man tried to speak and was cut off by a deafening bang.

The sound echoed, reverberating long after the noise itself had faded. The precision was chilling—a single bullet, right between his eyes. My ears rang, and I felt a numbing sensation, as if the universe had momentarily lost its grasp on time. The man's body slumped lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud, blood that almost looked black in the moonlit dark pooling around him.

I remained cemented in place, panting heavily, torn between relief and a new, deeper-rooted fear. My focus was interrupted when my savior crouched in front of me and with a firm yet gentle hand tilted my chin, forcing my attention to him. Right away, I knew this was not a mere boy or one of the men Grandma complained of when she went on supply runs. This was a man crafted from the dark tales she whispered on cold nights, a figure from myths.

The tactical gear he wore hugged a physique that spoke of strength and discipline. His eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen, a red flecked with gold. They carried the weight of things I couldn't even begin to understand.

Wisdom. Pain. Power.

But it was the emblem embroidered on his clothing—the majestic, almost lifelike dragon —that made my heart skip a beat. A new kind of fear had ice skating down my spine. This man was likely the most dangerous person in these woods. More so than his subordinates who stood by, watching over us and keeping guard.

They too were armed to the max and donning tactical gear of a different variety. I'd heard of this family, but in the way one hears of distant storms: dangerous, powerful, and thankfully out of reach.

Until now.

“Are you all right?”

His voice was surprisingly melodic—deep and resonant with a slight accent but soft too, like the dangerous lull of a siren’s song. There was an authority in it, one that demanded respect not by volume but depth. That perplexed me. He couldn’t have been that old. In his twenties, I guessed. He seemed ageless in a way. As if time had chosen to be kinder to him, or perhaps he had mastered it.

For as dangerous as he was, his attention didn’t seem predatory. There was curiosity there, maybe even concern. As he gently turned my head to the side, there was also something else. Something I couldn't put a finger on. One of the men with him approached, his face covered by a reinforced helmet with a sleek design.

“That was the last of the Trefkar.”

“Have the body skinned and strung up in the plaza alongside the others.”

My heart was still racing, hammering against my ribs in the aftermath of the nightmare I'd just experienced. His words did little to help calm it. The way he issued such an order with indifference and sheer lack of emotion…

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