Page 23 of Monsters After Dark

The wind was the betrayer who captured her today. Or was it his magic? Because fizzling magic saturated this beast-bottle-man, crackling between them.

Perhaps it was one of Binda’s own needs keeping her bound up. Her need for touch. Her need to be known. Her need to never be afraid again. There were so many in a situation like this to pick and choose from.

The monster was a frightening, beautiful thing, eyeing her up and down like water on a hot day. Every muscular line of him was imbued with menace. He snapped sharp teeth at her. Or was that a smile?

Difficult to tell, but the shiver streaking through her chest felt like all her memories of fear. And she’d made vows not to walk away from that feeling, not if an opportunity to face it with her stupid belligerence presented itself.

Moments like this never ended in her favor. There’d be a price to pay, but she did it, anyway. “You have no power over me. You cannot take what I do not give.”

His voice came out in a growl, some sounds odd because of the shape of his mouth. “And yet you cannot move, because of my command.”

“But I freed you from your prison. Is this what you do to everyone who is nice to you?”

He cocked his head, his tail moving against her vulnerable skin, a stroke that tickled.

Binda knew how this worked. Names had power. She wanted his. “What is your name?”

He sneered at her.

Binda waited, heart pounding, and watched his eyes. He had all the strength in the situation, despite his nakedness. The smell of his spice inundated her senses. Was it doing something to her mind? Her self-control? It wasn’t pepper, cumin, or chili, or anything she recognized. The delicious aroma snuck into her head and sank hot into her skin. Binda could lose herself to it. “What is your name? Tell me now. What is your name?”

His eyes roved over her, ignoring the question and reminding Binda of her open shirt and unfastened bra. He could see everything. On display, her nipples hardened, pointing at him in puffy, swollen invitation. Her pulse beat trapped-rabbit-fast at the base of her throat.

“Who are you? Where do you come from? What. Is. Your. Name?” she pressed.

“They call me Kore.”

“That is not what I asked,” she snapped.

“You get what I say.”

“Tell me your name, Beastly-Bottle-Man.” She used the taunt like a dare. This was important. Binda knew it.

His lip curled at what she had called him. “Valkore De Nuit.”

“Valkore De Nuit.” She repeated it out loud, three times, exactly. The sound moved from her lips and rippled down the bumps and curves of his body, making his cock jerk.

He smelled very good. He looked even better.

If John Blacksmith didn’t have two wives and a hammy fist, Binda would have taken that man up on his last offer to exchange sex for iron. It had been so long since anyone touched her with interest or affection. Sometimes she wondered if she was still alive. Maybe she was just a ghost hovering over her vegetables. Rough and uncomfortable sex in the back of a smithy would remind her she was still a woman. Still here. As it was, this beast man was the healthiest, cleanest, most interested male she had yet to come across. And he was very interested.

He affected her, standing unashamed and staring her down. Her core grew damp from his concentrated interest. Was he waiting for the drug of his scent to take effect and steal her reason? He wouldn’t wait long. Not this type of hunter. Unlike the burn of the noon-day sun, the heat of his regard sank past her skin into her being, sensitizing all her female parts.

He said, “You have freed me. Claim your reward. Wealth. Power or pleasure.”

“There is a reward? Like what you get when you report law breakers to the Affinity Board? No thanks.” She knew he didn’t mean that. But that last word and his eye-level cock were playing havoc with her will and desires. Could she release one and not the other? Could she touch him and not lose her will to him?

“You have done me a good deed. I will reward you.” She watched as he carefully licked his lips. His tongue stood out lewd pink against his night-colored skin, longer and more mobile than it had any right to be. It turned her mind back to that last offered reward.

Don’t say it, Binda.But she did. Of course she did. “Pleasure? Are you a sex god, captured as a slave by some kind of vengeful hag who you refused to please?” There were stories of captured gods after the Fall. Kore was unusual enough in size and power to be one of them.

He smirked. “No. Say your reward.”

“No, not a sex god? Not a god? No hag involved?” She was trying to be funny and distance herself from that word. He didn’t smile.

His brows lowered and the green of his eyes darkened to grave-stone ivy. “No.”

He didn’t like games and sass, then. She was in so much trouble. “I say my reward and then the wind will set me free, and you will, what? Be on your way, birth day naked, flag waving as you walk?”

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