Page 2 of Enticing Monsters

I don’t bother to flee, or even to release my wings and lift myself into the obscuring branches thick above my head. If someone wants to object to my justice, I’ll either bring them around to my line of thinking, or they can join in on the lesson.

I am hoping for the latter, mostly because this griffin has made for a boring morning. I could have stayed asleep and gotten more exercise than he’s given me. His griffin has retreated inside of him at the first sign of my dominance, not even allowing me to fight against his claws and beak.

Truly a pathetic excuse for a supe. I’ve killed humans who put up more of a fight. And they only had their measly weapons to protect themselves.

“Really?”

The exasperation in the tone makes me swallow a smirk as I take in the way my kitten leans against a tree, rubbing her hand across her face as though she can scrub the image from her brain.

“Veronica, what the hell are you doing, and why is it disturbing my morning?”

“It wasn’t meant to, though if I get to see you, maybe I should move all my torture sessions nearer to you.” I consider that for a moment, tapping my finger against my lower lip. “Your father may let me, if I talk to him. Or your mother.”

I truly approve of how blood-thirsty my mate’s family is. They’ve trained her well, even if they let her think she was a human for the first seventeen years of her life. It is only their innocence—and the fact that she adores her family—that has kept me from enacting justice on her behalf.

Justice like I am enacting here.

“Stay away from my parents, Vagina,” she demands, pointing a finger at me.

Not a finger, I realize, as a stray, weak beam of light catches the shine. A knife.

I swallow the moan that builds in my throat, my body already hard and ready for her, nearly forgetting the parakeet on the ground.

Well, maybe I could forget him if he didn’t try to touch my kitten, his hand reaching for her ankle as a sob catches in his throat.

I am on him in an instant, tossing him across the thicket as though he weighs no more than the parakeet I thought of him as. In the next instant, a blade is against my throat. Sera’s tiny body molds against my back as she holds me in place.

All of my blood rushes straight to my cock, which is already hard as granite, rubbing enticingly against the denim of my jeans.

“You’re ruining my morning, Virginia. If I bomb this midterm later today because I’ve had to be out here cleaning up your mess, you and I will have words. And not the kind you enjoy.”

Impossible. I enjoy everything my kitten does to me.

I debate telling her that, but her knife nicks my skin, and the burn of it sends fireworks through my system. I nearly sag into her hold. Her other mates may still see my tiny, ethereal mate as fragile, but even with her traumas, her pain, and her body fighting against her, she is as strong as the steel that is kissing my throat.

“Please,” the pigeon whimpers again. “He’s crazy.” He hacks out a cough, followed by a howling cry more worthy of one of the wolves on campus than a griffin. He is a shame to his people, truly. “He brought me out here. Started beating me. I didn’t even do anything to him.”

“Virginia?”

Why I find her mockery of my nickname amusing, I can’t be sure, but it creates a glow in my chest that I want to squash—or feel for eternity. It goes both ways, depending on the day.

If anyone else were to call me that, I would kill them without a second of hesitation. But with Serafina? My kitten? I want to bend her over and fuck her tight ass while she screams “Virginia,” “Vagina,” “Virginal,” and every other V nickname at the top of her lungs.

I shrug, shivering with pleasure as phantom pain lances my system when the motion digs her knife into me again. Of course, I can’ttrulyfeel the kiss of the blade, not the way I would if her fingernails were digging into my flesh…

Focus, V.

“He’s not wrong.”

A tired, overburdened sigh works out of her body and buffets against my shirt as she slams her head into my spine. “You can’t beat up innocent kids.”

“Who says he’s innocent?”

“Of course I am!” he pants out. “You just agreed I didn’t do anything to you.”

Apparently, seeing my kitten holding me still is making the fool brave, but I am not about to break her hold. My mate overpowering me and bending me to her will doesn’t make me feel weak at all.

Proud. Thrilled. Horny. Sure, all of that.

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