Page 2 of Becoming Monsterous

"Foolish, naive little girl." She sneers, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth that make my stomach turn. "Gods aren't meant to be equal with monsters. They're meant to be kept separate. That's the reason why the Shadow World was created: to separate those meant to have power from those who were given it by accident or circumstance."

A wave of pain buckles me at the knees. Gritting my teeth, I push back up to my feet, leaning against Angus's warm chest. There's comfort in his touch—even as he growls in my ear, his strong arms my prison instead of protection.

It hurts to have him treat me this way, even though I know that it's not his fault. I never thought the safety and security I felt in his strength could be changed like this. But the more he tightens his grip on me, despite my whimpering in pain, the faster my pulse races.

Until I begin to feel actual, physical fear.

Which turns into dread.

"That's it," Aphrodite murmurs, a wicked smile on her dry, desiccated lips as my eyes slip closed and her fingers dig deeper into my flesh. "Let me in, little lamb, and find out what waits for you on the other side."

Chapter2

Ellie

Memories flood my mind.

I'm inside my body, full of pain. Each bone presses against flesh. Every inhale burns my lungs. Every movement hurts.

In front of me, sand swirls in the wide-open bowl of an arena.

Two men battle, one with a broad, shining sword, the other with a lance tipped in a blade that drips blood.

One with hair as dark as the night itself.

The other with long, flowing golden locks.

Their blades pierce each other's chest. A howl of pain and fury goes up—not from either of the men, but from me, my voice ripping out of me and tearing through the empty air.

My knees crumple with agonized grief. I fall back, sliding towards the ground then through it.

Darkness wraps around me. Thin leather whips sting my legs. I look up into a cruel, otherworldly face: a man with a chiseled jawline and light blue skin, his long white hair and beard both braided, his eyes pleased as the blood runs from my skin.

I don't know who he is, but I do. I fear him, but he means nothing to me. I moan as the pain radiates from the backs of my thighs—from my neck—from the bottoms of my feet...

The world slides around. For a moment I'm back on the marble slab in the small church, Aaron holding a knife above me. He looks down at me without any emotion as he slides the blade into my chest.

"Come back here," a voice snaps, dry and angry, full of venom. "You'll be mine no matter what it takes."

Memories slide through my fingers.

A sword in my hand, snakes in my hair, a battlefield around me.

My Uncle Richard's body on the ground, growing colder by the second.

A man with golden skin and thick wrists throwing his arms around my waist and picking me up, laughing, twirling me around, calling meEsma, Esma, my darling, my love, my light.The pet names roll of his tongue in a foreign language, but my mind knows what they are, translates them effortlessly.

Aaron's hands sliding between my thighs, his fingers shoving inside me cold, the wince I pushed down so he wouldn't be displeased.

A snake with beady red eyes pressing cold scales against my skin.

Chains sliding around my thin ankles and thinner wrists, tightening until the blood in my body runs cold.

My hands diving into a man's midsection, pressing through torn flesh, straight to the organs inside.

A woman kneeling at my feet, her face wide and open, her hands up in supplication. She smiles at me adoringly, the expression of love never leaving her face, not even as I swing an executioner's ax down on her neck and sever her head from her body.

Two lovers on either side of me, each of them pressing mouths and hands and cocks into my body, their moans and curses drawing pleasure from me that breaks me open and shakes me to my core.

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