Page 11 of My Boyfriends Are All Monsters
“I want you to say that name again.”
“No!” she screamed, hands balled into fists against her ears as she violently shook her head. “Ah, uh, don’t do that. Don’t speak all at once, like it’s normal!” Lucy motioned for Noah to back farther away. “Get rid of the Flannel Fabio and the creepy chanting townsfolk outside.” Then she pointed to Crane. “You speak.”
“Give me a moment.”
Bottling all that I am into one being is difficult, but sacrifices must be made in a loving relationship. With great labor, I released all but the body she selected and crammed my consciousness into Crane. The skin nearly ripped at the seams when the last of me fit inside. To counteract the cramped space, I added a fetching set of eagle wings to his back. “Is this better?”
She eyed my new appendages warily. “Is that what you are? Some kind of angel?”
“If this form is pleasing, then that is what I will be.”
“That’s not an answer, Crane or Hemlock or whoever the fuck you are,” she snapped.
I laughed breathlessly. Even when spat like a curse, hearing my name on her lips was like fresh honey drizzled on the tongue. “I’ve been called numerous things over the eons. And I’ve heard that name praised in hymns and whispered into spiteful potions. But hearing it on my Priestess’s lips for the first time in millennia is the purest, most untainted form of satisfaction.”
“Priestess?”
I pulled her coin from my pocket. “Your token. You wished not to be alone anymore. To have the Hallmark-style love you see in movies. I can do that for you. I will. Call my name again and I’ll grant anything you wish.”
“So ... just to be clear, you’re not going to eat me?” Her words were rushed, like she’d trip over them if they didn’t spill out quickly enough.
Festering puddle of roadkill! I should have killed Shriek as soon as he laid eyes on my Priestess. “No, I’m not going to eat you.”
She waved a finger around us. “And this isn’t purgatory? I’m not dead?”
“You’ve been chatting with your friends this whole time. Why would you have cell reception in the afterlife?”
“Don’t get smart with me! Why is a wishing-well monster trying to seduce me with baked goods and rippling abs?” The flash of anger brought more color to her face until it reached the depth of rain-soaked earth. So mesmerizing that I wanted to crawl to her for a taste.
“I’m sorry,” I said instead.
“That’s still not an answer.”
I supposed it wasn’t. Ruling over a populace as a god and feasting on foolish travelers did not prepare you on how to properly soothe a potential mate. Why was dating so difficult?
“I wanted to grant your wish.”
Lucy’s lips pursed together. She clutched her hands to her shirt, twisting the fabric up into a nervous ball, and shivered. “To what end?”
“Till the next one. And the one after that, and then more still. Stay here with me and I’ll spoil you so rotten you’ll never want to leave.”
“Why?”
“Does someone need a reason to want you?”
She didn’t answer. Either she didn’t know or this was one of those things humans simply knew without much fuss. As if to highlight the difference of our species, my essence pulsed against the flesh of my vessel so hard the skin split beneath my wings. I used the opening to fit another smaller pair of wings under the first. Unfurling all four of them to better accommodate my being as I tried to come up with a suitable answer for my Priestess.
“Your blood is sweet.”
The choked gasp that racked her body told me that was not a suitable answer.
“I mean ... I like it when you say my name. You reminded me of who I was after so many years of being alone. When you tossed a coin down my well, you didn’t wish for power or riches or the death of an old enemy, as many have before. I’m used to those wishes. At the height of my power, I could grant them with a snap of my fingers. But you didn’t. You wished to be cherished. To not be alone anymore.”
Slowly, I eased myself to sit in front of her and took her balled-up fists into my hands. Her warmth felt like fire on my frozen skin. The feeling was so intense it was almost scalding, but save for her rejection, I wouldn’t release them for anything. “I want that too. But more than that, I don’t want to let you go. I want to touch you, taste and savor all that you are until my name cries from your lips like a prayer. Tell me your desires and I’ll craft a life so beautiful you’ll wake each morning with a smile on your face.”
“But I still don’t know what you are—is this even your real form?”
“I have no physical form. You may as well ask the wind which direction it naturally blows.”
