Page 11 of Claimed By Her Monsters
“What do you want more than anything? No ‘world peace.’ Selfish version.”
Mick answers first. “A kitchen table full every Sunday. People who forget to wipe their boots because they’re too busy talking.”
Caspian studies the grain of the table. “To push past my comfort zone. Just once.”
Alister steeples his fingers. “To be at peace with myself,” he says finally. “And with everyone I love.”
I pick at the edge of my property card. “To feel safe and not mistake it for boredom.”
Caspian nods once, eyes thoughtful.
Mick presses his thumb to the edge of his drink, then says, almost too softly, “Good one.”
The game continues. We talk and laugh until truth doesn’t need a rule, it flows naturally. The chandelier hums. The fire purrs. The storm echoes around us. We play on until the only thing that matters is whether I can get from Marvin Gardens to Go without paying Alister another dime.
Chapter Nine
Fond Of Knives
I’m a little drunk. Okay, maybe more than a little. I wasn’t paying attention when Mick poured the tequila into our margaritas, which in hindsight might’ve been a mistake. I’ve only had three, but my lips are already numb and my body feels floaty, like I’m untethered.
We’ve been playing for over an hour now. Game pieces litter the board, little green houses popping up like weeds as we each scramble to become landlords in this imaginary Monopoly kingdom.
Mick’s been cracking jokes all evening. The more he drinks, the funnier he gets, or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe it’s me. The moreIdrink, the funnier he gets?
I’m not the only one tipsy. Mick’s drinking two margaritas for every one I get down. He entertains us with dirty jokes and unhinged pickup lines. Even Alister and Caspian have softened, relaxing into the coziness of the evening. Outside thunder booms and lightning flashes, but in here fire warms the room and jazz music plays quietly in the background.
“Oh, oh,” exclaims Mick. “I’ve got a good one.” He leans toward me, his cheeks pink, flushed from alcohol. A mischievous grin lets me knowhe’s about to say something scandalous. “How did Burger King get Dairy Queen pregnant?”
I roll my eyes but play along. “I don’t know. How?”
He’s bent over laughing before he even gets to the punchline. “He forgot to wrap his Whopper.”
Sober me would probably groan. Buzzed mehowls. Tears spill down my cheeks as I laugh too hard, my body tipping sideways…right into Alister.
He goes rigid beneath me, every line of him tense, but he doesn’t shove me off. His scent, clean, sharp, fills my nose.
I blink up at him, heart thudding so loud I worry he might hear it. He raises his hand then and slowly, deliberately, brings it to my face. Lips pursed and eyes narrow, his fingertips trace down my cheek. They skim the curve of my jaw and my breath hitches. The fire pops, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. They match the ones in my veins.
“You have the most unusual eyes,” he says with a quirk of his head. A line appears between his dark brows. “Almost…silver. Never seen anything quite like them.”
His thumb ghosts past my lower lip and warmth blooms in my core. My gaze betrays me, dropping to his mouth, lips full and red.
What does he taste like?
He leans closer. For a wild, breathless moment, I think he’ll kiss me and God, I want it. Desperately. I’d sell my soul to the devil for it.
Alister doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he stands, and I roll off him like water, landing back on the couch cushions with a gentle thump. Alister gazes down at me, expression cold where a moment ago it burned.
The silence thickens until I giggle nervously and then—humiliatingly—hiccup. Eyes wide, I slap a hand over my mouth.So embarrassing.
“Alright. That’s enough.” His voice is tight, controlled. “You need water.” He stalks off, heading for the kitchen.
The cushion dips as Mick drops into Alister’s empty spot. His size and heat fill the space. I lean the opposite direction, so I don’t fall into him the way I just did with Alister. I expect a joke, but instead Mick stares at the doorway Alister disappeared through, his usually jolly face pensive, lined with something heavier. Longing? Sadness? Something more? My stomach twists. What if there’s history between them? What if they’re more than friends? Why does that bother me so much?
“How do you know him?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Mick blinks, then grins, booming out a laugh. “Alister? He stabbed me. Twice.”
