Page 13 of Claimed By Her Monsters
“We didn’t get the peanut-butter ones,” Caspian tells Mick, who slumps back on the couch with a sigh, rubbing his forehead in relief.
Worried it’s taking too long, I run to open the door. Before me stands the most adorable children I’ve ever seen. I’m guessing their ages range between four to seven. There’s a sugar plum fairy, a ninja, and a Spiderman whose mask is so tight I’m not sure how he can breathe. A few feet behind them are a man and woman huddling under an umbrella. For a minute, I flash back to my mom making a red superhero cape out of a bed sheet. How I felt when she tied it around my neck, like I could be my own hero.
It’s still storming, with rain pouring down in torrents. Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds above in staccato bursts. Luckily, Alister’s doorway is set back beneath an overhang of roofline, so no water reaches us.
The kids chorus out a sweetly off-tune, “Trick-or-treat.”
I drop to my knees so I’m eye level with them.
“Oh my gosh,” I gush. “Aren’t you the cutest?”
Alister is behind me. I know it’s him without even turning. Fingers brush my back, then shove a bag of candy into my hands. The children eye it greedily.
I rip open the bag and hold it out. “You can have as much as you want.” They surround me, sunshine on a dark night, and chatter about candy and costumes and how everyone says this house is haunted.
“Haunted?” I widen my eyes dramatically. “You must be very brave to come here.”
Spiderman nods, his shoulders pushed back, but the fairy leans closer. She’s the youngest of them, and her lisp is pronounced as she whispers in my ear, “Mommy and Daddy made us. Said not to be scared. That they’ll protect us.”
My throat tightens at that, and it hits me. A rush of memories of feeling safe, of being loved. I blink back tears, not wanting to frighten the little girl. “Your parents are right,” I tell her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of here.” Strong hands are on my shoulders again. Alister massages me gently, like he knows I need the contact.
I smile at the children, meaning it as I say, “Everyone in this house is very nice.”
I almost fall over when the little girl launches herself into my arms. Sticky fingers clasp tight around my neck as she hugs me, then her parents call her and she’s gone, waving as she skips away, but the scent of sugar and chocolate remains.
A little shaky, I stand.
“You’re good with children,” Alister observes. I don’t look over, but I can feel his gaze on my face.
I shrug. “Kids always like me.” I chuckle. “I think they can sense my immaturity.”
When I turn to him, there’s something sad in his expression. “Hold on to it a little longer,” he says.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The child inside of you. She’ll be gone soon.”
I open my mouth to ask what the hell that means but he’s already walking away.
Chapter Eleven
You're A Toddler
We make another round of margaritas, strawberry this time. Mick gets the speckled red berries out of the refrigerator and blends them with ice. Since we already used the wide-rimmed margarita glasses, they go into red Solo cups like we’re at a frat party.
Monopoly intensifies as first Caspian and then Mick go bankrupt.
“It’s down to just you and me,” I tell Alister, showing him my teeth.
He sighs, unimpressed. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You should be,” I retort. “I’m ruthless. I’ll bleed you dry.”
A slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips. “Careful, little one. You don’t scare me. It’s more likely to be the other way around.”
“I’m not here to scare you.” I lean forward, eyes narrowing on the board. “I’m here to win.”
“Win?” His tone drips with mockery. “You’ve got two railroads and some pastel shacks in the slums. I own Boardwalk. You’re a toddler with a piggy bank trying to take down a hedge fund.”
