Page 21 of Claimed By Her Monsters
Tears blur my vision. “No!” My body trembles. The storm outside roars, matching my denial.
Mick shoves a hand through his hair, his voice raw. “Then you have to let us in. Let us do this.”
The house moans, thunder shakes the walls, and for a terrifying second I hear something tear apart, wood, stone, maybe my sanity.
Alister leans in. “Madison,” he begs. “Please, let us save you. Save ourselves.”
My knees give. My heart claws at my ribs. His plea rips me open in a way the storm never could. If it were only me, I’d risk it, but it isn’t. It’s about these three men, too, and even though I just met them, I’m alreadyattached to each of them in different ways. I draw a shaking breath, meet Alister’s black eyes, and accept the truth.
I don’t have a choice. I never did.
My voice breaks, small, ashamed, terrified. “Do it.”
Chapter Seventeen
You Have A Graveyard?
Alister snaps into action. “Caspian, grab a bowl of water and all the candles you can find. Mick, we need salt from the pantry, feathers from the old pillows upstairs and rocks. Get those from the graveyard.”
“You have a graveyard?” I manage, my mind spinning.
He smiles, indulgent. “Do you even have to ask?”
There’s a flurry of activity, drawers sliding, feet pounding, doors opening to the storm, while everyone but me runs around. I sit and stare into the fire as the logs settle with a soft hiss, like the house waits with me. “I am out with lanterns, looking for myself,”Emily Dickinson once wrote. I hold on to that quote in my few minutes of solitude, wondering what future, what past I’m about to find.
I drift to where Caspian sat while we played Monopoly. The drawing he was working on lies face down. I flip it over and find my own face staring back. He’s drawn me mid-laugh, cheeks lifted, eyes sparkling. I trace the curve of my smile with a fingertip because I recognize her, this version of me. She’s the girl who laughed too loud at the dinner table. The one who kissed her parents’ cheeks before bed. It should be impossible, to be happyin a house full of monsters, but the truth is here, written on paper in clear, definite lines. Tonight, with these three men, I’ve been happy.
Alister’s hand is on my shoulder, shaking gently. “Come upstairs. To my bedroom.”
Even with all this drama, my mind perks up. I’m going to see where Alister sleeps, where he does…other things.
He holds my hand as we climb the stairs, fingers interlaced with mine. That’s when I notice we’re completely alone. No Mick. No Caspian.
Like he can read my mind, Alister chuckles. “Kinda quiet without them, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I almost miss them,” I admit, mouth curving as I picture strong, brash Mick and quiet, haunted Caspian. I’m terrified of what’s coming, but steadier knowing all three will be there with me.
We’re like the legs of a table, I realize. We needallof us to stand.
Alister’s hand tightens around mine and I shiver, noting how icy his fingers are. “Brr,” I say, “remind me to get you gloves for Christmas.”
He chuckles. “I’m cooling myself down for you.”
“How so?”
“This is my normal body temperature. Usually witches run hot when they awaken. Sometimes,” his gaze flits to mine and then away, “they burn up.”
I swallow, stomach plummets when I realize he means that,burn up, literally. “But you were warm every time I’ve touched you before?”
“I can vibrate my cells to generate heat, just like I can force my heart to beat or lungs to breathe.”
“Don’t you need to do that anyway?”
“No,” he says simply. “I’m dead. Died a long time ago.”
I try to cover my shock, but I’m sure I do a poor job of it. “How…”
“I’ll tell you all about it another time.” There’s a sad smile on his face, like he still grieves for who he was. Then he lifts our clasped hands and brushes his lips, cool and dry, across my knuckles. “Today, little witch, is all about you. It’s your birthday.”
