Page 63 of For Fillies and Monsters

He steps toward me again, more prowling now than walking; he looks like a caged beast, his skin rippling with the effort to keep it contained. “Who, the fuck, did that to you?”

I look up at the sky, the darkness almost completely enveloping the ribbons of color now and I know I have to go. This is my only shot, even if leaving this conversation feels like I’m ending something that could be great—all-consuming, and no doubt dangerous, like jumping over an open flame—but worth it.

I shrug, looking at him again. “He does it often. It’s not a big deal. No one notices.”

“Tell me who it is, and I will kill him.” There’s no hesitation.

I laugh, the sound more like a bark in the silence around us, and then quickly shut my mouth. He looks anything but joking, and I contemplate telling him.

Would he actually kill him? Do I want that?

“No. Thanks, though.” I have to leave. I have to get out of here before I do something stupid.Like stay.

Taking several steps back, I watch his dark face as I pull my braid over my shoulder. Stubble covers the angles of his jaw, making him all shadows and sharp lines, and I know that I will never forget him. Even if I want to forget everything about this night, this life.

“What… What’s your name?” His voice borders on panic as he watches me go, and I bite my bottom lip until I taste copper. I will not change my mind for anyone or anything.

I can’t or I will die.

“Maybe next time.”

“Why did you stop me, then?”

“I saw you,” I point to his belt buckle, “at the stock show. You were really good.”

His face deflates. We both know it’s a lie, at least mostly. I do recognize him from the stock show. Linda and Bob had taken me only a month ago, but that wasn’t why I had stopped here. Unfortunately, I can’t give him anything else. I’ve already given him too much of my time.

And probably my heart. Which makes no sense at all.

TWENTY-SEVEN

STETSON

April 27th, 2024

“Get any sleep?”Gus asks gruffly from the stove, where he’s busy flipping bacon. I pause, drinking him in. Watching him doing such a domestic task has my head swimming and my pussy clenching. He turns to me, his dark brows pushed together in a deep V, and I realize I’ve been caught staring.

Fuck it. I’m tired of the secrets between us, even if I amterrifiedof them.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I mumble and reach for the coffee pot. He nods, the shining curls bouncing around his face. They look like ribbons of shadow—a glistening hood covering the things that make him so identifiable—his eyes, and the monster lurking beneath them.

How long has he hidden behind that curtain of dark hair? How long have I been too scared to pull it back and see what’s truly beneath it?

“So, today. You know the police will come for me.” Gus states matter-of-fact like.

I look up at him, alarm bells signaling in my head, pulling me from my train of thought. He doesn’t turn toward me as he continues.

“It’s just the nature of a beating like that. And honestly, Nathan would never let anything like that go willingly. He gets off on money and power, and seeing as I’m broke as fuck, power will be the only thing he can ring from me.”

“Are you scared?” I whisper around the rim of my mug.

He shrugs. “I’ve faced much worse odds. I don’t think things will stick, anyway.”

How? How can he be so nonchalant about this?

I really need to figure out more about this man who is quickly becoming a part of my life, whether I’m ready or not. Like his past—what the fuck else don’t I remember?

“Gus, how can you be so sure? So calm?” I know my voice borders on hysterical, butdamn.

---