Page 93 of For Fillies and Monsters

“I figured out your name at a stoplight in a different town—a fucking stop light Stetson! Do you understand how unlikely that is? And you’re probably wondering why I waited. I wanted you to have a life, Stetson. I… I love you—the only way a monster knows how to love—with teeth and claws and violent, all-consuming need. I knew, from the moment I met you, I’d carve my name into your heart no matter what it took. I’m not sorry about any of it?—”

I sigh angrily, cutting off another string of words. If I have to listen to him wax on any longer, I might just pull my hair out.

Ten years, and it’s like he doesn’t know me at all—like he thinks I’m not as fucked up as him and don’t want this—don’t want him. Even as he says the poetic words, I don’t know if he believes them, and that makes me murderous.

“Oh, will you please shut the fuck up?” I hiss, anger—white hot—igniting through me. There is no shuffling. I don’t even hear him breathing anymore. “Do you not know me as well as you claim to? Do you not know that I don’t want your apologies or explanations—only your obsession, Gus? Only your heart? The only time I would run from you is when I want to be chased. I don’t want your soppy inner monologues or yourpoorly written poetic words. I want your actions. And if you can’t give me that, get the fuck out of my life.”

Am I crazy for challenging him? Absolutely. But I’m tired of the words, of hiding and waiting. In this unforgiving world, if you do not take what you want, you will get nothing.

And I want Gus. Worse than I want oxygen.

He laughs, the sound dark and murderous cutting through the growing tension.

“Fuck, I love you, Little Filly.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. Gus looms beyond Winston’s stall door, his dark eyes glittering in the pale moonlight. He did not just confess his love to me like he’s said it a million times—the phrase well-used and routine between us. It only pisses me off more.

“If you love me so much, why don’t you spend a little less time talking, and a little more time showing me?”

My chest is heaving at this point, my skin so hot I know I will surely burst into flames at any moment. I feel both numb and electrocuted, and I desperately need him to do more than talk.I need to feel.I need to feel him.

“You knew.” He murmurs the words, and I recognize it’s not a question. He’s piecing it together.

“If I say yes, will you stop being a little bitch and fuck me?” I growl in response.

“You really are perfect. A brat, but so fucking perfect. Do you want me, Little Filly?”

I sneer at him, filling my expression with as much hate as I can muster. He’s always the dominating one, always the one making me beg—and I hope he’ll continue to do it for the rest of our lives. But right now, I need to make him pay. Make him beg for my forgiveness for even questioning me—us.

“Do you want to fuck me, Gus?”

His eyes narrow at me, and I snarl back. There will be timefor words, for whispering apologies and sweet nothings. But this isn’t it.

The last leash on my own beast’s strains, snapping free—I will never again be able to contain them. Honestly, I no longer want to. His shadows love my own, and that is the only thing I truly want. “Give me your monsters, your beasts. Give meyou, Gus.”

FORTY

AUGUSTUS

June 7th, 2024

I stare at Stetson,her hurled words hitting their mark. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, and I want to pull on her quickly unraveling composure—I want to see the woman beneath it all, the woman who is even braver than I’ve given her credit for.

I’m caught off balance. There’s no other way to describe my spiraling, uncontrollable emotions.

She knew, and she wants me, anyway. Why did I ever question that?

“You knew,” I whisper, trying to put together the last few pieces of the puzzle, wrapping my mind around the world where the woman I am obsessed with is darker than I realize—fuck! I do not deserve her.

But I will have her anyway. Forever. Even if it damns me.

In the darkness, I can barely make out her features, but I do see her shift, no doubt cocking that hip and rolling her eyes in the bratty way she does.

“If I say yes, will you stop being a little bitch and fuck me?” Her tone is venomous, filled with so much unrestrained anger. Anger I’m realizing is because of my own cowardice. She’s not the scaredfilly she portrays herself to be, but a bloodthirsty mare, protecting what she values most—her demons. As dark and deprived as they may be, they are what make her who she is. And even if she doesn’t always love that about herself, she isn’t afraid of them either. She sees her strength in them, the way I do. I was just too blind to see it.

“You really are perfect. A brat, but so fucking perfect. Do you want me, Little Filly?”

She sneers at me, her teeth snapping in the darkness, and I feel ready to explode. “Do you want to fuck me, Gus?”

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