Page 203 of Monsters in Love

The creature shoved me onto my back when I gripped its head harder. I twisted my right hand, snapping one of its thorns off before stabbing at its side. I had no idea if the poison would work on the creature too, but if nothing else I would gut the beast, let it bleed out, make sure it never breathed again.

It howled at me, snapping its teeth, unable to make contact. I rolled so that I was on top, groaning with pain, spines embedding in my chest, stomach, and legs.

But I had to win this fight.

The woman moved, distracting my gaze for a second. She was hovering, as if wanting to help but not knowing how. She was so fucking beautiful.

A sharp pain made me refocus on the beast beneath me. I punched its muzzle, feeling the grind of its teeth against my knuckles. A snarl tore free from it, then morphed into a whimper as I snapped off another thorn and stabbed it into its other side, ripping through fur and flesh. I could feel the hot slick of blood on me, knowing that some of it was mine. It gnashed out again, and this time I grabbed its jaw and tugged, tearing the bottom one out of place with a vicious snap.

I just needed it to die. Soon.

It pushed further into me, locking itself against my body with its thorns. I could feel the poison working, feel it clouding my mind, stealing the will from me.

Just a little more.

I was slumped against a wall now, breaths ragged as the beast collapsed. Its weight bore down on me as it breathed it’s last breath and then lay motionless against my chest.

The flowers.

I just needed one, maybe two, to keep me going. To stave off death a little longer.

Tamara

The satyr was propped against one wall, the thorny wolf creature was dead but impaled in the satyr’s body. I could tell he was still alive. The rapid rise and fall of his chest was evidence enough. Now that they were still, I could see them better – get a feel for the vicious wolf creature. The wickedly strong satyr had basically torn its jaw in two.

There was blood everywhere, and I was thankful that the light from my torch meant I couldn’t take the entire scene in at once. I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what was there. All of this was already too fucked up to be real.

I was in a labyrinth with a satyr and a dead beast which I didn’t even have the words to describe. Something I’d never seen in mythology. Yet had been a very real, living thing, breathing down my neck. And now it was dead.

I leaned against the well, every limb and muscle in my body losing tension. Tonight was not the night I would die. But I was still stuck here. With him.

Inhaling deeply, I steeled myself and stood, setting my shoulders back. It felt like I was still quaking internally, but I knew I had to move. This male had protected me, had defended me at risk of his own life, and now he needed my help; besides, he might be the only way I would escape from this wretched place.

At the sound of movement, he snapped his head toward me, his gaze locking on mine. My first instinct was to look away, but I couldn’t show any fear here, not if I wanted to make it out alive. His eyes burned like liquid amber, flares of orange sparking in them. Now that he was mostly still, I could see him so much better. His face was mostly humanoid, lips and nose, those brilliant eyes. The lines of his face were more angular than most humans, and of course, his horns. Something inside of me fucking purred. They were magnificent, one set curled up and away from the top of his head like a ram, while the other were higher, straighter. I wanted to reach out and touch them, wondering what sensation that might give him.

For a moment I wondered how the heck he slept – certainly not on his back – but then I shook that thought free. Wonder crept back in again. A real life satyr. Right here.

“Hi,” I said, giving an awkward little wave as I took another step closer. “Um.”

Yeah, this was not going well.

He emitted a low vibration, and my eyes dropped to his bare chest, that heavily muscled chest, a freaking six pack. He wore pants but I could see what looked like soft black fur poking out from beneath the fabric. His thighs were solid, so thick, and his legs ended in massive hooves. I shuddered, but it wasn’t in disgust – this was a creature straight from myth, a beast of fantasy, but it was here. Real.

“Help me,” it said.

Hesaid. He was very much a male, and the way he was looking at me now, with pain dulled eyes, was more human than I could ever have guessed he would be.

“I...” I sucked in a breath, not sure what to say or do, even though he was communicating with me in English. My brain struggled to catch up to the reality that was very much here and smacking me in the face.

“If you don’t, I will die.”

My mouth fell open and my heart tripped over itself. I took another tentative step forward.

“Can I trust you?” I asked, my voice sounding quiet and shaky..

He gave a rough laugh. Almost a bark. “If I had wanted you dead, I’d have let the spined wolf have you.”

True enough. It would have been the easier option. I moved forward again, hefting the torch in my hand, as if that would be any defence against him once he was free. As I got closer, I noticed more details. Long dark hair, tangled and knotted like he never used a brush. Did satyrs have brushes? There were too many questions, and right now, none of the answers mattered. I reached his side and heard the labored breathing, saw him wince in pain.

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