Page 220 of Monsters in Love

Eventually it all stops. We land, but I’m still clutched in his arms. His chest heaves with exertion. “Mejan pitas turzassa nyit,” he whispers as he pats the back of my head.

I can’t tell what he’s saying, but curiosity gets the better of me again. Earlier I touched his wing, and it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Now there’s a section of his wing just under his arms that I can reach with a finger. It’s only a gentle poke, but his grip on me tightens, and his back straightens before his wings draw closer to his body.

He sucks in a breath before a set of hands jerks my head back by the ponytail. “Vittar otoki. Aalkos miniesla!” His eyes bore into mine. They are entirely white, but they shimmer with the bright colors of the forest.

The smell I noticed earlier grows stronger as he bends down toward my neck. He inhales a deep breath of me and hums a low sound in his throat. What he says is unintelligible as one of his arms lowers to my ass, gripping me with such ferocity that I gasp.

“Wait—I—” I barely get out what I want to say before I feel a simple flick of his tongue against my neck.

I moan, and my pussy throbs, a reaction I can’t explain. The mothman’s deep, desperate groan as his hands tighten their grip should concern me; instead it seems to simmer just under my skin.

One of his free hands splays against my ass under my skirt, slowly inching toward the ache that has started just between my thighs. When he finds my underwear, he roughly tugs them aside, until a finger runs along my slit, coating it in my wetness.

“Halako sin mina otoki?” His rich voice purrs against my neck, and I whimper.

I don’t even know what he’s saying, but I don’t care. I just want him to touch me. Something grips at the front of my hips, clutching me to him until I feel feathers at the bare skin of my stomach. It tickles, and yet when it touches my skin, it leaves behind warmth.

His tongue and mouth pepper against my collarbone while his finger presses against my waiting core. The scent of sweetness is so strong that I can taste it on my tongue as if I’m eating it. When his finger finally enters me, I keen out a depraved sound that has me canting my hips forward against something long and wet.

Glancing down, I can hardly see between our bodies, but I don’t miss the long frilled-looking tentacles that still dance around my waist. It looks like little feather dusters, and there are four of them that have gripped hold of me.

“Please.” I whisper as the finger inside fills me up.

The mothman grumbles something unintelligible before pulling his finger out of my throbbing pussy. I whine at the loss of him, especially because all of his hands that were holding me let go.

He’s panting when he stands back upright. I watch as the long white feather-like tendrils recede back inside his pouch, along with the tip of something bright green.

The mothman runs a hand down his face, shaking his head at me. “En voa, ien vila.”

With a sigh of disappointment, I shuffle my skirt back around me, covering my body, moving my shirt back over my shoulder.

I look up at his face. There’s a pained expression there pulling his lips down and his brows together. “Et todellaken teida milla peela,” he says, patting my head once more.

“I wish I could understand what you’re saying.”

Instead I’m answered with him pulling me back into his arms, and he steps off the branch, taking flight again.

We fly for a long time, but slower than before. It’s almost a leisurely pace, which helps the somersault my stomach gives every time he dives or moves quickly. Eventually we settle somewhere, but I can smell it long before I see it. There’s an almost sour, rank smell that reminds me of the trash compactor on the ship. It lingers in my nose, making my nose wrinkle up. God, it’s horrible.

The moth lets me down on a more slender limb this time. It barely has enough space for both my feet, and when I look down, it’s covered in moss. Below us, a large swamp shimmers like the stars, and the roots of tall grass shimmer under the water. Skinny pale pink trees with large spines grow from inside the water. A large tree in its center has long tendrils that dip into the water, and there are large lily pads everywhere.

Staring at the gorgeous scene before me has excitement tickling at my nerves. This place is beautiful. Everything about this planet is gorgeous and dangerous. That goes for the mothman too.

He slides off the branch onto one of the large lily pads, but the way he moves is like a dance. Every step he takes is calculated as I shimmy off the branch to follow. When my boot touches the lily pad, I’m shocked at how solid it feels. It’s as strong as any flooring, holding my weight with ease.

“Pysi siela.” The moth’s hands come out in a halt motion, pinning me with his gaze.“Psyi.” He points at the limb, and I shake my head.

“I don’t want to stay by myself. What if one of those things comes back?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t even have a gun.” Not like it would matter because I hardly know how to use one. It’s standard for some of the personnel to carry them, but I stay in the lab, so it isn’t as if I’ve ever had a use for one.

He shakes his head, almost exasperated with me, before turning to start his weird dance across the pads. The further away he gets, the more nervous I feel. He’s only a few feet away, close enough, if I needed to, I could get to him, but why I feel safety with this moth creature I can’t understand. At least he hasn’t tried to eat me yet, so that’s something.

Eventually he gets across the swamp to the large tree in the center, but I can’t figure out why he walked at all when he could fly. The closer to the tree’s tendrils he gets, the more they begin to sway, but he moves so slowly. When he’s close enough, he steps onto one of the large upturned roots before bending down near its base. His hands slowly and methodically lift a section of reeds, shoving one of his hands into the water.

Why he had to go that far to get into the water doesn’t make sense because couldn’t he have done it here where I am?

Suddenly the water breaks around him as something leaps up at his hand. He doesn’t move, but I see the way his wings and back go rigid. Is everything on this planet out to eat you?

I gasp as the thing beneath the water comes up a second time, this time leaping enough that I have a chance to see it. It’s bright orange with serrated teeth and large fan-like fins as large as my arm. It doesn’t bite the mothman. Instead it seems to be angry that he’s messed up where he was living.

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