Page 44 of My Monster's Keeper
“It will be back with the dawn,” Wilder says, “when it has found more humans to store for its feast.”
“Wonderful,” I say. “How long until dawn?”
“Hours,” Stix murmurs. “The shadows are everywhere right now, strong, thick, dark. They will weaken as the sun gets closer.”
I look up at him and then, on instinct and because I need to, I press my lips to his.
He freezes. I draw back and look away.
“So, uh, thanks for being so cool.”
“Cool? I am not cold,” Stix murmurs in amusement and brushes back my hair. The desire to lean into his touch, much like a cat, is strong.
“I mean nice, cool is nice. I just don’t understand why.”
“It is really quite simple. In worlds full of all that they have, you are the only thing that has made my heart move. It is not a matter of nice, it is a matter of mine.”
I peer up at him, unsure of what he means but knowing it’s important.
Puppy drops off the ceiling and crouches beside us. “If you stay, the innards will splatter you.”
I let out a squeak.
But Stix just sighs, picks me up, and carries me outside.
The clouds have hidden the sun. Which is just as well. It doesn’t feel like a day that should have the sun shining. It feels like tonight will be a night for hunting.
Chapter 13
Frost
There is something not right about this evening. I can’t decide if it’s me or if it’s this place. Seeing that ship leaving the docks with her calling our names with a fear I have not yet seen in her broke something in me. It filled me with so much feeling, so much anger. The ice around me melted, and I found a fury and a fear that stole the air from my lungs while it set wings to my heels. Freezing the ocean was impulsive and something my sire would greatly disapprove of.
Yet, I can’t find it in me to regret it. I can’t find it in me to leave her, either. I’m crouched on the roof of the building, watching her. We all are. Stix stays close to her side like the lap dog he’s become. The demonic Grim prowls the shadows, thinking he can’t be seen but unable to hide that his weakness is her. Whether he wants to eat her or otherwise, the way in which to destroy that vexing, filthy vermin is through the girl.
But the biggest surprise has been Wilder. The older Fae has always been known for his monstrous inability to feel anything. He’s merciless, compassionless, and the bogeyman of my people.
Not here. Not with her.
I inhale the stench of the docks and wish again that I could be home. I miss the earth scents of my mountains and lakes, the unpolluted air. Here, under the rich, messy scents of life are the scents of death, the fish, the crustaceans, the people rotting in the building below. The smell of pollution burns like toxins in the air, seeping into my lungs and skin and tainting me. The steel and iron buildings that are as numerous as trees are so alien. I miss home, but I know that I shall never see it again.
That bitterness is not something I can shake, but, with her, the mystery that is her, I find myself yearning a little less. The scent that was so faint around her is growing, and I find myself looking forward to catching it. With her, this world is not so ugly.
Which is honestly the most baffling part.
When first I arrived, there was little here to be enjoyed, but I find myself finding small things delightful because she’s showing them to me.
I lift my fingers to my lips, still feeling her pressed against me. I can taste her, too, like she’s left a physical lip print of herself, and it’s burned into my skin. How slight she’d felt in my arms. I could taste her fear in the air, but, surprisingly, it had been her overwhelming relief to see me that had been the reason I’d obviously lost my head.
Kissing her was a mistake. She’s human. Helpless. Defenseless. A plague on her world.
And yet, her taste has me craving more. Humans, I sneer just thinking the word. So destructive.
I flick my gaze around, searching for movement. I spot something far in the distance and send a cold breeze to the others. Stix stands up, lifts his head in my direction and simply steps back into a shadow. Puppy coils himself tighter on the side of the building, drawing his thick tail up until he’s invisible.
Wilder’s already gone. Has been for hours. But I can feel him here, though I’m not sure anyone else would be able to sense him. Perhaps it’s our proximity, or it could be my sire’s blood that runs through my veins.
She’s singing as she walks up the docks. Her shoulder-length deep brown hair catches stray light. It’s the colour of the winter trees at home. She’s voluptuous, tall, and has that beauty that all Fae are blessed with. What’s more beautiful, the exterior or the interior? I can’t help but to compare Becky with this Fae. Technically, Becky comes out wanting. Her imperfections are many. The way she speaks is crude. Her world is so stunted and limited. Her body bespeckled in scars and imperfections
