Page 37 of The Monster You Made
“Because whatever was worshipped here has teeth,” he says. “And teeth still bite, even when the body is gone.”
Abigail edges close, staring at the carvings with wide eyes. “It feels…warm,” she whispers. Her small hand hovers above the stone but does not touch. I pull her back quickly, my chest tight.
We move on, though the forest feels heavier after. Shadows stretch long, and the silence deepens. By dusk, we make camp beneath a ridge of stone. Lucian builds a fire of pine branches, though the smoke curls strange in the air, dispersing too quickly as if the forest rejects it. We eat in silence, chewingdried meat that tastes of ash. Abigail curls against me, shivering despite the fire. Rourke sharpens his knife with steady strokes, muttering about cursed woods and ill omens.
Lucian sits apart, his eyes fixed on the dark between the trees. He has not spoken since the ruins. His stillness unnerves me more than his rage ever did. I want to ask what he fears, but I do not. Instead, I hold Abigail close and whisper Marta’s words into the night: Truth survives wherever there are hands to carry it. The forest swallows my voice, leaving no echo.
As sleep takes the others, I remain awake, staring into the dark. The carvings haunt me, spirals spinning in my mind’s eye. Old truths buried under pine and time, waiting for someone to carry them. Waiting for me.
The forest presses in around us, ancient pines whispering secrets in the wind, their branches clawing at the starless sky. Lucian's silhouette looms on the ridge's edge, his broad back to the camp, shoulders tensed like coiled springs. He's been like this since we fled the ruins, that forsaken place where stone whispered of forgotten horrors, carvings that etched themselves into my soul.
"Lucian," I whisper, my voice slicing the silence as I approach.
He doesn't turn, but I see the subtle flex of his muscles, the way his fists clench at his sides. He's a mountain of a man, towering over me, his frame forged in battles, thick arms scarred from blades, chest broad and heaving now with restrained breath. I reach out, my fingers brushing his arm, and he whips around, eyes blazing like the fire's dying coals.
He signals for me to follow, and we move out of earshot of the others.
"What the fuck do you want, Vera?" His voice is a low snarl, laced with that anger he wears like armor. But I see the crack, the flicker of need in his gaze, the way it drops to my lips, my breasts straining against the fabric.
I step closer, defiant, my chin lifting. "You. Here. Now." The words are a challenge, thrown like a gauntlet. We're surrounded by peril; the woods could swallow us, beasts or pursuers drawn by the fire's scent, but that's what ignites us. Risk. Secrecy. The blur of hate and hunger.
He grabs my wrist, yanking me against him, his grip iron-hard. "You think you can demand shit from me?" His free hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. His breath is hot, ragged, as his lips hover there, teeth grazing skin. I feel his cock already hardening against my belly, thick and insistent through his trousers. "After today? After those goddamn ruins showed us what's coming?"
I twist in his hold, not yielding, my nails raking down his chest over his shirt. "Especially after today." My voice is breathy, taunting. "Fuck the ruins. Fuck the fear. Take it out on me." Secretly, I crave it, his control, the way he shatters my resistance, possesses me wholly. But I'll make him fight for it.
With a growl that vibrates through my core, he shoves me back against a massive pine, the bark rough and biting into my spine. The impact jars a gasp from me, but I hook a leg around his waist, pulling him closer. His mouth crashes down on mine, not a kiss but a conquest, teeth nipping, tongue invading, tasting of salt and smoke. I bite back, drawing blood from his lip, andhe hisses, thrusting his hips forward to grind his erection against my core. The friction sends sparks shooting through me, my pussy clenching emptily, already slick with want.
"You little bitch," he mutters against my mouth, his hand shoving up my shirt, palm rough as it cups my breast, thumb flicking the nipple until it hardens to a peak. He pinches hard, pain blooming into pleasure, making me arch into him. "Always pushing. Always needing to be put in your place."
I laugh, low and mocking, even as my body betrays me, hips rocking against his hardness. "Then do it. Or are you all talk tonight?" My hands fumble with his belt, yanking it open, fingers diving into his trousers to wrap around his cock. Fuck, he's massive, velvet steel, veins throbbing under my grip, the head slick with pre-cum. I stroke him roughly, thumb circling the tip, feeling him twitch.
Lucian's control frays. He rips my hand away, pinning both wrists above my head with one massive palm, the tree bark scraping my skin. His other hand tears at my pants, shoving them down my thighs along with my underwear, exposing me to the chill air. "Spread your legs," he commands, voice thick with lust.
I resist for a heartbeat, thighs clamped, eyes locked on his in challenge. He wedges a knee between them, forcing them apart, his fingers delving into my folds without preamble. "Soaking wet," he groans, two digits plunging deep, curling to stroke my inner walls. I buck against his hand, a moan escaping despite my clenched teeth. He pumps them in and out, thumb pressing my clit in brutal circles, building that fire until my legs tremble.
"Admit you want this," he demands, leaning in, his beard scraping my jaw as he nips at my earlobe. "Admit you need my cock owning this cunt."
"Never," I spit, but it's weak, my body grinding down on his fingers, chasing the edge. He adds a third finger, stretching me wide, the burn exquisite. My head falls back against the tree, breaths coming in pants.
He withdraws suddenly, leaving me aching, and spins me around, pressing my front to the pine. The bark digs into my breasts through my shirt, nipples scraping with every heave. His body molds to my back, cock nestling between my ass cheeks, hot and heavy. "You'll beg by the end," he promises, voice dark velvet.
One hand yanks my hips back, arching me, while the other guides his cock to my entrance. He teases, rubbing the head through my slickness, coating himself. "Feel that? How ready you are for me to wreck you."
I push back, trying to take him, but he holds me still, control absolute. "Please," I whisper finally, the word slipping out unbidden.
He thrusts in hard, burying half his length in one go. The stretch is brutal, my pussy clenching around him, walls fluttering. "Louder," he grunts, pulling out to slam deeper.
"Please, Lucian, fuck me!" It tears from me as he sheathes fully, balls slapping my clit, the impact jarring my whole body.
He sets a savage pace, hips pistoning, each thrust driving me into the tree. The forest fades, the snores, the wind, nothing but the wet slap of flesh, his grunts mingling with my cries.His hand snakes around, fingers finding my clit again, rubbing furiously. "That's it, take every inch. This pussy's mine, tight, greedy, made for my cock."
I claw at the bark, splinters embedding in my palms, the pain heightening everything. His free hand grips my throat from behind, tilting my head back so he can claim my mouth in a messy, angled kiss. Tenderness flickers there, a soft lick amid the bites, his thumb stroking my pulse like a vow.
But anger surges back. He pulls out, flipping me to face him, lifting one of my legs high over his hip. "Look at me while I fuck you," he orders, plunging back in. Our eyes lock, his dark with possession, mine defiant yet pleading. He grinds deep, circling his hips, hitting spots that make stars explode behind my lids.
Sweat slicks us, shirts clinging, the scent of pine and musk thick. I rake nails down his back, under his shirt now, drawing welts. He hisses, retaliating by biting my shoulder, marking me. "Come for me, Vera. Drench my cock."
The command tips me, orgasm crashing like a wave, my walls spasming, milking him. I scream into his neck, muffled, body convulsing.
