Page 62 of Oracle
In my eighteen years, I’d never met a man who held my interest, and I was beginning to think I’d be a spinster with only cats and my notebooks as company for the rest of my life.
Thankfully, notebooks and pens fell under the school materials category of my scholarship, so I was able to replenish my hoard when needed.
And truly, it was needed.
Grabbing a pen with a slightly gnawed black cap from my nightstand, I backed into the corner of my bed against the wall, where I had my pillows arranged and smashed in a nest of sorts. Drawing my knees up slightly, I rested the notebook against them, closed my eyes, and tipped my head back to rest against the wall, thinking of where I would be transported to this time.
It was time to cut myself loose from reality and escape to the world between my pages. A world that inspired awe and forged longing within my soul.
My fantasy world was one in which I righted the wrongs of this world. Where the monsters people were afraid of helped me hunt down the true bad guys—the humans.
Because I can assure you, my monsters were angels in comparison to the evil that lurked in my reality. Humans just happened to wear skin suits that were more pleasing to the eye than my monsters were. There was nothing pretty about them, though.
I had met too many dark, ugly, twisted humans for me to trust them.
They’d smile to your face to placate you, whispering the words you wanted to hear, all while taking what they wanted before leaving behind a husk of a person.
The ones who stole.
The ones who raped.
The ones who thought they deserved everything, simply because they breathed.
In my fantasy world, my monsters and I snuffed the arrogance and entitlement out of every single one of those fuckers who had wronged me.
Today’s chapter was about the headmaster of my college, who had lifted my skirt this afternoon and told me he’d forget the claims of me cheating on my assignment if Ihelpedhim.
I hadn’t cheated.
There was no need to when academics were a natural gift of my mind. The only way I was even able to attend this college was due to the academic scholarship I’d been awarded. Without it, I’d be on the streets without a penny to my name, like most orphans after they aged out of the system.
There was definitely no way I’d risk any of that by cheating on a dumb assignment that I could ace without even studying. I had a photographic memory that always aided me.
The problem was that Chloe Blufount didn’t like that I continuously ranked above her in our class for the top spot, especially since her father’s money usually got her everything else she wanted. He could buy her lip injections, lash extensions, a constant fake spray tan, and her continuously revolving hair colors, but he'd never be able to buy her top rank in our grade.
So, this was how she got me out of the way instead. Feeding the skeevy headmaster lies, knowing full well what his reputation was. She was one of the monsters beneath a pretty human skin suit. Offering me on a silver platter to a man who took what wasn’t freely given, knowing full well I had no one to help me fight my battles other than myself.
In reality, I had smacked his hand away lightly, told him I’d take the zero on the assignment, and quietly left his office not wanting to ignite the temper I’d heard about many times.
However, as I opened my eyes and let my ink glide on my pages, I summoned my bloodthirsty monster to reenact the scene in the manner I truly wanted.
Lucien.
He wasn’t handsome to the human eye. But he was beautiful in a way that would scare a person, making them inhale sharply as their heart rate spiked in fear and intrigue—yet they could do nothing but be drawn into his trance, only to find out that he was the safe space they’d craved their whole life. He’d slaughter anyone for those he loved without blinking twice or feeling remorse. His skin was a deep red and swirled like bubbling magma. Small fissures of brighter red ran just below the skin instead of the typical veins found in humans. As if he was a volcano waiting to erupt at any moment.
Touch what was his and die a long, painful death as a result.
As he stepped from the corner of the headmaster’s office, his fingers elongated to black points, gleaming like freshly sharpened obsidian daggers. Lucien walked slowly and intentionally, like a predator stalking his prey.
Just as the perv put his hand on my exposed leg and drew it up toward my skirt, as he had in reality, I had Lucien tutt at him, “That won’t do. The only person allowed to touch my angel is me.” The headmaster stood, frozen in fear of my monster, and I smiled wickedly when he pissed himself the second Lucien’s daggers touched his skin in the faintest whisper of a touch.
My monster smiled, revealing rows of teeth that matched his fingers, and the headmaster screamed, begging for his life, in the seconds before his hands were swiftly cleaved from his wrists. Maybe that act should have scared me, but instead, it unfurled a sense of justice and satisfaction within me. Perhaps even a hint of desire towards Lucien for the vicious move.
It wouldn’t be the first time their bloodlust and sometimes barbaric actions had turned me on. But it shouldn’t be a surprise because I had written them to be exactly like that.
Because the thing was—my creations weren’t just monsters. They were my soul mates, and I had created them to be extremely protective and territorial of me. Something I’d lacked in my life growing up.
Honestly, I made them all a tad psychotic, but I liked them that way.
