Page 79 of Marked By Feral Monsters
"That he can't go out there."
"Oh. No. I mean, kind of. We can't really… communication is difficult. But he doesn't go out there. He never has. He follows me everywhere, except there. I just assumed."
Nix stares over my shoulder. Without looking at me, he says, "He doesn't go out there because that's where she chopped up his body. Greta? Who was she?" His eyes flick back to mine.
"She what?" I gasp. That's terrible. No wonder he never goes back there. How awful. Then, "Wait, you can hear him?"
Nix nods slowly. "Your aunt, huh? Tough break." I turn to look at Eric, realizing they're having an entire conversation without me. This is fucking surreal.
I'm about to ask Nix a million questions—How can he talk to Eric, is it possible for me, too?What is he saying? What does he sound like?—when Nix shrugs, then abruptly stomps back through my house.
The lights flicker, and I turn and chase after the phoenix.
Nix
Dina follows as I storm through her house in search of a bathroom, her tiny little steps running after me. I almost remind her to be careful of the glass, but I'm so angry with her, I think I'd relish tearing her feet up on the broken mirrors, if for no other reason than for me to tie her to a chair and lick the blood off her precious skin.
The wraith chases, reaching out, trying and failing to hold her back, but she either doesn't notice, and their connection isn't as strong as she thinks, or she's ignoring him completely.
Both make me happy.
I'm angry with the wraith, too, and I intend to collect for his surprise attack while I was sleeping beneath the stars with Dina in my arms.
I walk through her house of horrors, admiring the mirrors and the darkness. I love how vile and fucked up this place is; the death seeping out of the walls. On the outside, it's picturesque. Clean shutters, a big rose garden, the last house at the end of a quaint street leading up to the ocean. But inside, it's another fucking dimension. Dark and twisted, full of secrets. Just like Dina.
I knew she was telling the truth when she said the wraith was responsible for the deaths—formydeath, because that's the one I really care about—but she isn't exactly innocent, either. She may seem the wholesome type, with her cute cotton pajamas, messy hair, and girl-next-door vibes.
But I'd bet my very long life that beneath the surface, Dina's almost as fucked up as I am.
I'll find that kernel of darkness deep in her soul, and make it mine. I'll help it blossom and unfurl, nurture it, until she embodies everything I've ever dreamed of.
Years alone I've walked this earth, unable to share my life with another, knowing—through experience—that a human partner could never understand what it means to be with a phoenix, a conqueror of death.
By sheer luck, I stopped in this town for dinner, wanting to see the coast before I headed inland. And there she was at that restaurant, oblivious to our souls intertwining. I don't know if I believe in soulmates, but the moment I saw her, I knew.
I didn't care what catastrophes I'd left of relationships in the past, how easily humans feared that which they didn't understand.
I adored this girl and her wholesome darkness, naively saying yes when I asked to join her for dinner, totally unaware of how prepared I was to wrap her up in my wings for safekeeping, so I could take her out and play with her whenever I wanted.
Little did I know she already had a plaything of her own.
She thinks Eric, with his penchant for possessive violence, is the one who holds all the cards. She'd be wrong.
That wraith is a simpering little submissive, stars in his eyes and a full belly of pent up ghostly cum just waiting to unleash when she asserts herself.
It's going to be fun dominating them both.
Finally, I locate a bathroom with a shower at the end of a long dark hall, after several wrong turns. I turn the water on the hottest setting and step into the ceramic clawfoot tub, hissing when the water hits my raw skin. Regeneration's a bitch.
Though my skin was undamaged when Eric killed me—I've been killed in many-a-messy ways over the centuries—my skin still regenerates with each rebirth, first sprouting feathers, my protective, natural form, before they retreat within my body, revealing my human sheath.
My cock is the last to reform, and I delighted in watching Dina's eyes bulge out while it emerged from my phoenix form'scloacal hole. What a vixen. I laugh through the stream, and the sound echoes into the cold, empty room.
Dina followed me to the bathroom. After I turned on the water, she left me alone, but not before leaving a set of clothes on the counter. I can tell just by looking at them, they likely belonged to some victim of the infamous Greta's.
From what little the wraith told me, I gathered she was an evil wench whose compulsive need to kill was indiscriminate, ranging from small children who annoyed her, to service workers, door-to-door salesmen, and even the occasional lover. How that woman ever got laid is beyond me. I may not have met her, but I can spot a psychopath a mile away, and, judging by this house, she would have definitely triggered some alarms.
Then again, I've fallen for her kin, and if left to their own devices, I've no doubt in my mind the wraith would've dragged my girl into doing more than crime-scene-clean-up with little effort, so who's to judge.
