Friends With The Monsters

by Albany Walker

  Grim groans, and I smile around him, then get to work. I relax my lips and mouth, making sure I can take him deeply, and tighten around him as I pull back. I deliver alternating pressure irregularly, so he doesn’t get too used to anything. I listen to his every breath, his every groan, to gauge what takes him close to the end, then bring him right back.

  After several long minutes, I increase the pressure and cup his balls gently. Grim bends his knees, and his thighs really start to shake. I know he’s close, so this time I don’t stop. I work my mouth over him harder until his hips jerk forward and he spills down the back of my throat. I don’t swallow often, but for him, I will—any damn time.

  I release him while he’s still hard and wipe the edge of my mouth. Grim is staring down at me with his lips parted and a look of awe on his face.

  I peer up at him a little shyly. I know I’m good, but that look on his face just cemented it. He said I was going to crave him; well, he’s right, but he’ll yearn for me, too.

  Grim lowers his palm, offering to help me stand. I accept his hand and climb to my feet. “Feeling better?” I tease him a little.

  Grim nods his head, answering wordlessly, while he continues staring at my mouth. Lifting his hand up, he brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. I nip the tip, and he drags in a deep breath. “I’m going to fill you up. I’m already inside you,” he mutters, while still tracing my lips as if he’s mesmerized by the sight.

  I tug my head back. “I was kind of hoping you had a round two in you.” I look down, noting that he’s still thick and hard. “Looks like I was right.” I step up close to Grim. He’s throwing off almost as much heat as the shower and, with the door closed to the bedroom, it’s like a sauna in here now.

  Grim’s eyes dart around as his hands land on my hips, drawing me closer. “The Nemean is still in our bed, I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait,” I chuckle, “we don’t need the bed, and what were you planning on doing with Calix? He’s probably still sleeping.”

  “I would have dropped him somewhere else,” he tells me pragmatically.

  I pat Grim’s chest. “You can’t just go dropping people in unexpected places when you feel like it.”

  “Why not? I would have collected him when we were done. He’s in our bed,” he adds, like I’m the one not seeing reason.

  I smirk and drag my finger over Grim’s lips, shushing him. “We don’t need the bed, Grim,” I insist, then lean up on my toes and seal my lips over his.

  Chapter 28

  Gunnar is in the kitchen, slamming around plates and containers of food. “What did that chicken do to you?” I snark, knowing his attitude has nothing to do with the chicken. He narrows his eyes on me, and I glower right back at him.

  Gunnar slams his hands onto the countertop and leans forward slightly. “You said share,” he barks.

  “I did,” I agree.

  “You’re not sharing!” he shouts.

  “If you mean allowing you to sleep with other people, that’s your choice.” I try for indifference and shrug my shoulders, when on the inside I really want to claw his eyes out for even suggesting it. Some part of me, no matter how deeply hidden that part of me is, understands that what I’m asking isn’t right or fair, but a bigger part of me knows they’re mine. All of them are mine, and should be treated as such. I’m a fickle bitch—what can I say?

  I cut my eyes to Gunnar to see what he’s thinking. His chest is puffed out, his lips are screwed closed.

  I try to hold my tongue, but I’m vibrating with anger on the inside. “You’d better hope I never find out though, Kitten.” I lick my teeth. “‘Cause if I ever so much as see you with someone else, I will kill you, cut your dick off, and mount it to my fucking mantel,” I snarl.

  Gunnar’s face smooths out almost immediately at my threat, but it doesn’t last long. Within seconds, he’s back to scowling at me. “You. Said. Share.” He pauses between each word.

  “We just went over this.” I enunciate each word slowly.

  “I’m talking about sharing yourself.” Gunnar pushes even closer to me. Only the counter is separating our lower bodies. “You’ve been with Death twice.” Gunnar holds up two fingers as if it’s some kind of evidence.

  “What?” I scoff and snort at the same time.

  “You heard me.” Gunnar glares at me.

  “Are we counting, seriously?”

  “I’ve made her come five times.” Grim pulls out the stool next to me, completely calm, as if he didn’t just walk onto a landmine. Gunnar’s nostrils flare, and his shoulders bunch up again. “We’re good at sharing,” Grim adds.

  I roll my lips in and my eyes bug out. He did not just say that. “How often did you hang out with…” I circle my hand, encompassing me and Gunnar. “People, friends?” I scrunch up my face, not sure I chose the right words.

  “I visited you all the time.” Grim turns to face me and takes a bite out of a huge red apple. I blink at him.

  “Okay, anyone else?” I urge him.

  “Well…” Grim squints and looks off into the distance. “There’s Samson, and all the others you call monsters.” He takes another bite.

  “They are not your friends: they’re terrified of you—there’s a big difference,” Gunnar pipes up, just this side of belligerent.

  Grim shrugs. “And?”

  I plop my elbows on the table and circle my fingers over my temples. A little of the aggression Gunnar always seems to bring out in me evaporates. “I got you, Gunnar, and I’m sorry. I should balance things better. I’ll try.” I look up from the counter to find Gunnar watching me.

  After a few short seconds, one side of his lips tips up in a tiny smile. “You said you’d kill me.”

  I roll my eyes, of course that’s what he wants to talk about. “Don’t make me test the theory.”

  I walk out of the kitchen then, head high, but heart heavy. Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe I should just choose one of them. It was easy to think I could have all of them, but I never really thought about how they would feel having to share me. I rub at the ache that forms over my chest. And that’s how Calix finds me, standing in the hallway massaging my own tit.

  “Need a hand?” He holds up both of his and acts like he’s honking squeezy horns.

  I drop my hand and plant it on my hip. “Come on, Sir-Sleeps-A-Lot. We need to find out what happened last night.”

  I walk back into the kitchen, and it’s like nothing even happened. Gunnar is digging into a big plate of roasted chicken, and Grim is still sitting on his stool, like he knew I was coming back.

  “Stop being weird,” I tell him defensively.

  “How am I being weird?” Grim’s brow pinches.

  “I don’t know; you just are.” I drag my stool back and take the seat next to him, while Calix sits on the other side of me.

  “So, how did it go last night?” Calix asks, reaching for a piece of chicken from Gunnar’s plate. Gunnar swats at his hand before he can get there, but Calix pulls back before Gunnar can connect.

  “Here.” Gunnar holds up a piece to him instead. “Ask.”

  “Thanks.” Calix tears into the chicken.

  “We went through the house. Almost everyone was dead or close to it.” Gunnar eyes Grim.

  “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to kill them.” Grim lifts his hands up in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “Next time tell me, or mark them or something. One human is just like the other.”

  I look at Calix and shake my head. “We were able to locate two of my men,” Gunnar continues, as if uninterrupted. “I have an idea on where to find this Antonio, but nothing concrete. He’ll probably run as soon as he hears about Vanessa and her coven, especially if he knows we’re on to him.”

  “We should go back to the warehouse.” I sit up straighter as the idea takes root. “We probably should have never left, one of them was bound to come back for Aeson.” I look around to see if they agree.

  “I have someone watching the warehouse,�
�� Grim confirms, “but it seems unlikely that anyone will return. I don’t think someone who was able to do these types of rituals for years and not get caught is stupid enough to leave a Brownie completely unattended.”

  “What do you mean? Aeson was there alone. We saw her.”

  “Vanessa,” Gunnar answers. “Whoever taught her the ritual probably didn’t expect her to start picking off the Charmed on her own.”

  “That makes sense, it would explain why they got sloppy all the sudden,” Calix reasons.

  “Nothing else fits. It’s the only thing we’ve come up with.” Gunnar leans against the counter, the empty plate abandoned in front of him.

  “Well, then, how the hell are we going to find this Antonio guy?” I look to them for an answer. This sleuthing shit is new to me.

  “We follow the money.” Gunnar nods his head. “Since this entire thing started to unfold, I’ve been examining everything I can to find out what involvement Vanessa had in this. Nothing seemed out of the norm until about two months ago.” Gunnar pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen a few times, eventually turning it around so we can see an email account with only a few emails.

  “What’s that?” I scoot a little closer to get a better look.

  “History of money transfers, set up to look like they were paid to vendors, but I know for a fact there hasn’t been any new vendors at the club and she sure as shit didn’t pay Vega Holdings to do any renovations.” I cast my gaze over Gunnar. How deeply involved in the club and Vanessa’s business is he?

  “You sure seem to know an awful lot about someone that you were charged to monitor.” I continue to watch him for a response. “I thought you hated her.”

  “I didn’t always.” Gunnar looks down at the ground before raising his head, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “So, what? You were fucking her?” My question comes out bitterly.

  “A long time ago.” Gunnar glances over at Calix like he might be helpful, but Calix smartly keeps his mouth shut.

  “How long ago?”

  “Do we really need to get into this, Damiana? I mean, you had someone between your legs less than two months ago,” Gunnar spews defensively.

  “You’re right, I did.” I nod and agree with him. “But I didn’t know about any of this shit, so your bringing it up now is a low blow, Gunnar.” I spit his name, and he jerks his head back like I’ve slapped him.

  “I—” He starts, but I lift my hand, cutting him off.

  “It doesn’t even matter right now.” I shake my head. It’s not like I didn’t expect any of them to have a past, but something about knowing he was with Vanessa makes my blood boil.

  “So how do we ‘follow the money,’” I question, mocking his words.

  “I have a Pixie looking deeper into her financials and trying to figure out where the money went to,” Gunnar admits, sounding a little defeated.

  “Fine, whatever. Aeson should be here soon.” I scoot off the stool and head up to my bedroom, since that’s always where Aeson pops up.

  I’m sulking. I didn’t even know I sulked until I met these three. I don’t like it.

  The tiny tap of heels alerts me to her presence, and it’s only because she wanted me to know she was coming that I do.

  “Hey, Dami.” Aeson saunters in looking none the worse for the wear, except her eyes—she can’t hide the shadows in her eyes.

  “Glad to see you showed up.” I give her a little jab.

  “What can I say? People needed killing.” She hops up onto the edge of my bed after scaling my footboard. “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.” She shrugs her small shoulders, not really giving an explanation why she was late.

  “Everything okay?” I ask in a quiet voice. Aeson’s not one to tell me too much about what’s going on in her life, but I want her to know she can. Especially now.

  “Fine, thanks to you and those three downstairs.” Aeson sits on my bed with her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, and lets out a heavy sigh.

  I give her a few minutes to relax. Eventually, Aeson draws in a heavy breath and turns to face me. “Thanks for coming for me, Damiana.” When I go to tell her it’s not a big deal, she cuts me off by lifting her hand. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. If it weren’t for you guys…” She pinches in her lips. “I probably would have rotted on that table, Dami, no shit. No one would have found me. So, thank you. I owe you a debt.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Aeson, you’re my friend, my family,” I tell her with sincerity.

  A moment passes between us, two women both so different, but not at all unsimilar. She comes here to escape, to not have to be the toughest or the bravest. I cling to our friendship because she doesn’t treat me like I’m crazy, and because she’s my escape—escape from the loneliness that eats away at me.

  “Want to help us find the guy that taught Vanessa the ritual?” I offer when the conversation feels like it’s getting too heavy.

  “You have no idea how badly I want to.” Aeson’s dark eyes harden.

  “We got this. As long as it takes,” I promise and lift my knuckles to her. Aeson knocks her little fist into mine and agrees.

  “As long as it takes.”

  Chapter 29

  Aeson and I are giggling as we head back to the kitchen. This room is getting more use than it ever has.

  “Brownie.” Gunnar tips his chin at Aeson.

  “Berserker,” she responds coolly.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I swallow my pride and force my tone to be even. Being angry at him isn’t helpful, especially right now. I don’t know why his being with Vanessa feels like such a betrayal, but it does. Maybe it’s because it was so easy to believe that he didn’t like her; I truly believed he hated her. Perhaps that’s just it: they say the line between love and hate is nonexistent, and I worry the line was blurred for him.

  “Death and the Nemean are in the other room. Can I talk to you for a minute?” Gunnar requests, pushing his hands into his pockets.

  “For?” I plant my hands on my hips.

  “I’ll go find them, Dami.” Aeson abandons me. Traitor.

  Once Aeson clears the room, Gunnar steps a little closer to me, but I hold my ground. “I thought you might give me a chance to explain.” He peers down at me, his face not giving away his emotions, so I can’t read him.

  “About you and Vanessa? It’s pretty self-explanatory,” I mutter glibly.

  Gunnar huffs in frustration. “I’m trying to talk to you. Why are you making this so difficult?”

  “Is that a real question? I didn’t think so,” I answer for him.

  “I haven’t so much as touched that witch since well before you were even born,” Gunnar snaps.

  I slash my eyes in his direction. “I hate her. I’ve hated her from the moment I laid eyes on her,” I growl.

  “Most people do. It’s only the ones who want something from her who act like they like her,” Gunnar replies smoothly.

  “But you did,” I accuse.

  “I was part of misled minority who like her, the ones that don’t see through her façade for what she really is until it’s too late,” Gunnar admits, as he reaches for my hand and tows me along with him, pulling out a stool for me to sit on.

  “So, what, she used her magic on you?” I mock, while he sits then adjusts so his knees are on the outside of mine.

  He snorts. “I wish I could say it was a spell, but it was just plain, fucking stupidity.” Gunnar pushes his hands down his thighs.

  I lick over my bottom lip. He’s fighting to remain calm, and it helps ease my aggravation. That’s, like, the third time I’ve noticed that when he gets all riled up, so do I. I file the information away for another day, another time.

  I move over to the stove and start pulling out my pot and milk, hoping the normalcy of the routine will calm me. After a breath of silence, Gunnar continues, “I’m not the only one charged with watching the witches. There are a few
Berserkers left, but not many.” Gunnar lifts his heavy shoulders.

  “We are shuffled around—you can only stay in one place so long—and I ended up with her territory. She was nice to look at and accepted me for what I was.” I slam the pot down on the stove. “What we had was only physical, and it didn’t last long.”

  I keep my back to him so he won’t see how badly I want to kill her all over again. “But like I said, it ended a long time ago.”

  “Fine. Are you done? Got that off your chest? Feel better?” I resent the fact that I even had to know.

  “Not if you’re still pissed.” Gunnar sighs. “I didn’t know you, didn’t know anything about you,” he reasons, and my shoulders fall.

  “You’re not the only one who ever got lonely, Damiana.” The low way he whispers the words tells me he’s not trying to make a dig at me; he’s just speaking his truth.

  I pour the milk in the pan. “Do you want some?” My question comes out with a little sass, so I clear my throat and try again. “Some hot chocolate.”

  “If you’re willing to sha—If you don’t mind.” Gunnar cuts off mid-word and changes what he was about to say.

  I lift one shoulder casually. “There’s enough. Will you grab the chocolate from the cupboard?”

  Within seconds, I feel his presence beside me. “Want me to chop it up? I’m pretty good with a knife.”

  I set down the spoon and turn to face him. He gives me his undivided attention. I almost look away, but I force myself to hold his stare. “Hey, so, I’m not great with this stuff. Not that it’s an excuse, but the jealousy, it’s new, too. I never cared enough to be jealous before. What I’m trying to say is…I’m sorry. I probably overreacted.” I wince.

  Gunnar’s shoulders ease. “I’ll get the knife.” He lets my lame apology slide. He’s nicer than I am by a mile. I probably would have made him grovel. We work together making the hot cocoa. I make enough for all of us, even Aeson. It takes me a minute to find the thimble she usually uses.