by P. Jameson
Monster swallowed hard and twisted the faucet until the water shut off. Stepping out of the shower, he caught sight of the claw marks across his chest in the mirror. They were red and angry, but no longer bleeding. After toweling off, he decided to leave them unbandaged. The air would help the healing since he had no animal to do it for him.
Wrapping the towel around his waist and cursing his rebellious erection, he tiptoed into the room so he wouldn’t wake Vegas.
But her violent gasp brought his gaze to her and he realized she was already awake.
“What happened to you?” she hissed, eyes as big as softballs.
Monster fumbled with how to explain why his body looked like it was used to sharpen knives. His scars didn’t stop at his face. Not even close. His face was just the worst because his pops had wanted to change him into something gruesome.
Mission fucking accomplished.
But then Vegas sat forward in the chair, her eyes lasering in on the claw mark across his chest, and he realized she wasn’t seeing the past wounds. Only the current one.
Her fear was palpable in the room, and it was exactly what he needed to get his cock under control. Deflated the thing faster than he could blink.
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Ratchet had to make it look like I was attacked so Bastian wouldn’t kill me for losing his… for losing… for not doing my job.”
Her eyes didn’t shrink a bit.
“You guys thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“Couldn’t let this fail. It was important.”
Her gaze fluttered down his body before jerking away. And he couldn’t decide if he liked her eyes on him or not. Before, he didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of his body. Now… he did.
“We match,” she murmured, staring at the floor.
Monster yanked some jeans from the closet, chucked the towel, and pulled them on before she could get even more uncomfortable.
“What do you mean?”
He turned to face her, easily doing up his zipper now that his cock had decided to cooperate.
“Your scratch marks. On your chest.” She found his wound again. “I have some too.”
The fuck?
I have some too, I have some too…
Monster’s gut turned to lead.
No, no. His female wasn’t wounded. He would have noticed. Sensed it.
Surely.
He scowled, forgetting he was trying to show her his softer side.
“Were you hurt during the escape? Did one of those assholes touch you? Goddamn it. Was it Felix? I’ll fucking tear him to shreds—”
“It’s not—”
He stomped to the chair, squatting before her. “Let me see.”
She shrank away, so he tried to temper his voice.
Tend to mate, then find out who did this.
“I failed you, I know. But you can trust me.”
Her brow crinkled in a confused frown.
“I promised you wouldn’t be hurt… just let me see your wound so I know what I need to patch you up. I will take care of this, female,” he added darkly.
“You didn’t… fail me.”
“I made a promise. Promised you safety.” And when he was done here, he was going to take out his frustrations on the cat who harmed her.
Vegas shook her head, as if she could read his thoughts, and she reached up to pull the collar of her sweatshirt down to reveal her shoulder and the slope of one breast.
But it wasn’t what he expected.
There was no oozing wound. Nothing to bandage. Only two thick jagged scars that stretched across her left collarbone.
His female was marked up.
Like him.
No, not like him. Not even the same. But somehow, it made him feel closer to her.
She had scars too. And it didn’t make her ugly. Not to him.
“What caused this?” His voice came out like sandpaper, but she didn’t flinch this time.
She let the shirt slip back into place before answering.
“Don’t know. It happened when I was young and I don’t remember.”
“How young?”
“Before I was given to Bastian.”
Monster swallowed hard. “How young was that?” He didn’t want to know, but he needed to. And seeing the mark had his beast snarling inside. Something about it…
Something about it was familiar.
Vegas was quiet for too long.
“I’m not sure.”
Shit. That meant Vegas had never known a life outside of captivity. He would help her. He would show her everything she’d missed.
“I’ve always been his. For as long as I can remember.”
“Yeah, well you’re not anymore. Never again,” he promised.
Vegas looked down. Her hands twisted in her lap. “Now, the question is… who am I?” Her gray eyes pinned Monster, digging deeper than he wanted her to. “If I’m not that girl anymore, who will I be?”
And it didn’t take long for the answer to hit him. Something his father used to sneer at him when he was a young, but it made more sense to him now, here. You don’t want it bad enough, to be worthy of this empire. But you’ll learn to want it. By hell, if I have to cut it into you.
“You’ll be whatever you want to be.”
One thing was sure. He needed to help Vegas learn where she came from. So she could see where she was going.
And hopefully he was her destination.
Chapter Thirteen
Vegas leaned against the small desk that took up the corner of Monster’s room and stared over the shoulder of an older woman Monster introduced as Mama Kitty.
“Skittles would be better at this,” the woman muttered, staring at the computer in front of her.
“He’s no good right now,” Monster argued.
Mama Kitty looked rough around the edges, but Vegas could see she’d been beautiful once. Still was. Just hardened. Battle weary.
She looked at Vegas, setting her fingers on the keyboard. “Give me what you got and I’ll do my best.”
Vegas listed off the details of her life as she knew them, and Mama Kitty started tapping away.
Vegas Morales.
Born August 3, 1995 in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Mother: Cindy Ann Morales, deceased.
Father: Unknown
“It’s not much to go on,” Mama Kitty mused.
Vegas shifted on her feet. She was tired, but she felt stronger already after Monster made her eat. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. Like he’d been through shit before. Like he’d had it rough too.
She wanted to ask him about it, and he would probably answer. Ask anything, he’d said. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Mostly because she didn’t want to talk about the bad things done to her as a kid and guessed he wouldn’t want to either. She’d hate him for asking too soon. So she gave him that space.
Something about knowing he’d had it as rough as her, made her feel connected to him. The same way she’d bonded with the Dolls.
Mama Kitty shook her head, scowling at the screen. “Are you sure the spelling is right?”
Vegas spelled her last name carefully.
“And the dates?” Mama Kitty asked.
“Yes. I put them to memory. I didn’t want to forget.”
Mama Kitty sat back in the chair, crossing her arms, lips pursed.
Monster crowded in closer. “What is it?”
“There’s no record of a Vegas Morales born on that date. Not even that year. Let me do a search for your mother’s name.”
Mama Kitty tapped it out on the keyboard and sat back to read the results. “Cindy Morales is a pretty common name. Wait, here is a Cindra. Cindra… I knew a Cindra once.” Using the mouse, she clicked and started reading. “She’s the right age to be your mother. Deceased, as you said. But… no connection to Memphis. You have no idea how you came to be with Bastian?”
“No.”
Vegas watched over her shoulder as she type
d in Vegas Morales Memphis, Tennessee.
But there was nothing to indicate she existed at all. If she hadn’t seen the birth certificate herself, she would’ve doubted just like Mama Kitty.
Then the woman tapped a new name into the search bar. Cindra Anderas-Mitchell.
Vegas didn’t recognize the name but she felt Monster stiffen at her back.
“Who’s that?” she asked, but Mama Kitty only shook her head and kept scrolling.
Vegas’s vision flickered as the words rolled down the screen. Not again. How many times could a person faint in twenty four hours.
Monster must’ve noticed because he pulled a second chair up for her to sit. She took it, muttering a small “thanks”.
It was his idea to look into her past. She hadn’t asked him to help. He just… did. And as horrible as she’d thought him to be in the past, his help now meant the world.
She filed the whys of the matter away to think about later.
“There,” Mama Kittty said. Her voice had changed. It trembled now, as if she was seeing a ghost. “Right there. Morales. Her great-grandfather was Stefano Morales of Memphis.”
“Whose?” Vegas asked.
“Cindra’s”
“Who is Cindra?”
She looked to Monster, but he was shaking his head, eyes narrowed at Mama like he wanted to eat her alive. “What does this mean?” he growled.
The woman shoved her chair back, standing so abruptly, Vegas’s vision went twirly.
“I don’t know,” she said, heading for the door. “I don’t know, and if you’re smart, you’ll leave this alone. Understand?”
With that, she pushed through the door letting it slam shut behind her.
***
“What does she mean?” Vegas’s despairing question pounded at Monster’s temples as he watched Mama Kitty leave. “Who is this Cindra Anderas-Mitchell?”
“I don’t know. I only know one person with the last name Mitchell. And he has fucking nothing to do with you.”
“Who is it?”
Monster tossed her a dark look. “Fang.”
“What about the other guy she mentioned? Stefano Morales?”
Monster hooked his hands on his hips and paced the floor. Stefano Morales. His mate couldn’t be related to that bastard, could she?
“He was a Memphis boss. Decades ago. Before even my father’s time. Bastian took him out, and the entire Morales family line, so he could take control of the city. The asshole was only nineteen at the time.”
Monster glanced at his female. She was still as a winter lake, eyes glazed over with some emotion he couldn’t name.
“I have his name,” she murmured.
“It’s a coincidence. That’s all.”
She found his eyes. “How do you know?”
He didn’t know. He didn’t know shit. But he wouldn’t get answers out of Mama Kitty tonight. Not judging by the way she practically ran from the room.
Monster went to Vegas, kneeling on the floor beside her so he could look into her eyes. This time, she didn’t shrink away. She didn’t flinch. And he let his new beast revel in the knowledge.
“We will find out who you are. I promise you, female. Whether we learn it from your past or from your future. You will learn who you are, and I will help you.”
“I don’t want to hurt people,” she pushed out, her voice strangled by fear he could feel in the space between them. So full of fear. It was like a physical part of her being. Like it was in her DNA. “I’ve hurt people my whole life. If I was born to be bad, how will I ever be different?”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing,” Monster admitted. “But I know it’s possible.”
“How?”
He swallowed down his own fear and told her the truth. “Because I’m doing it. Right now, here. With you. Making changes, getting better. And female, if I can? You can too. You’ll see.”
Her eyes moved all over his face, searching for something, and he let her. Inside, he cringed, knowing every scar, every rivet her gaze landed on was another reason for her not to accept him.
But if he was going to show her she didn’t need to hide anymore, then he was going to have to stop hiding too.
“You’re a mystery,” she said softly.
Shit, he wanted to turn away. Never before had he wanted to turn away from a female as much as he did now. It was almost a physical pain to let her see him.
“Your face tells me you’re a monster. But your actions tell me that’s not true.”
“We’re all monsters at some point, snowflake. Recognizing it, is the first part of changing.”
And that was all he could take.
He stood and turned away from her.
Baby steps, his beast chided.
Yeah. They both needed time. Even if Monster wanted things to move faster, instinct told him time was the only thing to fix them. Marlee had it right about that.
“It’s late,” he murmured, pulling the heavy blankets back from the bed so Vegas could climb in. He’d tuck her in like Mama Kitty used to do for him when he was younger. Then he’d take up the recliner beside her and get some rest. Tomorrow he would see about her needs. And maybe do something nice like Ratchet did for Marlee.
Something that would make her smile.
God, he wanted to see that more than anything. More than he wanted a glimpse of her body. And fuck, did he want that, he realized. What little she’d revealed showing him her scars, had made him hungry for more.
Her smile though…
Would his mate like flowers? He could have some brought in. It might even make their room seem more homey. Yeah, she might like that. He would start with just one. A rose. Girls loved roses, right? He’d get her a red one. No, pink. Yellow? And then if she liked it, he’d fill up the whole room—
Monster’s planning was interrupted as he caught sight of Vegas squeezing under the rail of the bed.
The fuck?
She shimmied beneath his queen size frame and then went quiet.
“Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“We’re going to sleep now. Right?”
Monster scowled at the mattress as if he could see through it to scowl directly at her.
“I want you in the bed. Not under it.”
She didn’t answer. Seconds ticked by.
“I won’t sleep with you,” was her quiet reply.
Shit. Her mind went there. It both intrigued him and worried him.
And yeah, his cock jumped at even the implication.
“I’ve got the recliner,” he choked out.
“Not necessary,” she argued. “You take the bed. I’m used to the floor.”
Monster swallowed over and over, trying to get past the way his stomach soured.
She didn’t trust him enough to sleep in his bed. That’s what this was. She’d rather hide under it, on the cold hard concrete. Just like she always did. Just like in the basement.
“I… I need the floor, okay?”
Need.
Monster sighed. Yeah. He didn’t like it but he couldn’t tell her no. Not when she put it like that.
He pushed the blankets back up the bed and stood back to stare at the useless thing. It wasn’t getting slept in tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
Vegas stayed very still, waiting for Monster’s answer, but it never came. Instead, he pushed a small throw blanket under the bed for her and disappeared into the bathroom.
She pulled the blanket close and wrapped it around her as best she could in the confined space. Still, she was cold. It was worth it though, because she felt safe under the bed. Her safe place. She knew it wasn’t rational, but there’d been too much change for one day. Too many raw moments. Too many unanswered questions.
And too much… good.
If she was honest, there’d been too much good to come of this day. The semi-freedom, the food, the knowledge that Marlee was safe. It was throwing her all off b
alance. She needed some sense of normalcy and sleeping under the bed offered it.
Vegas stared at the mattress above her, comparing to the one she’d been with for so many years. This one was clean. And there were boards holding it up instead of squeaky wires.
A dark rectangle in the corner near the foot caught her eye and she reached up to see what it was. It was stuck between the mattress and the second slat to the end. She wrestled it loose and realized it was a book of some sort. Leather-bound with a strap to keep it closed. A journal maybe.
Was it Monster’s?
Maybe she could learn something about him. About why she was here. What he wanted from her.
She slipped the strap free and turned to the first page.
Dear Eddy,
That’s what I’m naming you. Eddy. Don’t know why, it just seemed like a good solid name. Mama Kitty says the Fathers will start training us to be Alley Cats soon. She said there’s no getting out of it, and that we have to become hard or we won’t live through it. I’m not sure what she means, but I’m scared. I told her so, and she scolded me. “Never speak the things that scare you,” she said, “Never show your weaknesses.” She told me instead, to take this journal and pretend it was my closest friend. To give you a name, and only ever admit my secrets to you. Because you could never use them against me. She also said to hide you well. Very well, so that no one could ever find you. I’m good at hiding from pops when he’s angry so I think I’ll be good at keeping you a secret. So, I’m Monster. I’ll keep your secrets and you keep mine. Deal? You can’t answer so I’m going to pretend you said yes and shook on it.
Goodnight for now,
Monster
Vegas frowned and flipped to the next page. But in the dim light, she only registered a few words—cut me, so sad I can’t breathe, have to get tougher—before the bathroom door rattled, warning her Monster was coming.
Heart hammering in her chest, she shoved the journal back under the mattress and pulled the blanket up, trying to ignore the ominous details she knew were written there.
Monster emerged from the bathroom wearing dark gray sweatpants and she saw the hint of a t-shirt at his waist before the bed cut off her view.
Good. He was dressed.
Vegas squeezed her eyes closed at the ridiculous thought. Of course he was dressed. What else would he be?