To Love A Monster

by Marina Simcoe

  I realized I had been sliding my hand up and down his forearm for some time, in a comforting gesture.

  “Never would I have dreamed to find salvation in the one I had hurt the most. Sophie, you were like a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air for me in this dungeon.”

  His eyes on mine, he reached for my face, but didn’t touch it. Instead, he pulled back in the last moment and balled his hand into a fist.

  “You know,” I said, wanting to share this, to make him feel better and because it was the truth. “You might be the one who caused the darkness, but you have been helping me fight it, too.”

  “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “I already did. It’s easier to forgive than to carry the weight, remember?” I smiled and leaned closer to him, unable to stay away.

  He wound his arm around my waist, drawing me into him.

  “Come here, where you belong.” He leaned back on the pillows taking me with him.

  “There is not enough space here.” I giggled, burrowing myself into his chest.

  “I’ll make space. I need you close.” He lay on his uninjured side, holding me firmly with one arm. My legs tangled with his. I inhaled a lungful of his familiar scent and closed my eyes, feeling completely at peace.

  It was nice to be home again.

  Chapter 47

  EVEN WITHOUT THE INFECTION, it still took Monster weeks to recover. Jo came to visit him regularly during this time.

  The first few nights, afraid to be too far away in case he needed me, I slept on blankets and pillows on the floor in the living room. But by the end of the first week, Monster felt well enough to walk up the stairs to bed with me.

  He insisted we sleep in the same bed. However, I made sure to keep cuddling to a minimum, afraid his wounds might re-open. I even got us separate covers to minimize the contact between us through the night.

  It felt strange and at times simply torturous to lie in the same bed with him, actively enforcing a limit on touching, when what I really wanted was to hug him to pieces. I knew that popping his stitches would delay the healing and demanded we reduce any intimacy to holding hands for now.

  As his wounds healed, Monster started slowly regaining his strength. Jo instructed him to avoid any heavy work around the property for a while, but he was allowed to take short walks outside.

  We sat on the back porch one sunny day in May. The snow had mostly melted by now. But the true signs of spring were in the bright sunlight flooding the air. Monster sat in a deep Adirondack chair, and I perched on the wide armrest at his side, his arm around my waist for support.

  “You horns look kinda dull, not as shiny as they used to be,” I noted lightly, gliding my hand up to the very tip of the spiral closer to me.

  “Must be because I haven’t speared a deer for a while,” he smirked. “They’ve dulled from not being used.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll find a little less violent way to give them some shine.”

  “Like what? Horn polish?” He chuckled, making me smile.

  “Is there such a thing?”

  “Apparently one can find anything and anyone if they look hard enough nowadays,” he said slowly. “You never told me how you found Cecilia, by the way.”

  Right. I hadn’t mentioned her since I came back, avoiding the same feeling of disappointment I felt after my conversation with her in New Orleans.

  “I found her through the internet and went to see her. She was the one who told me your name. And I’m sorry I broke your desk,” I added somberly.

  His forehead furrowed into a deep line.

  “You shouldn’t have done it, Sophie. Fuck the desk. I mean you shouldn’t have met with her. I’m not denying she had reasons to be mad at me, but the woman is dangerous. God. It makes me wild just thinking about all the things she could’ve done to you.” He slid me along the armrest, bringing me a little closer to him.

  “I don’t believe Cecilia is evil,” I replied. “And it was not about me anyway. She said she couldn’t turn you back to a human again.”

  His chest heaved with a sigh, but he said nothing.

  “She admitted she’d laid a curse on you,” I continued. “One that turns a man into a beast until a woman falls in love with him. Cecilia said it cannot be reversed, but it would be broken once the condition of falling in love is met.” I went quiet.

  The love I felt for him was still there. The trust I used to have had been slowly returning too. However, now every one of my emotions had to encompass more of him.

  There was not just our cozy present, there was also our troubled past. I forgave him wholly in my mind and my soul. But my heart seemed to still be working on reconciling the past and the present in order for us to have a future.

  “Do you think you could ever love me again?” His voice was pensive.

  I threaded my fingers through the strands of his mane.

  “I believe I never stopped.”

  “Is it true?” He swept me off the armrest and into his lap, making me gasp in surprise. “Do you still love me, Sophie?”

  “I couldn’t ever stop,” I said with a smile. “Trust me, I tried.”

  A great sigh left his wide chest, and he crushed me to him.

  “But it doesn’t matter, darling,” I said quietly. “Don't you see? It didn’t work. The curse is not broken. And you’re not free.”

  “I don’t care, Sophie,” he whispered in my neck. “I can deal with all of it as long as I know you love me.”

  “I do.” I raked my fingers through his mane. “I love you.”

  “And you will stay with me?”

  “I will. I’ll stay and take care of you.” This was where I belonged. Right here with him. There was no place for me to go, nowhere I’d rather be.

  “Take care? But I need more, princess.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmhmm.” He lifted his head to see my face. “I want a lover and a partner. I want it all.” His expression serious, he tightened his arms around me. “I want a wife.”

  I stared at him, startled. “That wasn’t a question.”

  “Because I’m not asking.” He held my gaze. “I want you to be my wife. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and striving to be the man worthy of your love.”

  For better or for worse, I already knew my life was tied with his to the end.

  “Will you marry me, Sophie?” His voice softened.

  Being his wife would be in the name only—we could never make it legal in front of an official, without disclosing his secret. Legal or not, though, the commitment between us would have to be real.

  “That was a question,” he prompted impatiently. “And I need an answer.”

  Essentially, I’ll be marrying Hunter Reed. I’ll be Mrs. Reed . . .

  Anxiety hampered my happiness.

  “How much time do I have to give you the answer?”

  “I’d love to say take as much time as you need, but I can’t wait too long. Especially if it’s a no.”

  “It’s not a no,” I shook my head. “It’s a very strong maybe. More like a delayed yes.”

  A relieved smile spread on his face, erasing the stern expression.

  “Well, I guess I could try to wait a little then.”

  Chapter 48

  TWO NIGHTS LATER I woke up feeling hot. Monster seemed to have kicked his covers off then rolled to my side of the bed, his leg draped over my hips, his arm pressing me to this chest. His injuries were healing well. The pain didn’t stop him from rolling all over the bed any more.

  Enjoying his scent, I nuzzled the fur on his chest discreetly, so as not to wake him up, then wiggled my way out from under his big, furry body. I needed to get some cold water. Sleeping with him was like having a wooly mammoth in bed—I was hot and thirsty.

  I tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs then padded to the fridge in the kitchen.

  The cool water felt wonderful to my parched throat. I put the h
alf empty water bottle back in the fridge and stilled, my hand on the door.

  No sound alerted me. It was all quite in the darkness of the night. Still I couldn’t help the feeling of being watched by a pair of hungry eyes from the shadows.

  I closed the fridge, and stole into the living room, stepping softly with my socked feet.

  Faint silver moonlight filtered into the room through the many glass doors to the back patio. Still, I couldn’t see anyone, but the feeling of someone stalking me in the semi-darkness intensified.

  The fine hairs on my arms rose, my skin prickled with excitement when I heard a low sound, something like a deep purr, from the shadows by the far wall. The familiar rumble in it sent flutters of anticipation inside my stomach.

  “So, I’m hunted by a beast at night,” I whispered, facing the sound, while slowly creeping towards the stairs, sideways. “Well, catch me if you can!” I challenged, sprinting for the stairs.

  The purring behind me grew into a loud growl, vibrating through the open space of the house.

  I hooked my arm around the nearest support post, intending to swing around it on my way to escape, but stopped in my tracks at that growl.

  The deep, velvety undertones of its vibration reverberated through my body, reaching my very core. With my knees suddenly growing weak, I hugged the log post with both arms and pressed my forehead to the cool surface of the polished wood.

  The growling rumble trapped me like a fly in a net.

  In France, I missed Monster’s arms around me, his mere presence in my life. I missed him as a person. Right now, I fiercely wanted him as a man.

  My breath grew heavy, as the desire for him assaulted all my senses at once, and with a soft whimper I pressed my aching body into the support post in my arms.

  Suddenly, he was behind me, his large form flush with mine.

  “Fuck, Sophie,” he groaned, the soft vibrating ribbon still woven through his voice. “You know I can smell when you’re turned on. The scent drives me wild.”

  I could only moan in reply as thick, heavy need for him kept spreading through my body in waves. I arched my back, pressing my ass into his crotch. He cursed under his breath and lifted me up, sliding me along the smooth wood of the pillar. Moving his hands up along my sides, he hiked up my nightshirt to my waist and rocked his hips into me, pinning me to the post.

  Nuzzling my neck, he cupped my breast under my shirt. His thumb brushed my nipple, sending another electrifying charge through my core. I arched my back like a bow when he slid the other hand between me and the post and found me slick and hot with need.

  “How did you get so wet so fast, princess?” His whisper hit the side of my face. “Have you been missing me too, my sweet?”

  “Yes,” I panted. “I missed this. I want you.”

  He slipped his finger inside me, massaging me in circles, stretching, getting me ready for him and driving me mad with lust.

  With a moan, I writhed against his hand, aching for more.

  “God knows, I missed you too, Sophie,” he rasped.

  Stepping back from the post, he slid his finger out of me then angled my hips a little and entered me in one powerful thrust, driving me up the wooden post.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of being filled by him again, the feeling of being complete.

  “I love you,” he groaned above my ear. “So much, my princess.”

  A wave of pure happiness came over me at his words. Yet I could only moan in response.

  Impaled and pinned to the timber post by him, I squirmed impatiently, and he sucked air in through his teeth with another groan. His arms shook with strain, as he struggled for control before letting it all go.

  With deep growls, he took me in frantic thrusts. His hand cupped me between my legs to protect me from being hurt by the hard surface of the post as he pounded in me against it.

  The blissful ache of pressure built inside me as I rode the tsunami of his desperate passion, wave after wave, until he made me shudder against his hand. My inner muscles rippled in sweet tremors around him.

  With a loud roar to the high ceiling of the house, he followed me, the frantic rhythm of his thrusts broken.

  Then he leaned over me, covering me completely.

  Warm. Safe. Mine.

  With a happy sigh, I melted into him, catching my breath.

  “This is like coming home, my love,” he exhaled.

  Home.

  Everything was just the way it was supposed to be. And all felt right.

  The angry teenager, the self-loathing monster, and the wonderful man I had discovered underneath—they all merged into one.

  One person.

  My man.

  “Hunter,” I whispered, because that was his true name.

  His hands at my waist, he turned me around to face him.

  “What did you call me?”

  I slid my palms up his chest to his shoulders, raking my fingers through his fur.

  “I love you, Hunter. All of you.”

  His sins, his darkness, and his light—I accepted it all. Unconditionally.

  He hugged me to his chest, lifting me up, and I wrapped my legs around his middle. Tight.

  “Is it a yes then?” His eyes glistened with hope in the moonlight. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” I smiled, giddy with happiness.

  “The way I am?” he asked, holding me close.

  “I love you, Hunter. All of you. Just the way you are.”

  Chapter 49

  IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL spring morning the next day. I woke up to the sounds of birds singing greetings to arriving spring, the warm sunshine on my face.

  His large body was under me, my cheek on his hard chest, my hand flat on his abs. But even before I opened my eyes I felt that something was different.

  Shifting slightly, I slid my hand up his stomach to his chest, expecting the usual ticklish sensation of the silky undercoat between my fingers. Instead, the hair felt crisp and springy. There was also considerably less of it, with the smoothness of skin underneath.

  Understanding struck like lighting through my initial confusion as I jerked my head up, opening my eyes.

  Covers off, he stretched under me, streaked by the bright light bursting through the glass doors.

  Shock made my heart race at a neck-breaking speed as I stared at Hunter Reed sleeping in my bed.

  My hand to my mouth, I muffled a startled scream and scurried to the other side of the bed.

  The teenager of my past had grown up. His appearance had matured—his forehead had more lines and face more angles. But there was no mistake, it was the same person.

  The longer I stared at him, the more similarities I found with his beastly appearance, too.

  His hair, the brown colour of fallen leaves, had the same russet undertone with golden highlights. It was long, past his shoulders, fanned over the pillow in disarray.

  The thick full beard, a shade darker than his hair, concealed the lower part of his face from me. However, I could still see his peaceful expression as he slept.

  Used to a long snout, I had to blink a few times at the sight of his human nose—straight, skin-coloured, and completely hairless.

  He didn’t seem to have lost much of his bulk. Strong torso, thick muscles in his arms and thighs appeared to remain the same or close enough to what they had been. Even in his human form, lying on his back, his body still looked large and imposing.

  His wide shoulders spread halfway across the bed, the expanse of his chest just as broad. I also noted with an odd sense of relief the fair amount of dark, curly hair on his chest and forearms. The shade of it also reminded me of Monster’s fur.

  The top sheet, draped over his thigh, tented over his crotch. One long, muscular leg lay on top of the covers, ending with a normal human foot. No claws, paw or hock.

  Hunter was all man, in soul and body.

  But his physical similarities with the beast I loved slowly calmed my racing heart,
as I sat at his side waiting for him to wake up and taking all his features in.

  No matter his looks, he was still him.

  And he was all mine.

  Hunter stirred, stretching to the side, and patted my pillow in search of me. Squinting in the morning light, he opened one eye. The brilliant hazel was absolutely the same, as was the adoration with which he looked at me warmly.

  “There you are.” A smile parted his beard when his gaze found me. “Good morning, princess. My bride.” He winked at me, smiling wide. “You know, I’m going to order you a ring. The biggest there is. One that will drive you nuts, catching on your clothes. It would make you curse my name when you’re getting dressed or folding laundry. Because I love hearing you say my name over and over again.”

  He sounded definitely human now, but the deep rumble in his voice was so familiar, I would recognize it anywhere. And his words, his gestures didn’t change at all.

  “Oh, Hunter.” I shook my head in disbelief at how much yet how little this transformation was.

  “Hunter or Monster. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you say it.” He stretched, arching his back. The sheet fell off, and his hard-on bobbed free. “Now, come here, my sweet princess,” he murmured, reaching for me. “I’ll make you scream it—”

  His gaze fell on his hand and he stopped abruptly, curling his fingers slowly, then straightened them, spreading wide.

  “Sophie?” His eyes shot to mine, searching for a confirmation.

  “It happened, Hunter.” I nodded. “It worked.”

  “When I stopped caring whether it happened at all,” he whispered, still inspecting his hand.

  “There was no mistake in the curse after all.” I shifted a little closer to him. “A woman had to love you. All of you. Past and present. The beast and the man. Inside and out.”

  He lowered his hand to his lap, his gaze sweeping down his body.

  “What do you think, Sophie?” He turned to me. “How do you feel about seeing this?” He gestured at his face.

  “Me?”

  He nodded, staring at me expectantly.

  “It’s not about me, Hunter. You’re now free. No need to hide anymore. And you don’t have to worry about me.” I raised my hand and stroked a strand of his hair draped over his shoulder. It felt soft, silky, and very much like the mane he used to have. I slid my hand up to his beard. Thick and a little springy, more like the fur that used to cover the rest of his body. “I can see you beyond your looks.” I smiled. “No matter what your appearance is, I love you.”