To Love A Monster

by Marina Simcoe

  He grabbed my hand, leaning into my touch.

  “How do you feel, darling?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He smiled against my palm. “Weird.” He touched his forehead, raking his fingers through the hair above it. “Without the horns, it feels like a ton of weight is gone.”

  “No headache?”

  “None at all.” He lowered his feet to the floor. “I need to move.”

  I hurried to his side, ready to help him if needed.

  “No.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You better stay back, Sophie. If I fall, I’d take you down with me.”

  Holding the bedpost, he got up carefully—shifting his weight from foot to foot—then took a couple of tentative steps forward, leaving his hand on the bedpost.

  “Yep. It is weird,” he sighed then laughed again. “I’ll need to get used to walking on human feet.”

  “Do you feel like getting down on all fours at all?”

  “The urge is definitely there. I just don’t think it’d work any more.” He tipped his chin at the bathroom door. “I need a mirror.”

  I nodded and took his hand. He didn’t protest this time.

  Hunter used my hand for guidance, but his confidence visibly grew with each step he took. By the time he approached the counter in the bathroom, the reason for his still squeezing my hand could’ve been for emotional support only.

  “So, this is me.” He leaned into the mirror over the sink, studying his reflection, then touched his nose, his forehead, his beard. “Not exactly what I remember.”

  “Of course not. And it’s not just you getting older, Hunter.” I glanced along the intricate web of raised scars crisscrossing his back and shoulder. With no fur to hide them now, the scars were an open reminder of everything that had happened to him. “You’ve changed in so many ways.”

  “True.” He gazed at me in the mirror then pushed off the counter, taking a step back. “It feels rather chilly now.” He exhaled another laugh, gliding the palm of his hand along his chest and down his flat stomach. “Without all that fur.”

  I followed the movement of his hand down his torso then along the hard curve of his ass, as he twisted his hips a little.

  “No more tail,” I whispered. The tiny pang of something like regret made me smile.

  “Are you going to miss it?” He lifted an eyebrow at me, which gave his face a very familiar expression. “Did you like my tail, princess?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “I did,” I confessed. “Your tail had quite a personality and a mind on its own. A dirty mind, I might add.” I stroked his buttocks with my gaze, enjoying the sight of the toned, rounded muscles, and added under my breath, “I’m sure I’ll get used to having the unobstructed view of that ass, though.”

  His erection twitched at my words, catching my attention again.

  “Not all has changed it seems,” I noted and took a step closer.

  He intercepted my gaze and closed the distance between us, his expression turning more serious. His brilliant eyes darkened, eyelids at half-mast.

  I stared at his face, hungrily taking in every detail. Hands flat on his chest, I slid them up to his shoulders then down to his hard pecs again, learning the new sensations of touching him.

  His chest vibrated with the familiar growl under my palms.

  “The beast is still in there,” I whispered as a hot wave of pleasure at this discovery washed over me.

  “Should we let him out?”

  With a nod, I gave him my silent permission.

  He walked me backwards then lifted me on the counter. Hands on my knees, he parted my legs to step between them, bringing us flush against each other. His gaze slid along my face then glided to my lips.

  “You know what has changed?” He asked, his eyes dark with lust, his hands sliding up my sides. I inhaled sharply when he cupped my breasts kneading them through my nightshirt. “Now, I can kiss you.”

  He covered my mouth with his, and my breathing accelerated along with my heartbeat. His lips, at once firm and soft. His tongue, urgent and persistent. I savored his taste and the softness of his beard against my skin.

  All the new sensations mixed with the old, loved and familiar ones. The firmness of his embrace. The passion of his touch. His wild scent of winter forest and my man.

  I slid my hands up his back, feeling the hard muscles rolling under his skin. Smooth, human skin marred by thick ropes of scars.

  Without breaking the kiss, he moved his hands higher, tracing my collarbones with his thumbs, then cupped my neck with both hands, before he finally let me come up for air.

  “This is even better that I’ve imagined,” he exhaled, leaving a trail of kisses along my jawline and down the side of my neck, nibbling, kissing every inch of my skin there, the soft prickle of his beard enveloping my body in a web of tiny shivers.

  I hooked my legs around his waist and slid my foot down the hard curve of his ass. The ridge of his erection hit just the right spot, sending a hot charge of desire through me.

  He slid his hands down my shoulders, hooking his thumbs in the neckline of my shirt, and tugged it down impatiently. When the neckline proved too tight to move past my breasts, he easily ripped the shirt down the middle, setting them free.

  Eagerly, he sucked in my nipple the way he never could before, but the sensation of his tongue swirling around it was tantalizingly familiar, sending another maddening wave of desire through my body.

  I whimpered, gripping the hair on the back of his head, as I arched my back, pushing my breast into his mouth, unable to get enough of the sweet torture of his lips, teeth, and tongue.

  He let go of my breasts, his hands replacing his mouth, as his fingers gently plucked and twisted my nipples. I moaned and rocked against him with increasing urgency, wanting more of him, all of him.

  “Hunter.”

  He knew me well to know exactly what I needed. For a moment, his hand left my breast, as he aligned himself with me, then I felt the blissful sensation of him sliding inside me.

  My breath hitched, and I buried my face in his hair, the silky feel of it new, yet so very familiar. His arms enclosed me in a tight circle as he began to move, long and slow at first, drawing out the pleasure for both of us.

  I tangled my fingers in his hair, losing myself to the wonderful sensations building up inside me under his ever-increasing rhythm.

  The roar that started low and deep inside his chest tore through his clenched teeth, its vibrations stoking the fire inside me—higher, hotter, brighter—as the speed of his thrusts increased to frantic, and my need spiraled out of control.

  The beast came undone, his head thrown back, his chest flush with mine, our hips fused. His roar rolled through the walls of the house, reaching the woods outside.

  I closed my eyes, riding every last wave of my own orgasm, before collapsing into him, boneless. My nose buried into his neck under his beard, I inhaled the beloved scent, savoring the feeling of his body around me.

  I stroked his back, my fingers tracing the ridges of his scars.

  “One thing will never change, princess,” he whispered. “No matter what—man, beast, or both—I swear I’ll always love you.”

  Epilogue

  A YEAR LATER . . .

  He watched the rapids churn through the rocks in the river then swirl lazily in the dark pools of open water in between. Lost in his thoughts, he stroked Sophie’s head on his shoulder, raking his fingers through the strands of her ponytail.

  He sat on one of the half a dozen Adirondack chairs placed around the new fire pit in his favourite spot on the riverbank. Sophie was in his lap, the best place for her to be as far as he was concerned.

  A seven-month old yellow lab mix stretched by the fire, tired after fetching sticks from the river earlier. His paws jerked occasionally as he whimpered in fitful puppy sleep. They got him from one of the animal shelters that Sophie had on her list of charities, and Hunter fell in love with him immediately.

>   It was early spring again. His second spring as himself, whole and complete. Sophie was right when she noted that his human form on its own was not that much of a change. The biggest changes happened while he was still a beast. Physically being a human again, however, wasn’t as simple as slipping into the old pair of shoes.

  It took him a while to get used to the odd feeling of being exposed without his fur. Sophie had to order a number of wool sweaters to keep him warm through those early weeks. The first few days, he wore a pair of knitted gloves, even at night, because the air felt unusually chilly against his bare knuckles.

  He was glad she loved his beard too much to let him shave if off. The beard and longer hair felt somehow more natural to him. Warm and familiar.

  He still dreamed at night about being a beast—running wild through the forest, taking a plunge in the icy river, stalking prey in the woods.

  The same things that brought him satisfaction when he was an animal, he discovered, still brought him joy as a man.

  The first time he ran through the forest in the early morning chill, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a pair of runners, excitement pumped hot through his veins. The invigorating sensation of feeling alive was so wild and familiar, he had to stop for a moment to make sure he still had his human body and didn’t revert back to the beast somehow.

  He sprinted all the way to the river, stripped naked, and jumped into the cold waters, just like he used to. There was no more ice on the river. Still, the chilly water knocked the air out of him when he dove in.

  He climbed out onto the riverbank afterwards, shaking the water out of his hair and beard. The chill prickled his skin, but the fire inside him burst through with a loud, hearty laugh that bounced though the trees, sending small animals scurrying through the woods, not unlike his roars used to do.

  The joy of being alive coursed through him along with the incredible feeling of finally being whole.

  She did it. He drew Sophie closer in his lap. She was the glue that held all his pieces together, making him complete. His beacon if he ever felt lost.

  Whenever anger, bitterness or unexplained sadness threatened to lead him astray, she was his light to guide him back to joy.

  He could swim all the way across the river now or cross the fence to the road to go anywhere in the world. Free. But the place he really wanted to be, where he truly felt at home, was right here. With Sophie.

  “There were times when I loathed this forest, hated it with a passion,” he said, nuzzling her hair.

  “It was your prison, Hunter.” She stirred in his lap, snuggling closer under the checkered wool blanket thrown over her shoulders. “Do you love being here now?”

  He was sure she knew the answer but said it anyway.

  “I do. It’s home.” He twirled a strand of her ponytail between his fingers, admiring its honey-coloured highlights brought out by the setting sun, and smiled. “Home is where I have my wife.”

  They got married last summer, right here on the riverbank. Sophie’s mom and Jeff came to stay for the wedding, as well as most of the folks from Rocky River.

  They decided not to tell the details of his story to everyone. Jo was the only one who knew everything, even though she confessed she still had a hard time believing it herself.

  Shortly after their wedding, the old hunting lodge by the airport went out of business before the busy time of the season started. He and Sophie offered to house the hunters at their house through the fall.

  They got the bedrooms upstairs ready. And for the first time ever, the house that his father build under a pretense of a hunting cabin actually hosted a real hunting party.

  He loved going out with the guys early in the morning, helping to track the game for them.

  The peace of the woods right before the sunrise, the thrill of tracking and pursuing prey, the satisfaction of providing for his family—the experience of hunting as a human was new, but it resonated with the memories of the beast in him. Just like the feelings he had during his daily running and swimming.

  Halfway through the season, watching how much Sophie enjoyed taking care of guests, Hunter had the idea of running a permanent hunting lodge right here, on their property. This was how they became not just a husband and wife, but also business partners.

  A few times a week, Sophie travelled to Rocky River, to visit friends and to take courses online. She chose to study youth and family counseling, a program that would allow her to work in Rocky River upon completion. The subject was close to her heart and she enjoyed her studies, filling Hunter’s heart with pride at her success.

  He leaned in and found her lips now. Soft and sweet, they welcomed his kiss. And he felt her melting into him, the way she always did when he kissed her.

  “My Monster,” she exhaled dreamily when he let her come up for air. Kissing her was something that never got old, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

  “Warm me up,” Sophie murmured, sliding her cold hand under his sweater then between the buttons on his shirt, and settled it against his warm chest. The huge diamond of her ring felt even colder on his skin.

  It must be the Reeds’ inherent love for extravagance that made Hunter keep his promise and buy her the biggest diamond he could find.

  She laughed and shook her head when she first saw it. Still, she never took it off after he put it on her finger on their wedding day, vowing to love and cherish her for as long as they both should live.

  “I’m so looking forward to the beach and sunshine in Barbados next week.” She rubbed his chest under the shirt, warming up her hand.

  “Whatever makes you happy. And warm.” He took her other hand in his and tucked it under his sweater too.

  She exhaled a small contented laugh.

  “You make me happy.” She placed a small kiss in his beard. “You keep me warm too. Inside and out.” She pressed herself even closer to him. “Vacations are just for fun. And if you don’t like it, we can always come back.”

  “I’ll like it,” he promised. It would be his first trip anywhere in many years. He felt nervous, excited, not a little apprehensive. His head still swam from knowing he was free to travel the globe now.

  No walls, no fences were there to keep him in place any more.

  Sophie wanted to show him the world, and as far as Hunter was concerned with her he would go anywhere.

  He would go to the end of the Earth and back without batting an eye.

  As long as Sophie was by his side.

  THE END

  More By Marina Simcoe

  Demons Series

  Demon Mine

  The Forgotten – 2018

  Grand Master – 2019

  Valos of Sonhadra

  Enduring

  DEMON MINE

  Demons, Book 1

  Chapter 1

  I HEARD THEM COMING. Their footsteps echoed in the hallways and reverberated through the concrete floors. I’d been here long enough to know that they could be extremely stealthy, but they didn’t care about being quiet right now.

  With a whimper, I scurried to the opposite side of the ratty mattress on the floor until my back hit the wall, and I curled into a ball. Not that it mattered—they’d take me with them anyway. I couldn’t fight them. I’d tried. Their unnatural, unhuman strength was no match to my own weakened body.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here. At one point, I made marks on the wall of my cell with a spoon, one for each day. However, I didn’t start until I’d been here for a few days. Or was it a few weeks? Things had been blurry in my mind for a while now.

  Sometimes, in rare moments of clarity, I wondered if this was how it felt to lose your mind. Days and weeks would disappear, unaccounted for, until all of what made you would vanish into a thick fog, never to be found again.

  The door to my cell slid open, and they walked in. Calm, cold, and silent.

  After all my time here, I still had no idea who they were. By now, I doubted they were even alive. I simply thought of them
as machines, automated armour suits.

  At night, there were always three of them. All dressed the same, in grey uniforms made of thick fabric covered with hard plates on their chests, shoulders, forearms, and legs. Matching grey helmets concealed their heads, including faces, with just two slits for the eyes. Leather gloves and heavy boots of the same charcoal grey completed their uniforms.

  One stepped forward while the other two stood on each side of the door. They expected me to get up and walk out of the cell. I knew that’s what they wanted, but I wasn’t moving. Willing them to disappear, I curled more into myself and shut my eyes. Shouldn’t all nightmares disappear eventually?

  Then I heard the first of the three take a few more determined steps towards me, and I lost it.

  “No!” I shrieked. “Don’t touch me. Keep your disgusting gloves off me!”

  I jumped as he reached out, and I ducked under his arm, surprising myself with the agility of my movements.

  I knew they were incredibly strong. As far as I could tell, though, they moved with normal speed. A crazy idea sprung into my troubled brain.

  I can outrun them! I just need to run very, very fast . . .

  I made it all the way to the door before the others grabbed me. With those two there, I never had a chance in the first place and deep inside I knew it. It’s not like it was a solid plan on my part anyway, more like an act of desperation spurred by insanity.

  Panic exploded hot inside me. They each held one of my arms with ease, and I kicked the air between them, twisted in their grip and screamed until my lungs burned and my voice came out in a raspy croak no longer resembling anything human.