The Monster

by Shen, L. J.

“Yes,” I said immediately. Of course I remembered him. He haunted me in my dreams. The liquid fear in his eyes. The way he shook and begged for his life. The pain Sam had inflicted on him when he shot his arm.

  “Well, he is right here with me, suffering from a chest wound. Shallow, I think. Things went a little sideways with the Russians, and he got caught in the middle of it.” Sam delivered the information blandly, like he was reading me food options from a menu.

  “Bring him over,” I ordered.

  “We’re just pulling up in front of your clinic,” he said and hung up.

  I prepared the examination table for the new patient as I mulled over how odd Sam was. He’d promised he would court me on Christmas, and I suppose he did, in his own way. He sent me flowers yesterday with a simple unsigned note bearing his name, and a piece of jewelry, I suppose as a late Christmas gift.

  But he didn’t cower or beg. Didn’t come knocking on my door.

  He wasn’t exactly chasing me. More like speed-walking while taking frequent water breaks. He still had a long way to go. But he was still in training.

  A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. I opened it, finding Sam and the Russian kid leaning against the gigantic man I hated to love.

  I slanted my head toward my office. Sam followed me, dragging the tall, scrawny boy along. I tried to ignore the acute beauty of my favorite monster. How tall and strong and corded with muscles he was. The deep tan of his skin and those full-moon eyes that always looked tranquil and cold, like a crisp December night. There was something else about him I found attractive today, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  Something had changed, even if it was subtle.

  Sam unloaded the gangly kid onto the examination table, and I took scissors to the boy’s shirt and started cutting it off of his chest.

  “What’s your name?” I smiled at the boy.

  “Ruslan,” he breathed, wincing as he spoke, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Ruslan Kozlov.”

  “How old are you, Ruslan Kozlov?”

  “Fourteen.” His teeth chattered, and a few acne zits were gushing blood, probably from the stress. He was as pale as snow, and I knew he needed a blood transfusion fast.

  “Tell me about the wound,” I murmured, keeping calm as I put on latex gloves.

  He did. It was one of Sam’s soldiers who had shot him in Bratva territory—or what used to be their territory before Sam butted in. Ruslan was running errands for Vasily Mikhailov, whom I gathered was the local underboss. Sam came in with his entourage to threaten Vasily, and things got out of control.

  “So why didn’t Vasily get you medical care?” I frowned. “You are his soldier, not Sam’s.”

  The boy smiled. “Yeah. Mikhailov is not like Brennan. He doesn’t care about his soldiers. He is a real monster.”

  Something warm flooded my chest. I tried telling myself it meant nothing.

  Luckily, Ruslan knew his blood type, so I was able to call a friend of mine from med school who worked at the hospital and sometimes—on the rare occasion I asked him—provided me with blood units for transfusion. I sent Sam to pick it up with a cooler I had stashed in the clinic while I stayed and tended to Ruslan.

  When Sam came back with the blood donation, he wanted to hang around in the room, but I barked at him to leave.

  After I took care of Ruslan’s wound, I put him on sedatives and took off my gloves, joining Sam in the waiting room. He was sitting on the couch, messing with his phone and hair at the same time. He stood up alertly the minute I appeared.

  “He’ll be fine.” I tried smoothing my hair into something that resembled a ponytail. “I’m glad you brought him in, though.”

  He stared at me quietly, like he was looking at me for the first time. The heat flooding my cheeks was unbearable.

  “Move in with me,” he said suddenly.

  “What?” My breath caught in my throat. “What are you talking about? We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”

  “A date?” He spat out the word like it was dirty. “We don’t need to go on dates. We’ve known each other since before you were allowed to vote. I’m picking up from where we left off after your little cabin stint, Aisling. I’m not starting from scratch.”

  “You’re starting from wherever I want you to start or you are not starting at all,” I announced, giving him the stink eye. “And I can’t move in with you.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “You want to move out. And you should. You are kissing thirty, Nix. Twenty-seven is no spring chicken. And your parents don’t need a babysitter anymore. They’re sorting their shit out, like they should have done three decades ago. Your mother is going to therapy. Your brothers told me. You’re welcome for that little push, by the way.”

  Welcome?

  He was now taking credit for the fact my father moved back into Avebury Court Manor and both my parents attended therapy together? Unreal.

  I took a step back, staring at him like he was a complete loon.

  “First of all, they are attending therapy because you scarred them for life, not pushed them together.”

  “To-may-to, to-ma-to.”

  “Secondly,” I hissed, “I don’t make any money of my own and can’t afford to pay rent.”

  “You paying rent was never on the fucking table,” he quipped. “I own my place.”

  “I will not be freeloading.”

  “Nothing about this arrangement is free, Aisling. There’s a heavy price to pay when you are shacking up with a man like me.”

  “You’re still being a chauvinist pig.” I folded my arms over my chest.

  He took a step forward, crowding me as he brushed a fly-away from my cheek. “No, Nix, I’m taking what I want. What’s mine. And what I deserve.”

  “You don’t deserve me.”

  He smiled. “I used to think that was true, too. Then I found out what you do here in this clinic. We are not so different, you and I. The only thing separating us is semantics.”

  I gasped. “Don’t you dare. What I do is—”

  “Beautiful. And also illegal. In a saturated population, life is always cheap,” he replied, his breath fanning across my face, making every cell in my body tingle with need and anticipation.

  “You’re still being an asshole,” I informed him.

  He leaned forward, saying the words as his lips traced mine, speaking into my mouth. “I never promised not to be an asshole. I only promised to be your asshole.”

  “What about other women?” I was starting to feel it. The way I liquefied in his arms. “What happens when you grow tired of me?”

  “I will never grow tired of you.” His tongue glided between my lips, prying them open as he kissed me deeply. I let him, despite my inhibitions, and my better judgment, and the fact that I knew this was the opposite of what I was trying to do.

  I became lax in his arms, enjoying the steadiness of him as his tongue rolled around mine. His fingers dug into my skull, gripping my hair.

  “All these years, Nix, I thought about you. Every time I fucked someone else. Every time I brought someone into my office. I’d close my eyes and it was you I’d see. Then I’d remember your family would destroy us if I had you. They would never let that fly. I would remember how I’d fuck your life up if I touched you. If you became mine. If you were privy to all the blood I shed. I didn’t want to bring you into my mess, but now that I know that we’re both screwed-up and imperfect, it changes things.”

  “And you have my father’s approval.” I put a hand on his chest, pushing him away. “How?”

  He grinned. “I think your father figured out I am willing to go further to get you than he is willing to go to protect you. He is not a stupid man, Ash. He knows I always get what I want. And what I want is his daughter.”

  “Your kiss.” I frowned. “It tasted different.”

  “I quit smoking.” He arched an eyebrow, looking more annoyed than gloating.

  “You did?” My heart did a weird flip in my chest.
“Why?”

  “You said you hated it. You said you don’t want to feel like you’re kissing an ashtray.”

  “You should have done it because you want to live to a ripe old age.”

  “Well, that might not be in store for me with my line of work anyway, but while I do live, I’d rather do it with you by my side.”

  He said all the right things, and did all the right things, and still, I couldn’t forgive him. Not now. Not yet. Not when I knew that he was so close to destroying my family.

  I took a step back, sobering up.

  “What about my ban from Badlands?” I asked. The change of topic seemed to have thrown him off, too, because he cocked his head, examining me coldly.

  “What about it?”

  “Lift it.” I tilted my chin up.

  “Nix,” he said darkly, narrowing his eyes. “I will not have you parading around in skimpy clothes in close proximity just to make me suffer.”

  “Yes, you will,” I said airily. “Because you want me, and when you want someone, you make sacrifices for them—and don’t try to control them. Better get used to it.”

  He considered my words, his face twisting.

  “One condition.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes?”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “I thought we were past dating.” I couldn’t help but grin.

  “We are,” he said dryly. “No one said food is going to be the only thing on the menu. I’ll come pick the kid up in a few hours.” He leaned down, kissed me hard, turned around, and walked away.

  It was only when he was gone that I realized the bastard had managed to snatch a piece of my heart in his fist yet again.

  Thief.

  Sam picked me up on New Year’s Eve, wearing a full-blown tux and a solemn scowl that suggested Satan himself had blackmailed him into doing this at gunpoint.

  “For you …” He shoved a bouquet of flowers into my hands when I opened the door, all dolled up in a sheer white mini-dress paired with Louboutin boots.

  They were a mix of lilies, sunflowers, and roses, in all shades and colors.

  I pressed them to my nose and grinned.

  “Thank you. Let me put them in water.”

  “What’s the point?” He groaned, still obviously struggling with nicotine withdrawal. “They’ll die at some point anyway.”

  “Just like us,” I answered with a small smile. “Death is not a reason to stop living.”

  I let him into the foyer and went to the kitchen to find a vase.

  When I rounded the corner to come back to the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of my father and Sam speaking.

  “… treat her well. She is still my daughter. Nothing will change that, Brennan, even if I have to go down in flames. She comes first,” I heard Athair say.

  Merde.

  Sam was bound to say something provocative and crass just to piss Da off. That was the way he operated.

  To my surprise, Sam replied, “I’ll treat her well, Gerry. Better than you and your wife have for the past twenty-seven years. But I’m letting you know right now, I’m moving her in with me in the next few weeks. I can’t stand how she is here to cater to your wife’s every whim like she’s a newborn baby.”

  “That’s up to her,” Da said. “And I don’t think it’s as bad now. Not since the hospitalization. Cillian and Hunter have been taking a more proactive approach with their mother.”

  Da wasn’t wrong. I did have a bit more free time, but Mother still had a long way to go.

  “Give me a couple weeks and she’ll be more attached to me.” Sam put a lid on the conversation, firm but not crass.

  I cleared my throat, stepping from the kitchen and making myself known. Both men froze. Sam’s eyes landed on me.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  I nodded, my heart missing a beat again to the sight of him in a tux.

  “Make it fast, though, Brennan. I want an early evening. I have work tomorrow.”

  “You’re kidding me.” I sat in his car, speechless and dumbfounded.

  Sam threw the Porsche into park and got out. Fifty minutes after he picked me up, we were at Canobie Lake Park, the closest serious amusement park to Boston. Sam rounded the car and opened the door for me. I stepped out, wrapping my coat around me.

  “It’s freezing outside,” I complained.

  “I’ll keep you nice and cozy.” He tugged at my hand, leading me to the entrance.

  “Bulletproof plan to cop a feel,” I grumbled.

  “You wound me,” he said flatly.

  “No, I don’t.”

  He walked right into the open gate, not bothering with purchasing tickets at the cashier.

  “The place is empty.” I blinked.

  Sam scanned the park around us absentmindedly, not bothering to look remotely surprised.

  “It appears that way. Did I fail to mention I rented the entire thing? I thought it would be nice to have some privacy for a fucking change. There always seems to be too many people around us.”

  “And the rides?” I turned to look at him, my heart twisting in my chest.

  He chucked my chin with a smile. “All manned up and ready to roll.”

  “That must’ve cost a pretty penny.” I cleared my throat.

  “Well, the woman I am dating is kind of used to the best.”

  That wasn’t true. Even though I came from money, I never enjoyed it quite as much as people thought I did, and that made me even more emotional.

  “Oh, Sam.” I looked away, so he couldn’t see how deeply I blushed.

  Ten years ago, I came to a fair all by myself, lonely, lost, and sad.

  Now, I was at a theme park with the man I fell in love with by my side.

  He wanted me to have a do-over.

  A different spin on the monster ride.

  “You got me good with the tux. I thought we were going somewhere expensive.” I grinned, taking a step back from him, because yet again it was hard not to jump his bones when he was being sweet—or at least not a full-blown asshole.

  “It is fucking expensive, Nix. Ever rented a theme park on New Year’s Eve? Now where do you want to start?”

  We stared at each other, smirking.

  My reply was immediate. “Whatever’s scariest. Something with monsters in it.”

  “The Mine of Lost Souls,” he said.

  “Mine’s not so lost anymore,” I murmured, taking his outstretched hand.

  He led the way.

  We boarded a train resembling a mine cart. I knew the ride was themed around a fictional mine that was about to collapse.

  The teenager who manned the ride approached us to check we were secure in our seats, grinning at Sam and offering him a fist bump that remained unanswered in the air. I rolled my eyes.

  “He was being nice.”

  “He was ogling you and imagining what I’ll do to you when the ride is done.”

  The ride started and Sam’s hand, which I didn’t even notice was resting on my knee, slid up my thigh, making my dress hike up to my waist. His face was still turned to the other side. To the miners and monsters around us. The story of the collapsing mine unfolded.

  “When?” Sam asked, his fingers biting into my thighs, skimming my underwear.

  “When what?” I swallowed.

  “When did you figure out who you were? In the timeline between seventeen and now. It couldn’t have been the night we met. That was the beginning of things. You’re a fully-formed person now.”

  I gave it some thought, even though his fingers pushing my underwear sideways, dipping into my wet core, made me shudder and lose my train of thought. I started breathing hard, feeling my nipples puckering under my bra.

  “Honestly?” I heard myself say. “Every single time I met you, you chipped at something in me. I don’t know how to explain it, but there is something about you, something formidable and scary and impossible, that makes a person realize who they are when they deal with you. It�
��s like looking death in the eye.”

  I turned quiet for a second then said, “I know she is dead and it might not mean much, but do you think you’ll ever forgive Cat?”

  My underlying question had nothing to do with Catalina. What I wanted to know was—would he ever be able to love a woman?

  Sam’s finger curled inside me, pushing in deeper and harder and faster. I began to pant. He turned his head toward me, his mouth finding mine in the dark, slanting over my lips possessively.

  “I don’t need to forgive Cat. Somewhere along the road of screwing everything up with you, I found out that I don’t hate women all that much. I love Sparrow, and Sailor, and I’m pretty sure I will fucking kill anyone who gets anywhere close to Rooney until she hits thirty.”

  I moaned into his kiss, half-laughing, half-groaning, clutching him close as the ride drew to an end, spinning and sliding from here to there.

  The only people in the world were me and him.

  My orgasm was within reach. I could feel my body humming to the rhythm of his fingers inside me.

  “I still want revenge,” I croaked into his mouth. “Don’t think you’ve won me over just yet. You haven’t.”

  “I know,” he grunted, letting me ride his whole hand now beneath my dress. My hips bucked toward his arm, and I thrust and moaned shamelessly, the climax taking over my body like a tsunami.

  “Monster, Monster, Monster,” I chanted, breathing his nickname in, thinking how he was right all those years ago, when I asked him what his name was.

  It was always Monster.

  And I was his Nix.

  Maybe it was the best night of my life.

  The thing about magical moments is that they wrap around you like a cloak, shielding you from reality, numbing your senses.

  But it felt like everything was illuminated. The air was fresher, my lungs fuller, and my skin tingled with adrenaline and warmth.

  From the junk food we consumed—sweet and salty popcorn, candy apples, and hot spiked ciders—and the rides. Ten seconds before midnight, we made our own countdown and kissed on the merry-go-round, each of us sitting on top of a unicorn. By the time we left the amusement park, it was half past two in the morning, and I knew I was going to hate both myself and Sam when I woke up in a few hours for another grueling shift at Dr. Doyle’s clinic.