by Katie May
I don’t push him to continue his story. I can see that whatever he’s about to tell me is going to be hard on him. These are his demons, his ghosts, coming back to haunt him. They’re crawling through the earth and pressing their keen claws into his ankles. He can either fight their hold or allow them to drag him under.
“I also discovered that I can manipulate those two feelings,” he continues, voice devoid of any emotion. “I can make people fall in love as well as create immeasurable lust. I thought I was helping people…enhancing what they already felt. It was a win-win, you know? I made them fall helplessly in love with each other, and I used that love to feed myself. I would go through towns and send out waves of love and lust. It made people happy, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“But…?” I ask softly, and he finally rips his gaze away from the abused grass.
“But the monster world didn’t see it like that.” He releases a ragged sigh and turns to face me completely, shifting slightly. “Some of the communities I impacted were strictly monster communities. As such, the monsters saw fit to act on their inner desires, despite the fact that mating bonds usually only happen between monsters of the same species. Werewolves would mate with vampires. Ghouls with zombies. Witches with incubi. You get the idea. I didn’t know it at the time, but I wasn’t just making monsters fall in love. I was finding people’s soulmates.”
I gasp harshly. “You mean…?”
“Monsters who shouldn’t have mates suddenly found theirs,” he finishes. “True love and all that shit.” Throwing his head back, he releases a self-deprecating laugh, the noise rattling my ribs and my teeth. It’s a harsh, cold sound, and such a contrast to the warm man I first befriended back in detention.
“And then you ended up here,” I whisper in growing horror, but Cal shakes his head.
“No. First, they murdered my family to ensure this would never happen again. My baby sisters. My mom and dad. Even my aunts and uncles and cousins.” Pain emanates from his gaze, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to give him a hug.
Oh, fuck it.
Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around Cal’s neck in a desperate embrace, his heart thumping beneath my own.
“Cal, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“They saw me as something they could use,” he whispers, his arms hanging limply by his sides. After a moment, he timidly hugs me back, hungry for love and affection after years spent in his prison. “So they made me come here, to train me. At first, I was a normal student, just like you, but when I began to fight back, they shoved me in the upper levels.” His voice turns choked, as if he’s overcome by a strong emotion. “I’ve been alone for so long.”
“You won’t be alone anymore, Cal,” I promise, pulling back so I can stare into his glimmering eyes. Gently, I brush back strands of his unruly pink hair in desperate need of a trim.
He tries to laugh, but the noise is bitter and angry—a product of all he has endured. “You promise? I’m way too beautiful to be alone.”
I snort out a laugh at his attempt at a joke. “You’re right, pretty boy. Way too beautiful.” Worrying my fleshy bottom lip, I query, “How long have you been up there? In detention, I mean?”
His face hardens, twisting into an unreadable mask hewn from stone.
“Two hundred and fifty-seven years. This is the second time in over one hundred that I have been able to feel the sunlight on my face. Normally, I’m only released every Halloween night.” He arches his neck, eyes closed, as he soaks up the blistering rays. “Feel the grass beneath my fingers.” He tugs a second strand out of the ground and holds it up for me to see. “Hear laughter and joy.” As if on cue, my men break into raucous laughter a short distance away. “Feel the wind on my face.” His eyes close once more as pure bliss erupts on his face.
“Cal…”
“Barret and I made a deal with Dimitri and the Monster Council,” Cal continues, voice a hushed murmur. “If we win the Roaring, we’ll get to go free, be normal students. Normal monsters.” He swallows suddenly, and I feel my pulse skitter in response.
“And if you lose?” I voice the question I really, really don’t want the answer to.
“If we lose…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “If we lose, we’ll work for the council.”
“For how long?” Terror thrums through me, vibrating on its own separate frequency.
Cal’s face is grim when he speaks next. “Forever.”
CHAPTER 23
VIOLET
The first official ceremony for the Roaring is a grand affair. Monsters come from every country, every ocean, and every cave. Tents have been erected on the far side of campus, each befitting royalty. Though the games don’t technically start until tomorrow, the Academy puts on an elaborate ceremony in the graveyard followed immediately by a ball in the cafeteria. Classes are momentarily put on hold until the Roaring ends a week from now.
As an official competitor, my dress has been custom made and paid for by the school. They want their little soldiers to look their best before they’re sent to the slaughterhouse. But, unlike the movies and books, we do it willingly.
Of course, I can’t fucking get the damn dress on. They expect me to wear a corset, of all things. A corset. I stare at the material for so long, I’m afraid I’ll go cross-eyed. The black laces are loose currently, wafting in the breeze from my open window in a seemingly mocking display.
“Fuck you, corset,” I hiss, offering it my middle finger. The corset doesn’t respond, obviously, but I swear the laces begin to billow faster as if in laughter.
And…
I’m officially losing my mind.
“Do you need help with that? Or do you just want to keep glaring at it as if it’ll get legs and arms and spider monkey your boobs,” a dry voice says from the doorway. I spin quickly, futilely attempting to cover up my scantily-covered body. I’m dressed in only a pair of lacy pink panties and a matching pink bra dotted with black bats.
Cynthia rolls her eyes at me before gesturing for me to spin around. At my confused expression, she rolls her eyes a second time. It’s pretty weird looking, considering her eyes are half out of their sockets, as if she haphazardly shoved them in her eye sockets but didn’t bother to secure them.
“I don’t have all day,” she snipes. Eyeing her as one would a cornered, feral animal, I give her my back and hold up the corset. I quickly slide off my bra and cover my boobs with one hand. I love Cynthia and all, I do, but that girl does not need to see my nips.
She makes quick work of the laces, and I suck in a heavy breath, as it feels as if my soul has left my body. How do people wear these things? After this dance is over, I’m going to walk around shirtless in order to let my boobs breathe.
Once the final lace has been tightened and tied, Cynthia steps away from me, her face bereft of expression. “Do you need help with the dress too?” She nods towards the monstrosity draped over my bed.
“If you have the time…” I trail off sheepishly, and she snorts.
“My only other plan for today was to eat a liver and maybe get high.” She stalks forward to grab the dress for me to step into.
After she helps me into my dress, she stays to brush my hair into an elegant half-up, half-down hairdo. With painstaking delicacy, she applies a light coat of makeup, accentuating my bright eyes and cupid bow lips.
“Do you have a dress to wear?” I question as she dusts a layer of blush over both my cheeks. As a vampire, I’m naturally pasty and fair-skinned, but being an introvert who likes to hide in her room and eat cake doesn’t help matters. I distrust all of those people capable of having perfect tans.
“Yeah,” she states simply, stepping away to survey her work. “In my room.”
“Where have you…?” I trail off before steeling my resolve. “Where have you been staying?”
Am I mistaken, or does Cynthia look embarrassed?
“At first, I was staying with a friend. Loxley. You remember her?” I shrug, vaguely reca
lling a little ho who sat in front of me in some of my classes. “But now, I’m staying with Pete.”
“No fucking way!” I lean forward eagerly, and she ducks her head, thick black waves spilling forward to cover her face in a curtain of ink. “When did this happen?”
“After our talk, I confronted him. He confessed that he’s been in love with me for years now.” Her voice takes on a wistful, dreamy quality. “We began to date soon after.”
“Wow. I mean…wow. I’m so fucking happy for you, girl!” I lean forward to hug her before remembering I’m a fluffy pile of skirts and ruffles. “And you’re already living together?”
She glances in both directions anxiously, almost as if she’s expecting someone to be hiding beneath my bed. Actually, given what I know about Dimitri, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“To be honest, he’s my mate.” She says the words conspiratorially, as if they’re a dirty curse word. Her face is pale, ashen almost, beneath the LED lights of the mirror.
“And that’s a bad thing, why?” I query, watching her face carefully. There’s a minuscule tick of her right eyebrow, and her black tongue extends to lick her lower lip.
“Because banshees don’t have fated mates,” she confesses. “There hasn’t been a case recorded yet.”
My heart stutters to a stop as I process the full ramifications behind her words. Cal’s story from yesterday reverberates through my head, rattling my brain. Is he somehow behind this?
What the hell is going on?
“Are you excited for the Roaring?” I question, attempting to change the subject.
“Fuck, no. I’m not competing. But my family is coming to visit me. My little brother, Justin, will come as well. He’s six months old and absolutely adorable!” Her tone takes on the dreamy quality all people seem to have when talking about babies. You know the type—saccharine sweet to the point of sickening. “You’ll have to meet him.”
“I’d love to,” I whisper, but a strange knot enters my stomach. I don’t know what exactly this emotion is, so I shove it beneath the proverbial rug before it can take root and grow. Instead, I focus once more on the fact that Cynthia has found her mate.
Cynthia curses abruptly, pulling her phone from her dress pocket. “Shit. I need to go. Pete’s waiting for me. You look beautiful, by the way.” Before she has even finished speaking, she’s halfway out the door. I lift my hand in a timid wave, but I can’t stop fixating on what she just confessed.
Cynthia—a banshee—has found her fated mate. I don’t know the history of banshees, so I have no way of knowing if there’s truly never been another case before, but I do know that I’m the first vampire to have found her fated mate…or mates.
The questions are beginning to pile up, forming a mammoth wall of secrets and deceit. It’s surrounding me, trapping me, with little to no hope of escape.
Shaking my head vigorously, I turn towards the mirror once more and study myself. I look…beautiful. It’s not a word I use to describe myself often.
The corset emphasizes my hourglass figure—heavy breasts, tapered waist, and generous ass. It also makes my boobs look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. The dress itself is pale pink interwoven with black lace. It cups my breasts before spilling outwards in three layers of pink skirts. At the hem, the pink swirls into shades of onyx that cascade across the floor with each movement I make. My blonde hair is artfully curled into perfect ringlets, with a small portion tucked away in a golden clip. Two flyaway strands frame my face. The makeup isn’t heavy, but it heightens the golden flecks in my eyes and my already lush lips. The blush highlights my prominent cheekbones.
It took some urging, but I eventually used the balm Frankie created on my scars. The words are nothing but smeared pink lines, and even those are beginning to fade. Soon, they’ll be nothing but a horrible memory, though the scars on my soul are still as prevalent as ever. Nothing can eradicate that hurt.
I spin once, enjoying the way the fabric glides across the floor, before smiling at my reflection.
It’s amazing what a little confidence can do for a girl. Some people think we dress up and wear makeup to impress people, and maybe that’s true for some, but not all. Sometimes, we want to look beautiful in order to feel beautiful. We have trouble seeing past our flaws and mistakes, our transgressions and sins. By dressing up, we’re donning a mask—one we’re capable of removing whenever we so feel the need. It’s our battle armor and our sword. Our shield and our convoy. It’s a way for us to see the beauty the rest of the world already sees.
“Knock knock!” a cheery voice exclaims. “Don’t bother responding, because I’m coming in anyway.”
Without preamble, Mason pushes open the door, the others at his heels.
I take a moment to survey them all as they do the same for me.
Mason is bedecked in a three-piece suit with a pink tie. He still wears his customary beanie, the exact same shade of gray as his suit.
Vin, behind him, is handsomely dressed as well in a black suit with a white undershirt and white cufflinks. The material conforms to his muscular body, revealing his shapely thighs and toned arms.
Surprisingly, Hux is in control today. His suit is almost identical to Vin’s, though he has a pink bow tie completing the ensemble. His thick black hair has been combed back, his wicked scar proudly on display.
Frankie is the only one not wearing a suit. Instead, he has on tan dress pants with a light blue collared shirt tucked in. His normally disheveled curls have been tamed into some semblance of control.
Behind them all, Cal and Barret stand, looking dreadfully out of place and uneasy, as if they’re unsure of where they fit in this new dynamic. Frankly, I’m unsure too.
Cal’s pink hair is stylishly tousled, sweeping across his forehead and into his eyes. There are slits in his white suit jacket for his red wings to pop through, and if he were to extend those wings, they’d easily encompass the length of my room. Barret is smartly dressed in a black suit with a red undershirt, the exact shade of Cal’s wings. With his green hair, he looks like a life-sized Christmas ornament, though I’d never admit that to him.
All of them take my breath away.
For as long as I have been staring at them, they have been staring at me. Their eyes are physical caresses across my suddenly overheated skin. A girl could die from that burn.
Seriously. Look it up. Type in “spontaneous combustion.” Do it.
“Pinkie, you look—” Mason begins.
“Like a fucking vision,” Frankie cuts in, devouring me from head to toe with his warm gaze. I once thought it was icy and detached, but that’s not true anymore. Licks of flame dance on my skin from his stare.
“You look radiant,” Hux breathes, stomping forward until he’s able to touch my shoulders. “The most gorgeous gem in all the lands.”
“So fucking cheesy. If I were to say that, she would laugh in my face,” I hear Mason murmur from somewhere over Hux’s shoulder, but my attention is consumed by the ruggedly handsome man before me. There’s something feral about his beauty—something untamed—like a beast roaming the countryside.
“I will escort my precious treasure to the ceremony,” Hux announces abruptly. His words are domineering, bossy in nature, and brooks no room for argument.
Still, the rest of the men begin to grumble as Hux extends his arm for me to take. With a small smile, I place my hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to pull me out of my room.
“At least we have a nice view,” I hear someone—probably Mason or even Vin—whisper to the others. I have no doubt that all eyes are trained intently on my skirt-clad ass.
As we walk through the thick forest interspersed with oaks and maples, I can’t help but stare at the other monsters also bedecked in their best dresses and suits. I spot Birdy—the school’s secretary—giggling with a group of men who look at least twenty years younger than her. I always suspected she was up to shady shit. She really ruffles my feathers sometimes.
; Snort.
Walking up ahead, arms hanging stiffly by their sides, are two monsters with gills clamoring down both of their blue necks. Cheryl’s parents. Or at the very least, a relative of my enemy.
Hundreds and hundreds of monsters are in attendance. More than I have ever seen in one setting before. Vampires and werewolves and ghosts and ghouls and a few that belong in the bottom of the ocean. A skeleton skips merrily across the lawn, an eerie sight to behold. And then…
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe as my eyes lock on the huge man lumbering forward.
Big Foot.
The Big Foot. I remember Cynthia’s old roommate was his daughter, and she would tell me stories about the monster with feet the length of a twin-sized bed. He’s naked, his coarse brown hair on display, and between his legs rests a…a cock.
The size of a twin-sized bed.
Hanging there.
Collecting dirt.
And his balls…
“Stop fucking staring at another’s man cock,” Hux hisses, hurling daggers at the oblivious man stepping forward to join a group of monsters.
“It’s like a monument,” I whisper. “A monument for cocks.”
“Violet…” he warns. “Unless you want me to go over there and castrate him, I would stop talking.”
Reluctantly, I wrench my gaze away from the humongous, almost ethereal, penis. Another thing I’m able to check off my bucket list.
Revel in a monster cock the size of a bed? Check.
“Precious Treasure.” Hux clears his throat once, and when I turn to stare at him, he’s very purposefully looking away, pink dusting his cheekbones. “I told you this before, and I’ll tell you again—you look beautiful. You look like everything I have ever wanted. Like the sun and the moon and the stars. I could live in darkness for all of eternity if you’re by my side.”
“Hux,” I begin, unable to articulate any of my thoughts. “I sort of want to kiss you right now.”