Radley's Home for Horny Monsters
Page 29
“Are these arrows?” Mike knelt to pick one up. The dense metal tip was cold in his fingers.
“Crossbow bolts.” Cecilia opened her mouth to say something else, but it was lost in the sudden crunch of Abella landing on the ground between them.
“Mike!” Abella wrapped him up in her arms and squeezed.
He felt every bone in his back pop and grunted as he struggled to push the gargoyle away. “Can’t...breathe!”
Abella’s marble features darkened, and she set him down. “I’m sorry,” she began, but Mike put a finger to her lips.
“I’m glad to see that you’re okay too,” he told her, and planted a light kiss on her lips. “Where’s Tink?”
“Goblin wife work hard to fix house!” Tink limped around the corner, her left foot bandaged heavily and stuck inside of a small bucket.
Mike nodded toward the bucket. “What on earth is that about?”
“Tink keep banging foot. Bucket make good idea, no more swear at furniture.” She clunked her way toward him and dropped a hammer, a handful of nails, and a handsaw before wrapping her arms around his waist.
As he patted her head, he felt the moisture of her tears soaking through the front of his shirt. “I’m glad you’re oka — ow!” Tink had bitten his forearm. “What the hell was that for?”
“Bite for scaring Tink! No fight nasty witch lady by yourself anymore.” Tink looked up at him. “Bite for you to remember.”
“Oh yeah?” Mike asked, kneeling down so they were face to face. He gave her a hug, then bit her shoulder. Tink yelped in surprise. “That’s for scaring me. We’re even.”
“Mike make good goblin husband.” Smiling, Tink picked up her tools. “Tink go patch front porch roof before it rains.”
Mike smiled, watching Tink scurry off, the bucket on her foot clanking against the ground. There was only one more person he needed to see, and it could wait no longer.
Abella helped him the last thirty yards to the fountain. He saw her there, standing on the surface of the water, tiny pink bubbles floating all around her body. The fountain sprayed streams of water that altered course in mid-air, forming a giant heart above the nymph. Her blue-green hair waved in the wind, and she wore a simple white gown that hugged her like a second skin.
“Naia.” Her name was like the ending of a prayer, a wish he never knew he was allowed to make. He stepped into the fountain, leaving Cecilia and Abella behind. Nothing about the house was normal, nor was there anything normal about the creatures living there, himself included.
Naia held her hand out, and when he took it in his own, he felt that spark, the magical connection between them that he instantly recognized as their souls reuniting. As much as she was part of him, he was part of her, and nothing in the world was ever going to change that.
“Welcome home, lover.” Smiling, she placed her lips against his. His body instantly warmed to her touch. They kissed, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck. Water swirled around them, forming a vortex of magic, love, and peace. He broke the kiss and gazed into those sapphire eyes that he loved so much and dropped his hands to her waist.
This house was going to bring him trouble, problems he never in his wildest dreams thought he would face. Yet he knew, in his heart, that there was nothing he couldn’t face with his monster family on his side. The Society would be back, and when they did, he would be ready.
After all, he was the Caretaker.
“It’s good to be home,” he told her. Home was where the heart was, and this place had stolen his away.
Afterword
This story started out as a dare. Imagine my surprise when so many people liked it that they begged me to continue writing it.
First and foremost, I need to thank my Patrons. Without their support, I never could have gotten this far. Rather than list them here, I have given them their own webpage! Go see who the cool kids are at https://annabellehawthorne.com/hall-of-caretakers/
I would also like to specifically thank Skinnii. He started as a reader on my Patreon page and started making art for me to share with my readers. He’s helped me refine several of my ideas and occasionally sends me some of his artwork to keep my spirits high. His contributions to the Monster-verse have been invaluable.
I would also like to thank Lucy Felthouse for her editing abilities. I learned more from the red ink on my screen than I ever did in years of English class. She’s the reason this book isn’t a hot mess.
Last, I thank you the reader. I hope you’ve enjoyed my book!
"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” - Roald Dahl
BETH CLOSED THE DOOR to her apartment. She walked into the kitchen and set down her purse and laptop, then opened the fridge for a bottle of water. Her fingers shook slightly, the anxiety of the day still fresh in her mind.
She had shown up for work only to discover that she had vanished the previous day. The assumption her coworkers made was that she had been so ill she hadn’t called in, but she knew that wasn’t the case. At least, she didn’t think it was. Other than a massive headache this morning, she had been otherwise fine.
She had gone along with the story, even going so far as to feign ill in the afternoon to come home early. Beth looked through her phone for the tenth time today, trying to find any evidence of where she had been the day before. She hadn’t made any calls or texts, and hadn’t even sent an email. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.
She avoided the wine in her fridge, settling instead for some tea. She caught up on a few shows on Netflix, hoping that a relaxing afternoon would help put her mind at ease, but her mind kept going back to that missing time and the strange dreams she had had.
Doing her best to shrug off the whole affair, she changed into the comfiest nightgown she owned and crawled into bed. She read for a little bit, her eyelids growing heavy. Hoping that a new day meant a fresh start, she stuck the book on her nightstand and turned off the light.
The pillow felt cool beneath the skin of her face. She let out a sigh, letting sleep claim her.
Just as she drifted off, she caught just a whiff of sulfur.
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About the Author
Annabelle Hawthorne lives in a top secret location somewhere in the mountains with her loving family. She loves coffee, horror movies and writing erotica with a monster twist.
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Wet Leaf Press is a small press dedicated to providing high-quality erotica to discerning readers.
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