Page 8 of Our Monstrous Hearts

He has returned, and I lie out beneath him like an offering, my limbs spread wide as his gaze roams my body. I am his meal, ready to be devoured.

His red eyes focus on the strap of my nightgown, slipped low on my shoulder, like he believes that I’m the temptress, that I’m the one with all the power. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

My stomach squirms as a queasy, churning sensation rises.

Up close, his face is truly hideous. The monster’s bald scalp glistens, too waxy. His dark veins twist like worms stuck on a hook, and his skin bubbles grotesquely, blistering, like heat rising beneath rotted flesh. Death itself is trying to claw free.

There’s nothing human about him.

Yet beneath the terror is an awful, shameful curiosity.

The darkness buried deep inside me claws its way to the surface, his thrumming power drawing it from me. The darkness within wants to know what it is like to belong to a monster. To be tied to something so evil.

I barely understand the thoughts I’m having towards this creature or what they mean, but for some inexplicable reason, I’m willing to explore. But perhaps I’m just securing my fate as this monster’s next meal. According to Clayton, I’ve never been smart.

With his eyes on me, he lets his coat drop slowly to the ground. My eyes widen at the sight of his exposed arms.

The dark veins marring his face continue their descent down, bulging, thick and swollen with unnatural strength. Every part of him is determined to be as inhumane as possible.

I’m all too aware of my heartbeat speeding up as he slowly shifts closer, giving me time to protest.

Only, I don’t.

My hands again grip the blanket beneath me, knuckles whitening, my body trembling with hunger and anxiety. Am I going to submit? I ask myself.

Will I be able to come back from whatever it is that’s happening here?

My thoughts are frenzied, but within that panic is a singular moment of clarity. Part of me doesn’t want to come back from what might happen, so I’m willing to set the world aflame with my actions and see what becomes of me.

The bed dips with his weight.

My thoughts turn to Clayton and the things he does when he forces me into his bed.

This is different, I reassure myself. I want this.

That may be true, but I can’t help the whimper, limbs trembling softly. My instincts scream at me to close my eyes and curl into myself—only my lips part instead, wet and breathless.

He crawls over me, his thick, corded arms coming to rest beside my head, supporting his weight. The size of him unmoors me.

Somehow his deep, earthy scent soothes me; it’s the smell of rain after newly disturbed soil. My monster smells of peace and comfort, which seems impossible given that he looks like a nightmare.

I feel like I should be afraid, should feel trapped, but beneath his sheer mass, I feel safe. Protected. With him sheltering me, nothing can hurt me. It would be us against the world.

I grip the blanket harder. My body yearns to move closer, as if being compelled towards him.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask softly, uncertain if I mean right now or his plans for me.

Bravery finds me as I look into his eyes. I’m relieved that I don’t plummet into hell once more. My stomach couldn’t survive another dizzying trip so soon.

There is only silence between us, the candles crackling before he moves closer, bringing his lips to my ear.

“Consume you.” He nips my earlobe, and I shudder. “Devour your soul,” he hisses, and I feel his warm breath against my neck, shivers running along my spine.

My fingers tangle themselves in his shirt, feeling unsteady, as if the world is crumbling beneath my feet. As if this will be my reckoning.

His mouth stretches wide, pointed teeth gleaming, and for a second, I’m afraid that he’s going to swallow me whole—rip into my flesh, gnaw through bone, feast on me like something starved.

He descends upon me, claiming my lips in a brutal, possessive kiss.