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Why doesn’t he look like a monster?
Monsters aren’t supposed to be beautiful or perfect or things you want to kiss and touch. They’re supposed to be ugly, horrible. They’re supposed to be scary.
Perhaps I’m an idiot for not being more scared of this man, but I can’t help the way I’m reacting to him in this moment. I look up at him, and I stare at him as though he’s my savior. I look at him like there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.
With him.
“Lovely,” he says.
“Are you going to hog-tie me, too?” I whisper.
Something flickers in his eyes.
Desire?
“That depends on you,” he murmurs.
What the hell does that mean? And why, oh why, does that comment make my belly flutter? There is no way I want to be tied up by anyone. I certainly don’t want to be tied up by this monster.
Do I?
I press my hands to my stomach, as though that will calm my nerves. I should be screaming. I should be running away from this man right now, but I’m not. Somehow, I can’t seem to move my feet. I’m stuck in place, completely transfixed on the man in front of me.
Why am I not running?
He looks at me, and then he holds his hand out.
I stare at it so long that he chuckles.
“Is this your first time being around anyone new?” He asks. “Take my hand.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Take my hand,” he repeats, and this time, his voice is a little more firm. There’s something in it that makes me want to obey him, to listen to him. I look over my shoulder at the wild chaos unfolding around me, and somehow, this man seems like a light in the darkness. Turning back to him, I reach for him, and I take his hand.
He smiles at me, but it’s not a happy sort of smile. It’s almost smug, as though he knew that I would consider my options and decide that he was the best choice for me. Okay, so I’m giving in, and I’m taking his hand. He doesn’t have to look so self-satisfied.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. His words sweep over me, wrapping around me like a comfortable glove. Okay, maybe there is something wrong with me. Why do I feel this physical reaction to this man? Should I even think of him as a man? I’ve never met anyone like him before.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t really know what else to say to him, and I definitely don’t know what’s happening around here.
Why have the monsters come?
And why do they look so different than I expected them to?
For years, I’ve been taught that these are large, winged creatures who fly around causing chaos. This man doesn’t have wings, and he might create chaos, but somehow, it seems like he is in control of everything that happ
ened. He seems completely unbothered by the things happening around us: people being caught, people being tied up. It doesn’t seem like anyone is actually being killed.
Not yet.
Why do I get the feeling that this man is completely in charge of everything around him?
And why does that make me feel safe?
“Where are you going to take me?” I ask.
He looks at me for a minute. He seems completely unbothered about everything that’s happening all around us. He doesn’t even look up when someone runs by screaming. Instead, he ponders whether he’s going to give me the satisfaction of an answer or not.
