Page 4 of My Kind of Monster


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But we’re not in the real world, not now, not ever again. Here, on this mountain, is my world.

The thump of heavy footsteps interrupts my train of thought, and I stop before I can reach her core. Pulling the woman up against me, my arm circling her belly once again, I try to assess how far away the bastard is.

His steps are muffled, but I still think he might be far enough away that he won’t see us in the dark if we start moving now.

I spot a fallen leafy branch a few feet away and let go of the woman. I drop my hand from her mouth and she stumbles on her trembling legs. It doesn’t take long to see that she’s not going anywhere. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t lose toes and fingers to frostbite or die of fucking hypothermia soon, if she decides to go on her own.

“Walk on my path. When I back up, you back up. Don’t stray or he’ll find you,” I whisper in her ear. “Unless you want to run away from me as well. If you do, you better make sure I will never… ever… find you.”

It makes no fucking difference to me if she does run, because if she does, I will find her. That asshole trailing her doesn’t know the mountain as well as I do, no one does. I can kill him here without any trouble, then claim her as my prize either way.

Yet, I like to give my prey a sense of security before I rip it away.

I’ve never done it without prior agreement though. As much as I’ve wanted to force my dick in unwilling pussy, I’m not that fucking stupid. It was always a game, always one of my own creation—a game to fuel and sate my filthy non-consensual desires.

A game that would hold the demons in line and keep the monster hidden.

But this here, this is not a game. And if I kill that motherfucker, no one will hear his screams… or hers. No one.

She appears to be smart enough to know that.

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