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Everything I thought I was…is a lie.
11
ALIANA
I can’t dealwith this right now.
I don’twantto deal with this.
Because “dealing with this” would be the equivalent of shoving a ticking time bomb down my pants and praying it doesn’t explode.
My parents are a lie.
My past is a lie.
My fuckingspeciesis a lie.
It’s too much, too soon. My head threatens to detonate into a thousand tiny shards.
I ignore Dev and Tesq’s stares—one bemused, while the other is almost pitying—and walk directly towards the neon-green monster.
What better way is there to deal with your shit than beating the daylights out of your enemies? I certainly haven’t found one.
I crouch down until I’m beside the unconscious monster and then give him a slow, unimpressed once-over. Not bothering to peel my gaze away, I say to the others, “Help me sit him up.”
“Aliana…” Dev sounds as if he wants to argue with me, but now is not the time to test me or my fraying patience.
I’m a grenade whose pin has just been pulled, and if they don’t run and take cover, they’ll explode with me.
My breaths come out in stuttering exhales, and I curl my hands into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Breathe. Just breathe, Aliana.
Tesq releases a heavy sigh but does as I instructed. Without any fanfare, he grabs the smaller monster by the back of his neck and flings him into the nearest chair. He doesn’t bother to tie the fucker up—there’ll be no escaping any of us.
My rage burns white-hot in my chest, scalding and fizzing, and I allow it to travel through my veins and into my arm, which has already lifted of its own accord. Then, without second-guessing my actions, I punch the monster in the face.
Hard.
Cat-like eyes blink up at me, the golden color tinged with red from some popped blood vessels. The wariness and trepidation on his face instantly transforms into horror as his gaze slides over my shoulder and focuses on the two Terrors at my back.
But that only amplifies my already shitty mood.
Come the fuck on. IknowI’m not the scariest person in the room, but does this bastard have to make it so damn obvious? Iwant him to fearme, dammit, not the two monsters standing as silent sentries behind me.
This rage is completely irrational, as is the jealousy that spirals through my chest, but both of these emotions, compounded with the fear from my most recent revelation…
Yeah. They’re not a good combination.
“Don’t look at them. Look atme,” I growl as I curl my hand into a fist once more.
I can’t punch him again—not if I want to keep my knuckle bones intact—but that doesn’t mean I can’t make him hurt.
As if he heard the direction of my thoughts, Dev steps forward, opens my clenched fist, and places a hunting knife in my palm. I'm honestly surprised it’s the Devourer who understands the me, who understands the violence lurking beneath my skin needs an outlet.
But then I realize…
Maybe the two of us are more alike than I would want to believe. We both crave blood and death, even if I don’t want to admit it. Both of our souls are tarnished and painted red from all of the monsters and people we killed over the years.
