Page 2 of Monster’s Consort (Blackthorn Academy for Supernaturals #18)

Bane

My tattoos burned beneath my skin, thrumming with the aftermath of my coupling with Violet. Ever since I laid claim to her, since my fangs tasted her blood, it had become a regular thing.

Before claiming Violet, I’d never really paid attention to my infernal markings. They buzzed or lit up from time to time when I was in my human form, but mostly in response to my wavering ability to keep my monster in.

I rarely let my full form out, unless I was certain I was among friends and not foe.

The only people who had seen my true form were Violet and the Squid Squad. Though the latter was not out of comfort, but rather necessity.

When Violet had been kidnapped, all comfort had flown out the window. There was only the desire to get my anam cara back. I did not give a shit who saw my monster, then. Not if it was something that would help me in my pursuit to save her, even though at the time I wasn’t sure what the threat was.

All I knew was Violet left me, for a reason, and that reason was a dangerous one.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the bodies waltzing down the corridor, and as such, was flabbergasted when one barreled into me, nearly knocking me over.

“Watch where the hell you’re—Bane?”

My blood chilled and I froze as I felt the slimy trail of a tentacle on my arm.

“The fuck are you doing here?” I bit, pulling back to see Norman fucking Chee in my presence.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? Violet invited me here for the summer.”

Say what now?

“I think I would know if Violet invited anyone to the castle,” I said, probably a little too judgmentally, but I didn’t care. The last person I wanted to see on the castle grounds was a slippery Kraken who’d tried to feed off my anam cara with his?—

“Where is your siren?” I gritted through my teeth as Norman’s tentacles slithered back into his space. The wet sound made my skin crawl. The touchy suckers didn’t help his case, either. I’d felt them a time or two, unwillingly.

Like me, Norman fed on lust, and what was more lust-filled than an Incubus?

I’d told him on numerous occasions, to keep his damn tentacles to himself.

I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, and it wasn’t just because I didn’t desire men.

If we had been friends, maybe I could have helped him out.

Feeding on lust didn’t have to involve sex.

I very easily could have let him latch a sucker onto me and take the energy he needed. Like donating blood or plasma.

But I didn’t feel any sort of want to help Norman. Not when he was constantly circling me and Wanda like a damn vulture half the time, trailing after her like some lovesick puppy.

No, I wouldn’t feed Norman Chee a drop of my lust because he was an annoying, slippery little idiot who always got on my last fucking nerve.

I didn’t trust the guy.

And then I remembered where there was Norman, there was...

“Where’s your little fishy girlfriend?”

Something passed behind his eyes, but before I was able to get a handle on it, he stiffened.

“She’s... not my girlfriend,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “Not anymore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really now? Usually you two are hentai’s worst nightmare. What gives?”

“Yeah, well, you know how Wanda operates. She likes to swim freely.”

His words weren’t offensive, but I felt a twinge of anger, a sort of affront by the way he said them. Almost as if he was seeking sympathy or something equally as perplexing.

I did know Wanda’s tendency to flit from person to person, but in truth, Norman had been her partner in crime for...

Shit, had it been two years already?

I bristled at his words, steeling my resolve as he slid his hands in his jeans. His tentacles curled and swayed absentmindedly as he looked out the window in the grand hall just as some guards marched down the hall.

“Well, I wish I could stay and chat, but...” I crossed my arms. “Duty calls,” I said. It was true. I did need to get to my stupid fucking etiquette class or whatever dastardly dumb shit the queen and her court of fae deemed I must do in order to be a proper consort for the future Queen of Lir.

My blood ran cold. Sometimes when I’d stop to think about it—the reality that my Violet, the sweet, sexy and warm little flower that was my anam cara —the inevitable, it felt almost unsettling.

One day Violet would take her mother’s place and become Queen. And if the council and her mother found me to be viable , then I would be a Queen’s Consort.

I would reign by her side, bound to her for all eternity.

Of course, that’s what I wanted, but the finality could be like a blast of cold water to anyone’s system.

Marriage was one thing, but I knew the real reason I was being put through the proverbial ringer.

The kingdom needed to ensure that the consort of the future queen was capable of knocking her up.

The thought made my entire body itch. I’d never really thought about marriage or kids, after all I was only twenty-two, and until I met Violet, I didn’t even think there was a mate out there for me.

I’d been poked and prodded since the day I arrived, put on the blandest diet, and suddenly, my days were filled with exercise and royal coursework that would make even a Magic History class look enticing.

Sometimes I wished I could have just given them a sample and been done with it, instead of all the rigmarole they put me through.

But I supposed they weren’t only concerned with my seed. Perhaps they wanted to make sure my mind and demeanor were befitting a consort.

Who the hell knew.

“Right, I, uh, guess I’ll head to the...” He looked around. “Sylvia Wing?” he asked.

I pointed to the other end of the hall. “Straight down the hall and to the left. Pass the ostentatious coat of armor and you’ve gone too far,” I said dejectedly.

“Thanks,” he said with a frown. He looked me over in that annoying way he often did when we were alone.

Not out of desire or interest, but in a sort of sad, guilty sort of way.

It almost made me feel bad for the guy.

Almost.

I grunted out my response, not bothering to stick around any longer, lest I wanted to be late to my lesson on fucking forks and spoons.