Page 1 of My Boyfriends Are All Monsters (Scared Sexy Collection #6)
The One Who Waits
T he locals know never to stray this far into the mountains; tourists do not. I’m glad for it, obviously. Should the world lack fools and hikers and hikers who are fools, then the brief respite between decades of hunger would stretch on forever more.
I watched them through the eyes of a raven.
Three men and four women. They trampled over the fragile moss near the ledge where deer most liked to graze.
One of the women lagged behind the rest, and when her foot slipped on the moss upturned by her companions, the weight of her heavy pack nearly had her fall off the ledge onto the unforgiving rocks below.
The woman cried out, flailing her arms. I salivated, already imagining the succulent marrow hiding just beneath her bones.
From a fall that high, her death would be quick, and I could sup the blood from her broken skull like the finest wine.
Before she could tumble over the edge, she threw her weight in front of her and fell forward instead of back.
Robbing me of the delicacy that was her body.
How regrettable.
The tallest trespasser, in a blue coat, rolled his eyes, as if he shared my consternation. “Are you all right, Lucy?”
“ PEACHY !” she shouted from the ground.
A pale woman with hair the color of wheat giggled and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Mark, your girlfriend might not be cut out for hiking.” She spoke words that sounded like a whisper, but from the way the woman on the ground clenched her fists, I knew it was loud enough for all to hear.
“Maybe next time you just leave her home? There’s no rule that says we have to bring our partners on these camping trips. ”
“Say it louder, Stephanie. They might not have heard you all the way back in town,” said a woman in pink camo.
Where she was trying to blend into was a mystery far beyond my comprehension.
Though, I had never been outside my forest. Who’s to say the land she hails from isn’t covered in shades of pink peonies?
Stephanie shot her a look, and the two women argued back and forth in hushed whispers I didn’t care about.
What was important was that Lucy was kind enough to drop a few beads of blood into the ferns tickling her thigh.
One drop slid down the stem of the plant until it fell into the soil where I could taste it at last.
Complex and full bodied. Sharp pangs of jealousy mingling with insecurity. There was a sweet undertone of humiliation that sliced at the palate from the embarrassment at her fall. Then came the bitter tang of envy. It was subtle at first, almost nipping at the tongue as she tried to deny it.
My benefactor watched Stephanie and her supposed mate from her place on the ground.
Neither even bothered to look in her direction, the rest of the group too engrossed in the argument.
Lucy balled her fists into the loose moss, and the flavor of the blood that seeped from the cut on her thigh twisted further with frustration into an ache that pulsed and churned, unmistakably raw.
The taste became heady, and I nearly exposed myself to lash at her skin with thorny vines to fill my proverbial cup.
Underneath it all was a faint, lingering taste of longing—soft and constant.
It was the most delicate and precious thing, one that came only in fleeting moments, best savored slowly before it slipped away.
“Act,” I whispered silently. If Lucy gave in to her base nature and charged the woman wrapping her arms around her mate, then they’d both fall to the rocks below, and I could feast on their fat deposits for days.
Hatred burned in the coal black of Lucy’s eyes, and for a moment I thought she might listen.
Instead, she closed her eyes so tightly that tears pricked at the sides. “Damn them both,” she cursed.
Mark jogged over to Lucy. She smiled slightly and reached out her hand. Instead of taking it, Mark asked, “Why don’t you rest here and meet us at the top when you’re ready?”
“What?” Lucy snapped.
I couldn’t help but echo her sentiment. Leave the poor succulent creature alone in my woods? He was practically begging me to devour her.
Mark scratched the back of his head. “Look, it’s only another thirty-minute hike to the top, and we want to set up tents before it gets dark. Just follow the path straight up and you’ll be fine.”
Lucy shook her head. “You’re just going to leave me alone out here? What if a fucking puma shows up or something? You know I’m not used to this nature stuff.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “Don’t take this out on me. I told you this was a tough hike, and you wanted to come.”
Her lip curled. “No, I wanted you to not go on a fucking camping trip with the woman who’s clearly trying to get in your pants!”
“Keep your voice down. I already told you it’s not like that. Steph and I are just childhood friends. If you can’t handle that, then you need to get ahold of your jealousy.”
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his eyes. “Fine. Go. I’ll head back down on my own. Clearly I was never wanted here to begin with.”
“Babe, I’m not having this argument again. Take a rest and meet us at the top after you’ve got ahold of yourself.” He turned and walked away. “Leave your attitude down here while you’re at it.”
Lucy hurled a pebble at his back. It struck his left ass cheek, causing him to flinch. He shot a scathing look over his shoulder and snapped, “Real mature.”
The strike wasn’t enough to spill a taste for me, but I found myself unbothered by the loss. The likelihood of that man’s flavor being as potent as the woman’s he discarded was slim.
When the footsteps of her companions faded into the distance, Lucy let down her facade and wept openly. I tasted that, too, but was at a loss at the bitterness. Her anger was sweeter; her longing was best.
How to bring it back, I wondered.
After struggling to her feet, she wandered farther off the path to rest at the well where my body slept.
The well was almost as ancient as the stones crumbling around it.
Vines nearly sealed the entrance shut, but the moss covering the lip provided a soft rest for her hand as she leaned against it to check the cut on her thigh.
Music rang from her pocket. She fished out her phone and slumped against my home with a withering sigh. “Jess, you were right. I never should have come here.”
“What did that bastard do?” came a feminine voice on the other end.
“He just left me on the side of the mountain like a pile of trash to set up tents with Stephanie.”
“Wait, what do you mean he left you? Girl, where are you!”
Lucy groaned and leaned her head against the well. “I’m fine. Just taking a break on the side of the trail. I’m half tempted to haul my ass all the way back down and ghost him. He doesn’t even deserve a breakup text at this point.”
There was a clatter of plates on the other end of the phone. “Fucking finally! Yes, full support. Walk that voluptuous ass back down the mountain and forget that loser. If it’s safe to do so, I mean. Should I call a park ranger or something? Do they have those where you’re at?”
“Fuck if I know. God. I just feel so stupid!”
“You’re not stupid. You took a chance on the wrong man. It happens.”
“Seems like it happens more to me than others. Is it so hard to find what you and Jazz have?”
“Just try to ... Hey! ?Te voy a dar pao pao! ” The sound of children bickering rang out. “Look, I’m sorry, but can I call you back? The kids got into the chalk.”
“Yeah, do what you gotta do. I’ll call you when I make it back down.”
“You better!”
Click.
Lucy rose to her feet and stared down into the well. She fished a coin from her pocket and held it on the tip of her thumb. “I’m tired of dating losers.”
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she let out a shuddering breath before continuing.
“I wish to be loved no matter what. The cheesy, happy kind of love that you see in those Hallmark movies where everyone and their mother is contractually obligated to own a bakery or a golden retriever. And none of the men have girl best friends that so obviously want to fuck them!”
Her shoulders shook. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” With a flick of her thumb, the coin dropped into my well.
I watched it fall, and a ripple of something long forgotten spread through my forest, shaking off the dust of centuries.
Her offering, small and unassuming as it might have been, felt like the first breath after a long, dreamless slumber.
Memories resurfaced of a time when I did more than feast on these creatures that no longer bowed.
I was worshipped once.
I had a name.
What was it?
Lucy turned to leave. If I had a mouth of my own, I would have begged her not to go.
An ancient, possessive urge stirred in the leaves at the woman’s feet, and I wondered what I could do to draw her back to me.
Have her speak her desires to me again and again and tell me the name I’d long forgotten.
She wished to be loved. I could do that. I could grant her wish in return for the sweet offering of her blood and her token. Anything for my newest acolyte.
No.
Anything for my Priestess.