Page 4 of My Boyfriends Are All Monsters (Scared Sexy Collection #6)

The One Who Waits

M odern women were much harder to seduce.

In the flits of eons that made up my memories, I recalled men gifting their lovers small, wearable trinkets, or besting some foul wretch of the wood. I wouldn’t even have a chance to present my Priestess with beast or bauble if she couldn’t keep that inquisitive mind under wraps.

I tossed the copy of Night Hawk back down my well and flitted through the various literature I’d collected over the years from past meals.

Most of it was full of hunters’ magazines filled with weapons that robbed you of the thrill of a true hunt and men holding dead things and fish.

None of them seemed like the types of lovers my Priestess would wish for.

What remained was the small collection of romantic novels left from the occasional female hiking enthusiast or begrudgingly accommodating wife.

She’d enjoyed the visage of the long-haired, barrel-chested man I’d used to greet her.

His face appeared in many of the novels in my collection, so it had to be a good face, at least. Originally, I planned to change the color of his hair to reuse it for other townsfolk, but now I know she’d be too shrewd not to notice.

The unexpected pleasantness of her touch would also be a problem.

I had used my avatar only to touch her, but the warmth of the living was scalding to one who had been alone for so long.

I’d need to be careful not to approach her as myself.

While I could take the shape of a man just as well as any other creature in my woods, it was harder to hide what I was at close range.

Even humans recognized an eternal when it looked them in the eye.

The roots of hemlock trees could be twisted into new visages with only a word, but drained from the strength it took to form the town, I was having difficulty gaining the focus needed to keep up the appearance of more than a few dozen townsfolk at a time.

I had barely registered her warmth when I carried her into town. So preoccupied with setting everything up. But she’d surprised me with her questions.

I glared down at the book in my hands. The strong-armed pirate on the cover merely continued to gaze off into the sunset.

Tearing the cover from the spine, I tossed the book down the well and picked up a magazine instead.

This one offered a wider variety of vessels to choose from than the various fishmongers of the hunter magazines.

Instead, lithe, dolled-up men in jeans far too tight to allow proper blood flow embraced each other, while a woman whispered something about a fragrance in their ear.

“She couldn’t possibly recognize these men, right? ”

“What’s this?” A mocking snicker came. “Has the forgotten root become so decayed he ignores intruders on his mountain in favor of a gossip column?”

“Away with you,” I said, slicing in the direction of his voice with a gnarled vine.

Shriek skittered away from the blow, the opossum’s sharp claws finding purchase on a branch hovering above my well. “Touchy thing,” he sighed. “Over valleys and winding rivers I travel to visit my friend, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Visit,” I scoffed. Shriek’s domain was the misted valleys to the east. Rare was the soul who wandered all the way out there.

I had made the mistake of letting him enter my territory to feed once when there was an abundance of campers; the damned wretch had never stopped pestering me for crumbs ever since.

Goes to show where kindness gets you. “There’s no scraps for you here. Go home.”

“I see the winter winds have brought lies with them. Six humans make camp on your crown as we speak. Another still wanders around an empty village that wasn’t there the last time I visited.”

My hands stilled on the magazine. Shriek must’ve passed by the town and spotted my Priestess. Rage darkened the soil beneath me. I did not want this tittering fool near her. “Take one from the crown. There’s a man in blue who would suit you nicely.”

The opossum’s head tilted to the side. “Oh my. You caved into that request so ... quickly .”

“If it means I’m rid of you. Begone,” I said, waving a hand at him.

“It could.” He pondered, tapping the end of his tail on the branch. “But curiosity is a hunger all on its own, and you’ve offered nothing to sate that.”

“Have the eons reduced me to your jester? Begone.”

His head swiveled behind him in the direction of the town, then back to me. “Tell me, is the maiden in the town of Duskpetal yours? Did those hikers grant you a sacrifice after all this time?”

Pride fattened the acorns of the surrounding oak.

Despite being as old as I am, Shriek had never held the title of god.

Even the humans of old saw him merely as a malevolent trickster.

A fact I knew ate him alive. Whittled down as I am, the remnants of my followers still granted me more power than he could dream of.

I fished Lucy’s offering from the pendant around my neck and held the coin up for Shriek to view. “Yes, she’s mine.”

Shriek’s claws dug into the stone of the well. His beady eyes became impossibly wide as he gazed upon my token. “What is that ?”

I smirked, the muscles in my face straining from ill use. “What? You’ve spent so long nipping at my heels for crumbs that you don’t even remember what an offering looks like?”

Indignation caused fur to molt off until the opossum was no more than a skeleton.

With a click of his teeth, Shriek regained his composure and resumed the form of a glossy-pelted rodent.

“Arrogant bastard. What did you promise her? A dilapidated wretch like you has no more power than I. Tell me what she wants, and I’ll show her that her token was misplaced. ”

I flipped through the pages of the magazine, picking out a variety of faces to confuse and delight my Lucy. “First you beg for leftovers and now you demand to poach my Priestess. You know me, old friend. Even my generosity has its limits.”

Rage battered the opossum’s small frame until I thought he’d molt again. Then calmness stilled his features, followed by a smug grin that gave me pause. “You’ve yet to grant her wish. That’s why her soul remains untethered to the mountain.”

“I will.”

Shriek’s tail wrapped around the branch as he slid to hang upside down. “Is that right? You’ve only got three days to grant a wish once cast.”

“You think I don’t know that? Return to your valleys; there’s no meal for you here.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You seem to be reaping quite the fall harvest. It would be an awful shame if someone plucked the fruit before you could sink your teeth into it.

” Shriek climbed down from the well and retreated to the bushes.

Before he leaped away, he cast one final glance toward my town and smiled.

“Be wary, Forgotten One. It seems your Priestess has wandering feet.”

I waited for the rodent to disappear through the trees before sending a raven to look for my Lucy. She was found near the inn where I left her, wandering aimlessly farther away from the town.

“Hello?” she called, hobbling about the empty streets, using a long stick as a cane.

In my excitement I’d failed to consider how easily she could still move around with merely a sprained ankle.

A smarter god would’ve broken her legs. If Shriek managed to guide her into his territory, getting her back would be damn near impossible.

And that’s only if he didn’t decide to eat her right away.

An acolyte was a boon to any god, and a direct threat to surrounding competitors.

I wouldn’t put it past the jealous ingrate to kill her just to deny me what’s mine.

While Lucy was on my mountain, Shriek wouldn’t be able to touch her unless she or I invited him to do so. But if he lured her away ...

Slamming my hands into the dirt, I used the network of roots to spring townsfolk back into place. There was no time to waste. Day one was almost over, and I had a Priestess to seduce.