Page 46 of My Monster’s Keeper

Becky

I think he thought that I’d fall to my knees and wail and weep over my lost loves.

Sadly, I’m not that kind of girl. I keep my sadness on the inside.

I’ve taken every opportunity I can to hurt Grant. With great joy, I’ve stabbed him, thrown a brick at his head, admittedly, seeing the indent where I hit him was nauseating, pushed him into traffic, and poisoned him.

He’s dangerously less injurable than he used to be.

I just need something. All my plots and plans aren’t doing shit, though. And he’s getting impatient with my refusal to talk. I’m not closing those doorways. There is no chance. No fucking way.

I don’t care how long they torture me.

And they are relishing it. My body is aching from the bruises and broken bones, hunger gnaws at my stomach, and I can’t trust the water.

What I am doing is buying time. I’m studying them and learning.

The door opens, and I back up, glaring at the huge Fae with russet hair.

He smiles at me and gestures at the wall.

Jearis, pronounced Eris, is the world’s biggest suck up Fae.

He puts out as often as I’ve seen anyone and spends more time on his knees servicing Fae, Demons, and Shadow kin alike.

But he’s mean. He likes to hit me and twist my bones and skin, leaving bruises he traces with his fingers.

The wall crumbles loudly and, before I can turn, I’m held captive by a concrete manacle.

I still fight it, but there’s no escaping this.

Whatever flares of magic I had have deserted me, and now I’m human at the whim of these assholes who are getting dangerously creative with how they want to destroy me.

“Let me the fuck go!”

He laughs deeply and comes towards me with a syringe full of golden liquid.

“What is that?” I shriek, angling away from him .

“Oh, we’re just going to bring your omega full to the surface and watch you crawl. See if that gets things moving along.”

I kick at him, but he dodges in close and inserts the needle into my arm.

“Now, enjoy. We’re drawing straws to see who gets second go at you.”

I hiss, but he pulls the needle out of my arm and, without a backwards glance, stalks out.

Oh, shit.

Within an hour, I’m burning up, whimpering and rolling around on the floor. I feel like I need to rub against something, anything, but when I put my hand in my pants, it does nothing except soak my fingers in slick.

The terror is real.

They are going to come and rape me, and I will gladly give myself to them while my mind is screaming inside. I don’t want to be a slave to my body.

A purr starts in my chest, and I rub my face against the walls, marking my territory. This small, unclaimed space is now my nest.

And no one is welcome in it.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I shed my clothes because they are too painful against my skin.

My womb aches, contracts, and sends messages to my body to get ready. Arousal is a scent in the air, thick with flowers and spice. I keep pacing, slick running down my legs. I cup my breasts and moan.

It does nothing but make it all worse.

So I pace some more.

“Stix,” I whimper, but his name doesn’t feel right. “Alpha,” I whine.

No one comes. I drink all my water and pace until my legs turn to jelly and just standing is too much.

I hear the door open and catch an alpha scent. My body responds. Slick gushing from between my legs. I turn towards them in relief. They can help me, they can make the ache stop.

“Fire above and below. Would you look at all the slick?”

The voice is wrong, but the scent wraps around me, warm and heavy.

“Omega, we’re going to give you all the knots you can take. You’re going to be a good girl now, aren’t you? ”

I blink and moan, shoving my fingers between my thighs and pressing them into me, four at a time.

“Oh, man, look at the pretty sight. Such a fucking slut.”

That voice is wrong, too.

I peel my eyes open. The light is too bright, but a huge male is walking towards me with no clothes on.

Wilder.

I remove my fingers and reach a hand out to him.

My Wilder.

I moan and then whimper.

Wilder in chains, kneeling in a Fae court.

I blink several times, withdrawing my hand. What was that? The alphas continue talking as they edge closer to me.

He’s here. Isn’t he here? I’m so confused.

I look at the alphas again, trying to blink them into focus. Why can’t I see properly?

He kneels between my legs, and I gush, spreading them wider.

Yes! This is what I need.

“I can’t wait to tell that Grim about this.”

I freeze. Puppy is a cage. Stix in stone. Frost in an ocean.

Oh, my god, what am I doing?

“You think you can have me?” I ask in a deep, forbidding voice. My rage is as endless as the tides.

Shadows detach from the walls and grab the cock of the alpha about to thrust into me. They rip him apart, pulling his arms and legs clean off him. The blood is hot and satisfies the need to mate.

I turn my attention to the others.

They scream.

They scramble.

But, in the end, my cell gets a new paint job, and I get some relief.

I sit down and glower at the door, waiting and floating on the waves of my heat that has crystallised into a white hot rage.

** *

They have started again with their subtle pseudo torture. It wasn’t immediately noticeable. A low song in the background played on repeat. No food or water for over twenty-four hours. Fucking weak.

The failed attempt to knot me has them all on edge. No one dares approach me now.

Every moment I get, I taunt that fucking sly prick. I remember him growing up, awkward, useless. He might think he’s a big shot now, but I’d put money on him being a big nothing at the end of the day.

I just need to get out of here. One fuck up, and I’m free. And then I can go get my murder.

The heat is a constant just beneath my skin. When the alphas come in, it rises, and I have to fight the need to present my pussy to them or rip them limb from limb.

I close my eyes when I hear footsteps, tapping my foot along with the music and humming under my breath. In my head, there are four words.

Stix

Puppy.

Frost.

Wilder.

I repeat them over and over, all day long. Every minute that I am awake, I repeat those names. They are the reason no one can touch me, the reason the shadows cloak me now in darkness, an eerie murder coat.

“Get up,” the thin monster snarls. It’s tall and white, with huge, razor-sharp teeth, and no sense of humour. Although I think I saw it grin when I impaled Grant with a bone stake last week.

Turns out, not a vampire.

Okay, so, yeah, it’s been four or five weeks. I’m tired and hungry, and the cold has moved into my bones and lives there. They’ve broken several of my body parts. I think I’m mending, but the pain is as constant as the hunger and thirst.

The heat is the worst. In all the weeks since they injected me, it has not gone away. It just sits there, driving me crazy and pushing me to homicidal levels of rage. The constant arousal is criminal, but worse is how it fogs my mind and makes me forget my alphas.

I heard one of the alphas that came to the door asking if I had bonds because this doesn’t make sense. It took days, but then I remembered that last time we were all together.

Bonds .

That’s what’s keeping me safe and keeping me all murdery.

Bonds that I can’t feel, but my mind and body know. I ache for them. I miss them constantly. Are they okay? I keep seeing Frost falling into the black water. Wilder resigned as he is fought into that court. Stix’s devastated eyes as he’s slowly encased in stone, and Puppy, my poor Puppy, caged.

No. It won’t end like this. I won’t let it.

I push slowly to my feet, pretending I’m in more pain than I am. Shuffling my feet and curling my shoulders to appear smaller, weaker. The monster steps back but flings a piece of filthy material at me.

It smells rank.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Then go naked!” It hisses.

I toss the material to the floor and glare so hard that it flinches. Not so tough now, are you?

I haven’t seen Diablos, but I heard they have him somewhere else. Not sure about Hartley. I hope they are okay, too, but most of my mind and energy is reserved for watching my captors, learning them.

The door swings open, and three alphas stand at the edge, not quite daring to enter my territory.

“We’d like you to come with us,” the alpha glances at the other, “please.”

I dip my chin and shuffle out of the cell.

I’m escorted by three creatures. The giant that I’ve learned is named Dug.

Which, gotta admit, kinda hilarious. The white creature that I named Yartush because of the sounds it makes breathing, and a small pixie-like creature I call Blowie.

Not for fun references but because he has the same appeal as a maggot-filled blowfly.

They walk me through the factory and out to where his royal highness, Grant the fuckstain traitor, holds court. And he literally holds court, sitting on a throne of twisted metal with all his moronic usurpers.

He comes in to talk to me at times but rarely. It’s mostly a scripted conversation.

Are you ready to open the doors yet?

No.

Have fun in your isolation and torture.

He walks away.

He has no interest in me and stays as far away from me as he can, which is strange .

“Good morning, Becky.”

I look him over. He’s thin and balding, he’s starting to get a fat gut with all the humans he’s consuming. He’s destroying the body I grew up with, and I can’t find it in me to care. Perhaps he’ll have a heart attack and die. That could be helpful.

“Fast food isn’t agreeing with you,” I say and look around at everyone gathered.

No one new. It’s the same crowd as usual.

“I think I’ve found a way to get you to talk, Becky,” he says, ignoring me.

I shrug disinterestedly. “You need to shower, you’re getting zits.”

“We’re going to play a different game. You see, I forgot who you were. I thought fear and self-preservation would be the thing that got through to you, but that’s not the answer at all. I should have known Becky Dawson wouldn’t be afraid of monsters.”