Page 19

Chapter

Nineteen

Erin

I ’m no stranger to the unexplainable or unexpected, but laying curled up next to Syros on his nest of pelts while my pussy aches from being stretched to the brim by his knot is still hard for me to wrap my head around.

The strange twists and turns life takes…

If someone asked me a few days ago if I thought I’d be nestled next to a monster straight out of lore, I’d call them nuts. They’d have to be insane to suggest such a thing.

Yet, here I am, listening to the soft snores escaping his maw as he lays splayed beside me, snout toward the ceiling, his empty eye sockets glowing the faintest shade of red as he slumbers. The heat radiating from him is better than any furnace, warming me down to the bone even though he put out the fire from earlier before we settled in for the night.

Settled in.

I suppress a giggle, amused by how normal the phrase sounds in this very much not normal situation. We shouldn’t be settled in. We shouldn’t be anything, but… here we are.

When did we go from predator and prey to we ?

It might have been when I was too exhausted to make it through the woods and he carried me all the way back to his house. Or it might have been when we slow-danced to the fuzzy tune coming from the radio. Or it might have been after the last time he fucked me, when he cleaned the cum off my legs and carefully finished bathing me with the gollilock water.

Regardless of when it happened, the unsettling truth is that something between us has shifted. Whatever connection I felt earlier is stronger, like a tether drawing me to the massive monster. It’s more than mere fascination, though I’d consider myself completely and thoroughly fascinated. Something deeper, instinctual.

I don’t have a name for it, but I know it’s there. Almost animalistic, primal and feral—much like Syros.

He’s not a man and that’s what I like about him. He’s different, unusual, paranormal.

It’s like my entire career of paranormal investigating, all my knowledge of cryptids and lore, has led me to this moment.

Like fate guided me here, to Syros.

With a smile curling my lips, I close my eyes. Exhaustion tugs at my limbs, urging me to let go and pass out, but I can’t. Not yet. Not when my mind is racing, considering every angle of this arrangement and coming up with a confusing blank where reason should be.

Forget the podcast and forget my blog. In a million years, no one will believe me if I put my experience into words. Syros isn’t the only thing straight out of legend. So is the tale I’ll have to tell once I’m home again.

If I ever make it there…

I scoot closer to Syros and reach my hand out to brush against his fur. He’s soft as velvet over a hard layer of muscle and bone, with patches of rough skin peeking through that tickle my fingertips.

He doesn’t stir, the rumble of his gentle snore continuing to roll in his throat. He sounds like a giant, demonic cat.

Another giggle threatens to burst out of me but I clench my lips shut—I don’t want to wake him. Not when things almost feel peaceful for the first time since before the solstice. Even though I can’t find sleep, adrenaline isn’t crashing through my veins and my heart isn’t slamming in my throat.

I’m almost calm. Restful.

If I close my eyes, it’s easy to imagine many nights like this. Nestled at his side and safe.

A girl can get used to this kind of thing, having a warm body beside her, vowing to protect her, pleasuring her beyond any kind of normal bliss.

Especially if I ignore the undercurrent of tension running through me, reminding me of the danger of this world and the tenuousness of the situation itself. Being here with Syros isn’t so bad after all.

Once we got past the whole he wants to eat me thing.

He can eat me all he wants—with his thick, warm tongue buried in my pussy—but we’ve gotten to a point where I’m not worried about him trying to boil me anymore.

Thank fuck.

I continue to lay there with my eyes closed, slowly being lulled to sleep by Syros’ snoring, absentmindedly running my fingers through his fur. Eventually, I start to drift off, heaviness tugging at the edges of my mind as unconsciousness threatens to drag me under, when a giant crack sounds from outside the room.

I inhale sharply and my eyes pop open, fear racing down my spine. My muscles go tight, and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever it was to sound again, dangerously close to us.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears, my heart twisting in my chest.

What the hell was that?

A long minute passes, and I take a slow, shaky breath while remaining perfectly still.

Maybe it was my imagination; I’m exhausted, after all.

Maybe my mind is starting to play tricks on me.

Maybe—

Another crack splits the air, this time loud enough for Syros to wake.

He’s on his feet in an instant, alert and poised, crouched low with his upper body arched over me protectively. A low growl rumbles in his chest, tearing through my system and raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

“What is it?” I hiss out.

His head jerks around and his red eyes meet mine, the glow diminished in the gloom of night. Although there’s no change in his expression, his cold gaze lingers on me like he’s warning me to be quiet.

“It might be another Grim stalking through the land, hungry for prey that no longer exists,” he whispers, his head slowly swinging toward the door. “Or it might be…”

His voice trails off, and I open my mouth to say something, but that’s when I hear it: a slow, dragging rustle through the underbrush outside, interrupted by thudding footsteps.

My stomach turns, spirals of ice dancing up my spine.

Surely, whatever it is hasn’t come for me so soon. Not after the precautions Syros took. Not after I bathed in the gollilock water.

Syros said it could be something else… but what else besides a Grim is large enough to make that noise?

I exhale shakily, clenching my hands into fists to stop them from trembling. Even with this vicious, skull-headed monster huddled over me, ready to protect me from whatever awaits outside the door, fear lances through me.

It dawns on me just how fragile I am, how much I don’t belong in this world no matter how comfortable I am with Syros. Even if not by his hand, there is a very good chance I’ll end up dead if I stay here. I hate how small I suddenly feel.

His body twitches when another crack resounds outside, closer this time, like someone stepping down on a tig and snapping it in two.

“Stay here, Erin. Do not move.” His tone is lethal, even though his voice is barely more than a whisper.

It’s a command; one I plan to follow.

With his attention focused on the door, he raises up on all fours, looming over me.

“The plant is working,” he assures me in an undertone. “If it weren’t, whatever is outside would have already made it through the door.”

“What are you going to do?” I fight to find my voice.

It’s difficult to breathe with him this close and the silent terror of whatever stalks us just outside these walls. Another beat, and then the plaintive hiss and wail of a beast struggling to breathe reaches my ears.

My lungs go tight, and my blood turns to ice.

“Syros…”

His hackles are high, and the dark fur along his forearms lifts to attention. There is something terrifying about this posture. Despite the way he hovers over me, the hunter is back and primed for an attack, ready to tear those claws through flesh and bone.

Which doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies.

It’s a reminder of reality, the same one I couldn’t find earlier.

Syros is not a man and he’s not gentle.

He’s a killing machine who eats humans.

I struggle against the urge to lean into his arm and steal some of his strength for my own. Then I forcefully remind myself that he’s just like whatever creature is outside, and there is nothing to stop him from changing his mind and deciding to just give me up.

It would be easier.

His curiosity about me can only last so long before he gives in to his own hunger. I’m sure of it.

“What are you going to do?” I push.

Syros takes another step forward on all fours, and the moment he clears the nest, he straightens. The tips of his horns practically brush the ceiling overhead as he stands to his full height.

“Stay here,” he warns again, ignoring my question. “If you move, you risk your life.”

He’s a menacing presence in the dancing shadows from the fire. The light plays over the bones of his face, emphasizing the sharp lines of his skull. Those pointed horns are perfect for gouging holes clear through flesh.

More noises sound from outside the house, and before I have a chance to tell him to stay with me—a coward’s plea—he leaves abruptly.

The curtain swings closed behind him, a pitiful barrier of protection from whatever is lurking outside, and I’m left alone.