Page 8 of Ravaging Red (Monsters of the Hollow Realm #1)

A Refusal To Break

RED

I arrived home the next day. I was too exhausted to drive and so I stayed at the house for the rest of the evening.

We headed to the precinct early the next morning.

The more the officers had asked questions, the more my grandmother and I had grown quiet.

Playing stupid worked, and we were soon free to go.

But not before both officers assured us that they’d keep an eye on us.

They reiterated that if we remembered anything to please contact them and we reassured them.

Both silently vowing to protect the Wolf.

She was senile, not stupid.

After dropping off my grandmother, my mother took me home.

I lived in an old townhome at the edge of Hollow’s Creek.

The town was a place most people passed through without stopping, unless they were lost or looking for something they didn’t know they needed.

It was small, nestled against the mouth of the Hollow Woods, like a secret waiting to be revealed.

Its streets were lined with crooked lamp posts, faded brick buildings, and shops that closed early even on weekends.

Everyone knew everyone or at least pretended to.

As the car drove past, I noticed how deserted the streets were.

They were empty of laughter or light, the way they always were once the sun vanished.

Most people didn’t stay out past dark here; their blinds were always drawn after sundown, as if they didn’t want to see what might drift by their windows in the dead of night.

They blamed it on small-town habits, but I knew better than to believe everything they said.

They just didn’t want to witness another soul disappearing or hear another distant scream that emanated from the depths of the dark woods.

Hollow’s Creek was the kind of place that looked ordinary until you lingered too long, then the truth started to bleed into reality.

My townhome sat at the end of the block, tucked behind an iron gate that creaked when you opened it. Ivy choked the fence line. The front walk was cracked, and the porch light had long since burned out. No one ever came here anymore, not even by mistake.

When Nana got sick and moved in with my mother, the property had been abandoned. It needed someone to take care of it, so I moved in. I’d planned to leave after a few months. I planned to go to college and do something normal with my life, but I failed at that miserably.

Instead, I had my first taste of independence, and although I told myself it was temporary, just a favor, the days stretched into months, and the place began to feel like my own.

At first, I didn’t change anything. I left the old furniture where it was, didn’t touch the faded photos lining the hallway.

I lived like a guest in a place filled with Nana’s memories, the only ones she had left.

But over time, the house began to mold itself around me.

The creak of the stairs under my weight became familiar, almost reassuring.

The chipped tiles in the kitchen didn’t bother me anymore.

The scent of lavender and old books lingered in the corners, and I didn’t try to air it out.

It was the only thing that made me feel grounded.

My mother pulled up and turned to look at me. “Are you sure you want to stay here alone?”

“Yes, Mom. I’ll be alright, I just need to shower and get some sleep.”

She brushed a hand over my cheek. “Maybe get something to eat, too? You haven’t eaten anything.”

I nodded, pressing my cheek into her hand, seeking comfort. “Yes, Momma. Don’t worry about me, just go get some rest. Nana needs you.”

“ You need me.”

“I’ll be okay, Mom. I promise.” I looked down on the dark street. “No monsters here tonight,” I whispered, and leaned in to hug her.

As I stepped inside, the air felt stale and unmoving.

The house itself felt foreign. It was silent in a way that made my skin crawl.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, twisting the bolt twice.

My keys clattered too loudly on the counter, and I sighed as I stood in the dark.

The house welcomed me back, but it was now a lonely feeling.

I made my way to the kitchen, the floorboards groaning beneath my feet, a solid reminder that I was home.

Through the small window above the sink, I could see the edge of the Hollow Woods.

The tree line rose in the distance, darker than the night around them, their silhouettes jagged and haunting.

The trees didn’t move, but the shadows between them did.

I stood there longer than I should have, eyes locked on that black stretch of forest. A shiver curled up my spine, slow and sharp.

I used to tell myself that the creepy feeling was all in my head, that the stories about the Hollow Woods were just folklore passed around to scare children into staying close to home. But now I knew the truth.

The woods were alive. They breathed. They waited. They kept secrets that were dying to be released.

I jumped as my phone vibrated on the counter. Glancing down at it, Dulce’s sweet face and big smile stared back at me. I quickly answered.

“Red! Red, my Gods, where the hell have you been!”

Dulce Caro was my best friend and the owner of the only bakery in town. We had grown up together, gone to high school together, and had never parted since. She knew all my secrets, and I knew hers, until now.

“Dulce, calm down.”

“Calm down! Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? Your poor mother!”

I slid into one of the kitchen’s bar stools and lowered my voice to a whisper. “I was in the woods.”

“What?” She whispered back.

“I went into the woods Dulce, and what I saw… it was…”

“Are you alright, Red?”

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that what lives in those woods is nothing like we have everimagined.”

“What did you see? You have to tell me.”

“I can’t. Just be careful around those woods and what comes out of them. It hungers and it craves you.”

“You sound crazy, you know that?”

“I know. And I also know you won’t believe me if I told you what I witnessed.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Yes. It has a hold on me, Dulce, and I don’t think it will ever let go of me.”

“Just breathe, Red. I’m sure everything will be alright. Do you want me to come over?”

“No. No, I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Are you sure because… well, you sound scared, Hun. I can be there in just a few minutes. I’ve got pie.”

My stomach rumbled, but I truly couldn’t see anyone. I also knew that if I had Dulce in front of me, I’d break down and tell her everything, and I wasn’t ready to do that… yet.

“I promise, I will tell you everything. I just need some time to like… register everything. Because I don’t even know if what I saw was real or a part of my imagination.”

“Okay, but just promise you’ll come see me soon.”

“I will. Soon.”

I quickly hung up and took a deep breath. I knew there’d be more questions in the days coming, but I needed time to think. Because I didn’t even know how to answer half those questions without sounding completely out of my mind.

I stared out the kitchen window, my eyes searching the entrance of those woods, both fearing and hoping he’d appear, that I’d see him once again and know for certain that I hadn’t just dreamed him up. That I too wasn’t going senile.

Every inch of my skin was alert, tight with sensation, and I felt a familiar heat radiate through my body.

I slowly headed upstairs, where the hallway seemed to stretch, just leading me further into darkness.

My bedroom door was cracked open. Nothing had changed.

Not visibly. But everything was different now. I was different.

I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Not because I was afraid, but because I was aching .

Even with the windows closed, I swore I could smell him.

That thick, musky, dominant scent that clung to my skin even after I’d run, even after I’d crossed through that strange barrier between his world and mine.

I stripped off my torn clothes and let them fall into a heap on the bathroom floor.

I then stepped under the steaming water, bracing my hands against the cool tile.

I tilted my head down, letting the spray hit my neck and shoulders, but the heat did nothing to wash away the need still coiled deep inside me.

My breasts were heavy and tender, nipples drawn tight. My thighs were slick from far more than just sweat. My clit throbbed with a pulse all its own.

I closed my eyes, and I saw him.

Rael.

He'd towered over me; a monstrous silhouette carved from shadow and fairy tales. His body was a brutal masterpiece. Broad and powerful, muscles rippling beneath skin that stretched taut over a warrior’s frame.

Each ridge of his abs flexed with every breath he took, gleaming slightly in that blood red moonlight like something sculpted by some ungodly, primal desire.

He was snarling, teeth sharp and white, a monster after all. Yet there was a grin hidden beneath it, feral and knowing. I knew he could scent me and knew what he’d done to me. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, he already owned every trembling inch of my fear and my body.

He was oddly handsome, but not in a delicate way.

His features were rough, sharp with wild masculinity.

A long snout was dusted with soft black fur, the bridge of it looked like it had been broken once and healed slightly crooked.

He had sharp cheekbones and a long tongue, which he kept licking at his lips with. As if drooling for a meal.

His eyes were soft, almost tender in contrast to everything else, glowing with that unnatural red hue that flickered like firelight.

Even in all that danger, there was something devastatingly alluring about him. He was a nightmare wrapped in the shape of a warrior, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run or beg him to take me.

And then I remembered that cock…

Gods, that cock .

It was thick, long, and veined, a deep red from where the blood rushed to the tip, engorging it. It twitched as it pressed against his belly, the head swollen and leaking, looking pained as if it was hurting with need.

I imagined it pulsing in his fist, his claws just barely grazing the base, the way the knot at the root swelled when he drew near. He'd stroke himself slowly, growling my name, head thrown back as precum dripped onto his abs.

I pressed two fingers to my clit and rubbed in small, slow circles.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loud.

I felt disgusted by my eagerness for this monster, yet a hot thrill shot through me as I thought about how a male could be so animalistically feral about his mate.

I was curious about what my body could handle when cradled in his massive hands.

I pictured kneeling in front of him, palms flat on his thighs, his fur brushing my cheeks as I leaned in. His voice, both rough and cruel, as he grabbed my hair and whispered, “Open your mouth, little Red. You're going to choke on this knot and love every fucking second of it.”

My fingers slid lower, sinking inside of me. I pumped them slowly, fingers slick from how wet I already was, two deep inside me, curling just enough to make me gasp. I tried to breathe through it, tried to let the fantasy take over .

It was him , not me. Not my fingers.

Rael.

The image of him burned behind my eyelids.

Towering. Snarling. Possessive. That monster of a cock so thick and hard I could feel the stretch by just picturing it.

I fantasized about the ache, the sharp sting of that first push, the wide mushroomed head breaching me, the way his knot would swell and force me open until I couldn't take any more but still wanted more.

I imagined him grabbing my hips and snarling into my neck, panting like an animal in heat as he thrust so deep, I couldn't breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t be anything but his. My clit throbbed beneath my fingers, tight and swollen and sensitive. My pussy clenched around my hand, soaked and eager.

I moaned into the water.

“Fuuuck, Rael…”

But nothing came.

The pleasure climbed and climbed and stalled , a cruel edge with no release, like teetering on the precipice and never falling.

I pressed harder, rubbed faster, fingers thrusting deeper, chasing the peak.

My body was right there , ready to come apart, but the orgasm refused to break.

It hovered, mocking me. Cold and unreachable.

I let out a choked cry, slamming the flat of my palm against the cold tile as the frustration surged through me.

My breath came fast, short bursts that did nothing to ease the ache crawling through my body.

Every muscle was tight, my skin feverish, my thighs soaked with a need that was being stolen from me.

My body trembled beneath the weight of it, desperate and unsatisfied.

There was no release for me. Just the throbbing reminder that I was denied even this.

It was like something inside me had seized control, withholding the one thing I was begging for without words.

No matter how much I touched or how hard I tried, it wouldn’t come.

My body wasn’t mine anymore. Not fully. Because some part of me already knew the truth, I wasn’t ready to speak aloud.

Only he could give me what I needed.

Rael.

Only his cock. Only his hands. His mouth. His knot buried so deep inside me, I wouldn’t be able to walk after. Only him .

Tears blurred my vision, salt mixing with the water sliding down my face.

I sank to my knees in the shower, the tile sharp against my bones, and sobbed. Not because I was ashamed, not even because I couldn’t cum, but because I felt empty . Truly, horribly, emptied out in a way that had nothing to do with pleasure.

I was missing something. Like a piece of my soul had stayed behind in the woods, left with him.

Rael.

He had ruined me with a scent. With a whisper. With a look that had cut me wide open and filled me with need like poison.

I wanted him to come for me, to tear through that mystical barrier and take me.

I wanted to be his in every filthy, unbearable way.

Because somehow, in that short interlude between us, this monster had stolen my soul.

And no one else would ever be enough. And I knew that no matter how much I touched myself, no matter how hard I tried to pretend, my body had already decided it belonged to him, and I would never be whole until Rael made me his.