Page 3 of The Monster’s Obsession (A Monstrous World #5)

Chapter Three

Vivie

M y face burns as I exit Aline’s office. I pull my shoulders back, tossing my hair away from my face.

Even if I’m crumbling on the inside, I need to keep a calm exterior. Except, there’s no way Laz doesn’t hate me for this, and my heart can’t handle that.

My stomach churns, and I dart down the hallway toward the bathroom. Fae don’t get sick in the same way humans do, but my anxiety is making me physically ill.

I’ve never told Laz that I love him.

Fae are cold by nature, likely because it’s beaten into our heads that emotion is the greatest form of weakness. That doesn’t change the fact that I have deep feelings for Lazarus. He’s gentle and kind and far too good for me.

And I went and ruined everything.

I’m so distracted that I don’t notice Saber as I come around the corner that leads to the bathrooms.

I squeak as he grabs my shoulders, shoving me against the wall. “What the hell?”

“Do you really feel like Laz crossed the line?” His gray eyes glow, and he keeps his voice low. “I need to know if I should have stepped in and stopped that.”

My heart sinks.

This is no one’s fault but my own.

“No, he didn’t, and there’s no way you could have known,” I admit, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m having a literal panic attack.

Nothing makes sense, and every time I calm down enough to try to think, the dread sinks back in.

“His kraken has been on edge for a while. I just thought he had better control over his beast.”

“You knew Laz was struggling with containing his monster’s urges, and you still taunted him about planting his eggs?” Saber’s eyes narrow. “I was starting to feel sorry for you, but it sounds like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I don’t need or want your pity,” I hiss.

He can judge me all he’d like, but it wasn’t like I was thinking clearly.

Kraken secrete a special type of seminal fluid that supercharges desire. Not to mention, my quickening is sneaking up ridiculously fast.

“It’s my quickening. It came out of nowhere this time. I can’t be a mother…” I mean to go on, but my voice breaks.

I’m not ready.

I don’t even know how to love myself. How could I possibly love a child and get it right?

What if I end up like her?

What if I don’t have the capacity to love children because no one ever loved me?

“You can’t or you won’t?” Saber growls. “You could just incubate the eggs for Laz. He’s clearly at a place where he’s ready for a family.

Hell, I wasn’t an egg, but it’s what my mother did for me.

She gestated me for nine months and passed me off to my father when I was three days old.

You won’t even have to see the babies. If you incubate them, they’ll be birthed as eggs. ”

I get what he’s saying.

Laz has told me all about the two types of ways kraken reproduce.

The first is if a female incubates the eggs without accepting them as her own. They would be little, mini duplicates of Laz. Not exact replicas, but they would be born male and not have any fae DNA from me. The incubator gives birth to the eggs, and the kraken takes over care until they hatch.

The second is if my body was to accept them. Then there would be a chance they could be born female, and the shell would weaken to absorb my DNA. It would act as a placenta as they grew and would lead to live births rather than giving birth to eggs.

They would truly be a combination of Laz and me.

Perfect little half-fae, half-kraken fledglings that I would have no idea how to care for.

“Look, does it matter?” Saber asks. “The eggs will degrade and become unviable if they aren’t fertilized. So just don’t let him fertilize them, then you can both move on and pretend this never happened.”

Something deep inside me revolts at that thought.

I’m pretty sure I’m carrying three eggs.

Each one takes five years for his kraken to produce.

That’s so much time for Laz’s body to have nurtured them.

His kraken has housed and protected them, waiting for the person he would trust enough to pass them off to.

And he chose me…

I don’t think Laz would ever forgive me.

Could you ever forgive yourself?

No, probably not.

“He’s going to hate me,” I whisper, fighting back the tears that ache to fall.

“Nah.” Saber pats my arms awkwardly. “He’s far too in love with you for that, but you need to talk to him.”

Hell no.

There is no way I can talk to Laz.

It might be time to leave Haven altogether.

Everyone here loves Laz—rightfully so.

There’s no way they all don’t end up hating me for this. Definitely not as much as I’ll hate myself, but still.

My misery is compounded by the fact Laz is already gone when I get myself together enough to search for him.

I’m a disaster.

One minute I’m convinced I have no choice but to disappear, and the next minute I’m desperate to see his handsome face and apologize.

I’m not sure if it’s a gift or a curse, but we live in the same set of apartments.

I can’t call it an apartment complex because it’s not big like the ones in human towns.

It’s also not just one building. It’s a set of three buildings with four units—one downstairs and one upstairs on each side of the building.

Laz’s apartment is directly across from mine. It’s how we met. When I first got to town, I was lucky to find a place at all.

I hadn’t secured a job yet, and I was still suffering the effects of escaping Rowan. It took almost sixty years as his prisoner before I found a window to escape.

I took it and never looked back.

I’m still wanted by Autumn Court.

If I’d had access to Iron Ice, I would have made sure he was dead before fleeing, to ensure he could never do the same thing to someone else.

Only he was healing too fast, and I couldn’t waste any additional time searching.

Like all full-blooded fae, Rowan is truly undying.

He’s not merely the anti-aging version of immortal, like most shifters, orcs, trolls, and a few other species.

The only exception to that is Iron Ice. Behead us with it or use a blade made of it to carve out our hearts, and we can’t come back from it.

Rowan had Iron Ice somewhere. I couldn’t find it, but I know he possessed it.

It was what he used to torment me when I misbehaved.

A few shavings blown into my eyes, and I couldn’t see for weeks.

Inhaling it during one of his torture sessions damaged my sense of smell so severely that I never gained it back.

Other times, he carved terrible things into my skin—things that took decades to disappear fully.

It doesn’t matter.

You got away.

My sense of smell was a small price to pay. I should be grateful it wasn’t my vision that he permanently took from me.

My hand shakes violently as I stand in front of Laz’s door, trying to work up the courage to knock.

I’ve decided the only thing I can do is to be honest with him about what happened to me in Faere. Maybe if I open up to him, he’ll understand the weight that still sits heavy in my chest. Having to verbally recall those events is what my nightmares are made of, but I will for Laz.

I think being transparent is the best chance I have of fixing things between us.

Knocking, I wait for what feels like an eternity, but there’s no answer.

Rolling my lips together, I try again, only firmer this time. I wait as my eyes well with tears, and eventually frantically pound my palm against the door.

“Laz, please. Just talk to me,” I say loudly enough that he should be able to hear me.

My sense of hearing is better than a human’s, and I don’t hear any rustling or noises that lead me to believe he’s coming closer.

Just to be safe, I plaster my cheek to the door and bang again.

Nothing.

My heart drops.

What do I do now?

Several hours pass with me continually popping off my couch to check the peephole.

He doesn’t come home, and it feels like I’m dying, even though I know better.

You’re not dying. You’re having a panic attack like the humans experience. You just have to regulate your breathing…

It doesn’t help.

With no other options, I take myself to bed.

Only the room is too open, and my instincts are on edge.

I’m a snotty mess as I build a makeshift nest on my bed. No matter what I do, it never feels comfortable and safe like I do when Laz is next to me.

My eyes settle on the chair next to the bathroom.

Laz left his sweatshirt here the other night, so I pull it on for comfort, even though I won’t be able to smell him. Rubbing my face against the sleeve seems to help, and I climb into bed, pulling my comforter over my head. The additional pillows and blankets I added do nothing to settle my system.

How did my world fall apart in a matter of hours?

I just want to apologize and see what I can do to fix it.

If I hadn’t panicked after the show, I believe Laz would have had a rational conversation with me. I bet he would have even wrapped his arms around me and told me that it was my call.

Only I freaked out on him.

Guilt and regret war for space in my mind, and my whole body shakes with the force of my sobs.