7. The Devourer
THE DEVOURER
Mishika won’t stop talking to me.
Apparently, my grunts and scowls aren’t enough to deter the infuriating Nine with bubblegum-pink hair, four arms, and two pairs of tits.
Some of the other monsters might consider her beautiful—her hips are wide and good for breeding—but the scowl on her lips mars a face that I might’ve described as dainty and feminine…
notwithstanding the fact that her teeth are sharper than most blades.
“…and then I said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ And he looked at me in surprise and—” Mishika rambles on, tossing back a strand of her obnoxiously pink hair that clashes with her pink skin and pink dress.
Fuck, why can’t I kill her again?
Oh yeah.
Because if I rip off her head, the other Nines will go after me and probably tear me limb from limb. I may be more powerful than one or two of the Nines, but eight of them? Even I’m not certain I’ll win that fight.
Unlike the rest of the fuckers here, I’ve forgone a suit and tie and instead dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.
At least there isn’t paint splatter all over me, but that’s as good as they’ll get.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I can clearly make out the intricate tattoos that curve around my bicep and extend down towards my wrist. Of course, those tattoos will disappear behind thick, coarse fur when I… bulk out, so to speak.
I absently scrub my claws through my tousled black hair, one of the keen nails getting caught on the tiny horns protruding from the top of my head.
Honestly, when I’m not completely “monster-fied,” I’m more human-looking than the rest of these fuckers. Except for, of course, my size, claws, horns, and slightly pointier than normal teeth. And my eyes…
You can’t forget about my penetrating red eyes. They resemble orbs of swirling blood, and one glance into them will have most monsters and humans scurrying in the opposite direction, frightened for their lives.
Except for Mishika. The damn girl is too stupid to live and seems to believe she’ll be the one to win my cold and frosty heart.
Doesn’t she know I don’t have a heart to begin with? That what rests inside my chest is nothing but a clump of coal that has been beaten and inevitably destroyed?
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” Mishika suddenly exclaims, directing her attention on a wide-eyed human server. Male, with broad shoulders and russet-colored hair.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” he stutters out, immediately dipping his chin in a show of respect and reverence.
Mishika’s bright pink lips part before twisting into another one of her signature scowls.
“Why does the help these days have to suck?” she laments with a mocking pout.
Before the human server can take more than a few steps away, one of her arms snaps forward—easily able to eat up the three feet between them—and wraps around his neck five times like a snake.
His eyes widen, practically bulging out of his head, as his skin turns pasty.
Without another word, Mishika snaps his neck, and her strange, snake-like arm slowly unravels from around his corpse. The human drops to the ground, dead, and it only takes a minute for two more humans to hurry forward and grab his body between them, carrying him out of the room.
I watch the entire exchange with unfettered disgust, my lips curling away from my teeth. A scattering of black fur erupts on my arms—an instinctive reaction to what I just witnessed.
This …
This is why I hate Mishika and all the rest of the Nines.
I’m in no way a goddamn saint, and I never claimed to be one.
But senseless killing? I kill only when I need to, only when it’s necessary for my survival.
I may require human flesh, but I won’t kill anyone to get it.
Most times, the humans willingly offer it to me in exchange for protection and work.
I’m able to feed, and they learn to live life in my home without a toe. It’s a win-win in my book.
But some monsters forget…without humans, we wouldn’t exist. Their fears bred our ancestors.
They’re the very reason we’re here to begin with.
Monsters made themselves known to the humans one hundred odd years ago, though we didn’t officially take over until recently.
Fifty years, give or take. Over time, we’ve been gathering land from them, pushing the humans out of their homes, until they’re forced to either live as our slaves or fear for their lives in the overgrown forests of the countrysides.
Almost all of the major cities and towns have been monopolized by monsters, the creatures the humans refer to as tongues.
“I know you don’t believe in mates, Dev.” Mishika takes a step forward, biting her pink lip in a manner I’m sure she believes is patently seductive. She’s been sadly misinformed. She looks like a chipmunk.
“I don’t.” There’s no use denying the fact. My disgust over the entire aspect of “mating” is well-known throughout the community.
“Me either. That’s why I think—” She reaches for me, and I start to rear back in disgust. And not just because there’s a rumor circulating that Mishika has a taste for cocks…and not the taste most men prefer. Apparently, the wretched female will quite literally rip the dick off a man and eat it.
“Hey, boss. Sorry. I got held up.”
I glance around, grateful for the interruption from Mishika’s blathering and see one of my favorite servants, a Six named Filia.
She blinks her orange eyelashes up at me and holds up a severed hand. “Found this on the floor, but I figured, five-second rule applies. You could use a little snack. Thoughts?” She tempts me, waving it around in front of my face, her ebony arm a contrast to the pale skin of the bloody stump.
I sigh, but the human is clearly already dead, damage already done. So, I take it from her reluctantly as an announcement goes through the room.
“Let tonight’s festivities begin!” rumbles through the sound system.
All eyes turn to stare at the squat, unassuming auctioneer on the stage in front of the room.
For as long as I can remember, Todrick has been in charge of all of these auctions, hosting extravagant balls at his pretentious mansion while his paid night visions scour the nearby towns for rebel humans to sell.
I don’t like him.
“Bye!” Filia cheerfully dismisses Mishika on my behalf with a wave and a smile that aren’t even corrosive and fake.
She just exudes this warmth that doesn’t come across as monsterish at all but matronly.
It should be annoying, but it’s not. It’s helpful as hell, and I let her lead me over to the tables clustered together directly in front of the stage.
We find our assigned seats easily enough.
Filia leans over the armrest to whisper conspiratorially in my ear, her voice barely audible over the muttered conversations all around us. “Careful with that one. I hear she’s just dumped a clutch of eggs somewhere and is looking for dick to fertilize them.”
I try not to shudder in revulsion. “Never going to happen.” I don’t know which one will be worse—having my cock eaten by that pink bitch or becoming a father to her devil spawn. Honestly, I think I would prefer losing a dick. I’m sure I could find someone somewhere to help me grow it back.
I set down my dagger and the severed hand, fully intending to ignore both of them and keep an eye on the other Terrors and the Nines in the room. I’m not sure what’s going on, but my intuition is pinging.
Change is in the air. And that’s never a good thing. Ebony Kingdom has been stable for a while now, with the Terrors in charge. But stability is fleeting.
This world will always devolve into chaos if given half a chance. Monsters, in particular, love chaos. They goddamn thrive on it.
Hence the wild whoops that accompany the dimming of the lights around us and the bright spotlights that come up on the black, curved stage, where the auctioneer’s green smile gleams, as sharp and cunning as he is.
The first lot gets called, and I lean forward in my seat, my eyes scanning the crowd to see who’s bidding. Filia whips out a notebook underneath the table.
“Dortan’s bidding.” I watch him slide his dagger down his palm and raise the bloody thing in the air, steam rising from the wound like a smoke signal and garnering the attention of the auctioneer, who nods.
My servant jots down the name of the Eight who’s been raising a lot of hell in my territory.
“Wonder what he wants with an older female?” Her nose crinkles. “Not typically his taste.”
No. He likes to eat teeth and play in the ocean with tentacled monsters, typically. It’s a very unusual move for him to bid on an older human woman.
I don’t say anything aloud, but I have my suspicions about what’s going on. It isn’t safe to voice them here amongst the rabid crowd because my distaste for his pastimes would be too obvious in my tone. And far too many monsters share his sentiments about humans as toys.
Next to me, a tall monsteress with a tail as wild and feathered as a rooster’s gives a squawk.
Immediately, her date slides out of his seat, one of his three heads diving underneath her skirt while the two others turn outward, keeping watch.
I turn away from them, scanning the crowd as she starts to writhe and moan.
Absolutely disgusting.
I’m not that kind of monster. I’m not full of that kind of unbridled—
My mind whites out when the newest lot walks onto the stage.
Tall and leggy, with a delicious curve to her hips, full labia protruding through a curly nest of dark hair, soft, womanly stomach, and breasts that make me salivate—the woman’s body blinds me for a second before my gaze even makes it up to her face.
Dark blue eyes that are heavy lidded. An expression of pure disdain on her pouty, full red lips.
Hair that’s simultaneously black as midnight and white as snowfall. She’s gorgeous. Everything.
She’s my mate.
The knowledge clicks inside of me, as certain as a key sliding into a lock and opening a door to a realm I didn’t know existed. A part of myself I didn’t know existed. I tumble forward into a brand new reality.
How is she here, being auctioned off? Where did she come from? Has she been hurt? What the fuck did they do to her?
A feral growl sounds low in my throat as I grab my dagger. But I don’t simply cut my hand in order to bid; I stand. My seat falls back behind me with a thunk. Fur erupts on my arms and the sides of my face as I slice my palm.
Far too many others in the room do the same. My glowing red eyes cut to some, cowing those whose power is lesser.
Mine.
My chest thrums erratically. My legs itch to leave this table and stride over to grab her, then toss her onto my shoulder and stomp away, batting at any night vision who flies at me.
Suddenly, the disgust I felt at my three-headed neighbor’s display evaporates. The idea of sinking my face between my little mate’s thighs and claiming her in front of hundreds of other monsters doesn’t seem foolish. My dick rises at the idea, pulsing.
I could do it.
How easily I could ply apart those soft thighs and feast on her.
But I won’t.
Because she’s mine .
They don’t deserve to see her face as I pleasure her. They don’t deserve to see her expression as I make her writhe and gasp and moan. Those little treasures belong only to me, just as everything about her belongs to me.
I never thought I’d find a mate.
A human, no less.
But there she is—pure flesh and blood and gorgeous innocence who needs to be yanked away from all of these predators.
Jealousy roars within me at the knowledge that they’re currently seeing her and probably salivating over her supple curves and full breasts.
That their cocks are hard with a desperate need to fuck her sweet pussy.
I want to gouge all of their eyes out for staring at what is mine.
I want to jump onto that stage and hide her perfection from their leering gazes. I want her. Need her.
I cut my hand and bid again, snarling. My face transforms, and my nose becomes a snout. I can feel my teeth elongating into daggers that I won’t hesitate to use now.
I’ll kill anyone who so much as thinks about glancing at her.
The auctioneer nods at me, but then he glances across the room and nods again.
What the fuck?
I see the Grotesque’s dripping hand in the air, blood swirling down his palm as he stares through his mask right at the stage.
Goddammit. I roar, overturning the table and startling Filia, who gives off a terrified little squeak.
“Mate.” I breathe the word, my arms shaking in fury as I cut my hand and raise it again. I won’t let anyone else have her. I fucking refuse.
“Oh.” Filia’s whispered response is awed as she moves to stand at my side. “A mate… I’ll arrange for transport when you win, sir.” She dashes off before I can respond, though I’m not sure I can respond.
Need is pulsing through me like molten lava cascading down a hill, ready to burn everything in its path. I want to raise my claws and beat on my chest and howl until the room grows silent and every goddamned monster in here acknowledges my claim and bows their fucking heads.
The Creeper raises his hand next.
Are they fucking with me? The other Terrors?
I reach down to the floor, snatch up the severed limb that Filia gave me, and fling it across the room. It smacks him right in the cheek, the blood splattering across his face.
I’d throw my dagger at his heart if I didn’t need it to fucking win this bid.
His startled eyes meet mine for a moment, and I snarl as I bid again, my attention snagged once more by my mate. She shifts, and the stage lights catch against the perfect moon-like curve of her ass.
Mine.
MINE.
M.I.N.E.
I will have her.
I shove forward past a table in front of me. Then another. I ignore the startled outbursts from other monsters because only one thing is racing through my raging mind right now.
I have to get to my mate. I have to win her.
A Three nearby suddenly stiffens, his body jerking before he straightens and stares right at me, his head tilted and an unhinged smile crossing his face.
He lifts a dagger and slashes at his palm, the same as me.
That’s how I know he’s become possessed by the Empty Man—the strongest ghost in existence.
All Four Terrors are bidding on this precious, beautiful girl.
All the others are trying to steal her from me.
Well, they’ll regret this moment.
I leap onto a table in the first row, scattering food and breaking a champagne glass underfoot as I roar at the auctioneer, who quickly bangs down his gavel.
Satisfaction rolls through me as my girl is quickly shuffled off the stage.
Mine.
My mate is mine.