16. The Empty Man
THE EMPTY MAN
I’m going to kill you. I’m going to goddamn kill you. I’m going to rip you apart and watch you burn, the pretty boy snarls in my—his—head as I pace in front of the kennels, checking in on all of my pets.
“Easy, boy,” I say out loud, biting down on my lip to contain my smile.
His anger? Fuck, I could live on it. It feeds the depraved part of my soul—the same part that all monsters have. The dark and twisted facet that sets us apart from even the cruelest of humans.
As I put a water dish inside one of the cages, I think through my most recent dilemma.
I thought getting a body would make it easier to see my mate and talk to her, not harder. But the second I showed up at the door dressed in Pretty Boy’s bones here, the Devourer lost his ever-loving shit. I’m pretty sure he’s actually out of shits now, something I didn’t think was possible.
A shitless Dev.
The horror.
I couldn’t even make it more than a step onto his property before that strange black mist began crawling across my flesh, eating away my skin.
The pain was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I was forced to jump out of the fog before this body was irrevocably destroyed.
Despite doing what I could to heal him, Chase’s arms are still covered in reddish welts from the mist—injuries that probably will leave lasting scars.
What’s the point of a sexy body if I can’t use it on my sweet Aliana? Or in my sweet Aliana, as the case may be?
Chase’s voice is practically a snarl in my head. You don’t fucking need her! You have me! Leave her the fuck alone!
I push my lips out into a mocking pout. “I thought you hated her, Chasey Wacey,” I coo obnoxiously, loving the way my accent sounds using his voice.
I have no idea what type of accent it is—I remember very little of my past life, and the world’s structure has changed significantly since I was alive—but it’s warm and decadent, like a fudge brownie melting on your tongue.
My guess? I used to live somewhere across the ocean when I was human, though I can’t be entirely certain.
Honestly, the only thing I remember about my human life is my hair color.
Auburn. At least, I think it was auburn, but even that memory is fuzzy.
I don’t remember my name, my life, my background…
For all I know, I had been in love once upon a time—a desperate, soul-churning type of love with the capability of knocking you on your ass and stealing the breath from your lungs. Maybe I even had a family.
But none of that matters now, mainly because I don’t remember any of it. I know innately that I used to be human—before the war that made humans into slaves and left monsters in charge—but I can’t recall how I died, let alone how I lived.
Perhaps my unknown past explains why I’ve always had a bleeding heart towards the humans. Well, a semi-bleeding heart. I can’t say I actually give a damn about most of the smelly fuckers, but I’m not as cruel as some of the other monsters I know.
The only reason I have some now is because I need their bodies—and not for any nefarious purposes.
I never use them for shit that can physically harm them or for sex…
unless they offer. I’ve had my fair share of fangers beg me to take them over, just so they’ll know what it’ll feel like to be possessed by me.
Of course, ninety-nine percent of the humans can’t remain in the passenger seat while I drive, so to speak.
I have no idea where they go when I’m in charge, and I haven’t given enough of a shit about any of them to ask.
I use their bodies, and when I’m done, they’re sated and exhausted.
Except for Pretty Boy.
Pretty Boy…
He won’t fucking leave.
No matter what I do, what I say, he remains an incessant pressure in the back of my mind. His mind. Our mind. However you want to put it.
Nagging.
Screeching.
Threatening.
I’ve possessed both girls and guys before—I’ve had my pussy fucked six ways till Sunday and slammed my cock in more honeypots than I care to count.
But not one of the humans I possessed managed to share a headspace with me.
Their consciousness disappeared, leaving me in charge, and when I left, it was like they had been asleep for a few hours.
So to say Chase is an enigma would be an understatement of the century.
An annoying, infuriating enigma.
I don’t even know why I bothered with this particular host. Maybe it’s because I saw the way Aliana looked at him backstage during the auction, when she wasn’t even aware of my presence.
Or maybe I saw the way he looked at her—with adoring, worshipful eyes that made me want to vomit.
I’m not even sure the girl is aware he’s head over heels in love with her.
But either way, he’s pretty to look at, and I know Aliana thought so too. Enough to mention his name in her naughty little dream.
Now, however, I wish I could return his sorry ass and pretend I never bought him in the first place.
Of course if I did that, I risk my little human mate becoming angry at me if she ever discovers the truth.
She may not love him the way he loves her, but she’s too damn good for this fucked-up world.
Her heart? It doesn’t just bleed—it motherfucking gushes.
“I don’t need you anyway right now, Pretty Boy,” I say, stepping into his kennel and slamming the door shut.
I installed each of the cages so they lock the second the door closes, only to be opened again by my energy. I can move things in the tangible world, but it requires a lot of effort and energy—effort and energy I don’t wish to dispel on tasks as pointless and mundane as containing my prisoners.
Fuck you! Chase roars, his words dying off as I step out of his body, leaving him behind in the cage.
It’s quite literally as easy as that.
Stepping forward.
There are no ritualistic words I need to say, no fancy-dancy ceremony, no painful splintering of my soul. I just glide forward, and Chase collapses to his knees, panting heavily.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” he rasps, still on the floor with his head lowered.
His blond hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and I realize I’ll have to bathe him soon if I ever hope to win Aliana over in his body. No matter. That’s an issue for Future Em to deal with.
This Em?
He’s going to see his mate.
* * *
In my incorporeal form, I’m easily able to pass through all of the Devourer’s defenses. He tried more times than I can count to find ways to keep me away, but all of them failed epically. How can he stop a man who doesn’t even exist? Who doesn’t have a tangible form to hurt or destroy?
Besides, I think a part of him secretly wants me to remain around. He claims that he hates me, but…that’s totally a lie. We’re besties.
He even set up four-colored lights in his living room for the times I come over and visit without a body.
Red light—no.
Green light—yes.
Yellow light—maybe.
Purple light—you’re a dumbass.
Of course, that’s not what the purple light actually means, but I took creative liberties over the years.
The only Terror who might actually, legitimately hate my guts is the Grotesque, but that’s mainly because I refuse to allow him to wallow in his tiny bridge cave. It’s honestly quite sad. He’s a grown-ass man hiding away from his problems like a goddamn teenager throwing a tantrum.
Perhaps I’ll visit him next and rearrange all of his silverware just to piss him off.
The last time I did that, he was in a mood for weeks. And by mood, I mean he tried to kill me numerous times.
But you can’t kill what’s already dead, so ha. Joke’s on him.
I float through the walls of the Cloisters, searching until I find my quarry.
The Devourer is currently in his makeshift music room, the tantalizing melody from his harp drifting to me. A tiny part of me wants to peek my head inside and watch him play, but one thing takes priority—my mate.
Glad that the other Terror is currently occupied, I glide easily into the room designated as hers and hover in the corner, watching her pace.
Her black and white hair trails behind her in loose curls as she mutters under her breath about stupid closet monsters and idiotic games.
Ah. Creep must’ve come and paid her a visit.
I’m surprised it took him this long to actually show his face.
He’s usually the most suave of all of us Terrors, reeling in girl after girl with just a single look like a goddamn fisherman out on the sea.
I know he’s worried about hurting his friendship with Dev, but doesn’t he realize that the mating bond is impossible to deny? That it’s destiny?
Yes, I know he’s her mate, just as I know the Devourer and the Grotesque are too. They don’t know I know. They also don’t know what I know, because I know what they don’t know. It’s a lot of knowing and not knowing.
Mind. Fuck.
But I’m the goddamn Empty Man, and there’s very little that goes on in this kingdom that I don’t hear about first. When you’re an invisible entity, there’s not much to do but spy and observe—to learn to read every minuscule tick of your enemies’ faces, to hear every word they don’t truly speak, to know their strengths as well as their weaknesses.
I knew Dev was her mate the moment he jumped onto the table at the auction house, his eyes flaring red and his claws elongated.
I knew Creep was her mate when he watched us from his perch in the closet, his hand wrapped around his python of a cock while I made our girl come.
And I knew Tesq was her mate when he crawled out from underneath the rock he’s been hiding beneath to check in on her. He’s still nearby—hidden in the forest surrounding Dev’s house, waiting for a chance to claim what he believes is his.
But hasn’t he ever heard that sharing is caring?
And sharing a female can lead to lots and lots of yummy orgasms?
I swear, these monsters don’t know anything.