16. The Empty Man #2
If we want her to trust us—or even begin to like us—we’ll need to be honest with her about who we are and what she is to us. This world is immensely dangerous, especially with the threats that the other higher-level monsters present.
I already had two Eights attack monsters in my territory this week, hoping that they’d kill enough to move up on the power spectrum and become Nines.
If they ever discover what Aliana is to all of us, her life will be in danger.
Already, she’s the topic of conversation in every monster household—the elusive female all Four Terrors bid on.
Right now, they believe we simply bought her because she’s beautiful, by far the most beautiful woman we’ve ever seen, but Dev’s current possessiveness is raising a ton of red flags.
But that’s a worry for another moment. Right now, I need to speak with my girl.
As Aliana continues to pace, still muttering under her breath, I swivel my head until I’m staring at her lantern. I wrap my awareness around the light bulb inside and then shoot a tiny bit of electricity into it.
It begins to flicker intermittently, and Aliana freezes, her gaze snapping towards it in alarm.
“What the fuck?” she murmurs, her brows arching downwards.
Before she can touch the lantern, the light stops blinking but remains on, suffusing the room in a dim, golden glow.
“What the fuck?” she repeats.
I like when she says that word—fuck. If I had a human body, I’m sure my cock would be as hard as granite right about now. Probably as hard as the Grotesque’s cock is twenty-four seven, especially if the rumor I heard about him is true.
Is his cock truly made out of granite?
Is it weird that I kinda want to see for myself?
I don’t want to touch it or anything—unless Aliana wants me to—but I am curious—
Focus, Em, I chastise myself. That seems to happen to me a lot.
My mind runs away, joins the circus, and dresses itself up in elaborate white makeup and a bushy red wig.
It becomes a clown from the olden days…though I’m pretty sure some of the monsters today still enjoy dressing up as those hideous creatures just for shits and giggles.
“Mr. Ghosty?” she breathes, her hand hovering above the lantern.
Mr. Ghosty?
Is that what she named me?
I don’t know if I want to smile or be offended.
There are hundreds, if not thousands of ghosts throughout the world. But me? I’m something inherently more .
I’m the motherfucking Empty Man.
I allow the light to flicker once more, and her mouth parts, her face paling in shock.
Slowly, a luscious smile drags up her lips, one so beautiful and awe-inspiring the entire room seems to shake.
The window rattles, the closet door opens and closes repeatedly, and her entire bed begins to skirt across the floor.
Did I just have the ghost equivalent of an orgasm?
From seeing her smile?
Huh.
Not the weirdest thing that ever happened to me before.
A giddy laugh escapes her as she claps her hands together.
She’s still focused intently on the lantern, and I find that I don’t like that.
I want her attention to be on me—despite knowing how ridiculous that sounds, considering I don’t have an actual body.
Still, I find myself floating forward until I’m directly behind the lantern and her gaze is level with where I imagine my cock would be.
Yes, much better.
“Okay… Okay…” She seems to be speaking more to herself than me, her chin jerking up and down repeatedly. “How about…one flash of the lantern for yes, two for no.”
The lantern flickers once, and her smile broadens.
“Are you… I mean, did you used to be a human?” she asks, unable to quite hide the eagerness in her tone.
I suppose that’s technically a yes, though I don’t remember anything about my time as one.
She practically squeals when the lantern flashes once.
“Did you live here? Did you die in here?” she fires off, not giving me the chance to respond.
Live here?
I mean, not technically. I tried a few times, but Dev always kicked me out and told me to take my menagerie of monsters and humans elsewhere. So rude.
And did I die here? Probably not.
I flick the light bulb four times. Two for the first question, and two for the second.
A furrow materializes between her brows, and her pretty red lips push out in a pout. “Then how are you here?”
She didn’t tell me how many times to flash the light in order to say, “I’m stalking you, baby girl.” A severe oversight on her part.
She frowns, seeming to realize she didn’t ask me a yes or no question, before blurting out, “Did you…um…fuck me the other night?” Her cheeks color crimson, the bright red so endearing and beautiful that the room gives another tiny shake.
Damn. I need to get myself under control around her. I’m practically jizzing my non-existent pants.
“I mean, did you use Diana to fuck me?”
Diana? Who the fuck is Diana?
This time, the room trembles for an entirely different reason.
Once upon a time, the sight of two girls fucking each other would sound extremely hot, especially if I knew one of those girls was my fated mate.
So why does the thought of her fucking someone else, even a girl, fill me with such unease, disgust, and an almost incandescent rage? I felt aroused when I envisioned her with the other Terrors. Is it because she’s their mate?
I’ve never overly been into dudes before—despite fucking more than my fair share—but even I can admit I get an air boner at the thought of her with them.
The Devourer fucking her from behind, his huge claws digging into her porcelain skin as Creep uses his six-inch forked tongue to swirl around her clit.
And then the Grotesque’s face pops into my vision, his mask in place as his huge, granite-like hands pluck at her nipples and kiss her sweaty skin.
And then me, wearing Chase’s body, her hand around my cock as her tongue tangles with mine…
A crack appears in the stained-glass window behind Aliana.
Yup. Definitely in danger of pre-ejaculating.
I wonder what that would mean for a ghost, and I half want to snort at the image of ectoplasm spraying across her face.
I remember that she asked me a question, and instead of using the light to answer, I glide around the sarcophagus until I’m directly in front of her.
Her chest heaves, confusion dancing in her eyes, and with a wicked grin, I gently slide down the strap of her tank top until her perfect tit springs free.
Keeping my eyes—well, my intangible eyes; I actually don’t know if I have eyes in this form—on hers, I push a little bit of wind against her nipple, watching the rosy bud harden. I wonder what it would taste like in my mouth, feel against my tongue.
Goddammit.
Why couldn’t Dev allow me inside in Chase’s body?
Doesn’t he realize that an orgy is the way to her heart?
Women. Like. Orgies. It’s a fact of life.
I push down her other tank top strap and give the same treatment to that nipple as well. She really does have the best breasts—fucking perfect. If I could, I would dig my teeth into them.
“I suppose that answers that question,” she whispers shakily.
I continue to watch her face, wondering if she’s going to demand that I stop or push me away. Instead of doing any of that, she seems to push her chest out even farther, a flare of heat manifesting in her blue eyes.
“Can I ask you one more thing?” she queries, though I can’t take my attention off her tits.
You can ask me anything, baby, as long as you remain in this half-naked state.
Fuck, this is going to become my newest obsession. Watching her. Stalking her. Pleasuring her.
Her next words douse the lust coursing through me as effectively as being whacked with a night vision’s cock.
“Can you help me escape?”
Her voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but her words slam into my heart like a discharged arrow. It doesn’t just pierce my flesh—it embeds itself so deep inside of me, I couldn’t possibly hope to remove it.
I know what my answer is. Or, at the very least, what it should be.
Yes.
Yes, I could help her escape. I know how to turn off the curling black mist around Dev’s house, and it would only take me a second to find a monster to possess in order to do it.
Once that’s done, she could waltz right out of here and never look back.
She’s only a few blocks away from the wall that separates the Ebony Kingdom from what was once the United States of America.
It’ll take her maybe fifteen minutes to get there.
But…
But I can’t let her leave.
Not after I just found her.
Not with the connection between us thrumming like an electrical cord, warm and real and vibrant, capable of melting the layers of ice around my heart.
I feel like a piece of shit when I flash the light two times.
No.
No, I can’t help you escape.
No, I can’t let you leave me. Not ever.
Her entire face seems to drop, and she slowly, mechanically, shoves her straps back into place, covering herself.
“Oh,” she murmurs, and I swear I see the last bit of hope trickle from her eyes. It breaks something inside of me, shatters it into thousands of pieces that carve up my insides.
I’m sorry.
The silent apology floats in the air between us, and though I know she can’t hear it, her face still softens, as if she can sense it. Hell, maybe she can. Maybe it’s an aspect of the mating bond that I never heard of before.
I am sorry. That’s the truth, but it’s not because I can’t help her escape.
It’s because I can help her escape, but I’m just too selfish of a monster to do it.