19. Aliana
ALIANA
After that confession, my eagerness to play the game evaporates. Something odd and oily slides into my gut, and I think it might be compassion. A dozen additional questions that I want to ask the Creeper spring to mind, but I don’t ask. My lips press together, and I seal them inside.
I can’t become friends with a tongue.
Even if something inside of me is screaming for me to.
Creep sees the change in my demeanor and how I’ve grown still and contemplative.
He steps forward and grabs my arm. This time, I don’t resist as he leads me towards a coat closet.
While traveling through a portal, I watch light and dark collide, and my stomach twists uncomfortably.
Ironically, I don’t feel any sicker than I did the moment before we popped into the wormhole.
Because a moment ago, I started to wonder if Creep’s skin always looked the way it does now or if his father did this to him.
When we burst back into my closet, I stumble over the stupid, unmatched rain boot that lives in there.
Creep’s claws close around my bicep and prevent me from smashing face-first into the floor.
After I’ve regained my balance, I tilt my head as I study him.
“Why’d we leave?” I ask, just for something to say—for some excuse to break the silence percolating between us because it feels like something meaningful is brewing, and I don’t think I can handle that.
I feel like I’m making some kind of emotional connection with a monster.
No. Aliana. No.
Monsters destroyed the world. Tongues took your parents and did who-knows-what ungodly things to them.
You can’t be feeling…
I take a step back, though there’s hardly any space left to do so in here, retreating from the gentleness I see in Creep’s eyes.
I’m projecting. A level Ten monster doesn’t have compassion. He said himself that he was only born a level Two or Three. So to level up, he’s had to kill scores of people and monsters. He’s a heartless murderer.
My thudding heart has trouble believing that.
Right now, when I stare into his dark blue gaze, I don’t see a psychopathic beast. I see a vulnerable boy who has been abused by the father who was supposed to love and protect him.
He seems to be asking me something with his eyes, but what that “something” is evades me.
Whatever it is settles uncomfortably on the tip of my tongue like a wet cotton ball, leaving wisps of fuzz in my mouth.
“You didn’t seem like you were in the mood to play anymore,” he responds to my previously asked question in a hushed tone that slides over my skin like a caress.
“I didn’t?” I try to scoff, but it’s forced. He’s right, but he can’t know that. “I think you knew you were about to lose.”
“Did I?” He steps forward, and I can’t help but notice a thick bulge in his pants. Too thick to be normal.
God. Shit. Eyes up.
“Yes. And you would have. You just don’t want to give me the hour of freedom you promised me.” I push the issue, knowing that inevitably, one of us will bend and break. And that person won’t be me.
“Well, by all means—dare me to do something else.” He’s stepping closer, and my face heats.
His proximity is making it impossible for me to think, so I whirl around and dart out of the closet, scrambling onto my bed to get away from him.
My feet dig into the sheets while my hands fly to my cheeks, trying to cool them down and get my boiling brain to think of some kind of dare.
Creep comes to the doorway of the closet, standing just on the other side of the threshold. His silhouette is lit by my chandelier, but the darkness of night—is it still night or is it now pre-morning?—makes him appear more like a sculpture than a man.
The Devourer’s distant roar from somewhere in the Cloisters sparks inspiration.
A naughty smile curls my lips, and I lean back into my pillow. “I want you to go sneak up on the Devourer and scare the shit out of him.”
Creep’s face immediately brightens, the tattooed dots on his cheekbones curving as he smiles. “Oh, little warrior, I could kiss you for that dare.”
He steps back into the closet and disappears in less than a second.
Meanwhile, I’m left to deal with the aftermath of his words and struggle with why the idea of his kiss bursts lust low in my belly, leaking hot desire down my thighs.
I can’t do anything but wait, mostly because I’m half certain the Devourer will try to rip off Creep’s head for this prank, and if I were anywhere nearby, he might just rip off mine as well.
A few hours ago, if someone had asked me about two Terrors brutally fighting and possibly killing one another, I would have lit up with excitement at the idea.
But now, sitting in the dark, the idea of Creep getting hurt makes me chew my lip.
I don’t like it. I more than don’t like it—but what really guts me most is that if he gets hurt now, I’ll be the cause.
For some reason, that pains me. Maybe it’s because of his little confession, how a parent—a person he should be able to trust above all others—hurt him. Maybe I’m just overtired and this game was a terrible idea to begin with. Or maybe, I’m starting to feel a little connection with him…
No.
Dev’s roar makes me shoot up to my knees on the mattress, my breath cut down to quick, short bursts as the hairs on my arms rise.
“Fuck.” I scramble to my feet, about to run for my door when Creep pops back into existence in my closet.
I drag my gaze over his figure in apprehension, searching for blood, for wounds, but when he stumbles forward, holding his ribs, I realize he’s laughing.
“Oh, that was epic! I think I made him piss himself.” His eyes glitter in amusement as he gets closer to me, and I’m struck by just how handsome his face is.
Sure, it’s unconventional, but isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder?
I’ll never admit this out loud, not even under threat of torture, but I find Creep almost ethereal in appearance.
“What did you do?” I ask, sitting back down and trying to act casual and unaffected, though my traitorous nipples harden as he gets closer. What is it about this particular monster?
Is it the manic glint glimmering in his dark gaze?
The grin tugging up his lips?
Why does my body have an almost visceral reaction to him?
“He was painting, and I jump-scared him. Most basic scare in the book, but still effective. He spilled an entire pallet on himself before he wolfed out to chase me. Nearly got me too, before I nipped into the broom closet and portaled back here.” Utter joy shines on Creep’s face as he sits down on the mattress beside me.
He even has to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
I pretend to pout, though his happiness is so radiant that it’s hard for me to feign discontent. “You weren’t supposed to enjoy the dare.”
“No. I was supposed to get killed.” His pointed look tells me that he sees right through all the little facades I put on.
A blush warms my cheeks, and my eyelashes sweep over them as I gaze down at my sheets. “Can’t blame a kidnapped slave for trying.”
“Hmm, well, maybe not. But can I point out the fact that I’m not the one who kidnapped or locked you up?” His tone turns almost gentle then, beseeching.
“Well, you might have killed the Devourer.” I give a shrug and keep my tone light, but for some unfathomable reason, I don’t really like the idea of that big brute dying either.
What is wrong with me?
I’m going soft in the head stuck in here.
“Nah, I like the furry guy too much.” Creep gives me a wink that elicits an unwilling smile from my lips.
Why does he have to be so damn charming?
And forgive me for trying to kill him?
And have so many muscles?
He leans forward on the bed, his biceps bulging as his fists press into the mattress. Some of his long black hair falls forward over his shoulders, and I’m struck by the ridiculous urge to tuck it back behind his pointed ear.
“My turn to make you do something naughty,” he whispers, and there are all sorts of dirty implications in the way he says it.
Implications my body likes a lot.
I tense, wondering what he has in store for me, suddenly glad I laid out some ground rules.
He leans in, his warm breath ghosting across my lips. “I dare you…to tell me your greatest fear.”
His challenge hovers over me like a guillotine, the sharp edge of it glinting right above my neck.
I can’t tell a monster my greatest fear!
Especially not when, at this very moment, it’s the fact that I think I might be enjoying the company of one.
His eyes are liquid pools, and I wrench myself from their depths, turning away. “I can’t.”
Disappointment is clear in his tone when he responds, “I’m sorry to hear that, little warrior. I so wanted to give you a taste of freedom.”
My throat tightens uncomfortably, and I nod, still unable to look at him. Once, when I was maybe ten or eleven, there was a lunar eclipse. I desperately wanted to stare up at the sky and watch it, but my mother chided me, explaining that I could go blind if I stared directly at it.
I imagine looking at Creep would have a similar effect.
“Perhaps another night.” He shifts backward and moves to slide off the bed.
Wait. Is he leaving? He can’t leave.
My gaze momentarily drifts to his face, to his stupidly pouty lips, a slightly darker shade of blue than his skin. Unlike the rest of his huge body, they look soft to the touch. What would they feel like against my own? Brushing against my skin in the gentlest of caresses?
Stupid impulse grips me, and I blurt out, “Wait.”
He turns, still on the edge of the bed, facing me expectantly.
Before I can logic myself through what’s happening, I find words spilling from my lips. “Will you kiss me?”
Aliana!
What are you doing?!
Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod.
I did not just say that.