Consumed By the Kraken (Monstrous Designs #1)

Chapter One

Lilith

I lean back in my chair while I admire my latest design.

The kraken toy rotating on my screen is my best work yet, and I can’t wait to test it out.

Seven textured tentacles twist together in a design meant to push limits.

This is the kind of creation customers of Monstrous Designs crave.

It’s made for those who want more than the average human can provide, and there are more of those out there than people often realize.

It’s a shame how fantasy adult toys are frowned upon by most. As if craving something inhuman is somehow wrong. Something to be ashamed of. I’m definitely not. And I know for a fact that I’m not the only one. The huge amount of money my company makes every year is proof of that.

I type out an email to our manufacturer and attach the file of my new design. In a few weeks, I should have a prototype that hopefully won’t need too many adjustments. Once everything is tested and approved, I can add this new creation to the website.

If only the real thing existed. I’ve been building Monstrous Designs from the living room desk in my beach apartment, and every single creation comes from the same hollow ache in my chest. The ache to experience the real thing, not just the silicone version.

Werewolves, tentacles, dragon mounts… I pour all my longing into them, and my customers go crazy for them, but at the end of the day, they’re still toys.

I turn my computer off and get up. Even though it’s late and dark, I don’t bother with lights.

The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean give me all the ambiance I need.

The moon casts silver streaks on the waves, and I sigh.

What if somewhere in that vast darkness live the impossible things I ache for?

Ancient beings with a tangle of limbs and a hungry mouth?

I shake my head as I turn back from the black, churning ocean before me. It’s nothing but a fantasy.

I plop down on the couch and play with the fringe of a throw pillow.

My apartment is silent except for the muffled crash of waves outside.

No music, no TV, just me and my thoughts and a restless heat that never really goes away.

I’ve tried dating—God, have I tried. But how do you explain to a guy that you fantasize about being held down by something that shouldn’t exist?

That missionary in the dark leaves you feeling more alone than being actually alone?

Yeah, you don’t. You smile politely, you go home to your empty apartment, and you don’t call them back for a second date.

After a while, I gave up dating entirely.

My friends don’t get why I’m still single.

They’re great, supportive people whom I love, but I could never tell them the real reason I haven’t found my soulmate.

I don’t want them to look at me with disgust. Don’t want them to know I long to be worshipped by a real creature. A kraken.

Maybe I am weird. But that doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. Everyone longs for something, even those who act like they never think of anything out of the ordinary.

I get up again, select a playlist, and connect my phone to my portable Bluetooth speaker.

I take the speaker to the bedroom and crack one of the windows open, letting the evening breeze play with my curtains.

Then, I head over to my toy drawer. I bypass the smaller, more generic ones I designed for broad appeal and reach for the prototype kraken I made last month.

The midnight-blue silicone feels cool and heavy in my hands.

The textured suckers catch the moonlight, tempting me to use them.

I’ve tried it out before. I know exactly what this toy can do, and I need it tonight. Desperately. It won’t take away my loneliness, but it will take some of the edge off.

I settle myself on the bed and close my eyes. When it’s over, the quiet feels even louder than before. I sigh as I stare out at the ocean and the endless dark water.

“You’re not real,” I whisper to the kraken that doesn’t exist. To the monsters I’ll never meet. “None of you are real. Damnit, why aren’t you real?”

I get up and rinse the toy in the bathroom, then set it to dry. As I turn, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look flushed and satisfied, my hair mussed, and my eyes still hazy. I should feel satisfied and happy. Instead, I just feel alone.

I pull on an oversized shirt and wander back to the window.

Sleep feels impossible right now, even though my body is pleasantly exhausted.

There’s a restlessness under my skin, a kind of ache that has nothing to do with physical need.

I want to be wanted by something impossible.

I want to be claimed and kept and cherished by a creature who sees me for who I am.

But that’s just a fantasy. Monsters aren’t real.

I press my forehead against the cool glass and close my eyes. Tomorrow I’ll wake up and go back to designing adult toys. I’ll pretend I’m fine with this half-life, with coming apart alone while the ocean watches over me. Without someone here like the creature from my dreams.

What other choice do I have?