Chapter Twenty-Seven
Scarlett
Monster is insatiable. This has been clear to me for a while, but when he wakes me up for the second time this morning with his mouth on my pussy, my beliefs are confirmed beyond any shadow of a doubt.
My entire body aches with a delicious soreness, and there are bruises in the shape of his fingers and little bite marks all over me.
None of them hurt when they were delivered through the course of an extremely long day and night, but they act as symbols of Monster marking his territory nonetheless.
A long, exhausted moan escapes me as Greyson spears his tongue inside me. His mouth feels incredibly good, but I’m hypersensitive after our recent activities, so I wince and whine a little as he works me over.
But I don’t tell him to stop. And I’m not sure what that says about me, about us.
Just like I don’t know what to make of the fact that he’s now both Greyson and Monster to me—the names are used almost interchangeably.
“Fuck…” I whimper as I come, arching into his mouth and pulling on his hair.
Monster climbs his way over me, and doesn’t waste any time sliding his cock into me. I hiss at the intrusion and my sensitivity—his cock hurts a little, but it’s a good sort of pain.
“Shh,” Greyson shushes. “Easy. This’ll be quick. I can’t last when I’m inside you.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and surrender.
To the pleasure, to him, to this fucked-up dynamic we’re creating.
I’m still a captive, but I don’t think I’m as powerless as I once was…
and I can find a way to live with that. Hopefully for me, I can find a way to at least be somewhat content with Greyson.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs tenderly, kissing my lips. “Fuck, Flower, you’re a dream come true.”
“I’m not a Flower,” I mumble, only half-coherent. The feeling of his cock slicing in and out of me is almost too much to bear, but it’s damn good.
“You’re my Flower, and you always will be.” He lets out a low grunt, pace speeding. “Can you come for me again, my precious little Flower? No stimulation on your clit. No toys or force. I want you to come for me—your monster. Your lover—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before my body obeys. I come with a tired cry and a rush of wetness that coats his cock. After a few jerky thrusts, I feel his length pulse inside me as he goes still and releases a low groan.
When he rolls off of me, I lie limply on the bed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of this bed today.” I don’t know if I can stand, let alone walk.
“That works for me,” Greyson quips.
“I want to see my plants, Grey.”
He pauses halfway up from the mattress. Gives me a look filled with so much softness, I roll over to my side just to hide from his gaze.
Grey. I just called him a nickname, without even thinking about it. Slowly, he’s becoming equal parts Greyson and Monster to me. He’ll always be a monster… but it might behoove me to see some humanity in him, as well.
“I can drive you later if you want,” he says. “For now, let’s get you cleaned up and eat some breakfast. We need to talk.”
I hate hearing those words. It usually means some form of bad news is coming.
If Monster asks me to call my brother again and tell him more lies, I’ll tell him to go fuck himself…
but something tells me that’s not the case.
No, he seemed regretful of how negatively my conversation with my brother impacted me.
I’m regretful, too. The pain I felt hasn’t been wiped away by nearly twenty hours of straight sex, interrupted only by a few stretches of sleep—it’s simply been temporarily sidelined.
It’s still there, aching away in my chest, reminding me with every beat of my heart that my favorite person in the world, the only one I thought I could trust, called me a stupid little girl and used a metaphor that involved having me killed.
I know my brother has a temper. I know his protectiveness can sometimes cloud his judgement. But nothing can excuse the way he spoke to me… and I don’t know if I’ll get over it. Certainly no time soon.
For once, Monster allows me to shower and dress alone while he grabs our breakfast from the kitchen downstairs. I meet him in the dining room, where he’s setting up an elaborate spread.
Luci, lazing on his cat bed in the corner, perks right up at my entrance.
He releases a meow of greeting and regally pads his way over to me, winding in and out of my legs and rubbing fur all over my pants.
When he stands on his hind legs and meows again, I pick him up, letting him curl into my shoulder and rub his cute face against my neck.
“Your cat needs to be less possessive of you,” Monster says, vague amusement coating his words. “I don’t particularly feel like being in a battle of wills with your furry companion.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, taking a seat at the table. “In a battle between you and Lucifer, you’d always lose.”
Luci releases a yowl to punctuate my statement. I pepper his face in kisses, and wait for him to settle down in my lap before starting to load my plate.
“Where’s Luci’s breakfast?” I ask curiously, looking around the dishes of classic American and European breakfast foods.
“I gave it to him already.”
Something warm fills my chest. I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you.” Greyson feeding my cat while I slept in seems oddly… domestic.
“Now that I’m no longer bed-ridden, he doesn’t seem to have any affection for me,” Monster comments.
“He’s not clawing your eyes out. With most men, that’s Luci’s only form of affection. You’re lucky he ever let you touch him. Now, before I have a panic attack, what is it you want to talk about?”
“Eat first. I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
Which means that the topic is serious and unpleasant. Lovely. I shovel down as much food as I can, then lean back in my seat and stare at Monster. “Ready whenever you are.”
Monster nods. “We need to talk about your father.”
“No.” My answer is immediate. I don’t want to talk about that heinous man; I don’t even want to think about him.
“Scarlett.” Monster’s voice is firm. “It wasn’t a question.”
“No.”
“Okay, then. I’ll talk, and you can listen.” Monster gives me a pointed glare, silently communicating that there’s no avoiding this conversation. I release a sigh of irritation and lean back in my seat, consoling myself by petting my cat.
“The Nighthawks are raiding his territory next week,” Monster says.
“I won’t be joining the raid, since I’m not yet ready for field work.
My unit will be staying here to hold down the fort in case of any retaliation.
Now, if there’s anything you can tell me about the Widower’s headquarters—anything that’ll help the Nighthawks run a successful raid without casualties—I’d appreciate it.
I think one of the main things we have in common is a deep wish to see your father dead. ”
“It’s the only thing we have in common,” I snap.
Monster doesn’t rise to my bait. I sigh irritably, shaking my head. “Headquarters were on the neighboring property to my father’s house, but I never went there. He threatened to take me there when he was really pissed, but never followed through. I don’t know what I can tell you.”
“Anything,” Greyson says. “Anything that you think might help. No detail is too small.”
After a few moments of thinking, an unpleasant memory flashes through my mind. I’ve done my best to forget or suppress as much of my childhood as I can, but a few things stand out.
Such as… “There are tunnels underneath his house. They’re very old and used as secret passages. It’s possible they connect Luther’s house to headquarters. I can’t say for sure.”
I was never supposed to know about the tunnels, but I discovered them with Eric when I was very young.
After Luther killed my mother, I hid in them for nearly a week.
I thought I’d die down there—I think I might’ve wanted to die, but eventually, starvation and dehydration won out over my wish to just slip away.
The person who left the tunnels was very different from the one who went inside them. Angrier, more volatile, no longer content to take what was thrown at me. For my gall to grow a spine, I got the gift of broken bones and severe isolation.
“Thank you,” Greyson says. “I’ll pass it on.”
I stare at Luci, who gazes right back at me. He blinks slowly, then pushes his head into my chest, nestling his ear right against my heart. If there is a divine power out there, I can only assume my cat comes from it—he’s been exactly what I need since the moment I found him.
“Scarlett,” Monster murmurs. I look up, meeting his eyes. They’re searching, filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on. It might be adjacent to empathy. “No child should have to grow up with that man. I can’t imagine what he put you through—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“—and I’m not asking you to. But I’m telling you that I had some pretty shit foster parents growing up, and they changed me fundamentally.
One of the most remarkable things about you is that despite everything you went through, despite everything you endured, you are who you are.
You chose to build yourself up. You chose a different path than your father. ”
My eyes start to sting with tears. I wish desperately that what he’s saying was true, but… “I am like him. He killed someone who loved him with every broken piece of her. I callously poisoned you and left you for dead.”
Monster’s eyes soften. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, standing from his seat and approaching me.
He pulls my chair out, swivels it to face him, and sinks to his knees in front of me.
“Flower, you didn’t think you had a choice, and you didn’t go through with it.
I was so angry with you for that stunt at first…
but it didn’t take long for anger to turn into admiration.
You chose survival even when you knew it’d have devastating impacts.
And you didn’t leave me for dead.” I look away; Greyson puts two fingers under my chin and directs my gaze back to him.
“You gave me the antidote, even though it put you in danger. You managed to keep your morality and do what you had to do. I don’t begrudge you that.
” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Not after what I did.”
“You have a very rose-colored-glasses view of me,” I reply softly. “You told me you loved me, and I tried to kill you. You were right when you said I have tainted blood in my veins—”
Greyson presses his fingers to my lips, gently silencing me.
He shakes his head slowly, maintaining eye contact.
Now, his gaze burns with ferocity, a soul-deep conviction.
“I was wrong when I compared you to your father,” he says firmly.
“You’re nothing like him, Scarlett. You’re good.
You might do bad things, but you’re a good person.
You have a good soul.” His lips thin. “I don’t think Luther has a soul. ”
“He doesn’t,” I whisper. Nobody with a soul could beat a little girl or their loving wife. They wouldn’t use torture to morph their son into whatever they wanted him to be. They wouldn’t treat their family with the same cruelty they showed the rest of the world.
“But you do,” Monster murmurs. “I’ve felt it.
Seen it. Don’t you dare ever think you’re as bad as your father, Scarlett, because you aren’t.
You never will be. There’s nothing you could do to put yourself on level ground with him, because at the end of the day, you’re still a human. He’s… something else altogether.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I gaze at him. When he moves to brush it away, I speak. “How can you say that? How can you look at me with any affection? I’m the daughter of the man who killed your twin.”
“As far as I’m concerned, he’s your sperm donor and nothing more,” Monster replies simply. “You’re not anything to him. You’re everything to me.”
An odd, melancholy, bittersweet feeling fills my chest. It’s a mixture of sadness and… belonging. I’ve never felt this way around Greyson before, but…
We’re both broken souls. Is it really so surprising that we found each other? Unconventional, twisted, and cruel as our… relationship has been, it’s also profound. No matter how I feel about it, there’s no denying that.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Greyson tilts his head to the side. “For what?”
“For not equating me with my father. Sometimes, even I put myself in the same category as him.”
“Not anymore,” Monster says. “Not while I’m here.
I’ll remind you that you’re nothing like him as often as you need.
Even more.” He leans in, deftly avoiding Luci’s attempt to swat him away, and presses a kiss to my lips.
Then, he stands and surveys my plate. “Finish what’s on there, and try for another serving of eggs.
You need the nourishment after last night. ”
And, just like that, our sweet moment is broken… but the return to our standard of normal doesn’t feel quite as harsh as it did before.