An Inheritance of Monsters, page 13
The waves of the sea felt just as real as sleeping in my bed. The lights of the sea and Zirin’s tentacles were brighter and more vivid than the sun itself.
It was like walking through a dream, but I couldn’t wake up—I had to wait for night to get back to what felt true.
But even my longing to return to the Void couldn’t entirely erase my fears. I found myself drifting towards the wing with Mrs. Marsh’s private room, wanting to look closer at the photos of smeared faces, and Sierra bumped into me while I drifted.
“We were going to film the drop-stairs,” she said irritably, sweeping past me. “It’s this way.”
I blinked, feeling sluggish and slow. We had been heading that way, intending to cover Aston Clarke’s death… and I’d completely forgotten.
I found that I was starting to not care if this show got made at all.
What did it matter? It was nothing but dressed-up rumors, using gossip to amp up the drama and bring in more viewers.
None of them wanted to hear the real story. None of them cared about the people who had lived their entire lives here or what had caused their lives to be given over to an eldritch other-world.
They only cared to hear about their gory deaths, to gasp over titillating details.
Spirit Squad had been started as a way to seek out the truth, and in time, it had gotten twisted.
We were so caught up in digging up whatever would bring in an audience that we’d forgotten there were stories beneath the stories.
Stories nobody would dare tell.
I followed Sierra up the grand staircase, feeling heavier and heavier with each step. Everything began to look oddly misty as we ascended, and I blinked, wondering if it was my eyes or something more, but Sierra was acting completely normal.
We found the doors marked with the spike of orange tape Crispy had left behind, and Sierra paused with her hand on the door.
I blinked again, and the mist seemed to condense.
These were no ghosts, not in the way I had ever seen them before. A man and a woman, dressed in old-fashioned clothes and arguing intensely at the top of the stairs, standing around Sierra, in her.
It was like watching a black-and-white movie superimposed over my crewmate as she carefully pushed one door open…
And the shadowy man flung one open as well, grabbing the woman by her arm and dragging her to it. She clawed at him, hair coming loose as she screamed at him soundlessly.
He snapped back, veins in his forehead popping, the white of his knuckles standing out from the force of his grip. I couldn’t read his lips, but I could read the blind hatred in his eyes.
Aston Clarke… and Beatrix Marsh. Not ghosts, but a figment of the past.
His voice seemed to waver up from a deep well, spitting words like bullets. “...will marry me and deed the manor in my name, you bitch. By all accounts, you are a bastard child—not even a true Marsh. Your mother was a lying whore.”
Beatrix’s voice was just as hollow, but passionately furious. “I would rather die and burn in Hell than give you my inheritance. You’re a snake, full of poison, just like my uncle. All of you are. But I am a Marsh, my mother’s true daughter, and I will not bow down to you.”
Aston’s eyes glittered. “Allow me to grant your wish, darling. I will have this island, one way or another.”
He moved to fling her beyond the doors, to the drop that would lead to her death—
But an unseen something tore Beatrix from his grasp. She cried out, wrapping her arms around whatever it was…
And that invisible force smashed into Aston, his eyes wide with horror. The apparition vanished through the doors, blown through them like he’d been hit by a train.
I blinked, gasping for breath, and saw nothing but Sierra staring at me from the top of the stairs.
The apparitions were gone.
“What is wrong with you?” she asked, sneering down at me.
I couldn’t breathe, my chest drawn tight as a vise. I leaned against the staircase railing, trying to piece it together.
Aston hadn’t walked into that death trap. He’d been flung there, after threatening Beatrix’s life.
Maybe none of the men who had lived on this island had been suicidal… maybe they had threatened the women, and gotten on the bad side of something far older, and far stronger, than themselves.
“Juno?” This time, a hint of concern tinged Sierra’s tone. “Seriously. What’s going on?”
I came up with the only excuse I could think of that she wouldn’t laugh at or call me a liar for. “Getting sick. I’ve had a cough since the storm.”
“Hmm.” She twisted her lips, glancing back at the open door leading to nothing. “Okay, here’s the plan: you go sleep it off. I’ll set up the camera and record this part myself, if you’ve got the notes.”
Nothing sounded better, although I had no intention of sleeping. I slipped the script for this section from my notebook, gladly handing it over.
I didn’t care if Sierra became the face of Spirit Squad. Right now, she was welcome to it.
I had other places to be, where deeper mysteries beckoned.
She took the script with a satisfied smile, flipping through the pages. “Excellent. Look, Juno, this is good for both of us. Nobody takes me seriously right now, and this could really help my acting career. And you can split the workload with me, so you don’t have to bother to dress up all the time.”
I nodded, barely hearing her.
“It needs more… drama, though. You’re so dry sometimes, Juno. All fact, no juice. I’ll spice it up a little. They love hearing about gore.” Sierra whisked a small compact out of her bag, touching up her makeup. “You just go get some rest, okay?”
Once upon a time, that fake-sweet tone would’ve rankled my nerves.
Now I just got up, grateful that she was so willing to take my place.
“Good luck,” I breathed, and fled.
Back to my room, where I stowed my Black Book under my pillow once more for safekeeping.
The only problem was the daylight. I drew the heavy drapes, blocking as much sun as possible, but I knew the monsters were particular. Even a single ray of daylight might hold them back.
I stretched out on my bed, replaying the odd vision in my head and waiting for a presence to arrive, trying to do as Voraal had asked.
Trying to put the pieces together.
Although I now felt I knew what had happened to all the men ‘cursed’ by the island, there was still something I was missing.
It was like a small hollow in my mind, that empty space that would draw everything together for me.
And while I was waiting, I fell asleep.
Juno.
I sighed, a dream flickering at the edges of my mind. My entire body was heavy, sinking into the pillows.
Juno, come to me.
I’d been having a silly dream about riding flying pigs. A happy dream.
But somewhere along the line, it had changed, blurring from one image into another.
I dreamed of Voraal, of shadows spilling over me, of looking up into the sky of the Void, and a titan with eyes like supernovas looking back.
Of claws running over my skin.
The things I would do to you, he purred in my ear, shadows pinning my hands. In my dream, and distantly, in real life in my bed, I moaned and rolled over.
The things you would beg me for.
Shadows crept over my body, caressing every inch of skin. I sighed as one slipped across my lips.
Come, Juno. I will show you.
I was vaguely aware of rising from my bed, legs dropping over the side. I hit the floor and weaved drunkenly to the closet as the doors slid open.
On the other side of that doorway, all my dreams could come true.
I stepped through, my dream changing shape around me again. The Void was brilliant as I stepped through the darkness onto warm stone, and that was when I realized I was no longer dreaming.
I had sleepwalked my way into the Void. Into a temple built by mad gods.
Spires and columns rose around me in a massive circle, and dark sand blew over the black stone. Pale runes glowed underfoot, lighting up when I stepped on them.
I laughed softly to myself.
Not even in sleep could I escape the call of the Void.
“I figured it out, Voraal.” My voice echoed off the spires, bouncing back at me across the temple. “Or at least enough to understand… I am not the only woman to come across you before.”
Between the columns, outside the temple, something enormous shifted on the sand.
A massive being, eyes glowing so hot I had to turn my face away.
But the shadows condensed, the being disappearing, and Voraal slid from behind a column. “Not me… but the other V’uthli. My predecessors.”
Inside me, a tiny bubble of tension popped. I’d wondered if Voraal had ever claimed another human as a mate.
“None of the histories are true, are they?” I asked, watching him slide between columns as he wove closer to me.
“They are stories… rumors, conjecture, and outright lies.” Voraal vanished behind one column, and reappeared across the temple a moment later, his eyes fixed on me with predatory focus.
I let my gaze run over him hungrily, taking in his towering body and heavy cock.
The understanding warped everything I knew of this place. The stories were wrong.
And I would eventually discover how wrong… but only after I had claimed my own monsters, like every other Void-marked woman on Duskwood.
I took a step further into the temple, my gaze tracking him as he vanished. “We could have our own story.”
A breath across the nape of my neck warned me of where he was. I shivered as he bent over me, his shadow eating mine.
“Despite what I am?”
He held up a clawed hand, the shadows playing between his fingers. Darkness slipped across my eyes, completely blinding me, and I felt large, warm hands on my shoulders.
“Despite what I could do to you?”
Closing my eyes and letting the dark consume me, I leaned back against him. “Because of what you are. Because of what you could do to me. And I trust you wholeheartedly.”
I let my hands roam upwards, feeling the hard muscles of his forearms. I didn’t try to pull his hands from my eyes, but arched against him.
His form was solid. I felt what I wanted pushing against my ass, hot and throbbing.
“You have two mates,” he whispered in my ear. “With each step you take, you bind yourself to the Void still more.”
“I know,” I breathed, my breath hitching as his hands slid over my face, stroking my cheekbones and chin, and moved lower. “I’m not afraid of you, Voraal. I’m not afraid of the Void.”
His hands cupped my breasts, squeezing them. They felt so heavy in his grip, my nipples hardening under the graze of his thumbs.
“Show me the things you would do to me.” My nails dug into his arms, making him squeeze harder. “Show me how you’d make me beg.”
Voraal let out a hissing breath, his horn-crowned head bowing to my shoulder. His hips moved against me lightly, when all I wanted was more.
“I will make you beg, beautiful girl.” His voice was rough with lust as those claws scraped over my nipples. “And if it cannot be undone, so be it. You are mine.”
Chapter 18
Juno
“I am yours.”
I breathed the words, twisting my hips against him, shuddering as his lips found the tender spot between my neck and shoulder.
His fangs grazed my skin, just threatening to break the surface. The hands around my breasts tightened, kneading roughly.
A low growl escaped him, and he swiftly dragged one hand downwards. The sound of fabric ripping reached my ears.
He released my breasts to slide the remains of my shirt over my shoulders, tossing it aside, and I felt the monster begin to kneel.
He groaned as his mouth moved over my shoulders, his tongue running down my spine as he went to his knees. My flesh tingled everywhere he touched, liquid heat building in my core as he paused with the warm wetness of his mouth at the base of my spine.
Claws delicately pressed into the dimples on my lower back, tracing downwards as he hooked them into my leggings.
He slid them down my legs, kissing his way the backs of my thighs, his mouth pressing harder, fangs scraping.
I stepped out of the leggings obediently once they were puddled around my ankles, standing in front of him completely exposed, his hands running over me and tongue tasting my skin.
His hands left my ankles, running back up my thighs, and he pressed another kiss to the small of my back, a tiny tingle of pain shooting through my nerves as a fang broke skin.
Voraal licked the spot gently, his mouth trailing upwards over the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist. His hands slid upwards to cup my breasts again, thumbs roughly fondling me.
My back arched as he moved upwards to suck at the skin of my shoulders, threatening another bite.
I moaned with him, grinding against his erection as he rose to his feet again.
“Look at me,” he demanded, a hand rising to grip my throat and tilt my chin upwards.
I stared upwards into eyes like silver fire. He no longer sounded refined or careful; the monster within him was just beneath the surface, threatening to break out.
“I will never release you.” His claw ran down the line of my throat, leaving a tingling trail behind. “From this moment on, you belong to me, body and soul.”
“I belong to you,” I repeated obediently, gasping as he slowly moved the claw over my clavicle, dragging it tip over my swollen nipples.
He paused, the claws dimpling the flesh of my breasts. “These,” he murmured, “are mine.”
The claws traced my waist, curving to follow the flare of my hips, his lips on my shoulder. “This is mine.”
I held back a whine of need as he cupped my pussy.
“And this is mine,” he snarled against my ear, fingers tightening. They parted me, the smooth pads of his fingertips brushing my wet core.
“Yours,” I whimpered, sucking in a breath as he slid his finger up to glide over my clit.
I raised my arms over my head, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tighter. His cock throbbed against my ass, his breathing heavy as he ground against me.
I wanted him inside me, but I was still a little afraid of how big the monsters were.
They would tear me apart if I tried to fuck them now. Voraal might not have a knot, but his ridged cock was as thick as Rask’s.
I couldn’t stand the way he was fingering me, knowing he was going to make me come first, and I couldn’t even fuck him yet. But I could please him, too.
I forced myself to reach down, gently moving his hand away from that aching spot, and Voraal let out a sudden, displeased growl.
It was cut short when I turned, running my hand over his horns and down his cheek. “This is mine.”
His eyes flared brilliantly as my hand moved lower.
“This is mine.” My fingernails scraped across his broad chest, down the ridges of his stomach.
I gripped the thick base of his cock, squeezing lightly and earning a groan from him.
“This is mine.”
My hand couldn’t fit all the way around him. The hard nubs beneath his skin were smooth as pearls under my palms, and he watched as I stroked all the way to the tip of his flared crown, running my thumb over the beaded moisture.
He let out a low sigh, his head tilting back.
I slipped another hand around him, using both to slowly pump his shaft, and leaned forward.
My lips brushed his chest, gently at first, then I moved harder, laving my tongue over the smooth ridge of his pectoral muscle. He tasted like smoke and shadows, darkness on my lips.
A moan whispered out on a breath as I pushed closer, still pumping him while I dipped my head to run my tongue over his stomach.
The hard muscles flexed beneath my lips, and when I slipped a hand beneath his cock to cup his heavy balls, his hips bucked forward.
Claws gently tangled in my hair, raising my head from the V of his lower stomach.
Voraal kissed me hard, warm lips molding to mine. The purr in the back of his throat filled my mouth, and I ran my tongue over his lower lip, slipping it into his mouth.
The edges of his fangs were sharp, but he tilted his head, his tongue sliding against mine. That shadowy taste filled my mouth, making me crave more, and I opened my mouth wider to let him taste me.
I moaned, arching up against him and trapping his cock between us. My fingers massaged his balls, drawing more purring groans from him as he kissed me deeper.
But I wasn’t done. I wanted to give him every bit of pleasure I knew he’d give me.
I nipped his lower lip and his cock pulsed in my hand. Maybe because he couldn’t bite me without harming me, but he clearly liked the primal possession of my teeth in his flesh.
I kissed downwards over his chin, nipping at his throat, his shoulder, feeling his cock throb every time my teeth sank into him.
He was letting out growls with every breath as I worked my way down his stomach again, licking down the hard V that made me so wet.
The silky, hot skin of his cock brushed my cheek as I sank to my knees.
I looked up at him, my pussy aching at the sight of the titan towering over me, cockhead pearled and ready.
I wrapped my lips around the head, opening my mouth as wide as it could go.
It was still barely enough. He was so big I wouldn’t be able to get more than a few inches of him in my mouth, but Voraal’s rumbling groan made me try harder.
The thick muscles of his thighs tensed as I slid forward another inch, slipping my tongue against the soft underside of his shaft.
The nubs would feel fucking amazing inside me, I already knew it. I let my tongue run over them, probing and teasing, sucking away the pearled drops from the tip as I withdrew.
The sweet-smoky taste of him filled my mouth, and a ravenous hunger burst to life inside me.
The frustration was more than just not being able to have my pussy filled yet.
