Our Monstrous Hearts (Rose Falls Book 1), page 1
Our Monstrous Hearts
Delilah Thorne
Contents
Author’s Note
Content Warnings
Playlist
I. The Offering
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
II. The Devouring
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Our Monstrous Hearts
Published by Delilah Thorne
https://www.delilahthorneauthor.com/
Copyright © 2026 by Delilah Thorne.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for the use in brief quotations in reviews. For permission requests, contact delilahthorneauthor@gmail.com
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. Any resemblance with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is entirely coincidental.
No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this publication in data mining, to train AI technologies to generate text, including, without limitation, technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication.
Cover design by Jaqueline Kropmanns
Edited by Brittany Tiegs - www.threedarkmoons.com
Interior Design by The Bloodied Soul Creative
You must bounce on it…crazy style.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Our Monstrous Hearts is an erotic horror romance that does include an unconventional happily ever after. This book contains dark themes and explicit sexual content. All on-page sexual scenes between the main characters are consensual. To help you decide if this book is suitable for you, I’ve included detailed content warnings on the next page.
Content Warnings
Allusions to necrophilia
Arranged marriage of a minor-aged character to an adult character (historical)
Brief mentions of child abuse (historical)
Body horror
Domestic abuse (historical and on page)
Emotional trauma
Explicit death scenes
Explicit sexual scenes, including anal, oral, and penetrative
Group sexual activities
Heavy gore, including mentions of bodily fluids, decapitation, dismemberment, exploding body parts, and paranormal creatures eating humans
Kinks, including blood play, pain kink, and primal play
Scenes with blood, including blood drinking, blood play, menstruation, and period sex
Sex over a dying body
Sexual assault
Suicidal ideation
Questionable use of bones
Playlist
Nobody’s Home – Avril Lavigne
Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) – Kate Bush
labour – Paris Paloma
Easier than Lying – Halsey
Lilith - Saint Avangeline
Skin and Bones – David Kushner
Which Witch – Florence + the Machine
As The World Falls Down – David Bowie
Deathbeds – Bring Me The Horizon
notre dame – Paris Paloma
Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? – Taylor Swift
Take Me Back To Eden – Sleep Token
Heart-shaped Box – LÖNA
Spiracle – Flower Face
Nightmare – Halsey
Ivy (Doomsday) – The Amity Affliction
Bloody Mary – Lady Gaga
Part One
The Offering
Chapter I
The Monster
Seven years earlier…
Crack.
The femur bone snaps between my teeth, the sound penetrating the silence of Deadwood Forest as I gnaw at it. I slurp the marrow out, a rumble of pleasure rattling my chest as my tongue molests the cavity, seeking out the almost beef-like flavor I crave. I will not allow even one drop to escape me. It is a delicacy I savor.
After sucking the bone dry, I carelessly throw it behind me, setting my sights on the remainder of my victim.
Humans are useful for very little, but their meat and bones make the process of devouring them exquisite. Consuming their remains does not sustain me nearly as much as drinking their blood, but hunger festers within my stomach regardless of my meal; my appetite cannot be sated, and I am weakened for it. In my quest to satisfy the gluttony that ruins me, I acquired the taste for human flesh, as destroying them in the worst ways pleases me—an interest to keep me occupied through my eternal life.
The man below me is frozen mid-scream, his torso ripped open by my claws, cracked ribs protruding outwards like spikes. Crimson blood that I was too slow to imbibe soaks into the soil, leaving black knots.
My head snaps up, ears twitching as I listen carefully to the sound of leaves crunching. The forest whispers the disturbance of sinners, and then I hear them, faintly. Human voices.
How peculiar.
They must be from the nearby village. Rose Falls: a quaint name for a terrible place. They usually avoid entering my woods if they can for fear of what haunts the area.
Tales of my existence are whispered throughout the town like a folktale. Grandfathers and their great-grandfathers before them echo warnings to their children: Beware the nightwalker.
I am known as a monster that lurks and hunts, feasting on the bones of men, befouling women and abducting children. During the decades I spend in hibernation, my name becomes little more than a myth—a tale men use to teach their sons to kill and their daughters to obey.
Just beyond the edge of the forest they believe protects them, the melancholia of my castle looms heavy. To see its terrifying splendor properly, the humans would need to come close, but a thick fog of uncanny disorientation surrounds the town, dissuading them from any such venture. They tell one another about seeing and hearing strange things in the mist, of apparitions of loved ones long gone and gruesome beasts with three heads.
In another time, the castle would have been fit for kings and queens. Now the walls crumble, and it is believed to house a monster.
Me.
My hands thrust into the mangled ribcage before me, drowning in the warm intestines that slosh and squelch around. With a deep breath, I revel in the heady aroma before cupping my palms together to create a bowl. Bringing the slurry of offal and blood to my lips, I slurp it down with delirious abandon, groaning in ecstasy while slowly congealing fluids drip down my chin. Truly delectable.
The flutter of hurried steps through decaying leaves draws a frustrated sigh from my lips. The humans draw ever closer, deeper into the darkness, and unwittingly nearer my tableau of depravity. I will need to abandon my feast lest I be discovered, and that displeases me.
Their too-small lantern struggles to luminate the path ahead, shadows contorting into twisted portraits as the forest endeavors to devour them whole.
My head tilts as I assess them like the prey they are, the stench of blood on my hands and mouth urging me towards bloodlust. Years of surviving on the edge of starvation means that I can control these urges, but my nostrils flare at the thought of how indulgent, almost hedonistic, it would be to take them all.
With a sharp gaze I track their movements towards me. The townspeople seem ill-equipped, but they are making this journey anyway. They are bold to come here, which intrigues me. It is…odd.
“My, my. What little lambs wander into the wolf’s den,” I rumble quietly to myself.
My hand reaches out towards the darkness as I will tendrils of shadows to ascend my arms, twisting as they move to shroud my body. These shadows are a part of me as vital as blood. They are of my very essence, and allow me to travel between places or to skulk within corners of gloom. My vision blurs before clearing, allowing me to see that which otherwise is hidden.
The tenebrous night embraces me and I settle within it, out of sight. The travelers come to stop a few feet away, prompting my body to go preternaturally still, a perfect statue designed to observe unnoticed.
“Here should be far enough,” announces a man’s voice, followed by the laughter of his friends.
I creep closer to see that the group is made of three middle-aged men and a young woman who looks barely of age. As long as they remain in a group, they are safe from me, as I am not yet in my strongest state. My stomach growls in anger at the thought of the fresh blood pumping through their veins being out of reach.
I could take my leave, dragging my feast back to my lair, but my feet stay planted, compelled to watch what happens—drawn to observe this moment, as though my body knows it will change everything.
“Please,” she whispers to one of them. I do not miss the sight of her torn clothes or the dried blood crusted under her nose. My head tilts again as I study her. Her skin is the color of moonlight, which makes the bruises left by wandering hands bloom on her body like watercolor paint. She is beautiful, an angel fallen from heaven itself.
“This is whatcha get for sayin’ no, Cassandra.” His words are quiet, but the threat is unmistakable. Something I do not recognize flares within me as my hands clench into fists, my talons slicing my palms.
He toys with her chestnut-brown hair as the others tie her to a tree. Cassandra winces at the way the sisal fibers cut into her skin, and the man smirks, seeming to take pleasure from her pain. I can see from here how tight the rope is, and knowing it must hurt stokes an unexpected anger in me. I want to rip out their throats.
“Five dollars that she don’t make it through the night, Clayton. You’ll need a new wife,” the second man says with a sneer.
The third slaps his shoulder, laughing. “Do we reckon a wolf or the monster will eat her?”
My eyes narrow. How dare they speak of me.
Face turned towards hers, Clayton ignores his friends in favor of jeering at the woman. “If you make it through the night, we’ll come take you home in the morning.” Clayton grips her throat, digging his fingers in to cut off her circulation, and her hazel eyes pop wide with panic. “Next time, I won’t be so easy on you, little girl.” Clayton hisses the words before he lets go, stepping back.
“Night, Cassie!”
“Sleep tight!”
Their vitriol follows them as they carve their way through the night, leaving Cassandra with only the eerie sounds of Deadwood Forest to keep her company.
And me.
Cassandra peers through the inky black of the forest that surrounds her, though I know her human eyes cannot see anything.
She does not yet know that she does not need to see, because I will keep watch until the sun rises. Cassandra is no longer alone.
An everlasting knowing settles within my bones—our souls were destined to collide. Inescapably, she is mine.
Chapter II
Cassandra
Present day
Glass shatters, the sound of violence reverberating through the air as pain slashes against my arms.
If anyone were listening, I wouldn’t ask for the abuse to stop. I would ask for death. It’s the only way I’ll find peace, because I am not built for the world into which I’ve been condemned. Others have made me suffer more pain than I can bear––there is no other way out.
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare blankly at my husband, my hands hidden below the surface of the wooden dining table, secretly tearing at my nails so that I’m able to remain stoic. What has happened already isn’t the worst of his outbursts, which I know means it’s far from over.
“You’re a useless, worthless bitch, Cassie,” Clayton screams, spit spraying from his mouth.
He throws another plate, our dinner flying off to splatter around the room. The plate shatters against the wall behind me, and I clench my body, every muscle wound tight in an effort not to flinch. Clayton likes it when I’m scared. The fear feeds him, fueling his descent into rabid fervor.
I glance down, tracing the knife gouges in the wood. Every mark holds a memory, like the time Clayton severed the tip of my finger while playing a drunken knife game. It wasn’t a game that I wanted to play, but I had no choice. I never have a choice where my husband is concerned.
Though my heart races, urging me to flee or fight, all I can feel is a debilitating numbness weighing me down in my chair.
After the tenth time I’d been hit, the harsh lessons were carved into my soul, and it was easier to keep myself like this. Empty and lifeless on the inside. A walking, living corpse. It also meant that I could wake up each morning to the sun taunting me with its warmth and radiance, and do everything Clayton wanted, while still hating my life and myself.
Clayton and Cassie—we were meant to be perfect together.
I believed I would have a happily ever after on the arm of the most charming man to ever visit our village.
The first time I met him was the day he took off his wide-brimmed hat while standing on my father’s run-down, rotting porch and asked to marry me. Clayton held that hat in his hands earnestly, looking at me with warm, honey-brown eyes that sold stories of love in starlight. After a life of being ignored, I was instantly enamored. It didn’t matter that his family would pay for me, or that I was much younger and being promised to a much older man. Clayton wanted me.
Like all those stories of fearless heroes saving the damsel in distress, he rescued me from my terrible life, whisking me away to this small town with the kinds of extravagant promises that make young girls disregard warning bells.
When he smiled at me under the arches of holy matrimony and told me that he would love me and keep me safe—until death do us part —I believed him. My naïve younger self thought perhaps I had suffered enough through childhood with a distant mother and a violent father, and that I was finally getting the happy ending I had earned.
That we would get to know peace and love.
Blistering pain burns through my scalp, brutally ripping me from the thoughts that I had become lost in. My eyes widen in horror as Clayton forces me off my chair, my hair coiled tightly around his fist. Shards of glass split through my skin and embed in my shins like shining jewels.
A cry escapes me before I can push it back inside, not wanting to give Clayton the satisfaction of hurting me but being unable to totally suppress it. He is sadistic in how much he craves my tears, to see me broken. Keeping my true feelings bottled up is the only power I have over him.
Yet even now, I lose my hold, and tears quietly slip down my face.
“One day, I’m gonna kill you,” Clayton snarls, anger radiating from him. His sweat-slicked hands dig into my skin as he forces me further against the floor in an attempt to raze my spirit and pulverize my flesh. My body contorts at unnatural angles, my limbs precariously bending, threatening to snap like twigs when my cheek grazes the glass.
Kill me now, kill me now, kill me, please. I just want to be free.
It's ironic. Days like this always start with an amber, golden glow rising. With birdsong greeting me as I wake, and with warmth in the air as I take in the scent of blooming flowers in pretty shades of dandelion, coral and lilac.
A perfect day for an externally perfect life.
But I know there is no escaping Clayton. Not when he would drag me back by my hair, humiliating me in front of the entire town in the process. And behind closed doors, he would be worse. Clayton would force me to do things that I didn’t want and serve out every kind of punishment that he could think of when I attempted to resist.
No, I know the outcome––know it isn’t worth it––because I had tried to escape, and failed. There was a time when I hoped for something better, a dream I was willing to fight for. Not anymore, though. Dreams aren’t something that I can afford to believe.
“I hope you do,” I say softly, my words resigned and muffled by the wooden floor.
‘‘What was that, huh?” He yanks my head back so that I can see his face reddening with rage, harsh frown lines dig into his aging skin, grey stubble peppering his chin. I give him only apathetic silence before Clayton slams my face once more against the ground.
The scream that leaves me is bloodcurdling. My hands fling out frantically, not wanting to fight Clayton but to defend myself from any further attacks. I squeeze my eyes shut, whimpering as his hot breath blows against my face.
“Think you can talk back to me, whore? Keep your fucken’ mouth shut. You don’t speak unless I ask you a goddamn question.”
Don’t make a sound, don’t make a sound. The words repeat themselves over and over as I bite hard on my bottom lip, drawing blood. All I want is for Clayton to leave me alone.
