GUARDED BY THE PHANTOM

Monster Security Agency

Layla Fae

Copyright © 2024 Layla Fae

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Barbara’s Epilogue

Phantom’s Epilogue

Afterword

Books In This Series

Books By This Author

DEDICATION

For every good girl who wants to go bad.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

My gorgeous Reader, welcome to another monster bodyguard romance! My, they are delicious, aren’t they? This one has pink frosting on top!

But even though this book is extra pink, it is also a slow burn and darkish at times. Don’t get me wrong, that tension keeps sizzling from the first pages—but Phantom and Barbara are such extreme opposites that it will take them a long time to finally come together.

That said, this book is so much fun. I can’t tell you how many times I kicked my feet in delight while I was writing it! This is mostly a romcom with loads of banter. I took the good girl/bad boy trope to the extreme here, and I love how it came out. I hope you’ll have a great time with this book, as well!

If you wish to avoid spicy content, steer clear of the following chapters: 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 31, and the epilogues.

Now let’s make sure this is a safe read for you. Some matters included in this book might be triggering, so make sure you’re good with the themes listed below before you dive in.

POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

TWs: parental abuse, disordered eating, self-image issues, death, torture, suicidal ideation.

All good? Let’s go!

CHAPTER 1

Phantom

I was one with the shadows in the dark hospital room. The only light came from the screens measuring the heartbeat and other functions of the sleeping girl. The very stupid, very fragile human girl who was my current pro bono case.

I knew why they gave it to me. This case had a solution—a quick, painless one, if I was in a generous mood—but most Monster Security Agency bodyguards insisted on doing things by the book.

They would have guarded the room respectfully, standing in the corridor outside, announcing their menacing presence to the world.

That wasn’t my method. I wanted my mark to think she was unprotected. Cowards like him only attacked weaker prey.

The beeping in the room grew marginally faster for a moment. The girl was in a coma, her only cause for excitement most likely being her dreams. I spared her a glance. She looked so young, her skin ashen against the white sheets, her body prone and defenseless. Her hair had been shaved off, angry lines of stitches marking the places where the surgeon had repaired her fractured skull.

Poor little bird.

A soft sound from the corridor outside drew my attention. The clock on the wall showed two forty-four. A perfect time for a coward to come forward and finish the job.

I was completely still, folded into the darkest corner of the room. I’d shed my clothes for this occasion, using my natural camouflage, which was superior to anything I could wear. The only thing I had to actively hide was my head, which was now painted the same matte, light-sucking black as my armor. My belt and weapons were black, too, perfectly melting into the shadows.

Even completely devoid of clothing, abominations were never naked. The protective carapace covering every inch of my body hid whatever nakedness I might choose to show, effectively shielding all my vulnerable places. Only a few types of armor-piercing bullets could damage it, and all blades glanced off.

As did the light.

My eyes were dark, deep-set in the bony sockets of my face—deep enough that they didn’t glisten. I didn’t move a muscle, my black blood humming calmly as I waited. To an untrained eye, I would be invisible. A mere shadow.

The door clicked open, a large, nervous hand clutching the edge as dimmed light from the corridor outside spilled into the room. I had to suppress a grin at the thought of how the fucker would scream if I slammed the door shut, breaking his fingers.

But making him piss himself was not the main goal here. I needed a valid reason for killing him to put in my paperwork. So I waited.

He slid into the room, a human male of over six feet, large and hunching. I watched him, all humor at the thought of slamming the door on his hand vanishing. While I didn’t remember the girl’s name, I knew his. Jordan Beck, a twenty-eight-year-old car mechanic, was currently a fugitive from the police and the reason why the girl needed my protection.

They had dated for over a year, starting when she was still seventeen. She kept it secret from her family, but once her parents found out and made a racket about her dating a man not only older by ten years but also having a prison record, she broke things off.

That was when he beat her into a coma.

And that, in turn, was the reason why I wasn’t going to gift-wrap him and send him to jail. Scum like this had no business staying alive and eating away tax money.

The door closed, the air thickening with his scent and the frenetic energy Jordan brought with him. I flexed my fingers, getting ready. Excitement surged in my blood, the thrill of the hunt drawing me seductively closer while he stared at the bed, completely unaware of my presence.

He felt so safe right now. He was the predator, the unconscious girl his prey. How pathetic.

I braced myself as he came closer. The sound of his breathing, harsh and fast, mixed with the faint beeping of the machines. He hulked over the narrow bed, breathing harder and harder, his gloved hands shaking.

When he reached into his pocket, removing a slim syringe, I held back a huff. Now, that was smart, the best way to get rid of her without arousing much suspicion. A thrill blazed down my back. Maybe he would pose a challenge, after all.

Maybe I’d have some fun.

“You won’t put me in jail, you bitch,” he spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re as good as dead, anyway.”

He uncapped the needle with shaking fingers and raised the syringe to the girl’s drip. The moment stretched, perfect and taut with possibility. Everything depended on my actions now. I literally ruled the girl’s life, and his, too, though none of them knew it.

I let the power of being in charge wash over me, flicking the tip of my tongue out to taste the swollen air. Jordan almost had the syringe notched in the port. He needed just two more seconds. Perfect.

With one leap, I sprang out of my hiding place and put my armored palm over his mouth, muffling his scream. The syringe clattered to the floor. He struggled in my hold, but I had him restrained at once.

One well-aimed strike to his temple was all it took to knock him unconscious.

“Bye, little bird,” I whispered to the girl, letting Jordan crumple onto the floor. I gripped his hands to drag him out. “Stay safe.”

I pulled his heavy body out of the room. He was a meaty fellow, taller than me by a head, but I didn’t mind the effort. I hummed under my breath as I dragged him over the linoleum of the corridor, the dimmed lamps lighting the way toward the service staircase. The steady shuffle of his feet gave a nice background to my song, and soon, I mouthed the words with a grin.

I so fucking hoped he was a fun one.

“She was a bombshell, I was a wreck,” I sang under my breath, pushing the door into the staircase open with my hip. My armor clicked against the cool polymer.

I went down three floors, holding his upper body while I let his legs fall down the concrete steps, his shoes thudding with an echo. I wasn’t careful at all. It would be fun to watch him limp while he ran away from me.

“But I kissed her, and I squeezed her, and I loved her all night long,” I finished the song, laughing under my breath as we finally came out into the crispy October night.

It was quiet, the alley we emerged into deserted at this time of night. I stopped just where I knew the cameras didn’t reach and dropped Jordan, letting him crumple in a pathetic heap. I lit a cigarette, prodding his unconscious body with my armored foot, but not too hard yet. I wanted to enjoy it for a few minutes.

The smoke curled over my head in lazy whorls. A tenacious moth beat against the lamp over the door, the clink of every hit mixing with the infrequent hum of traffic coming from the main road just outside the alley.

I shaped the smoke with my tongue, releasing a nicely formed heart, and sighed in bliss. This was why I loved this job. And the best was still ahead of me.

After three minutes of insistent prodding, Jordan finally stirred, groaning in pain.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” I said with a low laugh. “Look up at your prince.”

When he flipped heavily to his back, squinting up, I saw the exact moment when he took me in. His eyes widened in raw terror, his jaw falling open, and he stared, completely frozen from fear. He hadn’t seen me in the dark hospital room, so it was a shock.

My face was a naked skull, normally creamy white like finely aged bone, yet now, it was painted a matte black to complete my camouflage. I knew what he saw. Smooth planes of black bone, gaping eye sockets, a full set of grinning teeth set in a beautifully carved jaw.

I was pretty for an abomination, my cheekbones high, my outer teeth even, brow ridges prominent in a way that lent me an air of authority. But he wouldn’t appreciate my beauty, of course. He was too busy screaming from terror.

My jaw clicked as I opened my mouth, letting my tongue out to reinforce the effect. It was long, suited for catching prey like lizard tongues, meaty and triangular at the tip. It was also blood-red, giving the impression I’d just eaten some succulent raw meat. Jordan’s scream grew high-pitched as I licked some of the paint off my face, the tip of my tongue easily reaching my eye socket.

The acidic stench of urine filled the cool night air. I rolled my tongue back and laughed.

“Why aren’t you running, princess? Or would you like to get a kiss?”

The look of horror on his face grew even more grotesque, his eyes bulging, and I chuckled, giving him a moment. He scrambled clumsily to his feet and lurched into an uneven run.

“That’s pathetic,” I called out after him, taking one last drag from my cigarette before I flicked it away. “But I’ll take it.”

He ran so slowly, I could have had him within seconds, but that wasn’t the point. I jogged after him, making sure my steps echoed menacingly off the walls. Jordan sped up, letting out a gurgling scream.

“Help! Somebody! Please!”

I sped up to match his pace, my blood buzzing with the thrill of the chase.

“See? That’s how it’s done. You’re awake, running, able to scream. I gave you a fair chance. That’s what you should have done with your little bird, Jordan.”

My voice was low and measured. I wasn’t even winded from the pathetic pace while he wheezed, his body lurching as he tried to get away from the inevitable.

We burst onto the main street, almost empty at this hour. The few cars that passed went well over the speed limit. I closed in on Jordan, not giving him a chance to get a stupid idea like trying to stop a car and get help. I was right on his heels, following the stench of terror and urine.

“You didn’t even let her run from you,” I said softly, knowing he’d hear me. I was almost on top of him. “That’s cowardly, Jordan. You know what I like to do with cowards?”

He whined like a hurt animal, making me laugh viciously. Bloodlust pounded in my ears, my body primed by the chase. It was akin to arousal, pooling in my loins and pounding with pleasant anticipation.

I’d see him bleeding. Soon.

“I like to carve them into fancy shapes,” I said, patting the knife at the belt sitting snugly around my hips. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know. Some might say I’m an artist.”

“Why are you doing this?” he wheezed out with a whimper when I ran a finger down his spine.

He flinched away from my touch. The black tip of my finger glistened with his sweat.

We were step to step, and it was like a dance. My footsteps echoed his, and as soon as his foot lifted off the ground, mine fell in the same place. We almost touched with every move, air hissing between our bodies. It was beautiful. The symmetry delighted me, and even though I could easily grab him, I let myself enjoy this a bit longer.

Terror poured off him in waves, whetting my appetite.

“Think of me as a cleaner,” I said with a laugh. “I’m the one who takes out the trash.”

Jordan stumbled with a gasp, falling forward. Before he hit the ground, I grabbed him around the middle, pressing his overheated, sweaty flesh to me. I dragged him into a dark alley, putting my hand over his mouth as he fought to get free.

“And unfortunately, it’s time. Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it. The true art lies in making every slash look necessary and quick while I take my sweet, sweet time with you. And I will. I’m in a huge book slump right now. You’re my only entertainment tonight.”

He screamed and begged against my palm, slobbering all over my intricate carapace, but I had a gag ready at my belt. I pulled it free and stuck the lump of fabric in his mouth so quickly, he didn’t even gasp.

“This stays in, or I’ll start with your balls,” I told him evenly when he tried to work the gag out with his tongue. I turned him, still restraining his hands.

His wide, gray eyes focused on my face and he whimpered, the sound muffled. I was no longer grinning. The bone of my face stayed in place, immovable as ever, but there were small muscles in the hollows and gaps in my skull, and I put them to good use, changing my expression as much as my physiology allowed.

Right now, I was deadly serious. Playtime was over.

“Good boy,” I praised him when he sobbed but didn’t move. “Now… Let’s say you broke free and I got you with my first slash in the back. Go on. Run.”

I turned him in the direction of the far alley mouth. When he didn’t move, I pushed him hard, and he stumbled into a lurching jog. I gave him a few seconds and pounced, slashing a long, beautiful line diagonally across his back.

He howled into the gag, falling to his knees in a shivering, pitiful heap. Blood oozed out of the slash in his hoodie .

“Good!” I said, coming leisurely over. Blood dripped from the black edge of my knife, and I flung it off, glancing at the pretty arc of droplets it made on the nearest wall. They glistened, red and fresh. The sight gave me a rush of giddy joy.

“Crawl away, Jordan. Now’s a good time. I’ll give you a minute.”

He sobbed, obeying clumsily. I cut him deep enough to hurt real good, and he moved with reluctance, slowing everything down. I was tempted to light another cigarette, but at this point, it would dilute my excitement. I’d have one after.

Jordan shook, his arm almost giving out while blood soaked deeper into his clothes. I lost my patience.

“Let’s say you somehow got to your feet. Go on. Stand.”

He struggled but did as I told him. It was remarkable, really. Humans obeyed so well once you broke them in.

This time, I cut as soon as he took a step. I slashed his arm, making blood gush down his hand until it dripped from his clenched fist. Jordan cried out but kept going, which was exactly what I wanted.

The alley mouth was much closer now. I had to wrap it up.

“And then, you got a burst of adrenaline. You felt cornered, so you decided to fight.”

He stopped, heaving and shaking, and I prowled closer.

“Go on, Jordan. Turn around,” I purred. “Face your destiny.”

He did. I took him in, his terrified face, slack mouth, wide eyes, and the tears wetting his cheeks. He was a sight. He also towered above me, but that only made it all the sweeter.

Just shy under six feet, I was often underestimated in fights. People thought height mattered, but when you were a killer since the age of nine years old, you quickly learned that size had nothing to do with it.

Take Jordan. Even faced with a girl in a coma, he still trembled and hesitated, talking himself into ending her. His size didn’t make him more dangerous than me, because he was a pussy.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked, folding my arms, the flat blade of my knife snug against my ribs as I held it loosely. “Come on. Take a swing. Make it a good one.”

He blinked at me, sweat pouring into his eyes and mixing with the snot running down his face. I huffed with impatience.

“Today, Jordan. Come on. Hit me. If you make me fall, I’ll let you live.”

That caught his attention. He tried to straighten, hissing when the movement hurt his wounds. He pulled his good arm back, shaking, and I stifled the urge to yawn. I already knew it would be a pathetic swing.

When he finally let his fist fly, I merely stepped back, just enough so his knuckles grazed my shoulder. I didn’t feel it through my armor.

“Do you call that a hit?” I asked, laughing at him. “Jordan, please. Even the coma girl could dodge this.”

He grunted, swaying on his feet, and swung again. This time, I didn’t make a show of avoiding him. Before his hand connected with my body, I jabbed up, hitting his elbow from below. I redirected his momentum hard enough to make him topple onto his back. He loosed a scream, instantly swallowed by the gag. I straddled him and pressed my blade to his throat.

“Guess I’ll have to kill you after all.”

Tears streamed from his eyes, and he made pathetic noises, begging me with intelligible words. I gripped his chin and turned his face this way and that, regarding him. The chase was good, but the whole experience was barely enough. Could I make it last a few more minutes?

As I resolved to carve him a few more new ones, my comm set buzzed, announcing an incoming call. I tsked and accepted.

“How’s your pro bono going?” Fatima, my superior, asked.

She was a djinn, and they were mostly nocturnal creatures, though she worked in the daytime, too. But it wasn’t unusual to hear from her in the middle of the night.

“Oh, you know,” I said, gripping Jordan’s head by the hair to raise it as far as it would go. “Sleeping like a princess.”

I slammed his head down into the concrete. It burst like a watermelon, his skull flattening as blood spread underneath. His face was slack, eyes empty. He was dead.

“And what was that noise?” she asked.

“Just some trash I had to take out. You know how it is. Got something for me?”

“Yes,” she said, and I heard papers shuffling. “But only after you’re done with the pro bono.”

“I think I’m done with it.” I couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off my face. “The threat is no longer in the picture. All perfectly above board, of course. He attacked me, so what was I supposed to do?”

Fatima sighed, the sound as dry as the sands of Sahara. “Oh, he attacked you? How convenient. Well, save it for your report, which I expect in the morning. Once you wrap up this case, come into the office, will you? I’ll fill you in on the new job.”

I stood up with a grunt, glancing one last time at the bloody remains of Jordan. There was a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. None of this had been enough, which worried me. This sort of experience used to sate my bloodlust for months to come. And now, I still itched for more violence, more baiting, another toe to toe dance, maybe this time with a competent adversary.

Yeah, this had to be it. Jordan had been too easy to control. I needed a real challenge. Something to truly excite me, grab me by the throat and shake up my world.

Hopefully, my next job would provide.

“Give me a hint?” I suggested, getting my black cigarette case from my belt. “Who’s my new sleeping princess to protect?”

I heard the frown in Fatima’s voice. “Now, that’s uncanny. How did you know? She’s a real princess, Phantom—or as close as you get without flying to Europe, I guess. Name’s Barbara Ashford-Kingsley, and she requires round-the-clock protection from none other than you. I know what you’ll say, and I’m not happy about it, either.”

I bristled instantly. “That’s Senator Kingsley’s daughter, isn’t it? I don’t work in the spotlight. I won’t do it.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Fatima growled. “Look, I know you’ll probably fuck something up and give us bad press. I’m ready to clean up your mess, whatever it is, but we have no choice. You’re the only person who can protect this girl. I’ll send you a video. You’ll change your mind after you watch it.”

She disconnected, and I lit my cigarette with a curse, waiting for the video to come through. Whatever it was, it better be good.

Because I’d rather volunteer as a nanny than be some spoiled princess’s lapdog bodyguard.

CHAPTER 2

Barbara

The video made me nauseous even though I barely understood what happened in it. I blinked at the phone my mother held in front of my face, the skin around her blood-red nails pale from how hard she gripped it. She just woke me up with a rough shake and showed me the screen.

The woman in the video—who looked exactly like me, not a hair out of place, even though I didn’t remember any of this—just finished talking. I didn’t fully understand what she said, my eyes still bleary. My mind reeled from the rough wakeup, desperately trying to understand what this was.

I watched as she stuffed food in her mouth. Handfuls of breakfast cereals that she swallowed half-chewed, making greedy moans of pleasure. She washed it down with soda and ripped two chocolate bars open, holding each in one hand as she bit off huge pieces, her eyelids fluttering as she moaned with her mouth full.

The video ended with her grinning into the camera, her face covered with goopy chocolate, her clothes ruined. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. My mother took her phone for a moment and shoved it in front of my face. It played again.

I sat up straighter, covering my mouth to hold back the urge to vomit.

“This has played in three major news stations this morning,” she said, her voice cool and mechanical, like it always got when she was furious. “It’s all over the internet. Viral, I believe, is the word. Apparently, no piece of media has spread this fast ever in the history of this country. You broke a record.”

When I looked up, her face was distorted in a sneer. She pursed her lips and gritted out, “Eyes on the screen, Barbara. Have the decency to face the consequences of your actions.”

I considered pulling my hand away from my lips to tell her I didn’t remember any of it, but the contents of my stomach roiled unpleasantly, and I didn’t want to risk it.

“Everything I worked for, everything your father worked for, is now hanging by a thread because of your little stunt,” she said, her voice gaining a vicious edge.

I flinched. My mother perfected the tone of cold wrath over the years of my life, but never before did she sound like this. I shivered, my face growing hot as the me on screen belched heartily and laughed.

Had I ever belched in my life before? Or moaned, for the matter? I didn’t think so. This wasn’t me. The woman in the video had completely different mannerisms, a different way of speaking and interacting with the camera. I didn’t send coy little glances like her. I didn’t smile like her, showing all my teeth with obvious cheer, because I wasn’t allowed to. My mother and Madame Alicia had trained me to smile and move just the right way.

I was supposed to be elegant. Silent. Always controlled.

The person in the video didn’t behave like me. And yet… she was me. She wore the exact same clothes I wore last night, dark pants and a dusty rose silk shirt, her hair coiffed into a low chignon. She was in a nondescript room, sitting on a couch, a plain wall behind her.

Now that I was a bit more awake, I tried to remember what happened last night and how it was possible for the video to exist. Raw panic churned in my belly when I realized I didn’t remember how or when I got home. A huge chunk of my memories was missing.

The video ended and started again. My mother put it on a loop.

“Please,” I said through my palm, my voice shaky and pitiful. “I don’t understand.”

“You were supposed to stay at home!” she hissed, shouting without raising her voice. She was good at scolding me quietly like this. “You’re not some commoner, Barbara, to go out as you please. You were supposed to clear that outing with me and bring an escort! None of this would have happened then.”

I blinked, my eyes growing hot as I watched myself wave my hands freely on the screen, speaking with vivacity I was never allowed to show in real life. Guilt crashed into me, but anger followed on its wings.

I was twenty-three. It was high time I started living like an adult, and that was the reason why I went out without telling anyone. I didn’t do anything reckless, just visited an art gallery opening with one of my ballerina friends. We drank fake champagne and viewed the blown-up photographs, talking, and no one paid us any attention. There weren’t any paparazzi on site, which helped me relax and really enjoy it.

And then… I didn’t remember. The last thing that stuck out clearly in my mind was a large, blurry photo of a messy bedroom, and then… This morning.

“I don’t understand,” I said again, fighting against the nausea rising in my stomach like a wave.

“Oh, please!” Mother snapped. “Will you stop saying that? It’s simple! You went out without permission and got yourself snatched by a mind manipulator! Now your father’s career is threatened. What do you not understand?”

“A… a mind manipulator?” I asked, my heart beating faster and faster until dark spots danced in front of my eyes. I felt faint.

“Yes!” she hissed. “That’s why your eyes keep twitching in there. It’s a subtle sign, but it’s there, and thank God! At least this will give the PR team a way out of this mess you made.”

“I… I made?” I asked, clenching my fists to keep myself upright. Hot and cold waves crashed down my spine, and the room seemed to spin.

Mind manipulator. Snatched. Mess I made.

“Yes, you!” she screamed, no longer bothering to keep her voice down. “You were out without an escort, Barbara! Don’t you get it? You let them do this! You gave them the opportunity to take over full control and make this disgusting video!”

“What…” I began, swallowing convulsively to keep back the contents of my stomach that threatened to spill. “What else? What else… did they do? I don’t remember.”

She reared back, confused, and finally took her phone away, shutting up my voice that sounded way cheekier than I’d ever allowed myself to sound when I was myself.

“Nothing that we know of,” she said stiffly, eyeing me with a frown. “You came back home after midnight. Norma was still up, she talked to you. Your clothes were stained, but apart from that, you seemed normal.”

She broke off, her posture growing rigid as she watched me. Her face did a strange thing, morphing through a sequence of expressions from worry, through annoyance, to impatience.

“Well, do you think anything is wrong with you?” she asked brusquely, clutching her phone.

I shook my head. My body felt normal apart from being bloated. I didn’t hurt anywhere. I didn’t even have a headache. The only thing that was wrong with me was the nausea, but that was caused by everything I just learned.

My mother huffed, rolling her eyes. “So you’re fine. Good. Pull yourself together. You’re going riding, I already let Maria in the stables know. When anyone asks you questions, you know what to say.”

I nodded, whispering, “No comment.”

She gave me one last once-over and nodded sharply. “Compose yourself, Barbara. You have to be strong, now more than ever. Ashfords and Kingsleys don’t bow before terrorists.”

She left my bedroom, and I ran to the bathroom to hurl.

I spent a long time hugging the toilet bowl and shaking as vile stuff came out of my mouth, burning my throat with acid. It was a good thing that it hurt, I thought, heaving as beads of sweat rolled down my spine. Pain was good. It helped me not to think.

Yet, when my stomach was finally empty, I had to stand up and face the music.

It still didn’t fully register with me. I’d been controlled by someone else, forced to say and do things I didn’t mean or want. I was recorded, and it was so utterly humiliating, I had no idea how I would force myself to leave the house. How did my mother expect me to go out there and face the paparazzi? It was beyond cruel.

The whole world saw me making rude comments about my father’s important work, smear chocolate all over my face, and belch. Everyone heard me moan sensually as I ate, and my heart wrenched at that. Somehow, it seemed even worse than the rest.

I could have handled belching alone. But the moans? It was just so unfair that the intimate sounds that should have been reserved for my first lover were public property now.

I felt stripped naked in ways that could never be undone.

My stomach heaved again, and I shook my head, throwing off my pajamas and stepping into the shower on shaky legs. I washed fast, knowing what I had to do next. When sudsy water swirled down the drain, I explored my body, looking for memories that weren’t in my head but might have been left on my skin.

With hesitant fingers, terrified of what I might discover, I traced every inch of me. I ran my fingers down my tender stomach, up my burning throat, down my hips and thighs, looking for bruises or sensitive spots.

Finally, I buried my fingers between my legs, certain I’d discover signs of intrusion, but everything felt normal. Untouched. It made me feel perversely disappointed, as if my mother was right. Since nothing happened to my body, it meant I was fine, didn’t it?

Who cared that my mind was raped?

I shut off the shower when tears crowded my eyes. I swallowed them back, every single one. I couldn’t cry. It would be visible even under makeup, and my mother wanted me to appear strong.

Ashfords and Kingsleys don’t cry.

No, we didn’t. And so I dried myself off, tightening all my muscles to stop them from trembling, and wrapped myself in a bathrobe.

I stopped in the threshold of my bedroom, taking in the space as my chest tightened. My room was too bright. It hurt my eyes with its light, and my soul—with its innocence. Decorated in creams and soft pinks, it used to be my haven, pure and full of light. But I was no longer safe, was I? Nor innocent.

I took my phone from where it lay on the bedside table and darted back in the bathroom. I settled in the dry bathtub and curled my spine against the cool porcelain. I found the video quickly, forcing myself not to look at the comments. They would be vile, and they’d make me fall apart, I knew. Even watching the video again was risky, but I had to see it without my mother looming above me. I had to know.

The woman on the screen looked at the person holding the camera, grinning loopily, but not in a way that suggested she was drunk. It was an open, genuine smile, the kind I very rarely wore, because it wasn’t the right type of smile. It wasn’t sufficiently demure.

Her pupils were blown wide, and there was a faint tick in the corner of her eye. Subtle signs of… the rape.

That was what it was. My mother would probably be appalled at me calling it that, but it was the only word that fit. I would use it, even if only in the privacy of my mind.

“I think my father’s current campaign is bullshit,” the mind-controlled me said, speaking with confidence and authority.

“He’s wasting time and money trying to regulate harmless foods millions of people in this country enjoy. He wants to overhaul the entire food production system because of a handful of falsified studies. Yes, they are all fake, and as his daughter, I know. He used to cheat at board games when I was a little girl, just so he’d win. I have no idea why so many Americans trust him!”

She rolled her eyes with exaggeration, like a spoiled teenage girl. All throughout this horrid speech, she waved her hands and gesticulated in a way I probably hadn’t done ever. Keeping my hands still and elegant had been drilled into me since age five.

When her left eyelid twitched hard, neither her smile nor her wildly gesticulating hands faltered. Whoever controlled her had her in a mental chokehold.

“He tells you it’s about the health of the nation, but it’s bullshit. All my father wants is to shut down companies that refuse to support him. And of course, since he’s a cheater, he had the data fabricated. What carcinogenic preservatives? Please! I eat products from Molson and I drink Fizzite soda every day!”

Dread pooled in my stomach as a small table laden with candy bars, sweet breakfast cereals, and purple cans of soda rolled in from the left, stopping against her knee. I knew what was coming, and it made me want to puke again even though my stomach was empty, everything already gone.

“But I have to do it in secret,” she continued with a conspiratorial smile, another expression I never wore. “My father is a snob and he doesn’t allow this type of food in the house. He has no idea how normal people eat, you know? He doesn’t even know how much food costs these days, and he wants to take away the cheapest, yummiest options on the American market. It’s a disgrace!”

She grabbed a handful of cookie-shaped cereal from an open bag and grinned into the camera. My insides twisted when she popped the entire fistful into her mouth, chewing crunchily as some spilled onto her blouse and gathered in her lap.

When she closed her eyes, releasing a sexual moan of pleasure, I cringed, my face burning from shame.

After the cereal came time for the chocolate bars. The me on screen wasn’t tidy or graceful while she ate. No, she stuffed fistfuls of chocolate in her mouth and washed it all down with loud gulps of soda, getting wet and dirty in the process. When she belched, I closed my eyes and hid my face in my knees, but thankfully, my eyes were dry.

When the video ended, I sat in the tub, biting the inside of my lip as I tried to figure out if there was anything I could do. I knew it was too late to stop the video from spreading, since it was already viral. And not just because of the things I said about my father. That alone would have made it breaking news, but the recording of me stuffing my face and belching was what must have made it spread like wildfire.

It went so hard against the image my mother and the PR team had worked on for years. Whenever I appeared in the media, everything was meticulously orchestrated to show me in just the right light. I was either riding Snowflake, dancing ballet for some kind of charity event, or standing demurely behind my father, an appropriate smile on my face.

I was always impeccable, always smiling, always silent. Just as my mother wanted.

Some magazines called me the it girl of the generation. They discussed my outfits every time I went out, theorized about what my morning routine looked like, published made-up Barbara Ashford diets and exercise regimens.

Well, all of that would end now. Starting today, all the media attention I got would be nasty and horrible. Every stumble, every mistake I made, would feed the hungry machine. I couldn’t stop it. I was the fallen princess.

Maybe there were some ways to mitigate it. The PR team would release a statement saying I was under the control of terrorists or something similar. There would be a huge, publicized investigation into whoever did this. But I couldn’t help with those things. All I was supposed to do was what I always did.

Smile. Wave. No comment.

When I slid quietly into the back seat of my car, I had myself under control so rigid, some of my muscles felt numb. When Victor, my driver, caught my eye in the rearview mirror, I gave him the best smile I could muster, which came out small and pitiful. All my resources were engaged, keeping the scream that lived in my chest from spilling.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, the lines around his brown eyes deepening in a worried frown.

I nodded, clenching my teeth as another wave of nausea swirled in my belly, still empty, because I couldn’t swallow even a bite of breakfast.

As we set out, slowly navigating through a horde of paparazzi camping in front of our gates, I bitterly thought how ironic it was.

My driver thought to ask me how I was, but my own mother didn’t.

CHAPTER 3

Phantom

She had to be on meds. That was my conclusion as I watched my new principal direct her horse in a gentle trot around the obstacles. She seemed almost serene up there in the saddle, her face relaxed, body perfectly in sync with the white horse.

Some powerful tranquilizers had to be at work, though maybe not. They would have impaired her ability and judgment. Which meant there was only one other option: she didn’t know.

I frowned. Could it be possible her folks didn’t tell her about the video? She was young and sheltered according to the file I got this morning. Barely twenty-three, she lived a fairytale life of horseriding and ballet, spending her days in her family’s mansion, her evenings at galas and charity events, sparkling with diamonds.

Destined for some kind of Prince Charming that would make the best match for her father’s career, she was, indeed, a modern princess.

Why, then, wasn’t she locked up in a tower? I wasn’t officially her bodyguard yet. I hadn’t signed the contract, because the lawyers who presented it added a long appendix of “Conduct Standards” that I refused to sign. Fatima negotiated with them while I was here. Watching the princess.

It wasn’t the usual way I did things. For one, I never looked too deeply into the principal before starting the job, because I was always more interested in the threat. Most jobs that landed in my lap were not general protection assignments. I got the clients who suddenly became threatened because they gained an enemy or a stalker.

What I did wasn’t just protection. I did the MSA’s wet work as bodyguard and assassin in one.

My main job was to neutralize threats, so that was what I focused on. Yet with Barbara, the target was too vague to be useful. I asked my assistant in the office to prepare me an in-depth report on mind manipulation, but that was barely the beginning.

My best bet was to lurk in the dark and get him when he came for the girl again. If he came for her. I really hoped he would, because then I could get him and be done with the job.

Fatima often joked I had commitment issues because I didn’t do long-term protection. My preferred method of protecting a client was to get rid of the threat permanently, so that was my goal here. I’d find those bastards. By the time I was done with them, not only would they not be able to control other people, they’d lose control over their own bowels, as well.

And Barbara would be safe.

I hissed softly, looking away from the graceful figure on the white horse. Barbara. That was another thing I never did, and it was learning their names. Like with my last pro bono. I still didn’t know her name and didn’t care to know it, because Jordan was my main focus, not her.

Now, I couldn’t help it. In the absence of a clear-cut target, I focused on my principal, and her name already sat in my brain like an unwanted weight.

A shadow moving next to a clump of bushes to my right caught my eye. I turned, squinting out from my hiding place in the shade of a large apple tree. A paparazzi crouched low behind the bush, fiddling with his camera.

I looked over at Barbara as she circled the show jumping course easily, warming up. I knew the stable had a stringent no-paparazzi policy. I only got in after showing the guard by the gate my MSA badge.

I looked back at the paparazzi. Technically, it wasn’t my job to protect her yet, and he was most likely harmless. Mind manipulators needed direct eye contact, which he wouldn’t get. Man just wanted a picture.

And yet.

I glanced at the young woman, so perfectly seated, not a hair out of place under her helmet. She came here because the stable didn’t let in the paparazzi. And even if she didn’t know about the video, I did, and I couldn’t imagine the commentary under the riding picture would be kind.

They would tear her to shreds. Right after she was force-fed on screen and humiliated publicly. For an unfathomable reason, it made my mouth salivate with the need to bite, shred, and mutilate.

The unsuspecting paparazzi moved deeper into the shade of the bush, frowning and cussing softly as he fiddled with the huge lens. I stared at him, my fingers twitching. I just realized something, and it made my hidden skin itch.

Fuck. I cared.

It was all because of Fatima’s scheming, I knew. She was one of the few people who knew my full story, and so she’d rightfully guessed that video would move me to take the case. Because how could it not? I knew what it was like to be exposed to public humiliation. To lose control over your body and fate, being at the mercy of another.

The people who had done it to me were dead, and it was all over, and yet, as I watched Barbara’s eyelid twitch in a futile fight to regain her control in the video, it reminded me of that time.

It was why I was here instead of back in my den, sleeping my night off. It was why I wanted to squeeze the paparazzi’s head until it burst like a melon.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath, shooting the riding princess a baleful glare. “Look what you’ve done.”

When the paparazzi straightened, satisfied with his camera, I was already moving on bent knees. As he raised it to take a photo over the edge of the bush, I slapped the back of his head, making him drop the camera and cry out.

“Hey, handsome,” I murmured into his ear, putting my hand over his mouth as I tackled him to the ground. “Who let you in?”

He released a muffled scream, but there was no one around to hear him. Barbara’s trainer stood by the course, instructing her, and the rest of the staff were busy elsewhere.

“There’s no need to scream, baby. We’re all friends here,” I said with a grin, enjoying the man’s futile struggle.

He was tall and slim, a runner rather than a bodybuilder, and he stood no chance. The monster inside me, the one that got off on games and pain, raised his head. Barely fed last night, he was ready for another meal.

Pity I had no reason to kill the paparazzi. Not on the job, at least. I briefly considered dragging him somewhere into a quiet corner behind the stables to play some more… But no. The day I crossed that line would be the day I became the very thing I hunted—a true monster.

I had to have a good reason to kill. Always.

“I’ll ask again,” I said softly while the man tried to twist in my hold, “and when I remove my hand, you will tell me. If you make a loud noise, even if it’s a fucking sneeze, I’ll squeeze your balls until they burst. Who let you in?”

He fell silent, his hot breath penetrating through my armor. I waited for a few seconds, letting my threat fully sink in, and slowly uncovered his mouth.

“G-Gary,” he wheezed out, trembling. “We’re friends.”

“No, you’re not. Not anymore,” I said, covering his mouth again. “On your way out, be so kind as to inform Gary he’s being sacked because of you, will ya? That’s a good boy.”

I patted the top of his head and stood up, putting my foot on top of the camera. The paparazzi reached for it, hesitated, and finally stood up, turning fast as his hands balled into fists. He was ready to fight me for his equipment, but there was one problem.

As soon as he saw my face, his defiance faded. The angry look froze on his face, then slowly morphed into an expression of abject fear. I grinned, reaching up to caress his cheek. He flinched away with a gurgle.

“Remember to send Gary my best,” I said with a grin.

He turned and ran, his camera forgotten, his body stinking of fear.

“Wonder how much I can get for it,” I said with a grin, picking up the camera and putting the strap around my neck. “Perks of the job, eh?”

On the training course, Barbara and her white horse jumped over a series of obstacles in a fluid, almost dancelike sequence. I stayed for a bit more, watching. I wondered how high-pitched her scream would be when she saw me up close for the first time.

But then, maybe she wouldn’t scream. She was a princess, wasn’t she? And princesses didn’t waste energy screaming like common people. They went straight to fainting.

I went away humming under my breath as I imagined what it would feel like to let her fall to the ground with a thud as she fainted. She definitely deserved it for making me lose my cool.

When I got back to the office, Fatima was still in the conference room, her face perfectly blank beyond the glass wall. I couldn’t see the lawyer’s face, because his back was to me, but the set of his shoulders seemed unhappy.

Then I saw he wasn’t alone. A thin, tall woman wearing a pantsuit sat by his side, an unfriendly smile on her face framed by short, blonde hair. Senator Kingsley’s wife.

“I know you’re wondering why I gathered you here,” I said, stepping through the glass door. “But do not worry. Soon, you will know everything.”

Fatima shot me a cutting look that clearly said to stop my shit right this second, but I ignored her. I pulled out a chair next to her and sat, spreading my thighs wide. In a room filled with stressed out people locked at an impasse, I was the picture of relaxation.

“Madame Ashford, Mister Ortega, I’d like to introduce the Phantom,” Fatima said stiffly, her beringed fingers twitching in her lap.

She wore a splendid turquoise and gold turban that highlighted the golden flecks in her dark eyes. Fatima was a gorgeous djinn, her dark skin gleaming like bronze in daylight and beckoning like velvet at nighttime.

I fantasized about sucking on her toes and worshipping her perfect ankles whenever she was pissed at me, simply to fuck with her. Djinns were attuned to the wishes and desires of people around them, which meant Fatima knew what dirty fantasies played in my mind.

“Charmed,” I said, nodding to Barbara’s mother, who gave me a shallow, barely-there nod in return. Her blue eyes were flinty, her lips pursed. They were full, her face youthful despite her age. I knew she’d had Barbara late, after many years of trying for an heir.

I barely spared the lawyer a glance. Since the woman herself was here, he had just become expedient.

“Kind of you to join us,” Mrs. Ashford said, her voice as cold as her eyes. “You’ve wasted enough of our time refusing to sign. These Conduct Standards are non-negotiable. As I already told Fatima, we’re ready to double your pay if that’s what it takes.”

I glanced at Fatima, whose face was perfectly neutral. “I long to get down on my knees in front of you,” I projected, grinning when a muscle in her jaw jumped. “I’d remove those gorgeous designer heels, gently roll up your pants, and take your exquisite foot in my hand. I’d start slowly, not touching yet. I would just hover my face near your ankle, a whisper of a breath away from your body, and blow. My air would play over your skin. It would be exquisite.”

I was very proud of myself. All the purple prose I read made me a poetic genius.

“Just sign the goddamn document, Phantom,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid I cannot compromise my principles,” I said primly, abandoning my little game.

She was closer to the edge than I thought if she allowed herself to cuss in the presence of a client. If I kept going, who knew what she’d do? Djinns could burst into flames and grow wings of fire, and I knew she’d never forgive me if I made her lose control.

“What principles?” Mrs. Ashford asked with a scoff, clearly as annoyed as my boss. “Is it your principle to curse? To make lewd gestures? To get violent in public spaces and damage the reputation of your clients?”

“No,” I said, spreading my legs even wider. “I have one principle, and it’s protecting my clients to my best fucking ability. Your rigid Conduct Standards will interfere with that. Therefore, I will not fucking sign, goddammit.”

I faced Mrs. Ashford, but I still saw the lawyer wince every time I cursed. I grinned. Before either he or his employer spoke, I straightened, opening my arms in a conciliatory gesture.

“But you know what? I see this is important to you, and I know you have no choice but to hire me. After what happened to young Barbara, you’re in quite a tight spot, hm? And I am the only one who can protect her from those terrorists, so I’ll make a concession. I’ll give you one.”

The lawyer blinked, confused, and Mrs. Ashford crossed her arms on her perfectly sculpted chest.

“One what, Mister Phantom?”

“One motherfucking standard from this cocksucking list of fifty-six. Choose carefully, though. Make sure it’s absolutely goddamn necessary.”

The lawyer opened his mouth, but Mrs. Ashford beat him to it. “Item six.”

I made a show of checking Fatima’s copy of the document, even though I knew exactly what item six said.

“I will not use swear words and lewd language. See appendix C for the banned word list.”

I flipped to the appendix with a flourish, zeroing in on the list. “Ah, yes. So if I agree, I will be banned from saying ‘fuck’, ‘cock’, ‘cunt’, ‘twat’, ‘ass’, ‘bullshit’, ‘horse shit’, ‘bugger’…”

“Yes,” Fatima snapped, pulling the document out of my hand so fast, the paper would have cut me if not for my armor. “Please, prepare a document for the Phantom to sign and let’s get it over with.”

I signed fifteen minutes later, becoming officially employed to guard Barbara’s life and mental autonomy while committing myself to stay cuss-free for the duration of my assignment. When the client left, Fatima turned to me with barely concealed annoyance.

“You goaded them to pick that one. Why?”

I thought briefly about her beautiful, shapely toes that I wanted to wrap my tongue around, and she growled at once, a ball of fire engulfing her palm.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” I complained. “Fine. They needed a bone, so I threw them one. Item six is the only one that doesn’t affect my assignment in any way. Most of the other standards could impact my ability to do my job. All regulations regarding uniform, posture, and behavior during official events would keep me from doing my best. And some are simply insulting.”

She sighed, closing her palm. The golden flame disappeared, leaving the aroma of an extinguished candle behind.

“That’s what I told them. We have our own conduct standards that prohibit fraternization, leaking sensitive information, and so on. They still insisted on their own document.”

She looked with disgust at the long list, her eyes narrowing when they reached item fifty-four, “Breathing Regulations”.

“Do me a favor and breathe loudly whenever you can get away with it,” she said, giving me a sharp grin.

“No need to ask, I’m already on it.” I laughed, taking the list from her hands. “I’ll also wear a pink thong and make sure it’s visible under my perfectly tailored uniform.” I tapped item thirty-seven, “Proper Attire”.

Fatima nodded, getting up with a sigh. “But will you survive without being able to say ‘fuck’?” she asked, arching her thick eyebrow.

“I think I’ll manage.”

I laughed as I walked out. When I was safely out of her range, I turned and blew her a kiss.

“I scorn you, scurvy companion!” I exclaimed, waving my hand in an affected gesture.

Fatima chuckled, shaking her head, and replied in kind.

“Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.”

“That I do,” I murmured under my breath, setting out for sweet Barbara’s home.

“And Phantom?” Fatima called out. “Behave in things that matter. You know what will happen if you don’t.”

I rolled my eyes in the depths of my sockets, desperately wanting to curse. My superior liked to remind me she kept me only for my knife skills and flexible conscience that came in handy from time to time. Each branch of the MSA employed someone like me: a rogue who relished a wet job and could be deployed when standard procedures failed.

But renegades came with issues. My twisted principles didn’t align with the rest of the world, and my brain didn’t have the same filters others had. My psychiatrist thought I lacked the ability to perceive and respect boundaries, but personally, I considered myself superior.

Fatima liked to think she had a leash around my neck, but little did she know I couldn’t be tamed. Not really. When push came to shove, I would act the way I wanted.

Like now.

The monster under my skin roared for blood, and so I’d give it to him. Even though I was supposed to start tomorrow morning, I set out for the princess’s tower.

Hopefully, I’d find myself a dragon to fight.

CHAPTER 4

Barbara

The outing went well, the only pictures of me taken from a distance. But even if someone managed a better shot, I was positive they wouldn’t have seen any vulnerability. Riding soothed me, and having a packed day helped me stay focused.

I was almost calm, the video reduced to a dull tightness in the pit of my stomach. I still couldn’t eat anything, but I forced myself to drink a protein shake after I got back home.

After my riding lesson, I had a four-hour session with Madame Morozova at my home ballet studio.

“So you still insist on riding,” she said with disapproval, hitting the back of my thigh with a flexible switch she wielded at our every session. “It destroys your muscle lines, romashka. You should stop. Take it up again in a few years when you’re too old to dance.”

She spoke with a harsh Russian accent and moved with the grace of a dancer despite being over sixty—definitely too old to dance, in her words. She wore a tight dress and high heels, her body lean, posture rigid.

She’d called me romashka, meaning “daisy”, ever since I started training with her.

“But I don’t dance professionally,” I said, rehashing the argument I used every time she brought this up. “And I really like what riding does for my thighs.”

“Do you?” she asked, her thin lips shaping a moue of distaste. “And yet, you have no man to appreciate those thighs, yes? Tell me: when will you be allowed to have one? Because time is ticking. Stretch.”

I started my stretching routine at the barre, pushing away the anger her words brought up.

I used to pretend it wasn’t like this. I thought I was free, and I even had a crush here and there, going out with a few boys in ballet school. Then one time, I asked my mother if I could bring my boyfriend home.

She said nothing, her eyes growing cold, her only response a sigh of utter disappointment that made me squirm instantly. I knew I did something wrong, even though I had no idea what.

The next day, he broke up with me, and my mother sat me down for The Talk.

She spoke at length about destiny, genetics, and duty. She explained some people belonged to a better stock, while others were more common, and stressed those two kinds shouldn’t mix. You don’t throw pearls before swine. You don’t marry royalty and peasants.

“Think about horses,” she said when I stared at her, struck dumb by her speech, yet not really shocked.

Those ideas floated around me all my life, coming through in whispered gossip and jokes. Only, I’d never heard them expressed so clearly and with such direct relevance to myself.

“You don’t breed Arabians and Shires, do you? The mix would be unbecoming and useless. They would be neither beautiful nor strong enough to pull a plow.”

I was silent for a while, and she waited patiently, giving me the time to put it all together in my head. When I felt like screaming or maybe cackling, I swallowed and pushed it all down.

“And in this analogy, am I the Arabian or the Shire?” I asked, forcing a playful smile on my face.

“Neither,” she replied with a scowl. “You are an Ashford and a Kingsley, a culmination of two powerful dynasties that can trace their roots back to the Renaissance. You are one of a kind, Barbara. There is no one good enough for you, but one day, we’ll find someone who’s almost your equal. And then, my dear, you will be allowed to fall in love and bring him home.”

Allowed to fall in love. Those words echoed in my head as I looked up, bent over my leg stretched taut in front of me. I met my eyes in the mirror, flinching when I saw how dark and furious they looked.

I was so used to pushing the anger down and ignoring it, I didn’t even notice as it burst into flame inside me, but my eyes revealed all.

Knowing I was reduced to my breed, just like a horse, made me look more closely at my life, and especially, my parents’ relationship. I did some research after The Talk and found out what eugenics was. Both my grandfathers were huge proponents of it.

Their beliefs resulted in my parents’ cold, unhappy marriage. I refused to face the same fate, only—I didn’t know how to escape it.

“Good,” Madame Morozova said, tapping my thigh again. “We’ll practice some battements first. Maybe if you stretch those horse legs enough, they will look like ballet legs again.”

I had to give it to her—she drove me hard until the very last minute of our practice. I didn’t know if she had seen the video or not, because she didn’t mention it and I didn’t ask, but I suspected she had.

My teacher was simply too classy to speak of something so vulgar, yet she helped immensely by taking my mind off things. I was so focused on perfecting my posture and movements to the rhythm of her sharp corrections, the video didn’t even feature in my thoughts until I crawled into the shower to wash off the sweat.

It went downhill from there. With nothing else on the agenda and no one I could talk to, I had no way to fend off my thoughts.

When I finally broke down and cried, it was after six. I locked myself in my bathroom, turning off all lights save for one small amber lamp, and sobbed in the bathtub. I didn’t even touch my phone, terrified to see what everyone said about me.

It shouldn’t matter what others thought, but the problem was, I thought it, too. I was weak. That video wasn’t just a wild terrorist act. It was a symbol of my life.

That was what I cried for. That was what I loathed. What that manipulator did was simply give me a different part to play from the one I always did. Instead of being demure, he made me brash. Instead of being silent, he made me talk. Instead of eating with reserve, he made me devour food on screen, but really, that was all it was. The rest was just as my life always was.

Utter obedience. Playing a part someone else wrote for me.

I sobbed, pressing my fists into my eyes, the tears hot with anger. Really, how easy it must have been for them to take over control. They probably waltzed right in and realized I had the mind of a puppet. Everything was perfectly organized, perfectly leashed.

Barbara Ashford-Kingsley was hollow. She was a vehicle for other people’s plans.

I howled, choking on my tears. The truth was so clear now, and it devastated me. I was never my own person. Everything I did was because I’d been taught to do it. Even horseriding, which I used to think was my own choice, was an option I was allowed from a list of sports I once showed my mother, asking which I could play. I was ten and longed to be around other kids more, which was why I wanted to play a sport in the first place.

She instantly said no to the top five positions on my list, which were all team sports. Finally, she gave me a nod at riding. It was my ninth choice, but I meekly took her permission, and I was grateful.

And ballet? I wanted to go to college, but apparently, a unique, beautiful creature like me wasn’t made for learning.

“You’ll destroy your eyesight and develop a stoop poring over books,” my mother told me when I said I was interested in studying Environmental Science. “You’re such an excellent dancer. You should hone your talent without distractions, Barbara. Focus on your training in the Washington School of Ballet. It will look excellent on your resume.”

And so I did. And with every nod of my head, with every meek acquiescence and a quiet, smiling “yes, Mother”, I became more of a husk.

“What resume?” I asked through tears, my voice wet yet bitter, dark with anger. “I will never have a fucking job, Mother! All I’ll have is a husband once you pick him out for me! The resume is for him, isn’t it? He’ll want a ballet dancer without a degree. What a prick!”

I already hated him, I realized. Maybe a younger me would have fallen for it if a man was brought in and introduced as my Prince Charming, but I was an adult now and disillusioned enough to smell bullshit.

I had eyes, too. I knew my father came home very late and left early each morning to avoid my mother and me. My parents had separate bedrooms, separate friends, separate everything. The only time they stood together and showed any affection was when cameras pointed at them.

“Perfectly engineered bullshit,” I muttered, wiping my tears roughly. “So perfect on paper, weren’t you? Dynasties! Well, Mother. Should I breed with a Shire just to give you a heart attack?”

I got up and started pacing, my face wet and burning, my body itching with the need to act. I had to do something. I had to somehow reclaim myself before it was too late.

It wasn’t only that I felt so violated after the attack. My need to do something brutal, something mine, stemmed from other places, too. Years of being denied the things I wanted, of being forced to obey without question.

Obedience was supposed to protect me. It was supposed to make me happy. And yet, even though I always did my best to be the perfect daughter, I ended up here.

The light pink nightshirt I’d put on for bed swished around my thighs as I paced, the silk soft and thin, the feel of it soothing and invigorating at the same time. I remembered my moans from the video, grimacing at the memory.

I remembered how unfair it felt. How cruel. To be denied that sensuality in private even as it went public.

“Or maybe I should just fuck one,” I murmured, throwing open the white French doors leading onto my balcony.

There. It felt like a brutal enough rebellion. I was always presented as innocent and pure, so what better way to smash that image than fucking some commoner, to use my mother’s word?

My body thrummed, my chest burning with anger… and yet. I stopped, gripping the cold marble balustrade, and thought about what I’d even do. There was no one I could call and invite over, and besides, the guards wouldn’t let them in. We were on high alert since the video.

What then? Should I sneak out? Go to some club and… and what? Dance? Buy someone a drink? What was the protocol?

The itching under my skin grew stronger, anxiety churning in my belly. My lifetime of conditioning took over, which it always did whenever I had a thought out of line.

Think about your father’s career, Barbara. He’s working so hard to make the world a better place. You don’t want to destroy that, do you?

It was like the buzzing of a mosquito, so insistent, it felt like it was drilling a hole right through my brain. Only, unlike a real mosquito, I couldn’t slap it away. It was inside me.

That’s right, the voice continued smugly. It’s just a tantrum. You’re leading such a privileged life, you don’t know what true hardship is, so you make up problems for yourself. It will pass. Look at everything you have. Be grateful.

I snorted, looking out at the perfectly coiffed garden with unseeing eyes. Grateful. Maybe I should be.

When one of my ballet school friends my mother had approved to visit came over, she gushed about the garden, telling me that if she had one like this, she’d stroll in it every morning and be perfectly happy for the rest of her life.

Yet I loathed this garden. It was so symmetrical, so perfectly trimmed, every tree, bush, and flower fitting the design. Just like my genetic makeup had been preplanned and preapproved, even before my parents got to the business of making me, this garden was allowed to be one thing only—just like me.

Only, just like in the garden, nature found a way to scorn human plans. We had squirrels now, and no matter how often my mother scolded the gardeners for not chasing them out, they stayed, bringing in an element of chaos into the perfect space.

As for me, nature found a way to mess up human plans by giving me the undesirable pair of chromosomes. Instead of being born a boy, the perfect heir to inherit the cumulative wealth and power of the two families, I was a girl. What a tragedy.

“It’s like they are still stuck in the Renaissance they are so proud of,” I muttered, glaring at a rhomb-shaped patch of flowers silvered by the moonlight. “And women are worthless.”

A cool wind slid over my naked arms, making me shiver. The flowers grew dark, clouds obscuring the moon, and the banister was cold and wet with evening dew. I felt exhausted in a way that was bone-deep, my weariness settling deep in my soul.

The fire inside my chest burned away, and now, I had nothing, only resignation.

Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t do anything. I was terrified of the real world, because I was never allowed to participate in it. I didn’t even know how to get to a club without my driver, and I’d have to plan and research to find out, but… The fire was gone.

What was the point? It wasn’t like I wanted to pick up some sweaty stranger just to stick it to my mother. I’d hurt myself more than I did her.

Besides, the mind controller was still at large. He could attack me any time.

Movement by a tall oak caught my eye, and I squinted, trying to make out what it was. Definitely too big to be a squirrel. I leaned forward, my heart beating faster. That shape was large and proportional, hiding in the dark, yet revealing hints of what it was.

Not an animal.

Cool wind whispered in the trees, and the shadows moved again, oozing pure blackness into the shady space under the tree. I had half a mind to call for someone, but it would be pointless. The staff were far away, retired to their wing, and I was alone in this part of the house.

It was just me on the balcony, the windy night, and the black shadow hiding in the garden.

There was something terrifying and yet infinitely romantic about it. I wanted the moment to last, so I kept my mouth shut and watched, trying to make out what it was. I thought I saw a head and an arm, a hint of a leg…

The moon came out again, and the shadow stepped out from under the tree, standing in the moonlight. It was a human silhouette, tall and burly. I watched, mesmerized, my mouth growing dry. There was something about it… Something…

The figure raised their head, and I met a pair of burning amber eyes that snared me with a look. I gasped. I knew those eyes. I saw them before… before… in the gallery…

My mind slipped away from me, something else slithering in, like water pouring through cracks. It was a warm yet slimy presence, something oily and ubiquitous. It flooded my mind, pouring deep, deep into my soul, until all I could do was watch, buried at the bottom of the well of me while he—he, it was a he—had ultimate control.

My vision grew fuzzy and unfocused, but I still saw myself climb on top of the slippery banister on the third floor and balance with my arms out.

I heard my free, joyous laugh when I started walking.

It didn’t stop even after I slipped and fell.

CHAPTER 5

Phantom

I listened to the steady splash of my piss against the manicured bark of a tree. There was something so satisfying about pissing in a place like this, perfect and most likely tended by a team of gardeners. I had a feeling no one had ever sullied this tree with their bodily fluids. It was virginal, kept pristine and noble for decades—until I came along and left my golden mark.

When I was done, I waited for the armor plates to click back into place over my crotch, hiding my most precious organ beyond an impenetrable barrier. Only when my dick was hidden did I zip up, the sound seeming loud in the quiet Ashford-Kingsley estate.

I shouldn’t be here yet, since my work officially began the next morning, but I always liked to be prepared. I’d spent my evening prowling around the extensive gardens, which were a nightmare, rife with places where attackers could hide.

The estate was surrounded by a high wall, true, and monitored by regularly spaced cameras. The gate was manned by a guard at all hours of day and night. And yet, it took me exactly three minutes to find a blind point of entry and scale the wall.

Which meant other smart people would have an easy time getting in, as well.

I turned away from my favorite tree and headed for the house, doing a little dance along the way. I would come in with a long list of recommendations tomorrow, the top one being—I should accompany the princess at all hours of day and night, even at home, since her home was not secure.

It would be so much easier to blow all the cursed Conduct Standards one by one if I was with her even in the house. I couldn’t wait to breathe loudly whenever Mrs. Ashford was in the room, and I was giddy to flash her some improper underwear peeking over the edge of my pants.

She deserved it for requiring me to sign that ridiculous document in the first place.

I was about to start humming when something stopped me, a chill of premonition racing down my back. A gasp came from the direction of the house.

My instincts kicked in before my brain did. I broke into a sprint, making a beeline for the sound. I jumped over bushes and tore through shrubberies, the garden blurring past. When the house emerged, and I saw the pink, nymphlike creature balancing on the balcony rail, my blood ran cold.

I sped up, the world falling away. There was just me, the slip of a girl about to fall to her death, and the distance between us.

It shrunk with my every step. Closer. Closer. Closer.

Not close enough.

She fell with an unhinged laugh, an echo of the video, and I dove for her, my boots skidding in the dewy grass.

She landed in my arms with a sharp gasp, her face growing pale, eyes closed. I knew the manipulator was here, close enough to lock eyes with her, and my instincts screamed for me to drop her and give chase.

But she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t speak or move, and so I stayed, fear ripping through my guts.

The report on mind control wasn’t ready, so I had no fucking idea if it hurt her to have the connection severed so suddenly. Behind me, the garden rustled with the sounds of a quick, efficient escape, and I gritted my teeth, biting back a curse.

How I wanted to get them. They were right there, offering themselves on a fucking platter, and here I was, babysitting the girl.

“Wake up,” I said, crouching to arrange her more comfortably in my arms.

She weighed more than I’d have expected, her body solid and sculpted with muscles. Her head lolled on my arm, long blonde hair sticking to my clothes. I just knew some of it would be left after she was gone.

“Baby, wake up,” I murmured, shaking her gently. “You’re shedding. Like a dog. And I hate having fur on my clothes.”

It would have been funny in any other circumstances, but as her nostrils barely flared with slow, shallow breaths, her skin growing even paler until it seemed silver, panic welled in my guts.

I tapped my comm set and sent a quick emergency signal for a Monster Security Agency doctor. They’d locate me at once and come here, which was perfect, because I would never trust ordinary paramedics with my principal.

Not after she was almost murdered.

My chest constricted with fury, mostly at myself. I let it happen. I should have been by her side, in her fucking bedroom if must be, and prevented it. And I definitely shouldn’t have underestimated the mind manipulator. They didn’t want to just humiliate her and shoot down her father’s campaign. They wanted to obliterate him and kill her in the process.

“Come on, doll,” I said, my voice tight. “Open those pretty eyes and tell me you’re all right. Maybe I can even catch them yet. Just wake up.”

She was draped over my lap, her upper body wedged against my arm, and I pressed her closer to free up my other hand. I almost slapped her cheek before I remembered the armor. Even a gentle slap might cut her skin, so I sighed and retracted the plates.

The carapace covering my hand moved in a rapid series of clicks. It was made of dozens of elements, thanks to which I could move each finger with full mobility. Now, these elements folded on top of one another, each of them a narrow, black plate, stacking on top of each finger and on the back of my hand in neat lines mimicking the bones underneath.

My palm was bare, the inner side completely devoid of armor. My skin was dark gray and soft, and I shivered involuntarily, feeling the wind slipping between my fingers.

I hadn’t been outside without full armor in ages, the only thing I occasionally took out being my dick, whether to piss or get it sucked.

Now, I hesitated, my naked palm hovering over the girl’s face. Her cheek was so smooth, her skin so young and plump. Her eyelashes were obscenely long, fanning luxuriously over her cheekbones. Her lips, so pale now, were thick and kissable.

“What,” I muttered. “The fu-aaaah. What the freak? Hm. Doesn’t have the same ring to it. What the he—heck. Ugh, I hate that freaking contract.”

Trying to come up with a satisfying replacement for my usual expressions distracted me from the fact I thought, ever so briefly, about kissing my principal while she was unconscious. I buried that thought, piling shitty memories on top of it, so I wouldn’t feel tempted to think it again.

Then I drew my arm back and slapped her hard with my naked palm. The slap rang out in the still garden. She jolted, gasping, and opened her eyes.

“Finally,” I muttered, hiding the flood of relief that gushed from my too-soft freaking heart. “What’s your name and how many fingers do you see?”

She blinked blearily, and I shoved my naked palm in front of her face to delay the inevitable—that is, her seeing me and freaking out. If I was lucky, I’d be able to assess her status before that happened.

“I’m… Barbara,” she said slowly with a confused frown. “I have a stupid hyphenated surname. Ashford-Kingsley. And… And why is your hand gray?”

I swallowed an unbecoming gasp when she reached up and trailed her fingers over my palm, her cute frown deepening as she explored my bare skin with featherlight touch.

It tickled, it itched, and worst of all, it made me want to ask her to keep doing it. Her fingers were soft and hesitant, and there was just something so guileless in the way she touched me. It was completely unlike the human women I got naked with, who touched me because they were drawn to my otherness and explored me with greedy fascination.

This… This was different. She didn’t know what I was, didn’t see my face yet, and so she was simply intrigued by the color of my skin.

When a shiver bolted down my back, settling in my hips, I snatched my hand away. Barbara looked up. Our eyes met.

I braced myself for her scream, for the expression of horror and disgust that would inevitably distort her face. But seconds ticked away, time pooling in a limbo around my knees buried in the cool grass, and she didn’t make a sound.

Finally, her forehead smoothed, her eyes opening wider with innocent curiosity.

“Oh. Am I dead?” she asked, watching me without a shadow of fear. “He made me fall, didn’t he? What a bastard. Did I break my neck?”

I should have corrected her at once, but I was too taken aback by her reaction.

“You’re taking it surprisingly well,” I pointed out. “Doesn’t death scare you?”

She sighed, briefly closing her eyes. “I don’t know. It just seems fitting. My life was never my own, and my death isn’t, either. I’m all out of fucks to give, you know? At least you’re pretty.”

I laughed in surprise, pressing my fingers to her neck to check her pulse. She was warm and soft, her blood thrumming gently under her skin.

“Pretty? Now I know you’re not fully in there. Take deep breaths while I call the guy by the gate so he lets the doctor in.”

“No, you are,” she said, raising her hand and hovering it over my cheek, the warmth of her skin just a whisper away from the bone of my face. I stopped breathing. “You have such a good structure. Those cheekbones and brow ridges are so symmetrical and prominent. If Michelangelo ever portrayed death, he’d make someone like you.”

My breath whooshed out of me, and I looked away. I knew I couldn’t blush, but my face felt fucking pink. I was just so thrown by her reaction. She should have screamed and struggled to get away. Not… not tried to touch me with those soft, guileless hands.

“I know, right?” I said, doing my best to sound nonchalant. “Let me tell you, if abominations ever modeled, I’d be the first choice. I’d have a line of lace underwear named after me.”

She laughed, shaking, and I realized I still held her even though she could probably sit up now. But she was so relaxed against me, so warm and real, I was loath to let go.

“Hey, Mike,” I said into my comm set after getting a connection with the guard by the gate. “It’s Phantom. Uh-huh. Yeah. Listen, we have a small emergency, and an MSA doctor should be here soon. No, nothing serious. He’ll show you a badge. Let him in. Oh, and did you happen to see someone leaving the estate just now?”

Mike said no, and he didn’t see anyone on the screens, either. I was disappointed but not that surprised. That mind manipulator was good, better than I’d expected.

“You said it was a he. A man,” I said to Barbara after disconnecting. “How do you know?”

She stared at me with huge, blue eyes that were like deep pools of water sparkling in the moonlight. Her face lost its softness, her frown growing wary as her body tensed in my embrace. She was catching on.

“I’m not death,” I said belatedly. “You’re alive, so now would be a good time to find some fu—some things to care about, yeah? Now, back to my question. How do you know it’s a man?”

She blinked and slid off my lap with a soft grunt, sitting by my side in the grass. The chill of the night got to her, and she hugged herself, shivering. She still didn’t scream, for which I was grateful. The princess seemed to be tougher than I expected.

“He was inside me,” she answered then cringed, looking away. “I mean, he was in my mind. I… I felt him. And last night, I didn’t remember anything, but now I do. How he stood under the tree. He had… glowing eyes. And his presence was… was slimy and very male. But I didn’t really see him.”

“Glowing eyes,” I repeated, nodding. “That’s a nice lead. Well done, princess.”

“I’m not a princess,” she muttered, hugging her knees.

Right before she pressed her chest to her legs, I noticed her nipples. They were hard from the cold, pointing sharply through the silk. It made me feel a peculiar sort of way, and that in turn made me need to curse real bad.

“Fiddlesticks!” I spat instead of saying what I really wanted. It wasn’t even half as satisfying as the other F-word, even though I put all my vicious frustration into it.

Barbara gave me an odd look.

“Are you all right?”

The arrival of the doctor saved me from answering that. No, I wasn’t all right, but that was a permanent state, and not even a team of psychiatrists could untangle all the things that made me a fucked-up mess.

Elijah was on call tonight, and he lost no time dropping into a crouch in front of Barbara so he could shine a flashlight into her eyes. He wore a spick-and-span suit, but even the extra-long pants didn’t hide the fact he had hooves. I knew he was some type of Moroccan djinn. When I once jokingly called him Fatima’s cousin, she blew her top, asking me in a hissy fit why I thought all djinni were inbred relations.

Now, as I watched him examine Barbara, who shook from the cold, a wave of annoyance overcame me. I was sure he had a thermic blanket somewhere in his bag—he had to. Then why wouldn’t he take it out and cover her? Why was he being such a fucking dick?

“Count backwards from twenty, please,” he said, his voice dispassionate as he held her wrist, monitoring her pulse while her teeth chattered.

Asshole.

I took off my tactical jacket with a huff. It was heavy and cool, because I kept lots of things in the pockets and released little body heat when enclosed in my carapace. But it was the only thing I had, and I wasn’t about to ask the asshole doctor to do his job if he didn’t know it himself.

Barbara jolted when I dropped the jacket over her shoulders. Before she threw me a surprised look, I was already heading for the driveway, rolling my eyes at myself. If I didn’t know better, I might mistake myself for a chivalrous man, but it would be bullshit.

I was the kind of man who blew his load on a woman’s face and offered her her own panties to clean up. Definitely not a gentleman.

So then, why did I worry about the spoiled princess being cold? My job wasn’t to shield her from discomfort but to keep her safe, and those were two different things.

As I waved at Mrs. Ashford’s car slowly crunching up the driveway, I decided it was because of the nipples. It was them I was worried about. Not the girl.

And anyway, who cared? I had a situation to report and a fucking criminal to catch. My hands were full.

CHAPTER 6

Barbara

“It was a murder attempt,” Phantom said bluntly, standing tall with his hands behind his back as he made his report to my mother. “The situation escalated dramatically. This isn’t just about protecting your daughter’s reputation and wellbeing anymore, it’s about her life. I’ll have a list of recommendations ready for you tomorrow, and in the meantime, I’m staying here.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and said nothing. We were in the family living room that no one used normally. I sat curled up in an armchair, Phantom’s heavy jacket wrapped around me. It was shockingly cold when he first threw it around my shoulders, but it warmed up fast, and I clung to it. It was ridiculous, but that jacket felt like the only piece of affection I got after the entire ordeal.

My mother hadn’t said a word to me since we entered the house. She talked to the doctor briefly, asking him if I was all right, but that was that.

All I got from her were a few pinched looks. They weren’t exactly annoyed, but… weary. As if she meant to say, “What have you done again, Barbara?”

I sighed and shook my head. No, I was projecting. She cared about me. I knew this.

My bare feet were freezing. I curled them under me for warmth, wishing I could have a hot bath. I didn’t feel particularly shaken or distressed. Just cold. Was it even a proper reaction after someone tried to kill me? I had no idea. I just knew I was tired, uncomfortable, and my mother didn’t even give me a hug.

“Will you require a bedroom?” she asked Phantom after a beat, her voice strained but polite.

“No. I’ll stay mostly outside. I can go without sleep for weeks if necessary. You’ll have to feed me, though. I enjoy raw meat and lollipops.”

He said this without a hint of humor, like it was a perfectly normal preference to have. My mother’s jaw twitched with annoyance while I snorted. Phantom gave me a quick look, his dark eye sockets turning to me before he addressed her again, his voice matter-of-fact.

“I’ll also need a room where I can store my things. An office space would be ideal. With bookshelves.”

“Are you planning to read on the job?” she asked, her lips pursed, her long, perfectly manicured nails tapping against the polished wood of the sofa arm.

“Sometimes. I mainly need some space for my emotional support paperbacks.”

He said that in a completely neutral way, which made it sound even more ridiculous. I snorted again, and my mother shot me a quelling look.

“Mister Phantom, I don’t appreciate being toyed with. My daughter’s life is at stake,” she said pointedly.

“I am aware, since I just saved it,” he said with a polite nod. “I am the most efficient when I have everything I need, Madame Ashford. Surely you want me to be at my best?”

My mother clenched her fists, took a deep, controlled breath, and unclenched her fingers with a shallow nod. I stared at him in awe. I hadn’t seen anyone get one over her in such a short time. Either she was truly distressed about what happened to me, even if she didn’t show it, or he knew exactly how to play her.

Or maybe he was simply that charismatic on top of everything else.

His manner was commanding in a way that inspired trust, and his unyielding, well-worded arguments spoke of quick wit. But it wasn’t just that.

He cut a striking figure, and what I told him in the garden was true, even if the memory of it made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there. He was pretty—for a skull-faced type of person, obviously. As he stood under the light of bright lamps, I saw all of him and found only more things to like.

He stood straight and confident like a soldier, his feet planted wide, so he took up a lot of room. His body was lean and strong, and he was clearly a professional. He wore black, thick cargo pants, and his belt was loaded with things, most of them hidden in sheaths and holsters, but I had no doubt they were deadly.

Now that his jacket was gone, I saw he wore a simple, snug black shirt and a harness securing more holsters. The lines of his body were clearly visible under the tight material. He was chiseled, with a taut stomach and a powerful chest. Masculine energy oozed out of his every… well, not pore. He didn’t seem to have those.

But he gave it off in waves, and just being in his presence made me feel safer.

He was a fighter, a protector, a soldier, and his entire attention for the foreseeable future would be on keeping me alive. To have someone so strong and skilled assigned to me felt… Well, it made me feel taken care of and important for the first time in years.

“Barbara!”

I jolted, realizing I drifted away from the conversation, too busy staring at my new bodyguard.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Do you need anything? Food? Sleeping pills? I can get Doctor Andanza on the phone for you, if you need to talk it out.”

My lip curled, and I turned my face away so my mother wouldn’t see it and scold me. That meant I faced Phantom, who watched me with an unreadable expression, his unsettling grin somehow smaller than before, making him look serious. I had no idea how he did it. Wasn’t his face all bone? God, I wanted to touch it and find out.

“I’m fine. I’ll go to my room, then. Goodnight.”

I stood up, clutching the jacket so tightly, my knuckles were white. I just wanted… I didn’t even know. It wasn’t like I should have expected anything from her, really. My mother was never big on private displays of affection. I was more likely to get a hug or a caress from her when we were out in public.

Yes, I knew what she was like and it still hurt. I almost died, and I was alive only thanks to Phantom’s above-and-beyond dedication to his job. From what I learned from his report, he wasn’t even supposed to be here yet.

That was another thing. I understood my mother and her team started looking for someone to protect me as soon as the video came out, but I was still exposed the entire day today. I was even out without protection because my mother insisted I go riding.

And yes, the threat didn’t seem so serious then, but I just couldn’t understand why no one thought that maybe I should stay home until my bodyguard was available. Wasn’t my mom worried about me? Didn’t she think even for a second that whoever made that video might escalate?

Then again, what good would staying home do me? They attacked me here, after all.

I sighed, climbing the stairs as my eyes burned. I knew perfectly well why she made me go out. She was worried—just not about me. She cared about the damage the video caused to our public image and my father’s career, and fixing that was her number one priority.

Quick steps sounded behind me. I turned to find myself face to face with my new bodyguard.

He stood a step below me, and our faces were on the same level. I arrested my flinch, though he must have seen my reaction, because he grinned, something flickering deep in his eye sockets.

“Can I help you?” I asked, forcing a smile to make up for my awkward behavior.

“Just need this,” he said, reaching into a pocket of his jacket that was still wrapped around me, the hem ending just below my butt.

He rummaged in the pocket, the movement brushing my hip. I blushed, realizing I didn’t give him the jacket back, and, what was worse, didn’t really want to part with it. Phantom pulled out a small, thick paperback and stepped away. I made to take off his jacket, and he waved his hand dismissively.

“Keep it for now. I don’t need it to stay warm. I just needed this.” He raised the book, and I arched my eyebrow, noticing the cover.

It was a beautiful artwork of a red-eyed vampire leaning over a woman wearing an elegant silver nightshirt. She looked innocent and apprehensive, and his expression was so lecherous, there was no doubt what his intentions were.

The title read Midnight Desire.

“That’s… for emotional support,” I said dubiously, wanting to laugh even as heat surged up in my belly.

It was so obviously clear what the book was about, and it made me curious as well as wary.

I didn’t think a book like that had ever appeared within a ten-mile radius of the Ashford-Kingsley residence, and to see it here, in the mahogany staircase decorated with expensive, gild-framed paintings, was a shock.

Phantom nodded with a hum. “I can lend it to you once I’m done with it. You look like you need emotional support, too.”

For a moment, I wanted to say yes, if only out of curiosity. Immediately, my conditioning kicked in, making me shiver. No. Bad girl. Ashford-Kingsleys don’t read trash.

Guilt surged up, followed by anger. My mother’s words and wishes rang so loudly in my head, I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself. Was I just curious or did I actually want to read this book? I didn’t know, and it drove me crazy.

Another reminder my mind wasn’t my own, even when no mind controllers were around.

“I have my emotional support jacket,” I said with a small smile to avoid answering.

He nodded, patted my elbow once, and turned around, sprinting down the stairs.

In my room, the French doors were still open, the cool night breeze drifting in. I closed them quickly, my heart hammering when I caught a glimpse of the dark trees outside. I felt an echo of what happened, a hostile presence sliding into my mind and taking over, slimy and oozing, and so very smug.

I knew nothing about him, that man who treated me like a thing to possess and break, but I knew how he felt. Arrogant and self-congratulatory, he thought he was a god as he crushed my will and took over. I remembered his amusement as he reveled in his strength, mocking my weakness.

He projected it at me with glee. How weak he thought me. How easy to control. Somehow that was what truly upset me, and not the fact he was trying to kill me.

I paced the room, getting more and more agitated. Because I knew he was wrong. I wasn’t weak. I had superb discipline, which got me through high school with my back always straight, the perfect smile on my face—not too kind so as not to invite familiarity, but not artificial. Discipline was what made me obey my mother and sit through countless savoir-vivre lessons, boring charity events, and hours of uncomfortable hairstyling and makeup sessions just so my father could show off his perfect family in public even as he completely ignored us in private.

Discipline was what helped me through long, uncomfortable hours of family photoshoots and let me survive grueling days when I attended school, danced ballet after classes, and did my homework until one a.m., only to get up at five and do it all over again.

It was thanks to discipline that I never cried in front of other people. Not even when my father skipped every ballet performance of mine that wasn’t attended by the press. Not even when my mother looked at me on prom night, eyebrows raised critically, and said I should have lost five more pounds to really pull that dress off, and that I’d better avoid cameras that evening.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, an indulgence I only allowed myself in private. “Stop whining. Did they hit you? No. Did they starve you? Not really. Did they neglect you? Well, maybe emotionally, but that’s nothing.”

And it was. I knew it rationally—I had it all. I was a princess, just like Phantom said, whether I wanted to be called that or not. So many people would kill for my life, and I got it. I was provided for, my every need met, only… It was conditional. If I ever acted out, I’d be shipped off to a mental institution.

I rebelled when I was sixteen, sneaking out to parties, drinking beer, even smoking. When the footage of me dancing freely at a classmate’s house party got out, my mother snapped. She sat me down and showed me a leaflet advertising a prestigious institution. It had pretty gardens, nice, spacious rooms, and smiling patients and doctors in every picture.

“If you don’t behave the right way, Barbara, this will be your home,” she said pleasantly, tapping the picture of a beautiful French colonial building. “And what this leaflet doesn’t show is the high wall surrounding the estate, the guards making sure no one gets out, and the amounts of shots and pills required to keep the patients calm and agreeable. Your aunt Nina spent a few months there before she came around and did what was expected. Do we understand each other?”

I threw up after that, but only when she left the room. Even in that, I was strong.

So no, I wasn’t weak. Then why couldn’t I protect myself? I clearly got it from the manipulator’s mental gloating that my mind was easier to penetrate than others. That meant I could learn to resist him in the future.

Maybe. If I knew how.

I walked over to my window nook with a comfortable padded bench and looked out, mindlessly fingering the thick material of Phantom’s jacket. My bedroom was a huge corner room, and yet, it was also like a tower. I was on the third floor, high enough that falling might kill me, and there was no way to sneak out.

My door locked only from the outside, too. I could lock myself in my bathroom, but there was no way to lock the bedroom door. And sometimes, when my mother sensed I was in a rebellious mood, she locked me in for the night.

I wondered if she’d do so right now. Could she tell I was on the brink of losing it?

As I looked out at the dark garden, seeing it clearly since I hadn’t lit any lamps, I wondered what my life was really worth to me. The answer came quickly: not much. At least, not in its current form.

That realization shook me to the core. It wasn’t right to feel this way. It wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t how I wanted to keep living.

Wasn’t I an adult? I could change my life, couldn’t I? So maybe I was conditioned since childhood to bend to my mother’s will, but I was strong, I reminded myself. I could break through that conditioning. I had to, or else, I’d never be free.

And one day soon, my mother would produce a suitable fiancé for me. I was twenty-three, old enough to get married, and now I was causing trouble. I knew how her mind worked. She’d try to replace the current scandal with something big, and a wedding would fit perfectly.

I had to be ready when that happened.

A red, glowing dot appeared in the dark outside. I jolted, my gasp fogging up the window pane as the image of glowing amber eyes flashed in my mind. It took me a moment to realize this was different. It was the glow of a cigarette, and I had a pretty good idea whose it was. I watched it, holding the jacket around me while I smelled the cigarette residue that clung to the fabric. Suddenly, I didn’t feel alone anymore.

Someone turned on the light in a room downstairs, the golden glow spilling out onto the grass. I saw the contours of his body as he leaned nonchalantly against a tree with one foot propped on the trunk, smoke curling around his head.

His face was turned up, his bottomless eye sockets trained on me. I stared back, and he raised the cigarette to his mouth, taking a long drag. Some of the smoke escaped through his nose hole, and suddenly, I itched with curiosity about how it was possible for him to smoke.

He didn’t have lips, did he? How, then, did he manage to suck on a cigarette? How did he eat? And what did he think as he watched me, alone in my tower, still clutching his jacket to my breast?

The light turned off, and he was plunged back into darkness, only the glow of his cigarette betraying his presence. I went to bed without changing my clothes or washing, his jacket still wrapped around me for comfort.

Tomorrow would be a very hard day, and I needed to rest.

CHAPTER 7

Phantom

If anyone asked, I’d be the first to admit I had no fucking idea what a healthy human family was supposed to be like. My own parents kicked me out of the nest as soon as I could walk, which was normal for abominations. When you were a hated species everyone wanted to hunt, kids were a liability.

Besides, an abomination who couldn’t survive on their own since early childhood wasn’t likely to survive at all.

So no, I didn’t know how loving human families behaved, and yet even I noticed there was something horribly wrong in the Ashford-Kingsley household. It threw me, how angry and forlorn Barbara looked when her mother offered to arrange a talk with a therapist instead of trying to talk to her daughter herself. After she almost died.

It was fucked up.

Maybe that was why I made the stupid mistake of checking up on her under the pretext of getting my book. And why I let her keep my jacket.

Rookie mistakes, both of them. I knew very well any fraternization with a client was forbidden, and I was smart enough to know it started innocently. A smile, a few minutes spent talking, and yes, giving them your jacket when they were cold.

Well, it had to end. I wasn’t an idiot and I wouldn’t behave like one.

I growled under my breath, tearing into the raw steak that had been laid out for me. The residence was enormous, and it included separate rooms for having your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I sat in the breakfast room, where an antique sideboard was laden with multiple breakfast choices and decorated with fresh flowers.

There was also a heavy crystal bowl filled with lollipops, bless Clarissa Ashford’s shriveled heart.

The madam herself was gone from the house, having left with her husband at half past six. From the snippets of their hushed conversation that I made out as I strolled outside the open breakfast room windows I understood she was busy at work fixing “Barbara’s mess”.

Her words, not mine.

It was now eight, and Barbara was in her dance studio, working out, while I sat here, listening intently to the natural rhythm of the house so I could detect anomalies later.

The Ashford-Kingsleys lived in style. Their household staff counted six people, including the main housekeeper, personal grooming assistants for the Mister and Missus, a cook, and two housemaids. The staff all lived in the house for better availability.

I supposed it made sense. What use was generational wealth if you couldn’t get hot cocoa delivered to your bed by a devoted servant at three a.m.?

Done with my steak, I wiped my bloody fingers on a pristine, white linen napkin and got myself a fifth cup of the insanely good coffee they had here. I had to do some more research on the family. The kosher info was in my official files, but I wanted to dig deeper, and what better sources than trashy press and social media?

Ten minutes of searching later, I managed to dig out an article that was now taken down but still lurked as a series of crappy screenshots in the depths of Reddit.

A few years ago, Mr. Kingsley’s PR team decided it was a good idea to run a piece on how great an employer he was, which included interviews with his household staff. The piece backfired horribly, because it’s impossible to boast about employing a personal groomer and come across as a nice guy.

I snorted into my coffee, reading the gushing praises the housemaids heaped on their employer for the article. He was apparently “generous”, “understanding”, and “supportive”, and it all sounded so fake. With articles like this in the press, who needed a mind manipulator to destroy the man’s career? He did a great job himself.

But judging my employer wasn’t a part of the job, so I closed the article and got up for one more cup of coffee. I knew the deadly dose for a human was somewhere around eighty-two cups, but for abominations, that limit was much higher. I indulged with a clean conscience.

Sipping on my double espresso, I scrolled some more, clicking on a few images of Barbara. She smiled in every one, either walking somewhere and waving, standing behind her father when he spoke, or dancing ballet, all graceful and innocent in pristine white.

Between those aesthetic shoots were stills from the viral video. Barbara laughing, gorging herself on food, showing the middle finger when she spoke about her father.

It was like looking at two different people. I kind of liked the mind-manipulated one better. She seemed to enjoy herself, at least. The clean, pristine Barbara looked more like a doll than a girl. She was still gorgeous, though.

Realizing I was staring at a picture of her smiling intimately into the camera as she posed in a café, I huffed at myself and put my phone away.

Bad Phantom. Don’t stare at your principal. Focus!

From my files, I knew the estate employed three gardeners and a small security team, whose resources were mainly spent on manning the gatehouse in shifts. There was an alarm system on the property, but it wasn’t in use. Overall, the security here was shitty, and it was a wonder no one had exploited it until now.

The security team should patch up the holes soon enough. I’d handed them my recommendations in the morning, pointing out all the blind spots I’d noticed. If that fucker came in again to finish the job, I’d know.

A door banged somewhere in the house, classical music mashed with a heavy beat turning up louder and louder until it boomed through the walls. Unable to resist the call of chaos in the respectable dwelling, I drained my cup and followed the music through a maze of plush-carpeted corridors and old-money wainscoting.

The door to Barbara’s studio was closed, and I had too much self-respect to peep through the keyhole, so I went outside and climbed a tree to look at her through the wall of windows. I justified this by wanting to make sure she wasn’t a danger to herself, though I kind of knew it was a bullshit excuse.

I just wanted to see her dance, especially if she did it to such rebellious, blaring music that was so unlike the feeble piano plonking I associated with ballet.

In the large, well-lit room, she was a whirlwind of graceful, explosive movements. Her lithe body clad in leggings and a black top twirled in tight, dazzling pirouettes only to stop and burst up in a violent jump or drop to the floor, her legs stretched open, her spine bent in a graceful arch.

She followed the harsh beat of the music that boomed out through the open windows, growing faster and heavier even as the classical notes became shriller. I watched, mesmerized, the beat reverberating in my ribs. She flung some hair that escaped her bun away from her cheek and rolled, coming into a seamless split, then jumped up to her feet in an acrobatic display that made me want to clap.

Sweat poured down her neck, soaking her top, and still, she twirled faster, her legs coming high, arms working gracefully, before she twisted her entire body and contorted into a shape more eerie than graceful, her fingers splayed wide, face dark and angry. As the tune grew faster, her movements lost their grace, becoming violent and sharp as she attacked shadows and turned in a dizzy whirl, madness in her eyes.

It was beautiful.

When the music stopped, so did she, her shape a dark slash in the middle of the bright, airy room. She stood there, her chest heaving, face glowing from exertion.

I should have looked away then. I really should have.

When she raised her top without a hint of self-consciousness, I jerked. I saw her lean stomach and the undersides of her breasts. A small beauty mark dotted the left one. She didn’t wear a bra.

She wiped her face with her top, flashing me with a clear view of her tight nipples. I fell off the tree.

My fall made a horrible racket, impossible not to notice. I crushed right into a huge, pedantically manicured bush that, as it turned out, had thorns.

“Who’s there?” came her panicked shout.

I groaned, disentangling myself from the thorny bush that, thankfully, didn’t even scratch me. The door flew open, and Barbara shot out of the house. I just managed to roll out onto the grass, landing flat on my back, when she stood over me, her eyes dark, face red.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her foot tapping angrily mere inches from my face.

“A penetration test,” I said without thinking, eyeing her foot with unhealthy curiosity.

If I told her the truth, would she kick me? Fuck, did that thought make me tingle. I liked a feisty woman—maybe a little too much. A woman like that was fun to wrestle with until I reduced her to needy whimpers.

What a horribly wrong thought to have right now.

“A pene…” She trailed off, her face growing redder, eyes darker. “Bullshit. You were peeping! What the hell?!”

“If I admit to it, will you get violent? Oooh, will you kick me?” I asked with mock excitement, stretching comfortably on the grass while she seethed.

She paused, some of her fury dissipating as she regarded me with incredulity. It seemed my manner confused her, and rightly so. This wasn’t how I was supposed to behave, but when I saw a hot, angry woman, I couldn’t help but play.

She shook her head.

“I’m wearing pointe shoes,” she said, gesturing at her feet. “You wouldn’t even feel it. Why did you watch me? I thought I was alone.”

I sat up, wondering how to answer that. She pursed her lips and took a step back, her eyes flitting away before they stubbornly settled on my face. She seemed flustered. I knew why it was—the balance of power was askew, with me on the ground, her standing.

I leaned back on my arms and relaxed with my thighs splayed wide, looking up at her with a grin. I was comfortable down here, even more so because she wasn’t.

“You blasted that music for the entire house to hear. I came out to see what the noise was. You have to be more mindful of the people you live with, you know.”

“I have to… What? Do you even hear yourself?” She shook her head in outrage, her hands clenched into fists. “That was private! I was in my private studio, and you had no right!”

“I mean, the windows were uncovered,” I said, raising a finger, “so technically, anyone could have seen you.”

She growled. I wondered idly why she was so pissed. Did she really hate it so much that I saw her dance? It was so fucking beautiful. I wanted the whole world to see it.

Barbara stomped the grass with fury. “No, they couldn’t! You climbed a tree to peep. It wasn’t an accident.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to report you. My mother will fire you.”

I crossed my ankle over my bent knee, wiggling my foot tauntingly. I should have stopped at that point, I knew, but a little imp sat in my brain, urging me on. The same hunger that I failed to satisfy with Jordan, and then again last night when the mind manipulator got away, reared its ugly head, demanding a meal.

“And who will protect you if I’m gone?” I inquired mildly, projecting unconcerned languor. “I am the only abomination in the employ of the Monster Security Agency. No other species can resist mind manipulation.”

She huffed quietly and rolled her eyes, her foot tapping in irritation. I grinned, an idea popping into my head. Just as she opened her mouth to argue back, I cut in.

“Besides, if anyone was harassed, it was me! I should report you and demand compensation. You flashed me! I am scarred for life! I fell off the tree because of you!”

I sat up straighter, playing up this new angle. It was true, after all. I wasn’t peeping to see her in the nude, for fuck’s sake, I just wanted to see a ballerina dance. That was far more innocent and not at all the nasty thing she made it out to be.

My accusation wasn’t received well. Barbara paled instantly, clutching the front of her top and backing away. “You… You saw that?”

I almost said “fuck”. Almost. I bit my tongue to keep it in and tasted blood, because of course, my teeth were razor-sharp. Never a good idea to bite anything I wasn’t planning to eat.

“Well, I fell off the tree at once, so I didn’t see much,” I said, backpedaling fast. “Actually… I saw nothing. Nothing at all. Pinkie promise.”

I offered her my armored pinkie in an attempt to lighten the mood. She took a deep, shaky breath, eyeing me warily. After a thoughtful pause, her forehead smoothed, her eyes gleaming with determination. The change was eerie, as if all of her anger had been wiped with a sponge, replaced by cool calculation.

The back of my head tingled. Never a good sign.

Before I could retract my hand, she extended her straight leg to bump my pinkie with the tip of her pointe shoe.

“Fine, I’ll believe you. If you do me a favor,” she said with a stern look that was utterly too cute on her pretty face.

Aha. She wanted something from me. Unfortunately, she had some good leverage. I did fuck up, and if she reported me, there would be consequences.

I groaned, rubbing my temple. “A favor. Right. Well, for your sake, I hope you’re about to ask me to be extra careful while guarding you, and not, say, pop out to get you some tampons while you ditch my protection.”

She blushed but held my gaze, crossing her arms on her chest. “And does it happen to you often? People try to ditch you? Gosh, I wonder why. It surely can’t be because you peep at them!”

Damn, if I could sweat, I would. That belligerent expression did things to me, and even though I should have grabbed onto the tattered remains of my professionalism, I fought back instead.

“Oooooh, the kitten can do sarcasm!” I mock-exclaimed, clapping in encouragement. “Report me all you want, doll. You’ll get laughed at, because I wasn’t freaking peeping. It was a penetration test, and you failed.”

She drew herself up, as straight as a stick, her eyes casting thunder. “I failed? It’s your job to protect me! Instead, you’re… playing in the bushes!”

I realized with alarm my body got substantially warmer over the course of our argument. A nice shade of pink tinted my vision as I looked up at the furious, disheveled woman in tight clothing, who happened to be my principal I was forbidden to fuck.

It was time to stop this.

I shot to my feet and patted my butt to make sure no grass stuck to it. Barbara’s nostrils flared cutely as she shot me an irate look.

“The only favor I’m willing to perform is to guard you around the clock and follow you everywhere you go,” I said primly, putting my hands behind my back in an attempt to reclaim my lost professionalism.

For just a second, her eyes slid down my body, making the pink coloring my vision intensify. It was bad. I only saw the world in pink hues in the company of someone I was really into. My default mode was a yellowish sort of tinge, and then red when I fought or gave chase.

Abomination eyes were funny that way. They colored the world in different hues, which served as an early threat detection system, because my vision would turn red even before my brain realized I was in danger.

And it turned pink before I realized I was turned on, helping me better identify potential mates.

“I really want to kick you right now,” she said darkly, eyeing my crotch with a menacing frown.

“Don’t,” I said at once, alarmed by the influx of pink that made the world look hideously cute in my eyes. “It will make me hard.”

She looked up, eyebrows arched in disbelief.

“What did you just say?”

CHAPTER 8

Barbara

I couldn’t believe I thought of him as an ally just this morning. When I woke up, my plan fully formed in my head as if my brain had worked all night long to come up with it, I was filled with hope. I was angry and scared, too, but mostly hopeful.

What must have helped was the fact my nose spent the night buried in the thick material smelling of cigarettes and a hint of a male scent that was faint but devilishly good once I took a good whiff of it. He would be on my side, I just knew it.

Well, now I knew better. Phantom wasn’t just a total jerk but also a pervert who climbed trees to peep at girls and made rude, inappropriate jokes. With barely three hormonal brain cells in his head, I had no idea how he even managed to save me last night. What was my mother doing, hiring someone who had the temper of a pubescent boy? Did she want me dead?

“Forget I said anything,” he said fast, right after pressing his knuckles to his grinning skull teeth like he sincerely regretted his words.

When he turned away as if about to escape, I reached for him without thinking. I grabbed his bicep, and he froze, his body charged with energy.

“Nuh-uh. No. Stay right here,” I demanded, gripping tight. “See, you can claim you were in that tree to perform your duties or whatever. But the thing you just said? You can’t talk your way out of it. I’m reporting you.”

He was still, and for a moment, I marveled at how hard his body was under my fingers. I sensed his armor through the thin material of his tight shirt, and it was cool with no give. Like hard plastic, except, plastic would have been warmer.

It was an odd sensation. Like touching a prosthetic, I supposed. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact his armor was fully organic. Abominations were fascinating, even if this particular specimen was a total moron.

Phantom still didn’t turn to face me as he spoke, his voice perfectly even but strained. “The thing I just said that I deeply regret? Well, it turns out, it might apply to touching, too.”

It took me a few seconds to understand him, and when I did, I unfurled my grip finger by finger, angry he would make another stupid joke like this. It was in poor taste and it made me feel hot around the neck even though I knew he was just making fun of me.

I might be naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. Grown men didn’t get erections just like that. For whatever reason, he wanted to fluster me, and I refused to be affected.

When I fully let go and stepped away, doing my best to ignore the way my palm tingled, he turned around, his eerie grin firmly in place.

“I don’t care if this was just a dumb joke,” I said, raising my index finger. “You were out of line and I’ll report you.”

This was my only bargaining chip, and I refused to let it go. My plan depended on his cooperation. I was determined to get it.

His expression rearranged into a grimace, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Standing so close in bright daylight, I saw that the main structure of his face remained motionless. What moved were small parts that looked like bonelike yet mobile pieces of tissue in the hollows of his cheeks, around his jaw, in his forehead, and around his brow ridges. The entire thing was creepy yet mesmerizing.

“Please, don’t do it,” he said grimly, clenching his fists. “If I get one more strike for inappropriate behavior on my record, I’ll spend the next year guarding some boring, self-important old man who barely goes out and smells of feet. That’s what my boss threatened to do, and she always keeps her word.”

I bit back a grin, a wave of relieved joy flooding my chest. Finally, something went right, and I now had plenty of room to negotiate for what I needed.

“Oh, so you do that sort of thing a lot, huh?” I asked, folding my arms on my chest. I couldn’t help gloating. This small victory made me feel so big after a long time of feeling small and helpless.

Phantom sighed and looked up, seeming resigned. “This thing? Believe it or not, it’s the first time it happened. But yeah, I’m not exactly a choir boy. So, what will it take? You want something in return for letting this go, don’t you?”

“Don’t tell my mother what I do when she isn’t home,” I said fast, my heart drumming in my chest. “I’m not stupid. I know I can’t ditch you, and I won’t. You’ll come with me everywhere, but I need you to keep it secret. As far as she’s concerned, I attend my lessons and behave like a perfect lady.”

He studied me for a long moment, his black, armored fingers tapping against his bicep. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from squirming as he regarded me. Because what if he refused? Would I actually report him and risk losing his protection? I was terrified he’d call my bluff.

“Fine,” Phantom finally said, reaching into his pocket for a black cigarette case. He lit one, holding it between his teeth. I glimpsed something like dark flesh glistening in his mouth before he pulled the cigarette away, blowing smoke out through his nose hole.

“I’ll do it,” he continued before taking another drag. “But if you get yourself in danger or engage in risky behaviors, I’ll have to make a report. Your parents are paying me, doll.”

I bristled, shooting him a filthy look. He ignored it, blowing out so much smoke, his face disappeared in a cloud of it.

“I’m not your doll,” I hissed. “And I’ll be safe. I just don’t want my every step to be monitored.”

I couldn’t risk my mother getting wind of what I was doing. My plan didn’t even involve anything dangerous or bad, but I needed to do things I was forbidden and shielded from, like eating what I wanted, visiting public places, or mixing with commoners, meaning normal people.

My goal was to learn how to function in the real world. I also wanted to find out if there was a way to resist mind control.

Because I was done being a puppet. I wanted to live on my own terms.

“Monitored,” Phantom murmured under his breath, puffs of smoke escaping his mouth. “Do they watch you around the clock?”

“Not so much now,” I said with a shrug. “She trusts me to act properly, and I mostly do. When I was younger… Ah, doesn’t matter. Do you have a car? Mine has a tracker, and besides, I’m supposed to always take my driver.”

He stilled, giving me a long look. “They track your car’s location?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “Yeah. For my safety, mostly. So? Do you have a car?”

He took a long drag, grinned, and blew the smoke right in my face. I gasped and inhaled out of shock, coughing. It was foul and scratched my throat, filling my lungs with fire.

“I have a ride,” he said once I straightened, my eyes watering. “Ready when you are, princess.”

“Don’t do it again,” I gritted out, my voice husky from coughing.

He laughed openly before taking another big drag from his cigarette, the tip burning bright for a moment.

“I’ll do what I fu—freaking please. You get one favor and that’s it. If you want another, wait until I fu—do something stupid again.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “Why do you keep stuttering?”

This time, I was prepared when he tried to blow smoke in my face. I ducked out of the way, giving him an angry look. “Come on! Stop being a jerk!”

“Then stop being so pretty when you’re angry,” he shot back, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground.

I gaped at him, lost for words. “How is that… What do you… What the fuck is wrong with you?” I exploded, my anger obliterating my manners.

My voice sounded shrill, and my entire body boiled hot with fury. He had no right to make fun of me that way! It was so humiliating. Like calling me pretty was such a big joke, because—what? No one would call me that seriously?

I was reasonably attractive. I had to be for the magazines and other media to like me so. Though, I usually appeared in public with my face full of makeup, and that had to make a difference. My face was bare now. Maybe that was why he made fun of my looks.

But even then, it was completely inappropriate and rude. Something really was wrong with him.

“You would have to ask my psychiatrist,” he said with a wide grin, folding his arms on his chest. “He’s got theories.”

I shook my head, bewildered. Some of my anger abated thanks to his unfazed manner. But then I understood fully what he said, and I got worried for my own safety.

“You’re seeing a psychiatrist? God. Are you even allowed to work as a bodyguard, then?”

He shrugged, his skull grinning eerily as he cocked a hip, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s one of the conditions for my employment. I have to see the good doctor twice a month and pour my heart out. I mostly tell him my sexual fantasies.”

God. He was… not even ridiculous. It was too weak a word. When an urge to laugh fluttered in my belly, taking me completely off guard, I decided it was enough.

“I’ll shower and we can go. Is fifteen minutes enough for you to get ready?”

He chuckled darkly. “After you got me all worked up, I’ll be done in three. See you.”

He strode to the house, and I was left standing there, trying to decipher his cryptic words as a hot blush stained my neck. Another bout of outraged fury boiled in my belly. Because he couldn’t have meant what I thought he meant. Right?

He was fucking with me. Again. And I was completely unequipped to deal with someone like him.

I huffed, balling my hands into fists, and stomped to the house to calm down in a cold shower. I wouldn’t let Phantom’s lack of manners stop me, that was certain. I would just… ignore him.

Yet, when he showed me his ride fifteen minutes later, that strategy went right out the window.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, eyeing the huge beast of his motorbike that gleamed in the sunlight, the fixtures of polished chrome clashing with the matte black of the body. “How are we supposed to… No. This is unacceptable. Forget it.”

I turned in place, thinking frantically how else I could get to the library. We lived in Kent, and the nearest one was at the university. Could I walk there? I was never allowed to go out on foot, and now, it was probably doubly dangerous. Though, we’d already avoided the paparazzi camped in front of the gate by going out through the back exit. I was also dressed to blend in, in jeans and a black hoodie that looked nothing like my usual outfits, my hair stuffed under a baseball cap, sunglasses on my nose.

“I promise it won’t be awkward,” Phantom said with a grin. “I took myself in hand extra hard to make sure I’ll behave. You have my word. There will be no uncomfortable boners while you squeeze me with your thighs.”

Did he just…? Yes, he did. A part of me wanted to laugh hysterically, but I forced myself to ignore him instead. My reactions seemed to encourage him, so maybe if I didn’t let him provoke me, he’d finally stop.

But it was overwhelming. My plan alone filled me with dread, and instead of being of any help, Phantom only created more tension. My nape felt hot, and the word “boner” sat in my brain like a tumor.

Boner. Boner. Boner.

I buried my face in my hands, the urge to cry ridiculous, considering I was livid. But also—helpless and at a total loss. It hit me then, how crippled I was by my upbringing. I was so incapable, I couldn’t even go where I wanted on my own. I had no idea how to navigate the real world.

On the road, cars passed us sedately, and I watched them while my hands clenched into fists. How did normal people travel? Maybe I could call a cab? There was bound to be a bus stop nearby, too.

Or, again, I could walk. There were apps for pointing me in the right direction. Yeah, I could just download an app and figure out how to get to the library. It couldn’t be that hard.

“You’re not angry.” Phantom sounded disappointed.

I jerked away, realizing he stood right in front of me. As I looked up, his face hovered just over mine, the skull teeth grinning obscenely. Something flickered in the depths of his eye sockets.

“Guess I’m not,” I said, my voice so quiet and defeated, I cringed internally. “I just… It shouldn’t be this hard.”

When his grin widened, I realized I just gave him an opening for another lewd joke. I huffed with frustration.

“Please, don’t make a pun. Could you at least, I don’t know, pretend you’re a professional? You’re making it even more difficult than it already is.”

He stepped away, his grin shrinking as he looked around. His eyes fixated somewhere behind me.

“You’re no fun. What is it you’re trying to do, anyway?”

I shrugged, bracing for another wave of ridicule. At this point, I was eager to get back home and hide in my bedroom, but that was out of the question. I had to try, at least. The rest of my life depended on it.

“Get to the library,” I said in a small voice, taking off my sunglasses to rub my eyes. “I realize it’s not something I should have difficulty with, so yeah. Let’s get it over with. Make fun of the spoiled, rich girl who doesn’t even know how to find a public library.”

But he did no such thing. Instead, I was suddenly crushed to his body, his arms tight around me, an armored palm pressing my face to his hard, cold throat.

Behind me, something clicked. Someone just took a photo.

CHAPTER 9

Phantom

My throwing knife hissed as I unsheathed it from my hip. The air sizzled when I let it fly, and if not for the trembling mess of a girl in my arms, I would have cheered when it struck right in the middle of the phone pointing at us.

Pity I broke it. It looked expensive, and I would have loved to sell it.

The woman who took the shot stared at her phone incredulously, not yet terrified. She was in shock. I got that a lot—something about human brains being unable to keep up with the speed of my movements.

“Drop it and go, or the next knife will go in your eye,” I said with a grin, my voice filled with laughter.

I wasn’t really going to do it, of course. It was a joke. But as she looked up and screamed, I could tell at once she had no sense of humor.

“God, you’re shrill,” I said with a grimace, bemoaning the fact I couldn’t say “fuck”.

See what you did, Clarissa Ashford? You made me take your God’s name in vain.

Barbara squirmed, trying to move. I pushed her closer, my fingers closing around her nape in a quelling gesture. We had a deal, and no matter how I hated being blackmailed, I would honor it. She didn’t want her mother to know she went out, ergo, there could be no pictures of her being out in the papers.

When the paparazzi stumbled away, still clutching her phone, I unsheathed my other knife and held the blade between two fingers.

“You have three seconds. Three… Two…”

She dropped the phone with a crunch and ran away, her sneakers pounding the pavement. I looked around slowly, checking every bush and fence to make sure no more vermin lurked around us. Barbara said something, her voice muffled, and I shushed her.

“Stop squirming. Be a good girl and let me do my job.”

She froze, and I hummed in appreciation. There. Now I could take my time, and even though I’d already scanned our surroundings twice and was ninety-nine per cent sure we were safe, one could never be too careful. Especially while holding such a warm, nice-smelling, pretty thing in one’s arms.

Fuck, she really smelled good. It was something citrusy and sophisticated, and I wanted to roll in that scent for hours. Preferably on a bed, though a nice, plushy carpet would do, too.

I almost groaned with frustration. There went my composure and all the promises I made to myself while beating my meat before we went out. I did it twice for good measure, because once wasn’t good enough.

As my jizz went down the drain of my bath, I even fooled myself into thinking my momentary lapse in judgment was all gone and forgotten. The image of my principal’s tits wasn’t seared into my brain, I told myself. I’d just beat it out of me. I could be professional.

Yeah. That was me, being professional, as I tried to press every inch of her body to me while being inconspicuous about it.

Fuck. I really had to let go now. And sort myself out fast, before this small snafu became a huge, stinking fuck-up.

“All clear,” I said, my voice sounding gritty. I forced my hands to let go of her. It felt like my own body fought me on this, something deep in my guts growling for me to keep her close.

She stumbled away, her face red, eyes shiny as she gave me a wide-eyed look before whipping around to the broken phone. A tremble went down her back when she saw it, and I clicked my tongue, looking around again before I pocketed the phone and put my throwing knife back in its sheath.

The coast was clear for now, but if that paparazzi found us, others could as well.

“Come on. We have to go,” I said. “Put your sunglasses on.”

That finally made her move. She obeyed and turned to me, her mouth flattening into a tense, unhappy line. My hands itched to touch her again, and I resented my body for wanting something that clearly wasn’t good for it.

The girl was a shit-ton of issues held together by pink bubble wrap. Definitely not someone for me.

“We’ll take the bike, no discussion,” I said when I had her attention. “We need to move fast if you want to keep this a secret.”

“Or what?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. I couldn’t assess her expression properly with her eyes covered. “You’ll throw a knife at me, too?”

Now, that was unfair. I gritted my teeth and came over, grabbing her wrist.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on your side. Now listen to Daddy and hop on my bike, will you? We’ve been exposed long enough.”

She made a choking sound and let me drag her to my ride. I made her lean back against the side of it and hid her from view, a helmet in my hand, while she took off her cap and sunglasses. She was tense, her knuckles white where they gripped her cap. Unhappy, scared, uncomfortable—she was probably all three, and I couldn’t shake the feeling at least some of that was my fault.

Something wrenched in my chest, and I observed the unfamiliar sensation with alarm. It was like worms were squirming in there, crawling all over my heart and making me want to… do things.

Not used to denying myself, I gave in to the instinct.

“Don’t be afraid of me, okay? It was a joke. I wouldn’t have hurt her, since she was no danger. And I won’t hurt you. You have my word,” I said, hating the fact I explained myself. I never did that.

Except for now. Because for some fucked up reason, I wanted her to feel safe.

And even worse—I wanted her to like me. She never would, of course. I was a black panther with a mental disorder and she was some sort of pedigree kitten wearing a diamond collar and a pink bow. We’d never fit.

When she raised her big, vulnerable eyes to my face, I felt her gaze like a physical touch. It fucking tingled, and not just in my facial area, but everywhere. Hating that I reacted to her so strongly, I shoved the helmet on her head without warning. She squeaked in outrage, but I didn’t care.

There. Her big blue eyes couldn’t hurt me now.

The moment she sat behind me, her hands tentatively holding my middle, I disassociated hard. My psychiatrist called it a suboptimal coping mechanism and encouraged me to embrace mindfulness instead, but fuck, if I focused on those thighs bracketing my hips and the fact we were riding together—get it?—I’d break my word. I promised the girl no boners on the ride.

Besides, disassociation worked. I did it ever since that Mexican cult tried to burn me on the stake when I was nine. As the flames licked up my armor, I picked faces out of the crowd whenever the smoke shifted enough to let me see and imagined all the ways I would slaughter them after I got free. That way, I almost forgot about the pain.

I even managed to laugh, which freaked my persecutors right out.

Now, I thought about all the ways I would deal with Barbara’s mind manipulator when I got him. Deepthroating him with a red-hot poker was my current favorite, but I had trouble finding a believable excuse for doing that to put in my report.

He tripped and fell on it, I swear on my balls.

Maybe I’d kidnap him, do what I wanted, and pretend he disappeared? Fatima would know, but then, she needed me. She’d let it slide. Probably.

Barbara pressed closer, making a soft, scared sound in the back of her throat when I leaned into a sharp curve. My disassociating fantasies scattered, and I was plunged into the hideously uncomfortable reality of having this warm, gorgeously smelling female pressed to my back. Damn, she felt good.

“The library,” I gritted out, stopping in a free parking place. “Off the bike, doll.”

I counted pokers in my mind while she clumsily got off, her body shifting and sliding against mine. One hot poker in the mouth, two hot pokers in the eyes, three hot pokers in the ass, four hot pokers…

“Finally,” I muttered when she stepped away, hastily taking the helmet off. She pushed the sunglasses onto her face and pulled her cap low, avoiding my eyes. Her cheeks were red, hands clenched, and she seemed very uncomfortable.

Good. That made two of us.

“Thank you for the ride,” she choked out, already heading for the front door.

I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying she shouldn’t thank me until I rode her properly.

“So let me get this straight,” I said while we entered through the wide glass doors and Barbara stopped, looking around uncertainly. “You don’t want your mother to know about this little trip to the library. But why? Does she think that, I don’t know, libraries are the dens of iniquity or something?”

She turned to me, the corner of her mouth lifting briefly. “Dens of iniquity. I like that—but no. She simply believes reading doesn’t suit my image. If she knew I came here, she’d realize I’m trying to grow a backbone. She’d nip it in the bud. Or send me away. I’m not strong enough to deal with it right now.”

Her expression fell, and she rolled her shoulders back, straightening. She hesitated for a moment before she took off her sunglasses, though the cap stayed on. I said nothing, watching as she approached the help desk, inquiring politely about accessing a certain book she found in the library’s catalog online.

Her manner was decidedly different from when she dealt with me, and even though the librarian manning the desk was nothing special, just a nerd in his late twenties wearing a knitted vest, I felt a stab of jealousy when she gave him a radiant, photoshoot-ready smile. His face lit up with delight, and I could tell at once he thought she was into him. And hell, maybe she was.

She never smiled like that at me. It was beyond alarming that I cared.

While Barbara listened to the librarian’s eager instructions, I texted my psychiatrist.

“HELP! Am in lust with someone and it makes no sense. She’s not even my type. Send me some drugs that will kill my libido.”

The librarian produced a map of the building, explaining something to Barbara with growing excitement that made his freckled face all red while she leaned closer to look at what he showed her. The monster in my gut stirred, urging me to knock out the creep for daring to engage her attention that way.

My phone pinged.

“Your libido is drug-resistant. What’s the problem? If she consents, you can satisfy that urge.”

The librarian touched Barbara’s elbow, explaining something with breathy eagerness. She stayed put, but there was something wrong with her smile. Radiant before, it seemed fixed. My monster growled, but I had to at least try to be objective, didn’t I? If I killed every man who was attracted to her, there would be a bloodbath.

“She definitely won’t consent and I can’t fuck her. HELP. ME. It’s dire. I gave her my jacket when she was cold.”

That was the first moment when I acted unlike myself, now that I thought about it. I didn’t know her at all then. It made absolutely no fucking sense.

“Observe, don’t react,” came the unhelpful reply. “Our appointment is next week. We’ll figure out a coping strategy then.”

I raised my face to observe as the nerdy librarian pushed his glasses up his sweaty face. He’d walked around his desk and stood by her side, having his arm around her shoulders while he pointed down a corridor going off the main hall.

She clutched a plastic card in her hands, her knuckles white. When he leaned closer, bringing his face level with hers, she discreetly turned in my direction and mouthed what I was pretty sure was, “Help me.”

My phone pinged again. “And don’t do anything rash.”

Well, it was too late for that. I was already striding over to my principal. Before the librarian realized what was going on, I pushed his hand off and had my own arm around her, giving him an unhinged grin as I pressed her close with possessive menace.

“Did you get everything you need, kitten?” I asked, sliding my hand down her arm in something akin to a caress.

Barbara huffed angrily, but the librarian didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at my face with his mouth open, sheer terror painting his features. I let my grin grow as wide as it could, tucking her closer while her nostrils flared with fury.

“Now, don’t go flirting around, my cutesy little bear. You know what happened to the last guy you gave your number to, eh?”

The librarian took a step back, and Barbara tried to throw me off, but to no effect. She was in my clutches now, and I wouldn’t let go.

“W-what?” the librarian asked. “What happened to him?”

I turned to give him my full attention, and he paled so much, his face looked completely bloodless.

“Let’s say he lost his head,” I said with a mean little laugh. “Now, are we done here? You got everything, sweetie?”

“Yes,” she growled, trying to get away.

I gave the librarian one last grinning look, and he hastened to get behind his desk, watching us with wide eyes. And no wonder. We must have looked so grotesque, with me all in black, my head a horrid skull, while she was obviously a ten, even without makeup and with casual clothes on.

Well, for the next few moments, I would pretend she was my ten, even though I was fully aware that sort of thing was beyond impossible.

As soon as we were out of sight in a corridor leading to the Psychology Reading Room, according to a placard hanging under the ceiling, she stopped abruptly and turned to me.

“What was that? Have you lost your mind?”

I almost purred. Here she was again, my furious little kitten. My drug-resistant libido cheered.

“I lost my mind a long time ago,” I answered her question. “This here is full of hedonism and a healthy dose of blood thirst.”

I tapped my temple, indicating my rotten brain, and she stomped her foot in anger. “Why can’t you be serious? Is everything a joke to you? God, I can’t believe you’re the one thing standing between me and death. What did I do to deserve this?”

“Something very naughty, no doubt,” I said with a grin, my spine tingling from her proximity.

She stood very close now, her upturned face filled with delicious anger. Oh, damn, if I just lowered my head a bit, I could kiss her.

That thought sobered me up. I didn’t kiss. Not even with the most fetishistic human girls who legit begged me on their knees, throwing away their pride and self-respect just to get a kiss from an abomination.

Barbara wasn’t one of those girls. If I tried to kiss her, she would probably hurl up her breakfast all over me. The squirmy feeling in my heart grew in power, becoming a slimy little itch. With every second I spent looking into her belligerent face that was so heinously close to mine, it grew stronger, until I couldn’t stand it.

I covered her face with my palm, pushing her away. It took maybe two seconds before she threw my hand off, hissing in fury, but I relished it to the fullest. Her face was so small, I could almost cover it with my palm. And now, my mind was stuck on proportions, and I watched her mouth speculatively, wondering if she could take all of me.

Goddammit. It was like my brain was against me, too.

She made an indignant sound, righting her cap that almost fell off her head. I breathed in relief when she kept her distance. Her furious glare turned into a full-on glower, and I suspected she was plotting my murder.

“I was just trying to help you,” I said, attempting damage control. “You asked me to. Next time, deal with your admirers yourself.”

She shook her head, throwing her hands in frustration. “Admirers? He was just excited to talk about the library, and I didn’t know how to interrupt him without being rude. All I wanted was for you to come over and say we needed to go!”

I stared at her, wondering whether she was joking or just delusional. But Barbara looked sincere, her frustration almost palpable.

“That guy was hitting on you,” I told her slowly, watching if my words sank in. “I thought you wanted me to stop him from flirting with you.”

She gave me an offended look, as if she thought I lied to her. “Please. That wasn’t flirting. He just wanted someone who’d listen to him. I’m a good listener, mainly because I almost never talk.”

“Yeah? Could have fooled me.”

I wanted to say something more about how I thought she was a total moron for not noticing when a man was into her, but a ghoul woman wearing a pencil skirt and a severe expression rounded the corner, giving us a penetrating look. Barbara shoved her sunglasses back on her nose and went over to the reading room, swiping her card on the digital lock. The door buzzed open, and we entered.

Unable to help myself, I leaned in and took a sniff of her hair. I couldn’t have her, I knew, but since she was stuck with me, no one would keep me from taking what I could.

CHAPTER 10

Barbara

I knew I had to ignore my bodyguard to stay sane, but it was hard. He trailed after me, so close, I felt phantom caresses on my back and nape even though he didn’t actually touch me. It was the air he stirred with his movements brushing against my skin and making me tingle. I was hyper-aware of him at every moment.

The reading room was almost empty, which didn’t help the matters. Walking among the high bookshelves, it felt at times like we were alone, and my heart kept racing uncomfortably. I was ridiculously nervous, my palms sweating.

“Here,” I sighed with relief, spotting the book.

It was the only comprehensive study of mind-manipulating species, and the library had one copy, which couldn’t be borrowed. The only way to access it was by reading it right here. It was out of print, too, so I couldn’t buy it.

I took it off the shelf, glancing at the faded lettering of the title. Mind Manipulation: Risks and Opportunities.

“Is that what we’re here for?” Phantom asked quietly, his face right by my ear.

I jumped, startled by his proximity. Heat slid down my nape, followed by a wave of gooseflesh.

“Yes. It’s the only copy they have.”

Before I could react, he pulled the book out of my hands. “Awesome! Since my assistant hasn’t completed his report yet, I’ll read this to get ready. Great job finding this, doll.”

“What?!” I exclaimed in indignation. Someone in the next aisle shushed me aggressively.

“This is mine! Give it back!” I whispered as loudly as I could.

Phantom raised his arm high, holding the book out of my reach.

“Come and get it, shorty.”

I stared at him, struck completely dumb by his audacity. I wasn’t even that short, but that was beyond the point. I had no idea how to react.

In all my life, no one had ever treated me this way. I was at a loss. Was I supposed to try to jump and take the book from him? That would be ridiculous. We weren’t children, for God’s sake.

“Give it back. It’s my book,” I demanded, keeping my voice low.

He made a show of opening it, still out of my reach, and showed me the front page. “It says it’s the property of this library. Wanna get it? Climb me.”

The absolute, goddamn, ridiculous… asshole. There, I said it. Well, thought it. Same thing.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked, my anger burning so hot, it shocked me.

I was about to lose my shit, and it was thrilling and terrifying all at once. I was always in control. Always! But Phantom had worn me down all morning, and I was out of resources.

“I like having fun. This is fun,” he said, his skeletal face grinning obnoxiously. “And I really should read this book, doll. You want me to catch him, don’t you?”

“I need it more!” I hissed, stomping my foot. “Give it back! I saw it first!”

“Get it, then.” He cackled, waving the book tauntingly above his head.

Well, I had enough. Not even sure what I was about to do, I pushed into his personal bubble until our bodies were flush, his widely planted feet bracketing mine. I grabbed his face in both hands and tugged it down until my nose almost touched the hole where his would be.

He gasped, and I dug my fingers into the sides of his head, shocked by how warm it was to the touch. It wasn’t like his body, armored and cold. This was like touching a living, breathing person, albeit a bony one.

I stared vehemently into the depths of his eye sockets. There was a faint glow there, something silvery that suddenly flared brighter. I squeezed his face with all my might, breathing hard as waves of heat and cold rushed down my back. My anger burst and shifted, becoming something else, equally intense.

“Give. Me. My. Book.”

“What book?” he asked, the faintest tremor in his voice.

I grunted with annoyance. “The book in your hand! Give it to me. Right now!”

Something fell with a muffled thud. I stared into Phantom’s silver eyes that glowed in the depths of his sockets like wills-o’-the-wisp, taunting and mesmerizing. It hit me, then. His eyes glowed, just like my would-be-killer’s, and it seemed like a strange sort of irony.

“I’m afraid I dropped it,” he whispered hoarsely, his throat clicking as if it was completely dry. “You’re so pink, doll. Why are you so pink?”

I swallowed. My throat was dry, too, and I didn’t know why. I only knew our faces were so close, I smelled his breath, dark with a hint of smoke. I felt the heat of his bone under my fingers. Bone. I touched the bare bone of his skull, and it should be disgusting, it should be weird, but my fingers tingled with something like hunger.

Like I wanted to slide them across his face to map out his features in a soft caress.

With a sudden gasp, I pulled back, my hands falling off him. I blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the odd daze that came over me. Phantom stood motionless, his eyes glowing faintly, trained on me.

The book lay on the floor by his foot, and I dove down to snatch it. When I straightened, he was suddenly behind me. He moved so fast, I didn’t get a chance to react.

In the span of a second, my face was pressed into a bookcase, my body sandwiched between it and his front. I made a choked sound, something like a plea, and he pressed me harder into the books, his breath harsh in my ear.

“What are you doing to me, huh? This isn’t normal. I shouldn’t feel… You did something!”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice a breathy whisper, because my throat closed up.

I felt him everywhere. His hips were flush with my butt, his feet on either side of my feet, his arm pressing down on my nape. Hot shivers trembled down my spine, and I felt weak in a way I hadn’t felt ever before. That weakness was liquid and golden, and it felt like I could finally breathe, even though I choked on my every frantic inhale.

I probably should have screamed for him to let go. But the thing was… I didn’t want to.

“So pink,” he said again, making absolutely no sense.

More shivers tumbled down my back. His voice was a low, masculine rumble, right in my ear and so close, his breath caressed the shell.

“You’re driving me crazy, doll,” he murmured, lower still.

I shivered. “Likewise, you… you total jerk.”

He pressed closer, his hips crushing my ass, and then suddenly, he was gone. My back was cold from his touch, more shivers running through my body. I pressed into the bookcase, desperately trying to catch my breath.

“She’s doing book yoga. Don’t mind her,” Phantom said, his voice sounding almost normal.

I jerked away from the bookcase, just in time to see a scale-covered woman give us a suspicious look before she walked away with a huff.

“Book yoga?” I hissed under my breath, patting down my clothes to make sure they weren’t all rumpled.

Even though my clothes were fine, I felt disheveled and frazzled.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” he said with a shrug, watching me. “You all right?”

I stared at him, incredulous. “No, I am not all right,” I whispered hotly, straining to stay calm. “You assaulted me! What the hell was that? And why…”

I broke off, realizing what I was about to say. Why did I like it?

“Could we just forget it?” Phantom asked, scratching the back of his head. “It was just a glitch. Kind of. I didn’t mean to do it.”

I shook my head, appalled by his audacity.

“No, I can’t forget it!” I hissed, clutching the book to my chest. “How am I supposed to trust you when you… When you keep doing things like this! It’s one thing to make stupid jokes, but this was…”

Intimate. Forceful. Forbidden.

“It was too much,” I finished lamely, looking away. “You… You can’t be my bodyguard anymore.”

I was sure if I kept looking at him, he would read the truth in my face. Oh, how he would joke at my expense if he realized how much he affected me. I would never live it down.

“Oh, well,” he murmured after a taut moment. His body was tense, his hand on his hip, gripping a holster. “You’re forcing me to do something I’ll regret very much, doll. I’d rather do anything but this.”

I looked up, alarmed. He exuded a menacing aura, and when he took a step closer, I stumbled back, a scream of fear building in my throat. God, he was unhinged. He could do anything to me. And if he decided to hurt me, I stood no chance. None. He’d slice me into pieces.

“Please, don’t…”

I broke off when Phantom fell to his knees in front of me, looking up with a comically serious expression.

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. I will never do it again.” He frowned, cocking his head to the side, and then grinned. “Unless you ask me to.”

“W-what?”

My heart was in my throat, my entire body locked in a state of the highest emergency, and he… Was he…

“Did you just apologize?” I whispered, staring at his upturned face like it was a bomb. “You… I can’t believe this.”

“Me, neither,” he said, lifting his arms wide in an exaggerated shrug. “It’s my first time, by the way. Please, be gentle with me.”

“Your first time… apologizing.”

At that moment, I wished I was the kind of person who facepalmed themselves, because the situation called for a facepalm. He was down on his knees at my feet, looking at me with a grin that was a bit less unhinged than his usual expression, his eyes glowing softly, and he looked… cute. Like a puppy.

Okay, a murder puppy, but still.

“Yup,” he said, nodding. “You just popped my sorry-cherry.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. It didn’t help with my urge to laugh and didn’t bring back the anger that I desperately needed. If anything, I wanted to pat Phantom on the head. If he told me the truth and it really was his first time, that deserved encouragement.

“Um… Excuse me?”

Another young woman, probably a student, stood in the aisle entrance, looking at us uncertainly.

“He’s doing book yoga. Don’t mind him,” I said at once.

She laughed uncomfortably and left. I looked at Phantom, who was grinning full-on now.

“See?” he said, still kneeling at my feet. “This is fun. You’re fun.”

“I’m not fun.” I shook my head for emphasis. “I’m dutiful. Predictable. Well-behaved. But not fun.”

“Well then,” he said, getting to his feet. “Maybe I bring out the best in you, eh? So? Are we good?”

I stared at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Did I really want to get rid of him for… For pushing me into a bookcase? He was out of line, yes, but then, he also agreed to keep my outings a secret, and that had to count for something.

Besides, he was right. Unhinged as it sounded… This was fun. And I hadn’t had fun in ages.

“If you do it again, you’re out,” I said, forcing my voice to sound stern.

He nodded, his deep eyes twinkling softly with the movement. “I promise I won’t. Unless you ask for it.”

He laughed under his breath, and I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to better control my expression as my face grew hot with a blush.

“I’ll never ask for something like this,” I hissed vehemently.

“Good.”

“Good!”

We stared at each other, and I realized I was breathing hard, my blush still hot on my face. After a few more tense seconds, Phantom nodded at the book in my hands.

“So, are you gonna read it or what? Can I read over your shoulder? I’ll be super respectful.”

I sighed and nodded. He picked out a table placed at an intersection of three aisles, claiming it would give us the best chance of escape if we were attacked. The table was tiny, and it barely held the book. As I sat down, Phantom pushed his chair so close, he practically breathed down my neck.

“Do you mind?” I asked, frustrated because my insides tightened with something hot and eager at his proximity. “You’re in my space.”

“Sorry.” With a shameless grin, he pushed his chair a fraction of an inch away. “Better?”

I clenched my jaw and did my best to ignore him. Any further bickering would only delay my most important task for today, which was finding a way to resist mind control. I opened the book on the foreword and leaned in to read. The print was ridiculously small.

Phantom’s chair creaked when he leaned closer, putting his face right next to mine as we both pored over the pages. I ignored the hot tingles crawling up my nape, doing my best not to think about how the air grew thick and hard to breathe.

It went well until about a minute later, when I was still stuck on page one of the incredibly stuffy, unfriendly writing of the book, while Phantom leaned back in his chair, his knee bouncing impatiently.

“Are you done?” he asked ten seconds later.

“No,” I almost growled, trying to push through an incredibly long, convoluted sentence.

“Well, there’s nothing useful in here. You can turn the page.”

“How do you know what’s useful to me?” I asked, marking the end of the sentence with my finger and turning to look at him.

Phantom looked at where I was in the text, his expression pained.

“Oh, boy. You’re not a reader, are you?”

“No. I’m supposed to be pretty and obedient, or did you forget? No reading for an Ashford-Kingsley,” I said bitterly, because I used to like books when I was a girl and my nanny read them to me.

They transported me into different worlds, where the heroines had adventures and got to explore wondrous lands. Meanwhile, I was stuck in an endless loop of school, ballet, manner classes, and photoshoots to show off my father’s perfect family.

Phantom hummed, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Tell you what. If you tell me what it is you need from this book, I’ll let you know which parts are useful to you, okay? Because let’s face it, doll. At your pace, we’ll be stuck here for a few days, at least.”

I sighed heavily, conflicted. I was supposed to do this on my own. It was my huge mission to break free. And yet, he was right, too. I didn’t have any time to waste.

“The mind manipulator… He thought my mind was easy to crack. Like, way easier than others. I want to learn how to get stronger, so I can actually resist him next time.”

“There won’t be a next time. I won’t allow it,” Phantom said at once. “But fine. I’ll pay attention to anything relevant.”

I nodded warily, not fully trusting him, but willing to start. And if he failed me, I could still get the book and read it myself.

“Here,” Phantom said, taking his vampire romance out of his pocket. “You can read this in the meantime. It’s a much easier read, promise. It should suck you right in.”

He chuckled under his breath, and I took the book reluctantly while he sprawled in his chair with the mind manipulation textbook.

After turning the book in my hands for a few minutes, I gave in and cracked it open.

CHAPTER 11

Phantom

I glanced at her from time to time as I read. She sat with her knuckles pressed to her mouth, her eyes focused as she devoured my filthy little romance. I knew she wouldn’t get to the good shit anytime soon, but she was invested.

And maybe it was sick, but I enjoyed it. How the well-behaved, fancy princess got corrupted. I had pushed her to uncontrollable rage, to begging and making trades with the wicked—meaning, myself—and now, she was reading a smutty romance.

It was all innocent enough, but everything had to start somewhere, right? And this girl would be deliciously filthy by the time I was done with her.

Or not. I rapped on my empty fucking head with the butt of the knife I played with, drawing an alarmed look from Barbara.

“Just trying to focus,” I explained, which was, shockingly, the truth.

I was distracted, and dangerously so. It wasn’t my job to corrupt the girl. I was supposed to catch the fucker who threatened her and then leave, my task complete.

And yet, my mind went into those forbidden little nooks, my instincts pushing me to act like a psycho. I internally cringed at how I asked her to climb me. As if I couldn’t be any more obvious in how much I wanted this girl who wouldn’t have given me the time of day if I wasn’t her protector.

Pathetic. I should do something to shut down those idiotic instincts fast. Just eviscerate the urge to tease her. To protect her beyond the scope of my assignment. To keep her warm and snug, and happy.

And yet, when Barbara’s stomach growled loudly some time later, I couldn’t help but put the book down and plan where we could eat safely. She was hungry. Ergo, she had to be fed.

Immediately.

“Let’s go,” I said, hooking a foot around her chair’s leg and pulling her away from the table.

She gasped and shot me an irate look. “Did you find something useful? We can’t leave until you do.”

“Lots of speculation. The author is an imbecile. Let’s go.”

I grabbed her arm and hauled her up to her feet. Barbara huffed in anger and pushed me away.

“I’m not going anywhere! You can go if you want.”

I laughed mockingly and grabbed her elbow this time.

“We can come back here after you eat. Come on.”

She took a deep breath, unclenched her fists, and gave me a stern look. “I’m used to being hungry. I want to stay and read until we have something useful. What if someone else gets the book while we’re gone?”

Her stomach rumbled again. I lost my patience.

“Fine.”

Before she stopped me, which she probably would have, I tore off the back half of the book’s cover that had the anti-theft chip attached to it. Barbara made a choked sound of shock, and I stuffed the cover under the carpet by the wall, stomping on it a few times to make sure it wasn’t obvious.

“See? Done,” I said, putting the book in the pocket on my shin. “Can we go now? I get nervous when women are hungry. You get insufferable and all bitch… all unpleasant.”

I turned away from her and made a face. Oops. If Barbara reported that little word to anyone, I would pay a huge-ass fine. Good thing she had no idea about the contract I signed.

When I turned back, I was met with her angriest glare yet. A frisson of excitement went down my spine, pink tinting my vision.

“I can’t believe you destroyed a library book!” she hissed so sharply, my butt cheeks quivered with excitement. “And now you’re trying to steal it! It’s a crime!”

I ran my tongue over the sharp edges of my inner teeth, doing my best not to enjoy it too obviously. Man, what was it about this girl’s anger? Why did it do it for me?

“It’s barely a misdemeanor. Come on. I’m the one doing the bad shit, so don’t get your knickers in a twist. Your conscience is clear, doll.”

“But I should report you!” she exploded in a stage whisper, digging her heels in when I pulled her away from the table. “I should be good and tell someone!”

I stopped and regarded her. My vision was so fucking pink, I could barely concentrate. Any minute now, I would start seeing tiny hearts floating around her face.

“Well, do you want to report me?” I asked, genuinely curious about her answer. “Do you want to be good?”

She froze, her eyes widening. Slowly, a tentative smile spread on her face, turning up the pink polluting my vision by one hundred per cent.

“No. But… I don’t know. I don’t like stealing from a library.”

“I’ll make a note to steal from somewhere else next time,” I said impatiently. “Can we go now?”

Her stomach rumbled the third time. She bit her lip, obviously conflicted, and I shrugged, picked her up, and threw her over my shoulder.

“Oh my God! Stop this! Put me down this second!”

I ignored her hushed demands, crossing the reading room in purposeful strides. To her credit, Barbara didn’t raise her voice, probably because that good girl instinct reminded her she was supposed to be quiet. I rolled my eyes.

No wonder that fucker got her. She was way too easy to kidnap, for one. Too afraid of breaking the rules.

“Good day. Wonderful weather, ay? Enjoy your book.”

I nodded politely at every person we passed, all of them sitting at small tables and equally paralyzed by their manners as Barbara was. Some gasped, some gave me spooked looks, but when I spoke to them politely as if nothing was wrong, they completely ignored the feebly struggling woman whose gorgeous ass now decorated my shoulder.

By the time we reached the entrance hall, she was subdued, huffing and groaning quietly, but not struggling. As we passed the help desk, she knocked on my back with her fist.

“I need to give back the magnetic card,” she hissed.

“Sure.”

I reached into the pocket on her ass, where she kept the card, doing my best to cop a really good feel without arousing suspicion. When I had the card—and the memory of her warm, soft curves that I wished to feel again without armor on—I sent it flying as if it was a throwing star. As luck would have it, the card stuck into a tiny gap between the panels of the desk top. The librarian manning the desk looked up with wide eyes, the color draining from his face when he recognized me.

“Good day to you!” I said cheerfully, carrying my furious prize out of the building.

I only let her down when we were by my bike. As soon as she was on the ground, Barbara gave me a furious look and kicked my shin with all her might.

“Aaaaah! Fuck! It hurts!” she screamed, hopping in place on one leg.

Well, it was her own damn fault. If I had expected any violence from the meek little lamb, I would have avoided her kick to spare her foot, but she chose to be sneaky about it.

“Poor baby,” I said with exaggerated sympathy. “You should never kick an abomination. Here, stop jumping around. I’ll see if your foot is okay. ”

“Fuck you,” she whined, hugging her knee to her chest, fingers wrapped around her sneaker. “Why are you so stupidly hard?”

“Well, that’s what happens when a man is strongly attracted to someone,” I said mildly. “Didn’t you have sex ed in school?”

She groaned, shot me a filthy look, and hopped away to a low wall. She sat down and took off her shoe, hissing from pain. I followed, struggling to keep my laughter in check. Damn, she really was fun to play with.

“And? How is it?” I asked after she gently checked her toes, wincing.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I broke anything,” she said with a sigh. “But I won’t dance for a few days, at least.”

She shook her head and looked up, her expression sheepish. “Sorry I kicked you,” she mumbled. “I guess I should have learned long ago. That’s what happens when I cross the line.”

I dropped to a crouch in front of her and retracted the armor covering my palms. The plates clicked gently, sliding and stacking on top of each other to mimic the lines of bones in my palms. Barbara’s breath hitched, and she watched it closely, intrigued.

“May I?” I asked, gesturing with my naked, dark-gray-skinned palm at her foot.

“I guess,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

I gently held her ankle, doing my best to hide the shiver that shot down my spine when I felt her naked skin against mine. My cock twitched, and I bit back a curse. Really, I should have touched people without armor more often. As it was, I only did it in sexual situations. I conditioned myself to respond this way.

I moved her foot left and right, sliding my fingers along her ankle. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

I checked her delicate bones next, carefully passing my fingertips over each. I looked around from time to time, making sure we were safe and alone, and Barbara shivered, digging her nails into her arms.

“This pain wasn’t a punishment for kicking me, just a simple consequence of making a stupid decision,” I said softly as I took her smallest toe between two fingers and moved it with care.

She gasped, but the bones were intact. I moved on to the next. “You need to be smart when you break the rules. Bend the world to your will. Karma and the law only work if you believe in them, doll. I don’t. That’s how I get away with almost everything.”

She laughed softly. “But you don’t. Your boss threatened to give you a job you hate if you don’t behave.”

I looked up, grinning, and almost recoiled when another wave of pink infused my vision. “She won’t do anything unless you give me away. So don’t. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She sighed, looking down with a small frown, and damn, but I didn’t know if she was pink because of my freaking eyes or because she was blushing.

Her foot was warm in my hand, but callused and strong, too. A dancer’s foot.

“Nothing is broken,” I said after a lengthy examination. “But you should stay off it to be safe. Put on just your sock and let’s go.”

She gave me a long look, her mouth curving in a small smile. “Really? You’re going to carry me like a sack of potatoes again?”

I grinned back, shaking my head. “No. This time you’re coming willingly, so I’ll carry you like a princess.”

When she shook her head in amusement, laughing under her breath, I cringed internally. Like a princess? What was fucking wrong with me? The words themselves weren’t even that lame, since it was a joke. Yet, I knew I meant them wholeheartedly. That was what made me want to howl from embarrassment.

I picked up her shoe and put my armor back on my hands, because if I felt her soft warmth again, I would just embarrass myself even more. Then I picked her up, bridal style. She gasped and put her arms around my neck. She avoided looking at my face, though, which was a blessing. I just knew my eyes glowed like fucking lightbulbs.

“Hop on,” I said, sitting her on my bike. God, the way her thighs hugged the seat. “Now, what do you want to eat?”

She fidgeted, clearing her throat. “Well, we should probably get back home. Since we have the book. There will be lunch.”

I heard the disappointment in her voice, and that was enough to make me push. I was determined to get to the root of the problem.

“I didn’t ask what we should do, doll. I asked what you want to do. Now, be straight with me.”

She sighed heavily, nodded to herself, and looked up with a determined expression. “Well, I… I really shouldn’t, but I want to try one of those coffee places where they make coffee into desserts. You know, with flavored syrups, whipped cream, cookies…”

She trailed off and looked away, her jaw working. I stared for a moment longer, assessing her. She said she wanted to try one of those places. Did she mean she never did it before?

Shit. My poor little doll.

“All right,” I said, adjusting the helmet to put it on her. “I’ll take you to the Fabulous Coffee Club. They have sprinkles and everything.”

When she looked up, I had to lock my legs to control my reaction. Her face was completely unguarded, her eyes full of stars, and her smile was so bright, pink exploded in my head like a firework.

She was bright light and pure joy. I stood there, dumbfounded, just staring at her, until she looked away with a soft laugh that pierced my black, shriveled heart like a knife.

“That sounds amazing,” she said with quiet joy in her voice.

I couldn’t move. Shivers ran down my back, because no woman ever had looked at me like that. The looks I got in the night club were covetous and horny, and the looks I got everywhere else were horrified or disgusted, but she…

God, the way she smiled. At me. Because I offered her coffee with sprinkles.

It was fucking sad. Sad because she radiated joy at such a simple thing that no one thought to offer her before. And sad for me, because in my thirty-four years of life, no one had ever smiled at me like that.

I cleared my throat, trying to make the pink go away. When it didn’t, and the pleasant shivers crawling up my thighs got more intense, I clenched my teeth and braced. I had to make this glow go away, and brutal honesty was the way to do it.

She’s fucking royalty, and you’re a monster. You’ll never get to have her. She’ll never want you like that, moron. So get these stupid thoughts out of your head and do your fucking job.

The pink diffused. I put the helmet on Barbara’s head to get rid of that temptation of a smile before I got on, engaging all systems to ignore her presence so close to me.

I had one job: catch the mind manipulator. After that, this would be all over, and I’d never see her again.

CHAPTER 12

Barbara

When my coffee arrived, I stared at it with awe for a good minute while Phantom snorted, folding his arms in his seat opposite me.

“I don’t think they’ve ever made a drink like this before,” he said, laughing under his breath.

He nursed an enormous mug filled with twelve espressos. I cringed just looking at it, but he seemed to enjoy it. Phantom was also the one who paid for our orders, saying, “You don’t want your parents to see this in your credit card statement, doll. Let me handle it.”

Now we sat at a table by the window, which afforded Phantom a clear view of the coffeehouse entrance, and I felt giddy not just for the gorgeous drink in front of me, but also because this felt kind of like a date. Especially since he carried me in and held me all the way to the table, grinning uncannily at everyone who stared at us for too long.

It was silly, I knew, and yet, I couldn’t get rid of the warmth suffusing my chest.

“Aren’t you gonna eat it?” he asked finally when I turned my tall coffee mug this way and that, marveling at how pretty and colorful the drink was.

“In a minute,” I answered, my voice light with joy.

Phantom had bullied me at the counter, demanding I order exactly what I wanted, with all the blows and whistles. My coffee included three kinds of syrup, crunchy caramel chips, and double whipped cream decorated with white chocolate hearts and pink, blue, and silver sprinkles.

A hissy little voice in my head kept asking me if I knew how many calories were in it, but I was determined to ignore it.

“It looks like a unicorn went and shat in your mug,” Phantom said, leaning in to inspect the gorgeous sugar bomb. “They should trademark it. It could be called Unicorn’s Business.”

I laughed under my breath, not in the least grossed out by his comments. If anything, they made the experience all the better. I knew he wasn’t joking at my expense. I was in on the joke, he was here with me, and I was doing something deliciously forbidden that I’d wanted to do for years, and just…

“Thank you,” I said, looking up. My eyes felt hot. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Phantom huffed and raised his hand, his palm hovering in front of my face as if to cover it.

“Awesome. Good for you. Now please, eat your coffee, all right?”

I grinned and reached for the long spoon that came with my drink. “Eat” was the right word, too. My coffee had the consistency of a dessert, and I loved it all the more for it.

My enthusiasm lasted all through the whipped cream and the first half of my drink. Once I reached the halfway point, though, I couldn’t go on. My stomach churned and my teeth hurt from the sweetness, and even though I badly wanted to continue, I was afraid I’d be sick. I pushed the massive mug away and gave Phantom an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I can’t have any more.”

I expected him to guilt trip me into eating the rest. It was what my mother used to do. When I was younger, she allowed me one cheat meal every month, and I usually went way overboard asking for all the things I wanted and couldn’t normally have.

Fried chicken. French fries. Chocolate pudding. Cookie dough. A burger. Spaghetti carbonara. Pizza. I asked for all of it for that one single meal, because I knew I’d be on a strict diet after it, so I wanted to fit in everything I had cravings for.

Then, when I inevitably couldn’t stomach the huge amounts of food, my mother would stand there and harp on me for being a weakling who couldn’t handle the consequences of her own choices. The more she forced me to eat, the sicker I got, sometimes to the point of vomiting. When I was sixteen, I stopped wanting to have cheat meals altogether. I only associated them with guilt, pain, and discomfort.

Maybe that had been my mom’s goal.

But Phantom wasn’t like my mother. He simply shrugged, grabbed my mug, and took a big gulp. He’d barely swallowed before he started coughing and hitting his chest, making the table shake.

“Are you all right?” I asked after he stopped coughing and just wheezed harshly, holding his hand to his teeth.

He nodded and choked out in a hoarse voice, “I knew you’d be too sweet for me, doll. Had to try, though.”

I swallowed, unsure how to interpret his words. Most likely, they were another joke, so I shrugged and did my best not to linger on the hot, tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“We should get back now,” I sighed with regret, looking out through the window at the bustling street outside. “I have a flower arranging lesson in the afternoon, and I don’t know when my mother will be back. I should be home before she gets there.”

Phantom scoffed. “Flower arranging? You really are a proper lady, aren’t you?”

I shook my head with a sigh. I enjoyed all my classes up to a point, but ballet lessons with Madame Morozova were the only ones that actually felt meaningful. The rest just seemed like vapid ways to occupy me when I wasn’t needed by my parents.

I was like an elegant set of porcelain, languishing away in a cabinet until someone brought it out to be polished for a special event.

“Well, I have to be there or my mother will know I’m up to something,” I said with a bitter smile. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the stables, but I’ll have the afternoon free since my mother will be visiting her friend. I thought… I might go shopping. And… I want to sell some of my jewelry for cash. In a pawn shop.”

The very idea of it excited me and made me a bit nauseous at the same time. I’d never been to a pawn shop, and it seemed dangerous and thrilling. I bit the inside of my cheek, watching Phantom to see if he would shoot my ideas down or ridicule me for being obviously excited about something so trivial.

But he grinned, nodding with enthusiasm.

“Now we’re talking! I’ll teach you how to drive a good bargain. You’ll get cash for all your illicit escapades, though after the library, I’m afraid what you’ll come up with to get your kicks. A church? A picnic? A visit to the zoo?”

A loud, happy laughter tore out of me. Phantom looked so seriously worried, and yet I knew he was joking good-naturedly, not at me but with me. I imagined going to all those places with him while he behaved like he did today, mouthing off, threatening poor librarians, snatching books out of my hands and calling my coffee unicorn’s shit. A warmth spread in my chest and I laughed harder.

“Oh, no,” he said with mock horror. “I just gave you ideas, didn’t I? You’ll have me feeding ducks in a park next! You cruel, cruel woman.”

I laughed until my stomach hurt, and then wiped my tears, still shaking with little bursts of mirth. I didn’t remember ever laughing like this as an adult, and I had a ridiculous urge to give Phantom a hug.

We met only yesterday, but from the very first moment, he eviscerated the distance between us until it almost felt like we were friends or something similar. It helped that he treated me with no respect at all. It was like he felt entitled to call me names, make fun of me, touch me without boundaries, and…

And I loved it. Everyone else, including my own parents, kept me at an arm’s length. He was the only person who pulled me closer.

When we got home, the security firm was just finishing up installing more cameras. Phantom told me there would be three guards on shift every night, two patrolling while one watched the screens. He’d be out there, too, watching out for me.

“He won’t hurt you again,” he said in a rare moment of seriousness. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Back home, I changed into a dress, so my mother wouldn’t see me wearing jeans, and Phantom settled into his room, unpacking a few boxes that were delivered for him. My mother gave him her old office downstairs, now unused because she hated working at home.

He sat in on my flower arranging lesson, making funny faces when my teacher’s back was to him. I had to work real hard to keep my face straight, and he didn’t let up until the last minute. It was the most fun I’d ever had while playing with hydrangeas.

My good humor lasted until my mother came home just in time for dinner. We ate together, and the atmosphere was so tense, the food curdled in my stomach. I could barely eat. She gave me cold looks and didn’t speak at all, while I tried to puzzle out what I had done again to displease her. I went almost crazy with guilt, fearing she’d found out about my trip to the library.

But when my mother finished her meal and wiped her mouth, she fixed me with a stern look.

“I thought you’d be working hard to repair your reputation, Barbara. Your mess has greatly affected us all. I’m disappointed all you’re doing is sitting at home and playing with bouquets. Do better.”

She left without a backward glance, leaving me there, confused and gaping. A dark, heaving pit opened in my stomach, rippling with pain and an overwhelming resentment at the injustice. Hadn’t she told me the PR team would handle it? Hadn’t I been attacked just yesterday? I was a victim! What did she expect me to do, anyway?

The hurt welled in my chest until I couldn’t contain it. It buzzed and boiled when I tried to fall asleep, until I gave up and paced in my room in a frenzy of anxiety and rage. When I couldn’t handle it anymore, I went to see the only person who didn’t treat me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Knowing it wasn’t appropriate and that he’d probably turn me away, I sought out Phantom.

I wore a thick, fluffy robe over my pajamas, my hair braided for bed. The house was quiet, though I was certain my father hadn’t come back yet. It was almost midnight.

I stood in front of Phantom’s door for a moment, fretting. Even though I needed to talk to someone who didn’t hate me and blame me for the smallest mistakes, seeking him out felt illicit. Besides, he was my bodyguard. Was it even fair to burden him with my shit?

Then again, he didn’t behave like a proper bodyguard. I clenched my teeth and knocked. Something in the room thudded, something clanged, and Phantom’s muffled voice followed.

“Be there in a minute!”

I heard a faint hiss, like he sprayed something in the room, and a moment later, he opened the door. The strong scent of male perfume hit me at once, and I coughed.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he said, pressing his knuckles to his bony temple. He seemed tired. “I shouldn’t have bothered. Well, come in.”

I followed him inside, closing the door behind me, and looked around. The room wasn’t much different from when my mother used it. A huge mahogany desk occupied the middle of the plush, green carpet, tall wooden cabinets lining the walls. A few shelves, previously empty, were now filled with books.

Phantom made other changes, too. He threw a black blanket over a huge modern art painting hanging right behind the desk, my mother’s pride and joy. When I turned to look at the door, I found a life-sized poster of a preening pin-up girl wearing a corset and sexy garters. She was blonde and voluptuous, oozing sexy confidence.

The only light came from an ornate desk lamp, making the atmosphere cozy and mellow.

While I took in the room, Phantom went over to the open window and half-sat on the wide windowsill, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah, you were smoking.” I finally understood why he’d sprayed the room with deodorant. He tried to cover up the scent.

He nodded, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “My shrink was very unhelpful today, so I’m trying to cope on my own.”

He studied the cigarette held between his armored fingers before looking up at me with a mild frown.

“Does it bother you? I can stop if you don’t want me to smoke around you.”

“Oh.” I smiled, a bit taken aback by his offer. “Since when are you so considerate? I bet my mother told you not to smoke inside, and you didn’t care.”

He shrugged. “Cause I don’t give a f—I don’t care about your mother. But if you tell me to stop, I will.”

A wave of warmth spread in my chest, finally allowing me to relax just a bit. I crossed the room to sit in a large, green armchair by the window.

“It’s okay. Can I stay with you for a bit? I won’t be a nuisance, I promise.”

He huffed out a small laugh, blowing smoke out of his nose hole. “Stay as long as you want, doll. We can plan that visit to church.”

I smiled, settling in until I was curled up in the armchair, my chin resting on my knees. Phantom gave me a long look and drew on his cigarette again. The tip burned bright orange.

“My mother thinks I should be trying to save my reputation. You know, after the video.”

He tipped his head back, blowing out smoke. “And what do you think?”

“That my reputation is a lie, anyway, so what does it matter?” I said softly, realizing it was the truth.

I frowned, trying to piece my thoughts together. It wasn’t easy, since I had to shush all the chiding voices that resided in my head and watched my every thought, hunting for flaws or dissent.

“Everything that’s ever been publicly said about me was performative,” I said slowly, thinking. “My every outing was carefully staged, every outfit prepared by a team of stylists, and I got coaching before every interview to say exactly the right things. The video… It was basically the same thing, only done to me by different people. I kind of get why my mother didn’t think it was a big deal. She does the same thing to me every day, except her control isn’t as violent.”

He watched me, the white bone of his face bathed in the golden light from the lamp.

“How does she control you?” he asked in a murmur before drawing in another lungful of smoke.

Shame rippled behind my sternum, and I looked away, wondering if he would laugh if I told him. When I looked up, Phantom stared out the open window, his profile calm and thoughtful. I decided to tell him.

“Mostly, it’s a habit,” I said, my throat tight. “I was brought up to follow directions. I’ve learned how to spot the signs of her displeasure early, you know? I always self-correct to keep her happy. Because when she isn’t happy with me, she… She knows what to say to make me really miserable. And also…”

I swallowed, shooting him a quick glance, but he still wasn’t looking at me. It gave me the confidence I needed to speak out.

“I rebelled a bit in high school. I wanted to party like other kids, wear dark lipstick, stuff like that. She didn’t care until some photos from a party got leaked, and then she lost it. She, um. She said I’d be sent to a mental institution. Showed me which one and told me my aunt had been sent there when she refused to marry the man my grandparents chose for her. I, uh, talked to my aunt after my mother told me.”

I swallowed, that conversation still lodged at the forefront of my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

“Aunt Nina spent a few months there. She told me… Well, she didn’t remember much from her stay. See, they were drugging her. She got pills in the morning that kept her happy, then other pills at night to make her sleep, but every night… After she got the pill but before she fell asleep, a doctor would come in and tell her… things.

“He’d say she was misguided and infantile. That she couldn’t think for herself, and her parents only tried to look out for her. That she was helpless on her own and should follow directions because otherwise, she would just make mistakes all the time. Stuff like that. Stuff that finally got to her enough that she agreed to marry that man. She told me… She still remembers all those things. It’s like they are weeds in her mind, and she’s unable to pull them out.”

I fell silent, hugging my knees to my chest. Phantom said nothing, and I sighed, soothed by the smoky tang of his cigarette riding the chilly edge of the night air.

“I know how it sounds. It’s not like she was tortured. No one really hurt her, you know? But ever since… Ever since my mother said she would send me there, I’ve been terrified. I’m a coward, I know. It’s not like… Like I’m a child. I should have moved out long ago. I should have been strong. Found a way to make it impossible for her to do that to me.”

I chanced a look at him, wondering if our strange camaraderie would stop now. This wasn’t the type of thing you told people—I knew that, and I’d been taught to keep dirt in the family. But truth was, I desperately needed to talk to someone, and he was the only person available.

Phantom wasn’t staring out the window anymore. His eyes were focused on me, his eerie face frozen in a grin. I cringed, wondering why he was silent.

“Well, say something,” I murmured, fidgeting nervously.

He flicked his cigarette butt out the window and folded his arms, cocking his head to the side.

“I signed a document forbidding me from cussing. I can’t say any of the words I want to use now, doll.”

I huffed with relief. He still wanted to talk to me after this. That was a good sign.

“Well, say what you want when it’s just me,” I offered. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he said, throwing his head back until his skull hit the wall with a thud. “Because you just told me the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard and I’ll fucking explode if I can’t name it for what it is. Crazy psycho fuckery, that’s what. Your mother is a fucking loon.”

“Well, yeah,” I said, looking away uncomfortably. “Maybe. I mean… There is a certain logic to what she does. My father’s career…”

“Is not a good excuse to fucking threaten you,” he interrupted, red flashing in his eyes. “Fuck, doll. If you knew what I’m thinking right now, you would run. But I’m begging you to stay here, because if you’re gone, I’ll lose it. I will go to your mother’s bedroom and suffocate her with a pillow.”

I drew back, gasping at the ferocity in his voice. Phantom growled low in his throat, grabbed an ornamental paperweight from the desk, and flung it into the garden. It hit a tree with a deep thud.

When he turned back to me, his eyes glowed red.

“Stay here,” he said in a low, husky voice. “Promise me, doll.”

CHAPTER 13

Phantom

She was scared. Her eyes were wide as she stared at me, her body folded into a tight ball, shrinking into the armchair and away from me. Anger swirled in my eyes, flooding my vision with red, and my skin itched under my armor. I craved only one thing right now—to retract the plates so I could kill her mother with my bare hands.

The fierceness of my reaction shocked me, but that shock was tucked away somewhere deep in my psyche, the fury and need to kill overwhelming everything else.

“You really look murderous,” Barbara said in a small voice. She didn’t blink, watching me like prey staring into the gaping maw of a predator.

And it was perverse, but I loved the sight of it. How she trembled, sitting practically at my feet. She’d look even better on the floor, shivering and…

And what the fuck was wrong with me?

“Don’t go anywhere,” I growled, my voice sounding alien to my ears.

She nodded frantically, not taking her eyes off me. I got my phone from my pocket and called my shrink, walking into the bathroom. I was about to bare my fucking soul, and if she heard any of it, I’d die of embarrassment.

“This better be an emergency,” came my doctor’s grumpy greeting when he picked up after the fourth ring.

“I’m about to kill the girl’s mother because she is a bitch,” I growled, my voice still having that predatory rumble. “Talk me off the ledge.”

He yawned, evidently unimpressed. I squeezed the edge of the sink until my hand hurt, the pain grounding me.

“What did the mother do?” Natharan asked, stifling another yawn.

“Threatened to send her to a mental asylum if she wasn’t an obedient daughter.”

There was a short silence and a rustle, then a faint click. He got out of bed and turned on the light.

“You’re right. She is a bitch. And you can’t kill her. She is your client,” he said. A faint whisper of his scales sliding on the floor came through.

“I know,” I bit out. “But fuck, Nat. The world is all red. It’s not going away. Why the fuck am I like this? Can you explain it to me?”

He was silent for a moment, and then I heard a loud splashing sound. I closed my eyes, my head pounding with bloodthirst that was like physical pain.

“Are you pissing right now?” I asked, each word bitten out with effort.

“A shehru’s gotta go when he’s gotta go,” he answered over the steady splash. “That’s what you get for calling me after hours.”

I closed my eyes and hit my head against the cold tiles. The thud was loud, my brain jarring a bit from the impact, but it did nothing to dissolve the red fog swarming my vision.

“Don’t give yourself a concussion. We’ll deal with this,” Nat said, another splash of water coming through. He was washing his hands. “You said earlier you desire the girl and feel protective of her, yes?”

I leaned my forehead into the wall, taking deep breaths. Fuck, I needed another smoke.

“But it makes no sense,” I growled, angry with this whole situation. “I’ve known her for two days. And I don’t do this, Nat. I don’t have murderous urges on behalf of other people. I kill out of duty. And for fun.”

He chuckled under his breath, and an infinitesimal amount of tension seeped out of me. I was so grateful for Nat. He was a monster, too. He got me and knew my will to eliminate threats was a normal instinct, not something to fix.

And I would just bet Barbara would try to fix it. If she ever deigned to have me, which wasn’t going to happen.

“Well, you got attached to her very quickly,” he said with infuriating calmness. “It’s surprising but not outside the realm of possibility.”

“Not outside the… Do you hear yourself? Abominations don’t get attached to strangers. We don’t have freaking mating bonds. We’re a reasonable fucking species, and we don’t just sniff someone and decide they are the one.”

“Well, is she?” Nat asked, his question quick and sly. “The one?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I hissed, some of the pressure finally draining out of my skull thanks to the distraction. When I opened my eyes, the tiles were less red. “First of all, she’s not my type. Secondly, she’s practically royalty. I’m a humble man. And smart enough not to aim for the fucking moon.”

“Humble,” he snickered. “I’ll add a note under self-delusion in your file, shall I?”

“Fuck you,” I said amicably, because he was right. I wasn’t humble. I was, however, smart, and I stood by what I said.

“Talk to me about it,” he said, ignoring my rude reply. “Is the urge to kill like your normal threat response or is it different?”

I focused on the anger, feeling into it. It was like a buzzing in my bones, an electric current running just under my ribs, shocking my heart into a frantic gallop. Faster, faster, it urged. Kill, kill now. Kill to survive.

“It’s similar. It feels almost exactly like the instinct I get when somebody threatens me and I need to eliminate them to survive,” I said, frowning. My vision cleared bit by bit, and even though the craving to wrap my hands around Clarissa Ashford’s throat wasn’t gone yet, it was easier to control.

“Interesting,” Nat said. I heard a rustle of paper and knew he was taking notes. “So your natural self-protective instincts extend to her.”

I exhaled heavily, my breath fogging up the cream tiles. “Yeah. Maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense!”

“That’s okay,” Nat said, his calmness utterly irritating. “All of it happened right now and it’s fresh. It’s okay not to know what it means yet.”

“But I have to know!” I growled, hitting my head on the wall again. “I’m falling, Nat. I’m falling and I don’t know how to stop it! She will trample all over me and I will let her. I will fucking lie down to make it easier and then thank her for the privilege! You get it? This girl will turn me into a doormat. I offered not to smoke when she’s around, for fuck’s sake!”

He hummed thoughtfully, paper rustling as he noted down my words. Nat was a slow, deliberate thinker and liked to take his time with gathering data. Normally, I tolerated it, but tonight, it annoyed me even more than normal.

“You’re not helping,” I complained, retracting my plates until my naked palm rested against the cool tiles.

“Really?” he asked. “How is your murderous rage, then?”

I paused, taking a good look at the bathroom. It was no longer red but faintly pink. Because I was thinking about Barbara, not her ho of a mother.

“Better,” I admitted grudgingly. “Don’t brag about it.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his smile obvious in his voice. “Okay, are you well enough for now? We can talk tomorrow once you’re calmer. I’ll move appointments for you.”

I sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the bright lights dotting the ceiling.

“Yeah, fine. Goodnight.”

He chuckled, and I huffed. “And Nat? Thanks. For getting up and letting me listen to you piss. It was real soothing.”

He laughed out loud, his laughter low and rich. “Anytime, Scarab.”

I clenched my jaw and hung up, looking at the door. I was completely certain Barbara was gone. I’d terrified her with my behavior and words, and now she was probably in bed, crying about being saddled with a real monster for a bodyguard.

So when I opened the door, resigned to a sad wank and an uneventful night spent roaming the manicured garden, it surprised me to see she was still there. No longer curled up in the armchair, Barbara stood opposite the door and admired my poster.

“Hey,” I said gruffly, everything I’d told Nat ringing in my head. It was true. I was falling, and it was scary as fuck.

“Hey.” She turned with a tentative smile, taking me in with wide eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a moron,” I said with a shrug. “Could you forget what I told you? I wasn’t in my right mind.”

She huffed softly and cocked her hip, watching me quizzically. “Well, it will be hard to forget since I spent all this time imagining what it would feel like to suffocate my mother with a pillow.”

I closed my eyes, cussing at myself in the privacy of my mind. Of course, she couldn’t forget. She hated me now, I was sure.

“Yeah? Weird thing to imagine,” I said, feigning nonchalance.

She shrugged, looking away with a thoughtful frown. “I guess. It was shockingly satisfying, actually. Calmed me right down, you know? I think it’s going to be my new meditation.”

“Really?” I crossed the room in a few long strides, the need to see her face up close overriding my restraint. “You’re not… freaked out? Disgusted? Scared?”

She gasped softly when I stopped just in front of her, too close to be proper, but fuck it.

“Um, no?” It came out as a question. “I mean, with myself, maybe? Because who fantasizes about killing their own mother, right? I won’t do it, obviously, but imagining it helped like nothing ever did. I could almost feel her thrashing under my weight and… And I didn’t feel powerless for the first time in so long. It was nice.”

I exhaled in relief, my chest filling with a pounding, rippling something. Barbara shrugged, looking away with an uncomfortable huff, and suddenly, I itched to tell her everything about myself. Maybe she would understand, after all. Maybe she wasn’t like all those other women who got their freak on fucking an abomination but couldn’t stand looking at me in the morning.

“To me it sounds like a totally normal response,” I said quietly, watching her like a hawk.

It was a test, and I expected us both to fail it. I would say too much and use the wrong words, and she would run from this room in terror. And yet, there was that tiny possibility that it could go right.

It was thrilling.

“What, killing my mother in my imagination?” she asked with an amused huff. “I mean, it depends on how you define normal.”

“Normal for someone like me. For an abomination,” I clarified, reaching down to take her hand.

When I felt the warmth of her skin, I realized my palm was still unarmored. A small shiver went down my back, and I pulled her to the couch by the wall so we could sit.

“I want to explain to you what happened. Why I got angry,” I said, folding a leg under me so I could face her on the couch.

“Okay.”

She leaned against the armrest, hugging her knees like she did in the armchair, her eyes huge and glistening as she watched me. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I didn’t see any fear in her gaze, just open curiosity.

“I was born in Mexico,” I began. “It’s different now, but over thirty years ago, hunting abominations was a common practice there. And for our species, it’s natural to be ruthless when faced with a threat. When I was about one and my parents were targeted by an anti-abomination cult, they kicked me out of their nest so I wouldn’t be a burden while they fought those who came after them.”

She blinked a few times, at first confused, and then horrified. “I’m sorry, but did you say you were just one year old?” she asked, shaking her head.

I waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, we’re not like humans. I could already speak, walk, and find food. I was small, which also allowed me to hide better than if I had been with my parents. It’s a common practice to separate from your children when faced with a threat. This way, everyone has higher chances of survival.”

I paused, wondering how best to explain it to her so she wouldn’t think I was a psychopath. Though, of course, I was one in human terms. A human shrink made that diagnosis, and it almost cost me my job before Fatima decided to get a second opinion from someone who actually understood the intricacies of my species. That was when I met Nat.

Barbara waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts. I took up my story carefully, wanting to explain it to my best ability.

“Because you see, abomination children are supposed to hide. Adult abominations are equipped with this superb survival instinct, but it only kicks in in puberty. So I was kind of defenseless, and my best bet was hiding. My parents couldn’t hide with me, because that instinct forced them to fight.”

She nodded slowly, and I shifted, moving just a bit closer to her. She wasn’t running away. It was a good sign.

When I’d told this part to a girl before, when I was still interested in finding a long-term partner, she told me point blank I obviously had issues. She said she wouldn’t carry my baggage.

Well, Barbara was still here, though admittedly, she didn’t know I was falling for her like an idiot.

“So I hid. For eight years, it worked, until the same cult that finally got my parents found me. I slept in the desert but close enough to a small village where I sometimes stole food. They saw my little camp and caught me when I was asleep. I didn’t stand a chance.”

She said nothing, her eyes as big as saucers. I sighed and got up to get my ashtray. I lit a cigarette and settled down by her side, bracing myself for the next part.

I had to tell her and see what she did. Because in the end, Nat was right. It didn’t matter how or why, but I attached myself to this woman, and now the only reasonable course of action was to put this thing to the test. If she rejected me now, which was practically inevitable, I would be able to move on.

“So that cult had funny notions about abominations,” I said after blowing out a long stream of smoke. “They believed we were demons made of corpses—because of the skulls, you see? I’d say it was clever if it wasn’t so fucking ridiculous. Anyway, they had this ritual they did to cleanse the earth, and it involved burning an abomination alive.”

She hiccupped once, a forlorn, sad sound, and I reached out to clumsily mess her hair.

“Hey, it gets better. Anyway, they didn’t burn me at once. They displayed me, chained and all, for the village people. Many came to spit on me, throw rotten eggs, stuff like that. Kids would poke me with long sticks, and some of the adults recorded it.”

I swallowed, wondering if she would see the connection and my main reason why I practically jumped on her case.

“They got me on video crying from pain, even pissing myself,” I said, my voice growing cold and detached. “Those videos got uploaded onto the Internet at some point, and they still float up there. I tried to get them down but I couldn’t get them all. Lots of people enjoy watching that kind of stuff, especially with abominations.

“I don’t watch any sort of snuff, since I’m not that kind of sicko, but I’ve been told mine are the most popular, since I was so little and the videos are so detailed. They could get really close to me since I was chained and all.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a thick voice, touching my forearm gently.

I shrugged, giving her a grin. “Oh, don’t be. I have this tech whizz friend who tracks down people who share those videos. Sometimes, I pay them a visit when I get bored.”

“Do you… kill them?” she asked tentatively, her hand sliding off my forearm.

I shook my head. “Nah, it would be merciful. No, I don’t kill them. I tie them up and tip off the police, since those people have lots of monster snuff and other forbidden materials like that. They usually get sent to coeducational prisons, and once the monsters learn what they are in for, there is lots of fun all around.”

She shivered but stayed put, watching me intently. “You mentioned… burning.”

I lit another cigarette.

“Ah, yes. So they had me, a boy of nine, his survival instinct still dormant. But that cult had had many losses and there were just a handful of them left, so maybe that’s why they targeted children. There were maybe a dozen once the villagers went home. Not that many.”

I took a long drag from the cigarette and offered it to her on impulse. She stared at it, nonplussed, and then shook her head with a faint smile.

“No? You’re right. It’s a filthy habit. So, they had me bound with chains and tied to a good, old-fashioned stake. The wood was old and dry, but the stake was sturdy, and the chains tight. They did their ritual—a bunch of stupid prayers, I didn’t pay attention—and lit me up.”

Her eyes, already wide, widened still. I grinned and shook my head, though the memory of that heat still lingered in my bones, surfacing whenever I remembered that night.

“We don’t burn like humans, of course,” I explained. “You guys turn into crispy bacon. We, well… Do you know how a pressure cooker works? No? Well, maybe it’s better that you don’t know. Thing is, it takes longer to burn us alive, since the armor isolates the worst of it. The plates lock up tight, and as the heat outside increases, the pressure inside grows, until we kind of, well, blow up. That’s what kills us. But it takes hours, which is why this is a dumb way to kill an abomination. If you’re smart, always aim for the eyes, doll. That’s how you can get us.”

“Okay,” she said hoarsely, clearing her throat. “How did you survive?”

“We’ll get to that,” I said with a smile, blowing smoke out so it streamed just above her head.

She shot me a weak glare, but she seemed too invested in my story to be really angry.

“So, there I was, chained up and slowly cooking while the cult stood around the pyre and chanted their prayers. And since I was so close to puberty, my beautiful, smart body decided it was the right time to kick it off. My survival instinct turned on when I needed it the most. As the pain increased, I dealt with it by looking at those nutcases who were killing me and fantasized about all the ways I would slaughter them if I was free.

“Some, I wanted to throw in the fire and smell the glorious aroma of their roasting flesh. Others, I wanted to tear limb from limb. I was strong already. I knew I could break bones if I put in the effort. And the rest I just wanted to chase, you know? I wanted them to know I was coming. I wanted to follow the trail of urine after they pissed themselves from terror.”

I gave her a penetrating look, curious how she’d react. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and nodded faintly.

“Well, I think that’s fair. They were literally killing you, I mean. They deserved it.”

“Right?” I exclaimed, excited. “I think so, too! But would you believe one girl said I was a fucked up psycho after I told her all of this? Like, I wonder what she would do if someone tried to burn her alive. Don’t tell me she’d try to give them flowers. That would be fucked up.”

I laughed. She made a muffled noise of assent, then hiccupped again. I leaned in so our faces were level, and she pulled back slightly, though didn’t recoil.

“Is this bothering you? Do you want me to stop?” I asked, realizing that maybe she was suffering through my tale out of politeness and didn’t really want me to burden her with my baggage.

She shook her head so violently, her braid slapped the back of the couch. Her eyes were determined yet wet with what I realized were tears.

“Keep going. Tell me everything.”

CHAPTER 14

Barbara

I couldn’t believe he was laughing and telling jokes while reliving this horrible cruelty. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. How could people be so despicable? They kidnapped a nine-year-old boy and tried to kill him just because of his species? Like it mattered! After spending a day in Phantom’s company, I almost forgot his face was a skull sometimes. He was just… Phantom. Not an abomination.

“Whoever named your species was an idiot,” I mumbled when he stayed silent, staring at me intently with eyes that glowed silver.

When we sat in the shadows where the light of the desk lamp almost didn’t reach, I glimpsed his eyes set deep in his sockets, their glow helping me see better. He had vertical pupils like a cat, black slashes through the glowing irises. I wanted to lean in to see them better but held back.

“I kind of like it, though,” he said with a shrug, chuckling under his breath. “Did you know that abominations have the highest proportion of criminals to the general population? I mean, we’re almost extinct, so there are few of us left, and still most choose the life of crime. Makes you think, no?”

I shook my head. “If people try to kill you since you’re babies, no wonder you choose violence.”

He laughed darkly. “We don’t choose violence. It chooses us. Because that survival instinct I told you about, doll? Well, it works like this: whenever an abomination feels threatened, we hone in on the threat with one intention: to kill. Everything else falls away. That was what happened to me that day.”

I took a shaky breath, perversely relishing the tang of smoke from his cigarette that he crushed in the ashtray. I never imagined I’d enjoy it, but it was the same scent that clung to the jacket he threw around my shoulders after I was almost murdered. It meant safety.

“My vision slowly turned red. As the pressure and pain in my body grew, adrenaline pumped into my veins. Only one purpose remained in my brain: to kill them all. And then, doll, the unthinkable happened. The wooden stake I was chained to broke before I did. I managed to get free, and I did exactly what I’d fantasized about. I burned some of them. Crushed a few windpipes. Chased a few, and yes, they did piss themselves from fear. I got them all. Killed a dozen people when I was nine.”

He fell silent, his uncanny eyes drilling into me. I sniffed, a hot tear sliding down my cheek. I didn’t sob, though. It was just a reaction I couldn’t control.

I wanted to do something, desperately. I just didn’t know what. Were there words I could say to make it better or thank him for telling me? I didn’t know.

“Say something,” he whispered after a lengthy silence that grew heavy between us.

A cold gust of wind came in through the open window. I threw myself at him, putting my arms around his neck and crushing my chest into his hard armor. I still didn’t cry but just held him hard, shaking. After a moment of stunned silence, he gently put his arms around me to return the hug. His unarmored palm was a single hot spot in his otherwise cold body, and he slid it down my spine in a comforting caress.

“I don’t know why I told you,” he said gruffly, his mouth by my ear. “Sorry you’re upset.”

“Not upset,” I said, my voice feeling hot. “Just… Glad you came out of there alive. Glad you’re here.”

He gave me no answer, just a sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky exhale. He pulled me closer, and before I realized, I was in his lap, and he nuzzled the side of my neck. Warm bone brushed skin, and then, a scrape of blunt teeth. His mouth.

Hot and cold shivers raced down my spine. No more tears fell. I felt restless, my skin too tight. The feeling of tingly helplessness from the library returned in full force, and I made a sound, something shaky and pleading.

“You really should have called me disgusting and run,” he whispered hoarsely, goosebumps breaking out all over my nape where his breath caressed my skin. “What am I to do with you, hm?”

“You’re not disgusting,” I whispered back, tentatively running my hand down his shoulder, the shape of it muscular and defined under his armor.

I was part-delirious, part-confused, feverish and needing something. I shifted in his lap restlessly, and he grunted, his hips jerking under me.

I froze.

“Oh, God… What… What are we…”

I couldn’t say it, couldn’t even think it, because my thoughts swirled rapidly, all of them screaming how good this was, how bad, that it was exactly right but so wrong, just what I needed yet utterly forbidden.

I shoved myself off Phantom’s lap, landing on the floor with a gasp of pain. I crawled away until we didn’t touch.

“Why did you let me?” I gasped out, looking at his legs.

I was embarrassed and ashamed. I couldn’t understand why he put up with me when I threw myself at him like… like an easy girl. There. That was what my mother would call me if she knew. Though, maybe not. Maybe she’d say something worse.

Phantom laughed hoarsely, sitting back, his long legs clad in black combats spread comfortably wide. I flushed, that sight making me tighten with lurid want.

“Let you?” he asked, amused. “I practically pulled you on top of me, doll. You brought this on yourself by being nice to me. Let this be a lesson: don’t ever be nice to the monster.”

I shook my head. It was jarring and all wrong, his voice too light, like it was all a joke. A part of me felt hurt—that he could joke about me wanting him and twist it so strangely—but didn’t he also laugh while telling me about his trauma just now?

“I don’t understand,” I said miserably, burying my fingers in the thick carpet at his feet. “I’ve never… We’ve just met.”

He sighed heavily, leaning closer. I jerked when his warm, unarmored knuckle gently pushed my chin up. We were face to face, so close, the air was charged with his proximity. I stopped breathing.

“I’m as perplexed as you are,” he said, his eyes twinkling, no longer silver. They seemed… kind of pink. “But sweetheart, understanding this thing won’t make it any better. You should go. For your own good.”

I recoiled with a gasp, hurt flaring in my chest. So first, he let me practically grope him, and now, he rejected me. Maybe he was just too polite to throw me off when I attacked him. I bit back a groan of utter shame and got up, stumbling over my own feet.

“Goodnight.”

I was out of the room before he had a chance to say it back.

The next few days were awkward. I had my ballet lessons and a session with a public speaking coach who mainly taught me about the best ways to present myself on screen, since I was never required to actually say much. Phantom shadowed me everywhere but kept to himself, becoming the professional bodyguard he should have been from the start.

I hated it. Even though his behavior on our outing to the library was so annoying, I realized I had enjoyed it. Now I missed his antics, and although we went out a couple of times when I was free, visiting that pawn shop and a few other places, he remained professional and rarely spoke to me.

And while he grew completely indifferent, I had to force myself to keep my eyes off him whenever he was near, which was almost always. It was excruciating. I had this stupid craving to look at him, to study his expressions and the way he stood or played with his knife.

When I sat in the window nook of my dark bedroom at night, watching the orange ember of his cigarette in the garden, I longed to go out there and just talk to him. But he had grown detached and polite, and I wasn’t brave enough to seek him out.

Instead, I allowed myself to fantasize in bed about the things I couldn’t have. They made me blush, and in the morning, when I had to look at his polite face, I blushed even harder, remembering what I imagined at night.

Those fantasies weren’t even that bad. I didn’t know what he looked like under his armor, so I spent hours wondering about it. And then, I replayed those few moments of intimacy between us. How he’d pressed me into the bookcase. The touch of his naked hand on me. The brush of teeth in the crook of my neck.

It was a trying period. With Phantom behaving so properly, my little trips were far less fun, but I still planned more. My goal wasn’t to enjoy myself, after all, but to learn how to function in the normal world.

So that, if I ever gathered up the courage to move out, I wouldn’t be helpless.

But even though he treated me with distance, Phantom also kept his word. After he was done with the mind manipulation book, he gave it back to me, a few passages underlined with a black pen, the pages dog-eared so I could find them easily. When I saw the state the book was in, I told him off, glaring at him with fury.

“You could have used bookmarks and a pencil! This is a rare book, and the only one discussing this subject. I wanted to give it back to the library after we were done, but now, I’ll be too ashamed.”

He laughed at my angry tirade, and for a moment, it was like before. He grinned with his usual audacity, saying in a low, seductive voice, “Careful, sugar. You’re way too hot when you’re angry. It might unleash something in me.”

That made me stomp in helpless rage, because there he was, joking like this was nothing, while I was in complete agony over my unwelcome, ridiculous crush on him. I grabbed the book with an angry huff and stormed away, chased off by his laughter.

I settled down in my room and looked through the pages, stopping every time I found an underlined sentence or paragraph. Some were useless, some confirmed what I already knew—that it was possible to resist mind-control—and some gave me ideas. Phantom seemed to have underlined every relevant bit, which made me grudgingly appreciate how thorough he was.

“The study on rakshasas suggests the victim’s strength of character is inversely proportional to their susceptibility to mind control.”

My stomach churned unpleasantly after I understood that sentence, since it confirmed what I already suspected: I was weak. Yet, the rest of the chapter didn’t offer any solutions for weakness of character, so I huffed and went on skimming the book until I found one of the last passages Phantom underlined for me.  He had also doodled tiny skulls on the margins. I smiled, tracing them fondly, my anger at the book destruction almost forgotten.

“The pookah entrap those who display a lack of self-awareness and crippling anxiety. In a truly predatory fashion, they assess potential victims to gauge their level of self-assuredness, and settle on those who walk with fear in their step and look to outside cues for directions and reassurance that they are not in the wrong.

The best protection against a pookah is thus a confident mind and a self-aware constitution in one who knows oneself and understands perfectly one’s goals and desires.

A mind unsure of its own preferences will easily bend to another’s will.”

I spent a long time sitting in my window nook and thinking while outside, the world plunged into a misty October dusk.

Could it be that I didn’t truly know what I wanted in life? Did I rely on outside cues to know how to conduct myself?

With tightness in my throat, I answered both questions at once. Yes, I did. I followed orders like a brainless sheep and didn’t even stop to think what I wanted, because I believed everything I came up with on my own had to be wrong.

I rarely spoke up for fear of saying the wrong thing. Even with my friends, I was always reserved, always careful in what I said and did. Honestly, they weren’t even my friends, just acquaintances. I never let anybody close enough to call them a friend.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how insecure I was. I studied every person I talked to for cues and adjusted immediately if their reaction suggested I said something unwelcome. I was so afraid of their judgment, I held myself rigid, never speaking my truth, never even wondering what my truth might be.

I was a puppet.

And yet, there was one person who aggravated me so much, I couldn’t even focus on playing my part. He spoke so freely and was so clearly non-judgmental of himself and the world that it was easy to talk to him. To be myself.

Someone rapped on my door, jerking me out of my thoughts. The knock was demanding just like my mother’s, but it was also way louder than hers. I realized I sat in the dark, the only light coming from my bedside lamp. The window I sat by was streaked with raindrops.

“It’s open,” I called out, hugging a pillow.

Phantom came in, leaving the door open. He leaned in the doorway, regarding me with a grin.

“Are you trying to starve yourself? Did your teacher’s comments about your horse legs really affect you that much? ‘Cause I can tell her a word or two.”

I smiled. I had another long session with Madame Morozova that day and Phantom sat in on it, polishing his gun and glaring at my teacher when she criticized me, which was all the time. Tough as she was, Madame ignored his gun and posturing, conducting the lesson as usual. She told me I was almost passable at the end, which was practically glowing praise.

Phantom continued with that easy grin. “I can tell her a whole bunch of words, and I guarantee, she will be as nice as pie. Which, incidentally, you missed at dessert. I ate it all.”

I snorted, shaking my head. He was right. It was dark outside, and I’d missed dinner. It was telling that my mother didn’t come to see me, though. She was usually angry when I missed meals, but these days, she chose to give me the cold shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have had the pie, anyway,” I said with regret.

My mother hated it when I ate dessert. She said she could see it turn into fat on my hips at once.

“Why?” Phantom asked, folding his arms as he settled more comfortably in my doorway, as if it was the exact place he wanted to be in. He had that way of commanding space as if whichever part of the world he occupied belonged solely to him. I secretly envied it.

“Because…” I broke off, realizing I was reaching for a good argument because… because…

I lied. I actually did want the pie. And I was angry he ate it all.

“I want pie,” I said suddenly, the force in my voice surprising me. “Now. I want it now.”

Phantom laughed and stepped out into the corridor. He came back a moment later, bearing a tray with dinner and, yes, a big plate of blueberry pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top. My mouth watered.

“I was going to eat it,” he said. “But I left this one piece in case you wanted some.”

“How kind of you,” I said drily, which made him chuckle as he came in, setting the tray on my desk. “You can have my dinner. I hate steamed chicken breast. I’d rather just have the pie.”

He looked at my plate with a grimace. “Yeah, you know what, I’d rather skip this one. Looks so unappetizing. If I had a cook and she made me this, I’d cook her instead.”

I froze, staring at him. He snickered and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, doll. Some abominations eat human meat, but I’m not one of them. Tried it once and wasn’t a fan, to be honest.”

He pulled out my chair for me, but I didn’t move. “You tried… human meat.”

“Well, yeah,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “That night I told you about, when they almost burned me to death. See, abominations heal real fast but we need crazy amounts of protein to heal extensive damage. There was nothing else to eat, so if I wanted to live, I had to make do.”

He watched me expectantly. I blinked a few times, digesting this, and finally decided it wasn’t objectively bad. If nine-year-old Phantom had to eat the people who tried to kill him to survive after they hurt him… well, so he did. If I looked past the gruesomeness of it, it sounded a lot like justice.

When I sat down and put a forkful of delicious pie in my mouth, Phantom settled on my bed, watching me intently.

“What?” I asked after swallowing. “Have you never seen a woman eat?”

“After telling her what I just told you?” he asked incredulously. “No. In fact, you should be hurling about now. Go on. Be disgusted.”

I shrugged and took another bite. God, this pie was so good. I didn’t understand why I’d denied myself in the past. Though, it was easier to eat without my mother staring at me with derision across the table. Maybe I could find a way to have my meals in my room, without her judgmental company.

“Well, I’m not. Why do you want to disgust me?”

“Because I can’t handle this weird limbo!” he exploded, throwing up his arms. “Come on, doll. We touched. You grinded on my cock. I need this to go one way or another. Either climb on top of me and let’s do the nasty or tell me you hate me so I can move on.”

I choked on my next bite.

Grinded. On. His. Cock.

Oh.

CHAPTER 15

Phantom

Oh, no. Shit. Fuck!

I fucked up royally. She stared at me with wide eyes, her hand pressed to her mouth, utter shock on her face. And of course. Of fucking course. I was crude, I was hideous, and really, what did I expect? This girl deserved to be wooed. She deserved poetry sung under her window, and not…

Not me. Telling her to do the nasty.

“I’m sorry,” I said, standing up. “I’ll see myself out.”

Also, what? Sorry? I was totally turning into that doormat, though Nat had assured me wanting to treat someone nicely didn’t mean I was losing my self-respect. Well, he was wrong. I felt like a total tool.

“Wait!” she called urgently, pushing away from the desk when I was almost to the door. “I… I’m not sure what to say. I just don’t want you to go.”

I shivered, hesitating. I wanted to stay, too. It had absolutely killed me to keep my distance and make a pretense of my professional integrity. I was at the end of my tether.

Because I missed her. I wanted to tease her and make her laugh, and it almost didn’t matter that after my task was over, I’d never see her again. I could probably take it, if only I got to do some of the things that obsessed me on the long nights when I smoked in the garden while she watched me from her window under the cover of the dark.

That was the worst thing. Her looking. I didn’t know what it meant, and it made me hope. But hope was ridiculous.

“I just told you ugly things, doll,” I said, shaking my head. “Things not for your ears. Tell me you hate me so I can get my head on straight.”

“But I don’t,” she said, puzzled. “You’re the only person I like. I mean, apart from Madame Morozova. I like her, too.”

I turned with an incredulous laugh. “You like that shriveled old prune who says you have horse legs and dance like a swan that had too much vodka on an empty stomach?”

She shrugged, blushing. “Well, she treats me like a person. And you do, too. So… I don’t understand exactly what you need from me, but, uh, we could maybe negotiate.”

She raised her eyes, and her expression was so hopeful, so utterly vulnerable, it shook me to the core.

Fuck. She was lonely. She liked me because I didn’t kiss her ass like the rest of the world or harp on her like her mother. A hot shiver pooled in my guts when I realized what she meant, too. We could negotiate. She thought I wanted sex from her, and she was ready to give me something just so I would be her friend.

What a fucked up little princess.

“Forget what I said,” I demanded, vehemently vowing to myself to never, ever make a pass at her again. Not like that. “It was just a stupid joke. I make too many of those.”

And it would stop. No more jokes, no more trying to get in her pants when I knew fucking better. I would be good. I would be her friend, talk to her, help her out with everything, and then I would catch everyone who threatened her so she would be safe.

I would respect her like she deserved. No matter if my balls fell off, because every minute spent in her presence made me tingle with horny need.

“A joke,” she said, a rueful smile playing on her lips as she cast her eyes down, her cheeks burning. “Of course. Um, well. Will you stay? Please. You can have my pie if you want.”

She looked up with hope, and I cursed myself again. The doll was desperate for company. Desperate enough to beg me. How hadn’t I seen it before?

“Nah, I ate five pieces,” I said truthfully. “I’m a glutton. Don’t enable me, okay ? Eat your pie.”

She nodded with a small smile and sat back down at her desk. I dragged a chair closer to her so we could sit side by side.

“So, what have you planned for tomorrow?” I asked, eyeing the big dollop of whipped cream on her spoon. Damn, that pie really was good. Not too sweet, the crumble perfectly crispy—just magic.

“Not much,” she said after she swallowed. “That gala is tomorrow, so I’m guessing my prep team will get here at two to get me ready.”

The gala started at six. I snorted.

“What, you need four hours to get ready for a party?” I asked, shaking my head. “Will they skin you alive and put on a new face or what?”

She grimaced. “Eww. That was gross. And no, not really, but my mother always wants me to look perfect.”

She dug her spoon into the pie with vehemence. A sudden burst of pink in my vision let me know my sick hormones really appreciated how cutesy it was. She was so angry, she murdered that piece of pie.

So fucking cute.

“Perfect? You don’t need four hours for that. Just maybe four seconds,” I said, my infatuated brain making me say mushy things I’d later beg to forget.

She snorted incredulously, rolling her eyes. “Yeah? And what would I do in four seconds?”

I reached out without thinking and wiped a bit of whipped cream from the corner of her lips. Before my brain could kick in, I sucked that finger into my mouth, wrapping my long tongue around the sweetness.

She stared at me with wide eyes, blushing. I shrugged, cursing at myself, yet also pleased. This was allowed, I decided. It was flirting, toeing the line a bit, but it wasn’t like I told her to please hop on my cock, so I could finally be inside her.

Helping her get food off her face was gentlemanly. Yeah.

“I really like that cream,” I said to diffuse the situation. “It’s thick and not too sweet.”

She nodded slowly, piling a big bite of crumble, blueberries, and cream on the spoon.

“Have more then.”

When she offered me the spoon, her eyes questioning, I almost expired on the spot.

“Not a good idea,” I said, backing away. The chair scraped the floor when I pushed too hard.

“What? Why?” She frowned, still holding out the spoon.

“Cause if you feed me like this, you’ll never get rid of me,” I said seriously. “For real. Don’t give me food. I’m like a stray dog. Whoever feeds me will inevitably get fleas.”

She snorted with laughter, bringing the spoon closer to my mouth. “Okay. You can stay.”

Well, that did it. I was officially in love, and Nat would be pissed when the time came for him to fix my broken heart. ‘Cause she would break it. I took a steadying breath and opened my mouth wide in the last attempt to push her away.

Barbara gasped softly, then stilled. I watched her, my bony mouth open wide. I knew what she saw. Just behind my outer teeth, there were thin, flexible membranes, a bit darker than blood. They acted similarly to human lips, letting me form sounds. Now, they were parted, just like my outer teeth, to show the mess within.

The inside of my mouth was blood red, a long tongue nestling between two rows of monstrously sharp teeth. They were viciously long, perfect for tearing chunks of meat off living prey.

She was frozen, staring at my hideous mouth, for a second too long. I lost my patience and shot out my tongue, wrapping it around the spoon. I scooped the food off it and pulled my tongue back, closing my mouth so I could chew.

After a long, tense moment, she put the spoon away with a delicate clink. Then she turned to face me squarely, watching my face with something akin to horror, or maybe fascination. I chewed and swallowed, cocking my head to the side.

“I can bite off a limb with my teeth,” I informed her, morbid curiosity pushing me to test her limits. “My jaw can unhinge. I once bit off a foot, you know. It was a dirty move, but effective.”

“How did it taste?” she asked in a weak, hollow voice, still too shellshocked to react.

I cackled. No one had ever asked me that before. “Like a foot. I don’t recommend it. I’d give it zero stars out of five.”

She nodded seriously, like I’d given her a perfectly sane answer. I watched her a moment longer, waiting for the screaming, the running, something.

Not even the most hardcore fetishistic girls in the Monster Toaster club could handle my mouth. It was a pity, too. I never got to eat pussy because the teeth freaked them out.

After another long moment, Barbara cleared her throat, picked up her spoon, and piled on another bite of food. I watched with dawning realization as she raised it—to her mouth, not mine. She would eat with that spoon. The same spoon I wrapped my tongue around.

Right after she saw my teeth.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she put it in her mouth, sighing softly. She wasn’t disgusted. Not at all.

Pink exploded across my eyes, and I slapped myself hard, desperately trying to stay sane. She gave me a startled look. I slapped the other side of my face for good measure, groaning helplessly.

I was rock hard.

This woman sat there, fully clothed and completely unattainable, eating fucking pie and not in a sexy way, and I was harder than I’d ever been in my life. It hurt. My armor dug into my dick, which strained against the plates, trying to get free.

Or better yet, inside her.

When the pain won out, I let the plates pull back just a bit. Just enough to give myself breathing room. Unfortunately, I overdid it, and suddenly, a big bulge strained against my pants.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning in to get a better look at my face.

Don’t look down, I begged her in my mind, nodding frantically. “Yeah, fine, fine. Just, uh. Good. Hey, look! What’s that?”

I pointed behind her. Barbara turned, and I used those precious few seconds to yank the pillow that sat behind my back and put it in my lap. When she turned back with a confused frown, I grinned.

“I thought I saw a spider. Are you afraid of spiders? I’ll catch them all if you are.”

Fuck. Idiot. Shut up!

She smiled. “No, actually. There are plenty of spiders in the stables. And spiders eat mosquitoes, for which I am always grateful.”

“I’ll eat all your mosquitoes,” I blurted out, staring at her with mesmerized awe. My brain turned off completely, leaving my dick in charge.

And my dick, as it turned out, was very eager to please.

She laughed warmly, the sound like a stroke along my shaft. I almost groaned in pleasure. Fuck, why? What was wrong with me?

“I think you have bigger threats on your plate,” she said, combining another bite of dessert. “But thank you. Want some more?”

It was embarrassing how quickly I dove for that piece of pie, taking the spoon in my mouth this time. I licked it extra good so it would all be covered in my saliva. Maybe it was gross, but fuck, watching her eat with that spoon was my new fucking kink.

Did that mean I was becoming vanilla? Or, well, blueberry?

She gave me a shy smile and looked away, getting a bite herself. I had no way of knowing if she blushed or not, because the entire world was pink.

It was my new favorite color.

CHAPTER 16

Barbara

I couldn’t sleep that night, so I sat in my window nook, looking out for that familiar ember of Phantom’s cigarette. It appeared soon enough, and then suddenly, white light turned on, revealing Phantom himself. He had a flashlight that he turned on his face to give me an eerie grin while he waved with his hand holding the cigarette.

I laughed under my breath at his goofy antics and waved back, cringing a bit when I realized he must have known I’d stared at him every night for the past week.

My embarrassment was short lived, though. Phantom flicked his cigarette away, gripped the flashlight between his teeth, and started climbing the tree that grew the closest to my window. I kneeled on the padded bench, giggling as he climbed fast, the white light marking his progress.

Soon, he was on the same level as my window. I opened it a crack to hear. The tree rustled, branches creaking, and Phantom crept closer, hanging on to a thick branch.

“Why aren’t you in bed, doll?” he asked. “Any mosquitoes bothering you?”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Guess I’m just wired. There’s a lot to think about.”

Like you. You and your weird jokes. Are they only jokes, Phantom? Could they maybe, possibly, have a bit of truth in them? Please.

I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I opened the window wider, shivering when the cold air swooped into the room. I wore a long-sleeved top, but it was still cold.

“Why do you keep climbing trees?” I asked to change the topic.

“It’s the only way I can get a ballerina to flash me,” he answered, his voice growing husky. “Your nipples are cold, by the way.”

“Oh.” I winced, folding my arms on my chest. “Well, thank you. Have you seen your suit, by the way? For the gala tomorrow. My mother said she had one ordered for you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I saw it. I’m hoping to make a little arts and crafts project tomorrow when I’m off patrol duty.”

“I knew you wouldn’t wear it. I even told my mother not to bother, but she was under the impression you’d have a good reason to dress up for the gala.”

He dropped suddenly. I shrieked in fear before I realized his thick thighs still hugged the branch. He hung upside down, grinning up at me.

“I could drop on my head right now and still be perfectly fine,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t scream on my account. And yes, your mother offered to pay me ten grand if I wore appropriate attire.”

He scoffed, grabbing the branch. He pulled himself up without effort and straddled it, swinging his legs cheerfully.

“To tell you the truth, I would have folded for twenty-five grand.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “There is that obscenely expensive set of artisanal knives I want to get, and that’s how much more I need. But since I’m not getting twenty-five grand, I’ll accompany you as my ordinary self.”

He spread his arms wide, showing off his black combat clothes, belt heavy with weapons, and his grinning skull. My chest heaved with something warm and wanting.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” I said solemnly.

“I saw your dress, too, by the way.” He whistled. “It’s a nice little number, eh? Very elegant, of course. Demure, but also slutty.”

I pursed my lips. I saw the dress as well. It was backless, made of sizzling black silk, and completely at odds with the image my team had promoted for me for years.

In the past, I always had the clean, good girl look. Heels just high enough but never too provocative, dresses that were pretty rather than sexy, lots of pinks and creams.

Yet now, I was expected to wear a dress with a thigh slit so high, it would reach my hip, and six-inch strappy heels that gave me vertigo. When I’d asked my mother about it, she only raised her eyebrow and huffed, letting me understand I wasn’t supposed to ask questions.

“I won’t wear it,” I said softly, trying the words out.

My heart hammered anxiously. I knew logically Phantom wasn’t going to attack me for refusing to wear that outfit, and yet, I was still nervous simply testing out the words I’d have to say to my mother tomorrow.

“Why?” he asked, reaching for his cigarette case. “You don’t like it? I wouldn’t mind seeing this dress on you, doll.”

I frowned, looking away. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It just isn’t what I want to wear. Maybe some other time. When it’s my choice.”

“Ah.” He nodded, letting out a puff of smoke. “Well, if you want, I can sneak in there and screw it up. They won’t tell you to wear a torn up dress, yeah? And we can say… We can say mice got it. Some mutant ninja mice.”

I laughed despite myself, some of my tension easing. “No, I need to do this on my own. But thank you.”

“So you’re going to rebel? Good girl wants to be bad?” he asked, his eyes flashing silver.

Unease churned in my belly when I nodded. In all truth, I dreaded making my stand tomorrow, and it seemed utterly ridiculous. It was just a dress, but I knew my mother would make a big fuss about my disobedience.

What if she decided to ship me off to that institution for even the slightest dissent? My aunt had told me there was no way out of there. You only got out when your parents were happy with your progress.

“Phantom?” I asked, my voice suddenly small. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Well, if I… If my mother… If she decides to send me away, will you save me?”

He shot to his feet in a sudden leap, balancing perfectly on the branch. He crouched and jumped, flying through the air until he smashed into the wall, his hands clutching my windowsill.

“Ow,” came his muffled voice.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, opening the window wider. “Are you all right?”

“Move back, doll.”

I hastened away from the window. There was a grunt, a muffled curse, and Phantom heaved himself up with the sheer strength of his arms. He hopped onto the floor with a heavy thud of his combat boots and looked nonchalantly around.

“You know, normal people use doors to visit others,” I said, looking him up and down in search of injuries.

“You hit the nail on the head. I’m not normal. I’m an abomination,” he said with a proud grin. “Now, back to our conversation. Yes, I will save you. If they drug you and ship you off, I will either get you in transit and slaughter everyone who lays their hands on you, or if I’m too late, I’ll storm the asylum and get you out, then burn it to the ground. Do you understand? No one will lock you up. Not on my watch.”

My eyes felt hot. He had delivered that speech in such a measured, cool voice, I had no doubt he meant every word. He also seemed to have given it some thought, seeing how his plan was already formed.

It was overkill, too, but I didn’t protest. I didn’t truly think I would be sent away. It was just that deep fear that paralyzed me whenever I wanted to do something forbidden.

“Thank you,” I whispered, pushing my emotions down my tight throat.

“You’re welcome, doll. So rebel all you want, okay? I won’t let them hurt you.”

I wanted to hug him again, but I remembered how it had ended. It wasn’t even my intent to grind on him then, and yet, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind it wasn’t coincidental. I felt attracted to him, but it would be stupid to act on it.

So instead, I offered him my hand. “Thank you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you, too, should you ever need it.”

He took my hand, shook it, and then bowed over it, pressing his teeth to my knuckles.

“I kind of feel like a knight offering allegiance to a princess,” he said with a grin. “By the way, are you done with my book yet?”

“Oh.” I looked away, my hand still in his. “Well, no. I got… stuck.”

He let go of my hand with a mean little laugh. “You don’t like the porn, eh?”

“You don’t even know at which part I stopped,” I said defensively.

“Nah, I know. It’s the porn. Goodnight, my lady.”

The next day, Norma, who was serving breakfast when I came in, told me my mother was gone for the day and wouldn’t get home before the gala. I was to take the limousine and behave.

“Sounds like good news,” Phantom said, coming in just a moment after Norma left. “Mmm, fresh steak. You know, even if you were a total nuisance, I’d love this assignment for the food alone.”

“Glad you see the positives in my situation,” I said gravely, studying the food laid out on the sideboard. “You know, with me becoming a laughingstock and almost dying.”

Phantom served himself a juicy cut of raw steak dripping with blood and set the coffee machine to make him two double espressos.

“You’re not a laughingstock,” he said, bumping his hip into mine on his way to the table. “Haven’t you seen the news? You’re a martyr! Someone leaked the info about the murder attempt. Your father is basking in glory, and you’re the brave, strong victim. Everyone is so outraged about the way you’ve been treated after the video.”

I straightened, the news a total shock. “Who leaked it?” I asked, spinning in place.

“Beats me,” Phantom shrugged. “Looking at the results, my bet is on your father’s PR team. Anyway, you’re a heroine! Everyone will be thrilled to shake hands with you tonight.”

I released a heavy breath, trying to digest this. I was used to not checking the news too often, especially when I knew I’d be mentioned. Ever since the video, I’d put myself on a permanent ban. Isolation was better than facing the hate.

“I recommended they keep it quiet, of course,” Phantom said after taking a long sip of his strong coffee. “I hoped he would feel safer if no one made a fuss, and come back to finish the job. I would have had him then.

“But alas, that didn’t happen. We might have to go out more. Create opportunities for him to attack, because so far, both the police and your father’s detectives have nothing. We don’t even know what species he is because, as it turns out, all mind controlling species have glowing eyes. That’s how they mesmerize you.”

“So you want me to be bait,” I said, getting a sausage from a heated plate.

I made a point to ask myself what I wanted every time I had to make a decision today. Apparently, I wanted sausages, not my perfectly macro-balanced oatmeal.

“Doll, you’re not bait. You’re the target, and I won’t let you get hit.”

I nodded with a smile, but inside, I was reeling. Because suddenly, I didn’t want my attacker to be caught anymore. If he was, Phantom would leave, and I would be on my own again. I didn’t know if I could handle not seeing him every day like I did now.

When my prep team arrived in the afternoon, I was determined. Doing my best to stay cool, I showed them the dress I got myself on one of my outings with Phantom and a pair of matching heels.

The dress was pink, but not the infantilizing, light candy floss shade I usually wore. The pink I chose was bolder, brighter, yet still on the classy side. The dress had three thin layers, the outermost one patterned with thin chains of lace protruding from the fabric. The heels I chose were high but also comfortable.

I was very proud of that dress. It was similar enough to my usual image while transgressing beyond it. Overall, a much better way to transition into another style than the slutty black number my mother had picked.

“Tiffany, you’ll need to cut my hair today,” I said when my three stylists set up, chatting about the gala and praising my outfit.

Phantom stirred on the elegant chaise where he lounged, watching everything with mild interest.

“Why are you cutting your hair?” he asked, sitting up in alarm.

“I know it’s a cliché.” I shrugged. “But I really want to own my body and appearance, and this seems like the quickest way. I suppose I could get a tattoo, but I’m not brave enough yet.”

“I tattoo people,” he said, standing. “So if you change your mind, I’ll be happy to help. Are you sure about the hair? What if you meet a man who’d like to wrap it around his fist while he f—while he rides you?”

Tiffany laughed, while her assistants exchanged wide-eyed looks, taken aback by Phantom’s crudeness.

“He’ll have to wait for it to grow back,” I said crossly, hoping I didn’t appear obviously flustered.

An image of Phantom taking me from behind, my hair in his fist, flashed in my mind’s eye. I blinked a few times to clear my head. Suddenly, I didn’t want to cut my hair anymore, but then, it would be stupid to let a mere fantasy stop me. I wanted to make a stand and take control back.

“I was thinking about something like this.”

I showed Tiffany a picture of a long bob I wanted to try out. She nodded and directed me to the hair washing station. We were in the room my mother called the beauty salon, which was equipped with everything our stylists needed to get us ready before an event.

Phantom groaned when Tiffany washed my hair, and then stomped out of the room, evidently unhappy.

He returned while she was already combing through my wet hair, getting ready to cut it. His face was fixed in a frowning grimace, and he plopped down in the station next to me, putting his legs up on the dresser with a huge mirror.

“Since you don’t have time to read, I thought I’d give you a hand,” he said, showing me his vampire romance.

“You got it from my room?” I asked incredulously, shocked by his audacity. “Without asking me first? How could you?”

“Very easily since you don’t lock it. I just had to turn the knob. Anyway, do you girls want to listen to some smut while you work?”

“Sure,” Tiffany said. I caught her shoot him an appreciative look in the mirror. “You do have a nice voice. Should be fun!”

Her assistants nodded, one of them giggling as she bent over my nails that would be pink to go with the dress.

I didn’t say anything, even though my face was hot at the thought of Phantom reading that scene. I knew what was coming, since I’d skimmed a bit before I decided it was too much for me. The voices in my head that demanded I stay virginal and pure for my future husband made it difficult to enjoy smut.

Listening to Phantom reading it out loud would be a hundred times worse, too, and yet, I knew he’d make fun of me if I asked him not to. I pressed my lips together, bracing for the experience.

“Let’s see,” he said, making a show of finding my bookmark. “Oh, chapter sixteen! What a coincidence. It’s my favorite one.”

He gave me a knowing grin, which I saw from the corner of my eye. Tiffany chose that moment to make the first cut. Strands of my wet blonde hair fell on the floor, and Phantom hissed, looking like he was in pain.

“So, this vampire lord is romancing his maid,” he said, turning his eyes back to the book.

I watched him, though. Every time the scissors snipped, his foot propped up on the dresser twitched. Snip, snip. Twitch, twitch. Like… Like he couldn’t stand the fact I was getting my hair cut.

I refused to follow that train of thought, taking a bracing breath to focus on his recap of the book.

“He keeps trying to seduce her, but she’s a very proper, religious girl, and she suspects he just wants to use her, so she resists him, even though she’s falling for him at the same time. He’s been coming up with excuses to get her into his bedroom at night.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tiffany said with a laugh, turning my head gently. “You really have a voice for this, too.”

For some reason, that annoyed me. She’d already said it, didn’t she? There was no reason to repeat herself.

“Thank you,” Phantom said with a pleased grin and began reading.

“She stood in my chamber, clutching her soft hands to her heaving breasts, her heart beating with want. I smelled the scent of her blood as it frothed anxiously in her veins, ready to be reaped. Ready to satisfy my thirst as I plunged myself into her.

’Sir, I really shouldn’t be here,’ she murmured imploringly. ‘I’ve fed your fire and fluffed your pillows. If that is all, I would like to leave.’

’Stay,’ I growled, my voice turning harsh with pounding desire. ‘For that is not all. I require you to warm my bed, as well. The night is cold, and you know very well I cannot get warm on my own. Please, Beatrice.’

She flinched in shock as I addressed her so, baring my soul to her. Seeing her hesitation, I seized my chance, falling to my knees in front of my maid like she was the lady, and I her mere servant.

’Please, I beg of you, sweetest,’ I murmured, looking into her wide, fearful eyes. ‘Please, do not leave me alone. I am so cold, so lonely. Let me inside you so I can be warm. Let me drink of you, so I am not alone.’

Trembling like a leaf, she finally gave a nod. I sprang to my feet at once, taking her face in my hands. Her quick breaths warmed my fingers, and the pink flushing her cheeks made my fangs elongate with desire so great, I’d never felt such before. When she closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek into my hand, taking a timid step toward me, my control left me in a rush.

’Such a lovely thing,’ I whispered, grasping her thick, luscious braid in my fist. I pulled it slowly back, baring her creamy, slender neck for my pleasure. ‘Thank you.’

I slid my fangs over her throat once, relishing her violent trembling. When I pierced her skin with reverent slowness, she sagged in my arms, releasing a moan so loud, my manhood hardened at once, straining for her. I pushed into her until my fangs were buried deep and drank, the sweetest nectar flooding my mouth with vicious pleasure.

‘Oh!’ she cried, her hands burying in my hair and tugging me closer.

I needed no other encouragement. With a sharp tug, I ripped her dress open, revealing warm, creamy breasts. One filled my hand and I squeezed the plump flesh, my chilly skin heating from the touch.

More blood filled my mouth, satiating my thirst, until I had my fill of that. I pulled away, lapping at the punctures soothingly. As my venom dripped into them, they closed, leaving behind the faintest marks.

‘You warm your master so well,’ I murmured, kneading her breast. ‘Come into bed, beloved.’

She swayed on her feet with a moaned assent, and I took her into my arms and leapt through the room, draping her on top of my sheets. She covered herself with her hands, and I coaxed them apart with kisses and murmured pleas.

‘Never hide from me, dearest,’ I begged before I pulled her dress off, revealing all.

She trembled but let me look. I freed myself from the confines of my trousers, my pulsing, aching length cold and weeping. When she saw me, her face flushed darker, eyes hooding with need.

‘Will you let me inside you so I can be warm?’ I asked, shaking with desire.

When she looked up at my face, so sweet, so obedient, her red lips parted, and she whispered, ‘Yes, Master.’

Phantom closed the book, and I took a shaky breath, realizing how shallowly I’d breathed while he read. My face was flushed in the mirror, my eyes as dark as Beatrice’s in the story. He got up and stood behind Tiffany, giving me a wide grin in the mirror.

“You’ll have to read the rest yourself, but I hope I got you over the worst hurdle,” he said with a snicker.

As he went back to the chaise, humming under his breath, I eyed my emerging haircut and wondered if it was long enough to be gripped and tugged just a bit. And then I thought about Phantom and whether I could call him into my bedroom under false pretenses and seduce him—or maybe beg him on my knees.

Frivolous, stupid thoughts. But at least, they kept me distracted as I openly went against my mother’s wishes for the first time in years.

CHAPTER 17

Phantom

She was beautiful. It wasn’t anything unusual, since she was glorious at any time of day and night, no matter what she wore. But now, standing in a dress she chose for herself, with her hair curled and face made up with silvery highlights and luscious pinks, she was somehow even more glorious.

I didn’t wish to see her in the black dress anymore. This one, bright and modest while also revealing her strong legs, suited her perfectly. I sat in silence, a pillow in my lap, and watched my principal with an ache in my chest and agony in my loins.

“Nat, I want to write her poems. She’s gorgeous. When she smiles, I forget who I am. What do I do?!?!?!”

His reply was completely unhelpful, as usual. “Write your name down and put it in your pocket if you forget who you are. Also, what poems? Send an example.”

I gritted my teeth and quickly typed up a haiku.

“You are a vision

I want to lick your titties

Get naked with me.”

Nat’s only response was a laughing emoji. I pocketed my phone with a huff, though I felt a bit better. At least I could pretend it was only lust, even though in truth, I wanted to wax poetic about her eyes, her smile, and the way all of me fucking melted when she looked at me with complete acceptance, as if I wasn’t a monster.

I wanted to serenade her because she wasn’t afraid of me or disgusted. It was pathetic.

When we sat in the car, she clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap. Her scent filled the vehicle, citrusy and sophisticated, and I breathed my fill like a junkie.

“Stop it,” I said, putting my hand on top of hers, which was just an excuse to touch her. “You’re distracting me.”

“Sorry.” She slid her hands under her thighs, pressing her lips together. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be. If anyone’s mean to you, I promise to flush their head down the toilet,” I said seriously.

I would, too. The gala would be in the papers for all the wrong reasons, and I wouldn’t give a flying fuck provided my princess had a good time.

She smiled feebly, shaking her head. “I’m not really worried about that, but about my outfit. My mother chose that black dress for a reason, and I wonder what it was.”

She clamped her mouth shut, looking away. I watched the back of her head while she stared out the window, her neck muscles taut with tension.

“Should I flush your mother’s head down the toilet, too?” I asked mildly, wanting above all else to make her laugh.

She did, though it was more of a snuffle than a laugh, but I took it. She turned back to me, her expression turning mischievous.

“Don’t do it, obviously, but thank you for adding to my meditation bank. Imagining this should be very helpful once she lays into me for wearing this outfit and chopping off my hair.”

I swallowed, glancing at the partition between the back of the car and the driver’s space. Victor couldn’t hear us if we didn’t raise our voices, so I leaned in carefully, inhaling more of her exquisite scent. She sighed softly when she saw me invading her space but didn’t protest.

“Don’t be scared,” I said, my voice alien to my own ears. It sounded almost tender. “I won’t let them hurt you. If it gets too much, I’ll kidnap you out of there and take you on a ride. We’ll get burgers and ride to Hains Point to watch the sun rise over the river.”

Her lips parted as she watched me, her breaths growing quicker. Mere inches separated our faces, and damn, if I just leaned in, I could flick my tongue out and taste her lipstick.

“Promise?” she asked in a soft whisper, and maybe it was my imagination, but I thought she swayed an inch closer. I tasted her breath when I parted my outer teeth just a fraction.

“Yeah. One word from you and we’re out of there. So don’t be nervous, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

I cringed internally at how mushy it sounded, but when she let out a soft sigh, blinking slowly as she swayed closer yet, I forgave myself for being a sentimental moron.

Fuck, I could kiss her.

When her eyes dropped to my teeth, her tongue flicking out to wet her lower lip, I shot back and pressed myself into the back of my seat, breathing hard. What. How. Why.

She straightened, too, looking away with a slight frown. My vision was pink, pink, pink.

When she cleared her throat, looking out the window, I grabbed my phone.

“Nat. We almost kissed. I think she wanted to, but hell, I DON’T KNOW. No one ever wanted to kiss me. How do I know for sure? Is there a questionnaire I could have her fill out?”

We were almost there when my phone finally pinged. I fumbled in my haste to read his words of wisdom, but Nat didn’t give me anything. Instead, he sent me a link to an article in a men’s magazine.

10 Signs She’s Really Into You.

“You’re a hideous knave and a toad,” I replied, mindful of not putting any cusswords in writing. “I hope you get a nasty STI so your spikes rot in their little pocket.”

This time, he replied at once. “It’s not little. I could fit your ugly skull face in there.”

This lifted my mood a bit. I evidently brushed on a touchy subject, and good for him after making fun of me in my hour of need.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I replied.

And then the fun was over. It was time to get out.

Our arrival was marked by excited shouts and a flurry of camera flashes even before the car door opened. Every guest had to do the red carpet walk since this was that kind of event, and a crowd of paparazzi blocked our way.

I got out first and opened her door, following close behind her while the security team manning the event pushed the journalists to the sides. As she stepped out of the car, an avalanche of questions tumbled her way.

“Why did they target you and not your father?”

“Barbara, what do you think about the video?”

“Why did they try to kill you?”

“Who designed your dress?”

She remained calm through all that, gliding serenely up the carpet and smiling a fixed, radiant smile into each blinding flash of a camera. Her lips were sealed but not tight, and she looked beautiful, glowing, and happy as she ignored every single question.

I wondered how much training it must have taken for her to maintain that expression. Since I was privy to her nerves in the car, I knew she wasn’t as composed as she appeared on the outside. She played her part really well.

The doors opened, letting us into the brightly-lit hall of the Concordia Royale, the swankiest hotel in town. I walked a pace behind her, scanning the crowd for potential dangers, noticing the security planted around the perimeter.

A waiter swooped in with a tray of champagne glasses. Barbara accepted one, and as soon as the waiter turned away, I pulled it from her hand.

“I can’t refuse a drink, it’s impolite,” she whispered, her voice mild thanks to the wide smile she still wore like a shield.

“I know. I’ll just check it. I’ll be discreet.”

While she walked forward, exclaiming a greeting to an elderly demon man with a beautiful dryad woman on his arm, I turned away and dipped just the tip of my tongue in her drink. Abomination senses were much sharper than a human’s, and we had a natural ability to detect all manner of poisons and other death traps.

When Barbara bid the couple goodbye and slowly glided toward the main event venue, I slid the glass back into her hand, not even feeling guilty about how I had conducted my test. If I had followed the protocol, I would have gotten a bit of the drink on a hygienic swab to taste, but a perverse, greedy part of me desperately wanted to see her swallow something my tongue had been in. It would be just like when she ate with that spoon I’d licked.

Here it was, my new kink. It was her fault for unlocking it.

We entered the main floor, where a throng of people in black and white with an occasional splash of color talked and mingled in small groups. A string quartet played in the corner, giving a lazy rhythm to the hushed conversations and pleasant laughter, and wait staff navigated the smooth marble floor with ease, distributing champagne and canapes.

It was real champagne, too, not just fizzy wine. My sense of taste was surgically attuned to liquor varieties ever since I made it my goal to drink every sort of addictive toxin made by man when I was in my twenties. Fun times.

Barbara stood for a moment, looking around, her expression soft and inviting. She held herself with grace, straight but not proud, her legs exquisitely on display thanks to the short dress. Soon, she noticed a familiar face and set down that way with an easy smile.

As I followed, I eyed the stucco ceiling, ornate pillars decorated with designs of vines and orchids, and the dark wall paneling. This place was elegant, its atmosphere hushed and heavy with money. All the people here were posh, everyone wearing at least a few thousand dollars on their backs like it was no biggie. They talked in melodic, easy voices, all pleasant and somehow tempered.

When I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the tall, ornate mirrors spaced out around the walls, I couldn’t help but feel the dissonance keenly. With my heavy combat boots and pants, my weapons, and, worst of all, my skull of a head, I stood out, and not in a good way.

I knew I’d say something brash and horny soon. It was my nature, and when I did, everyone who heard me would look horrified and then pretend I didn’t exist.

Barbara ended her polite chat with an elderly vampire woman and glided across the marble like a true princess. Her posture, her smiles, her graceful gestures—all of her fit in seamlessly in this elegant, luxurious space, like she was born for this. Duh—because she was.

It was her birthright.

It hit me again, how much of a dumb fuck I was.  Good for me that I stole a lick of her champagne, because that was all I would ever get. Even if she did actually want to kiss me, the best I could count on was being her secret side-piece.

Princesses didn’t marry monsters.

She stopped suddenly while tension gripped her nape. I hurried to her side, instantly locating the threat.

Her parents headed our way, her mother resplendent on her husband’s arm, her neck and wrists laden with heavy coils of pearls. Her smile wasn’t as perfect as Barbara’s, though. I saw the hard edge of anger behind it.

“Mother, Father,” Barbara greeted them with perfect daughterly joy. I was certain no one could tell how anxious she was. “How are you enjoying the evening?”

Her father, who was a handsome man in his fifties, slim and impeccably dressed, gave her a non-committal nod. He didn’t even look at her properly, his eyes passing over the crowd as if he was looking for someone.

“The gala is beautiful,” Madame Ashford said with a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, is that Patrick? Go on, dear. I know you have much to discuss.”

Her husband barely acknowledged her before he strode away to a group of men around his age, all of them human apart from one vampire. Clarissa gave me a cold look, her eyes snagging on my outfit. Her nostrils flared before she graced me with an insincere smile.

“Would you leave us alone? I need to speak with my daughter.”

I almost laughed in her face. Almost. It took a great deal of self-restraint, but I kept the mocking laughter back, giving her a cheerful smile instead.

“No, unfortunately. Her life is in danger, and I will do my due diligence to protect it. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re not capable of protecting your daughter if she is attacked.”

Clarissa scoffed but didn’t insist. She grabbed Barbara’s elbow in a vicious grip and pulled her toward the canape table, which was now deserted. Barbara gasped from pain when she stumbled, hastening to follow her mother, and my vision grew red.

Uh-oh.

At the table, her mother leaned in and spoke in a low voice, probably hoping to keep the conversation private, but my sensitive hearing allowed me to catch every word.

“Why didn’t you wear the dress? And what have you done to your hair? You look all wrong. This is unacceptable, and you’re about to start on the wrong foot. It’s all your fault, you willful girl.”

“What… what do you mean?” Barbara asked, her hands clenched into fists, her posture rigid. Gone was her poise. It seemed like her mother had the singular power of sucking all confidence out of her daughter.

“I wanted you to look like a woman!” Clarissa hissed. “But no, you had to do it your own way. Fine! You will fix it now, though, how? I have no idea. Your looks, inadequate as they are, are your best feature, and now even that advantage is gone. Try not to bore him with your dull conversation, will you?”

The red covering the edges of my vision crept steadily into the center of it with every insulting, untruthful word. I stood motionless, waiting to hear the purpose of this cruel dressing down.

“Not to bore… who?” Barbara asked tentatively, the slightest quiver in her voice.

Her mother looked at her with utter contempt.

“Who do you think? Your future husband, of course!”

CHAPTER 18

Barbara

I must have swayed on my feet, because Phantom was suddenly by my side, steadily gripping my elbow. My mother gave me a long look, pitying and angry, before she huffed and shook her head.

“Do you see what you make me do? I wanted to give you the happy news with a toast of champagne, but you had to disappoint me again. Oh, well. I’ll give you time to compose yourself and you can meet him in half an hour. Pity you didn’t wear those shoes, you’ll look ridiculous waltzing with him. Adonis is quite tall.”

With that, she left, her heels clicking on the marble. Phantom still stood right behind me, his body a shield I desperately wanted to lean on.

“Let’s go out. No one’s on the balcony right now,” he murmured in my ear, gently leading me along the edge of the ballroom to the nearest door.

I let him guide me without a word, my mind a void filled with the white fog of panic. I couldn’t gather my thoughts from their scattered terror. My body felt alien, my every step jarring, Phantom’s touch like an itch.

“Here.”

He left me leaning against the cold wall outside while he gently closed the door. The balcony looked out on the green grounds at the back of the hotel and was low enough that I could probably jump off without hurting myself.

Phantom’s face swung into view, obscuring the lantern-lit gardens swimming before my eyes. His proximity shot through my panic, making me a bit more aware. I hugged myself, shivering hard when the cold of the wall at my back registered.

“Breathe,” he said in a low murmur. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”

I did as he said. Following directions was the easiest way to deal with difficult emotions. It had always been due to my conditioning. As long as I did what I was told, everything was perfect. My mother smiled, chatted with me, was happy. She told me I was good.

Now, I craved clear directions. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Every time I made my own choices, I turned out to be a failure.

It’s just a dress. A stupid dress. Does it really matter so much?

My heart hammered. I felt sick to my stomach, and my brain kept trying to find logic in my reaction. All my mother did was criticize my outfit and tell me I would meet my fiancé, which I had always known would happen sooner or later.

Why did I overreact like that?

“It’s crazy,” I mumbled, my voice scratching my tight throat. “I’m crazy.”

“Another breath, doll. You’re doing so well.”

I obeyed, something hot melting the numbness in my chest. He nodded, his eyes glowing softly silver.

“Good girl. Take another breath.”

But I shook my head. “No. Stop. This is… Stop praising me. I don’t deserve it.”

I gripped my arms hard, shielding myself from this desperate craving that clawed at my insides. God, I needed his kind words, but it was so pathetic. How could I be so dependent on another person’s opinion of me?

It was enough that I let myself get completely wrecked after just a few words from my mother.

I was supposed to be strong, independent, to break out of this cycle. Instead, I had this sudden desire to sit at Phantom’s feet, have him pet my hair and tell me good things. That image and that need were so powerful, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from asking for it.

Wanting such a thing made me weak. Even worse, it probably made me depraved.

“Oh yeah?” Phantom asked, his eye sockets flashing red for a moment so brief, I thought my eyes deceived me. “You just told me a big, fat lie, doll. It’s a lie that you don’t deserve good words. Just like everything your fu… your horrible mother said was a lie. You deserve all that’s good. You’re perfect, and you look gorgeous.”

I stared at him, my lips parted in confusion. He spoke with such vehemence, it took me aback. I had no idea where it came from.

“Well, one thing she said was definitely true, though,” I muttered, shivering again while a cold ball of icy fear lodged deep in my guts. “I’ll have to meet him. This… this man.”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak his ridiculous name out loud. Who even named their son Adonis? And why didn’t I know anything about him? The name was so unusual, it should have rang a bell.

“Not necessarily,” Phantom said with an eerie smile. “Say a word and I’ll make him disappear.”

I laughed weakly, though his joke didn’t lift my spirits. I dreaded meeting Adonis. And I couldn’t believe my mother had sprung this on me without warning. It was cruel beyond comprehension.

“Don’t laugh,” Phantom said, stepping closer until we almost touched. I was trapped between him and the wall. “I’m serious. I’ll get rid of him.”

“That’s kind of you ,” I said, shaking my head with a faint smile at his joke. “But, no. I have to somehow… Somehow get out of this. On my own.”

“So you don’t want to marry this guy?” he asked, his voice low and insistent.

I took a deep breath and relaxed my palms. They were chilled with cold sweat.

“No. Of course not. I don’t even know him, and even if I did… I’d never agree to this. They probably only chose him because our genes match or whatever. My mother wants to breed me into a superior race or something. It’s sick.”

Phantom pulled away from me, his face losing its grotesque skull grin completely for the first time since I met him. I stared, unsettled by the sudden change. A skull wearing a severe expression was a thousand times creepier than a grinning one, but then, this was Phantom. He didn’t creep me out.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He nodded sharply, his eyes flashing red. His voice was unnaturally calm. “Take your time. We’ll go inside when you’re ready.”

I rubbed my arms with a sigh. Honestly, I didn’t want to get back in there. My face hurt from smiling, and I had no desire to talk to anyone at the gala. None of those people were truly my friends. Some were allies at best.

“You’re cold,” Phantom said in that same eerily calm voice. “I didn’t bring my jacket.”

I shrugged, shivering. “No, that’s okay. I can’t keep taking your clothes. I’m fine.”

He looked at me for a moment and then shook his head. “But I’m not.”

I heard a series of rapid clicks, similar to those he emitted when he removed his armor from his palms. At the same time, something moved under his tight shirt, the clicking growing faster while his chest, his arms, and his stomach rippled in small waves, as if some living creatures slithered under his clothes.

“You’re not crazy. I am,” he whispered hoarsely when the clicking stopped.

Before I had time to answer, he put his arms around me, pressing me to his chest. I gasped at his audacity, and then gasped again, because he was so warm. I remembered how he’d felt before, cold and hard to the touch. This was completely different. It felt… It felt like touching a man.

“Did you… You’re not armored.”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his throat vibrating against the side of my head. “Are your hands cold? You can put them under my shirt. Here.”

He reached back to yank his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. I opened my mouth to reply but released only a hoarse, meaningless sound. When he’d embraced me, I put my arms around his middle, and his skin burned my palms even through his clothes.

I was hot all over, but not just because he held me. It was a different kind of heat, and it felt like it seared my thoughts into nothing.

Hesitantly, feeling a bit like I was drunk, I slid my hands lower down his sides, caressing the hot, male muscles that flexed under my touch. I lowered my palms until my pinkies grazed his belt and reached back, slowly, tentatively, sliding my hands under his shirt.

We both gasped at the same time, both with violent shivers.

“So cold,” he hissed. “Keep them there. That’s a good girl.”

“I’m not good,” I protested in a hot whisper, shivering again, because his skin was so hot and smooth, and God, this felt good and forbidden. I’d touched boys when I was younger, but it dawned on me now that I’d never touched a man.

He was a man. He was strong and corded with muscle, he smelled of smoke and cologne, and that scent, which must have been mostly trapped under his armor, enveloped me whole now that it was released together with his body heat.

When I ran my fingers closer to the center, still low on his back, I jolted when they encountered a hard, raised line of armored plates running down his spine. So this was where his armor went.

“You’re my good girl, then,” he murmured, sending shivers down my spine. “Let me say this, doll. Let me do this just for a moment. We’ll forget it happened after we’re done, okay? But for now, I’ll hold you.”

I shook my head helplessly, not really understanding. It felt so good, so indecently intimate, and all his jokes flashed through my mind, a crazy thought tingling the ends of my synapses in temptation. What if… What if they weren’t jokes? What if he really meant it? What if he wanted me?

With a sudden burst of determination, I pressed closer, pushing myself into him. He gasped, his hand sliding to my hip to hold me there. I felt his arousal, hard and unmistakable against the front of my hip.

“You’re hard,” I gasped, my head spinning.

“I told you, doll,” he said, nuzzling my hair with his bony face. “That’s what happens when a man is attracted to someone. You’re my someone.”

I released a shaky breath, tentatively running my palms up his back. Where his lower ribs started, I found more lines of stacked plates, not as protruding as the one on his spine but still prominent. They overlaid his ribs.

He grunted, flexing his hips until he bucked into me, and I explored him further with trembling fingers. The expanse of his back was intoxicating. So broad and strong, corded with muscle and hot to the touch, it was like art. I longed to see it stretched out on my bed. That thought seared me, and I whimpered softly, pressing into him. Need coiled in my lower belly, arousal so hot and insistent, I had no idea what to do with it.

“I know I can’t have you for myself,” he murmured into my hair. “But at least you won’t get married yet. I’m not sure I could stand to see you married. I’d probably kill him, and then you’d hate me. I still want to kill him, even now, and your mother, too, for forcing you to do things you hate. So hold me. Hold me so I don’t slaughter everyone in your life and make you despise me.”

This didn’t sound like a joke. I sensed he was perfectly serious, and violent shivers tumbled down my back. Should I be scared? I wasn’t. All I felt was gratitude and want that grew hotter with every breath, as if the oxygen I inhaled fed the fire between my legs.

“Okay. I’ll hold you, and you hold me,” I said, because it was the only thing I knew for certain: I wanted this moment to last as long as it could. Until morning, if possible.

“See? You are a good girl,” he murmured. “But I’m bad, doll. All I want is to bend you over that balustrade and rail you until you scream. I bet paparazzi would rush here and take pictures, and it wouldn’t make me stop. I’d keep going until both you and I came hard. And the whole world would see you belong to me, even if just for a few minutes.”

I swallowed with difficulty, my legs shaking. His words were at once terrifying and thrilling. His hardness pressing into my skin made it all the more real, and when he rolled his hips with a grunt, humping me shamelessly, I couldn’t hold back an eager moan.

“And you like it,” he whispered in awe. “My good, innocent princess likes my filth, eh? Baby, you got me so bad, I’ll come in my pants just from doing this.”

He rocked into me, his hand sliding to my ass to hold me in place. I was dizzy from his proximity. When he hissed, pressing into me hard, I realized my nails were digging into his back.

“This won’t do,” he grunted, turning me fast.

I gasped harshly when he grabbed me from behind, one hand squeezing my breast, the other diving under my dress until his hot fingers brushed my inner thighs. I gasped in shock and went rigid. He froze, too, his breathing loud in the cool night air as he held me in his possessive embrace

“Too much?” he asked, sliding his hand off my breast.

I shook my head. “N-no. It’s just… More than I’ve ever done before.”

He was still for a moment then laughed quietly, straightening. He let go of the hem of my dress and turned me again, gently this time. His arms went around me, and he laid his hand on the back of my head, pressing my face to his bare throat. His pulse jumped frantically under his hot skin.

“See?” he murmured. “I knew this would happen. I don’t know what I am anymore. You broke me. I’m chivalrous now.”

He said it with utter disgust, as if chivalry was something to be deeply ashamed of. I shivered wildly in his arms, the heat in my belly twisting with need. I cursed myself for reacting like that. If only I hadn’t, his hand would be between my legs now. God, how I wanted it.

“Don’t be chivalrous,” I choked out. “Please. I really want you to…”

“Shh. It’s okay,” he said with a quiet laugh that sounded rather melancholy. “I’m not a monster. I won’t despoil you for others just because I can’t have you for myself.”

“Despoil,” I repeated with a frown, my lust turning into anger. “What do you mean by that? I’m not a… a thing that will get dirty.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed easily. “But I won’t drag you into filth with me. There. Are you all warm? Do you want to get back inside? Or do you want to get those burgers?”

I pushed him away, or at least, tried to. Phantom didn’t even budge, no matter how hard I tried to get out of his hold, until finally, he sighed and let his arms fall, taking a step back. I glared at him, and he cocked his head to the side, his eyes glowing pink. For a moment, I thought it was a reflection from my dress, but no. It was a distinct pink glow in his eye sockets.

“You don’t get to decide for me,” I hissed furiously, feeling ridiculously betrayed.

It was obvious what was happening. He wanted me, I wanted him, but he decided somehow that it wouldn’t be good for me, so he pulled away. I hated that he felt entitled to make that decision. It would have been one thing if he didn’t want me, but he did, and it was such an injustice that he wouldn’t act on it out of misguided scruples.

“For you, no,” he said. “But for myself, absolutely. I won’t have you on my conscience.”

So now he had a conscience?!

I wanted to stomp with fury but stopped myself for fear of breaking my heel.

“You’re no different than my mother, then,” I said, my voice shaking from anger. “She makes all my decisions for me because she thinks I will only make the wrong ones.”

I turned to the door, took a deep breath, and braced myself. At least I was furious enough to give few fucks about what happened next. Because I was done letting other people decide for me. It was over. Finito. I would tell my hapless fiancé I had no interest in marrying him, and I’d tell my mother I was going to move out as soon as the mind manipulator threat was over.

CHAPTER 19

Phantom

I followed her, my armor clicking into place so I could be a bulletproof shield if need be. Barbara’s movements were jerky and decisive, and I couldn’t shake the pink from my eyes. Touching her, holding her, and then facing her delicious anger made my head swim with little hearts. My dick was in agony, still throbbing, now hidden under armor. I wanted to hit my head repeatedly on the wall for denying myself even just a little touch of her sweetness, and at the same time, I felt incredibly proud of myself.

She deserved better. I was a veritable hero for not plucking that flower for myself and getting it all tarnished.

Because sweet, innocent Barbara didn’t know a crucial thing: after fucking an abomination, human sex would never be enough. I did her a favor, really. Thanks to my heroic restraint, she’d be able to get married to someone in her own league one day and enjoy him in bed in blissful ignorance of what she could have had.

Now, though, she was angry, and I enjoyed watching her furious little walk. Her hips swayed sexily when she was annoyed. It distracted me so much, I finally forced myself to look away from her ass. In a desperate bid to regain control, I tightened the plates over my crotch, squeezing my throbbing dick even harder.

Ow.

There was no time to process my agony, though, since Barbara headed fast in the direction of her mother, who stood with none other than Ernest Landizza. I knew his name—everyone did. The man was brash, colorful, and often appeared in the media speaking on various social and economic issues.

By his side, two vaguely familiar young men lingered, listening politely while he spoke with Clarissa, who was all charming smiles and cordial laughs.

It surprised me that she cozied up to the self-made media mogul who now held three quarters of the country’s news stations in an iron-clad monopoly. Landizza wasn’t an old-money name like the Ashfords and the Kingsleys, and I knew enough to realize that should have made him a nobody in Clarissa’s eyes. She was big on dynasties.

Ernest Landizza was the son of poor immigrants. He made his first million when he was nineteen and went on to dominate the media industry. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if the Landizza name appeared anywhere in the articles about the senator I’d read, but I came up empty.

There was no connection, and yet, here was Barbara’s mother, apparently setting up her daughter with one of the man’s sons. Or was I wrong?

“Barbara!” Clarissa called out, extending both hands in a warm welcome that was so at odds with the cruel greeting she gave her earlier. “Here you are, my diamond! I’m so excited to introduce you to Adonis. I’m sure you will hit it off at once—Adonis rides horses, as well. You have so much in common!”

One of the men stepped forward. He was tall and smoldering, his skin sunkissed, dark hair swept fashionably back. He wore an impeccable suit, and when he smiled, revealing blindingly white teeth, I saw a ruby glittering in the tip of his left canine.

Adonis, indeed.

“Such a pleasure to finally meet you, Barbara,” he purred, bowing over her hand.

She intended to give him a handshake, but he turned her palm and brushed his lips on the back of it. The pink fogging my eyes turned red with possessive fury. Uh-oh.

“Likewise, Mister Landizza,” she said in a cool, polite voice. “I hope we can be good friends, since we share a passion for riding.”

I just caught the moment the smile on Clarissa’s lips froze. Barbara didn’t play her role as expected.

Adonis frowned, his perfect brows furrowing gently. “I hope to be much more than your friend,” he said, recovering quickly. “Will you dance with me, Barbara? I’d love to get to know you better.”

She smiled her perfect, radiant smile, and my heart stuttered, my vision graying out for a second. She was going to say yes, wasn’t she? He was pretty, after all. He was a gentleman and knew how to behave in society. Of course, she would agree to the dance, and then she’d fall for him, and…

And good for her. A princess deserved a prince.

“Thank you so much, Mister Landizza,” she said, still smiling blindingly. “But you will have to excuse me. I am leaving. I just wanted to say hello to my dear mother’s new friends. We can dance another time, perhaps. Goodnight, then!”

She nodded at each of them in turn. Clarissa’s smile was pinched, but Ernest laughed jovially.

“You’re not an easy girl, eh?” he asked, winking at Barbara. “Very good, very proper. Pure and decent, as women should be. Hat off to you, Clarissa, for bringing up a lady!”

He laughed again, while Adonis gave him an annoyed look. Barbara smiled once more, nodded, and turned away, gracefully gliding out of the ballroom.

“Well, that was awkward,” I murmured as we sat in the car.

She huffed without looking at me, her face stubbornly turned to the window. “Was it? I barely noticed, since I was too busy thinking how annoying you are.”

My heart skipped a beat. She really was angry, but that wasn’t even the best thing. I realized she didn’t pay the pretty human man much attention, because she was thinking about me. More pink flooded my eyes, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to get my dick to behave.

No, I told it. We’re not getting her. We’ll be heroes, you and I, you’ll see. Self-denial is our new thing.

“It’s one of my many talents,” I said with a strained laugh. “I annoy the hell out of people.”

She groaned and turned to me, her eyes flashing with menace. “Why are you such an asshole? Is that because you think I’m easy? You think I should be a proper, decent woman? Well, shake hands with Ernest Landizza. You seem to have similar tastes.”

My jaw dropped at her vicious tone. She positively vibrated with fury, and I didn’t really think it was because I rejected her on the balcony. It was about something else, and I was very curious as to what exactly.

So I did what I did best. I poked the bear.

“I don’t think you’re easy,” I said with a chuckle. “After all, I had to buy you that atrocious coffee, bring you pie, and save your life. That’s a lot of work just to dip my wick.”

“Then why won’t you do it if you’ve worked so hard?” she hissed, her hands balling into fists. “Am I not good enough for you? Of course, I’m not! I’m never good enough!”

She broke off, breathing hard. I waited, watching her explode. Even in the grip of fury and self-loathing, she was beautiful.

“Of course this is why she did it, but she wouldn’t say it, would she?” Barbara snapped, taking her diamond earrings off with hands that shook from anger.

“All my life I’ve tried so fucking hard! I did everything I could to please her, everything! But that doesn’t matter. I made one mistake, one, and she’s throwing me out like trash!”

I shook my head, not really grasping what she meant. “Throwing you out?” I asked. “Hold on. Why do you think…”

“Don’t interrupt me!” she hissed, throwing the earrings onto the seat between us. “She hates Ernest Landizza, she’s always hated him! He is an impostor, immigrant trash, a rich man with a poor man’s manners! That’s what she always said about him. And I don’t care, I don’t! But she does, and now she’s giving me to them! To the people she hates!”

She groaned in helpless rage, kicking off her shoes.

“All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to be good! I did everything! And for what? So she can give me away to people she doesn’t even respect? Without asking me first? Without telling me so I could get ready? Fuck this shit! I’m done. Whatever I do, I’ll never be good enough, so why should I even try, huh?”

“Let me get this straight,” I said, thinking fast. “Your family and the Landizzas aren’t friends, right? This isn’t what was supposed to happen?”

She shook her head violently, her newly cut hair swinging around her nape. “I was supposed to marry someone from a family like mine, with a good lineage and yada-yada, all the stupid stuff she cares about. I don’t even know why she’s doing this anymore. And you know what? I’m done! I’m done waiting for her to love me!”

Her voice wobbled, and she wiped angry tears from her cheeks with jerky movements. I swallowed thickly, hating to see her cry. I thought I finally understood what the core of the problem was—she thought her mother didn’t care about her.

“I’d rather she kicked me out of the house,” she said bitterly, training her red-rimmed, angry eyes on me. “That would be honest, at least. But this is perverse! I’m supposed to pretend to be happy about marrying a man I know she looks down on? Hell, no! I’m done pretending. And I’m done being obedient.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, her chest rising and falling with harsh breaths.

“Fuck me.” Her eyes burned with anger, her voice belligerent. “Do it like you said, publicly, so there are pictures. In the driveway, so the paparazzi can see it from the gate. Let them be useful for once.”

I gasped a hoarse laugh, but then realized she wasn’t kidding. Her face was tight with determination, eyes hard. When I shook my head, she raised a mocking eyebrow.

“Not good enough for you, huh?” she said with a snort. “Thought so.”

“No, hold on. Calm down,” I said, but it only made her laugh bitterly as she folded her arms, turning away from me. “No, doll, listen. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Oh, yes, I know. Because I’m asking for things I’m not supposed to ask for. Because I don’t know what’s good for me,” she sneered, her leg bouncing with frenetic energy. “I get it. You know better. Fine.”

I groaned in frustration. “First of all, yes, you’re not thinking straight. If you are caught fucking your bodyguard in the open and there are pictures, they will serve as proof that you’re unstable. And I know I promised to get you out if they send you to an institution, but maybe let’s try not to get sent there in the first place, okay?”

She froze and then deflated, nodding grudgingly, her back still to me. In the dark car window, I saw the reflection of her sullen profile.

“And secondly, I’m not sure if I want to be your little rebellion,” I added. “You want to shock everyone by fucking someone like me, I get it, but have you considered that maybe I don’t want to play that game?”

She shook her head and turned to me with an angry huff. “What are you talking about? You or a random guy on the street, that’s all the same to them. And I’d rather it be you. But I get it. If you don’t want me, just say so.”

I sighed in frustration at her words, but the car had just arrived at the estate and I had no time to set her straight on what I did and didn’t want. The gate opened automatically, and the few paparazzi still camped out in front of it took pictures. Barbara’s hands were balled into fists in her lap, her mouth pressed into a line as she looked straight ahead, her entire body rigid.

As soon as the car stopped, she bolted out of it, forgetting her shoes and earrings. I grabbed her stuff and followed as she ran barefooted into the house.

“Doll, wait,” I called, chasing her up the stairs, but she only ran faster, like she was trying to escape.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen. I had things to say, so I ran after her, making it just in time to get her bedroom door slammed in my face. I pushed it open without losing a beat and barged in, pulling her to my chest.

“Let go,” she snarled, fighting my embrace.

“Later. Once you understand.”

“God!” she screamed, pushing my torso as if her weak human arms could make me budge. “Just leave me alone! I have things to do, stuff to plan. Go catch that guy, and then you’ll be free!”

I laughed under my breath when she raked her pink nails down the armor on my stomach. She seemed to realize fighting me was futile, so she hit me once in pure frustration and stopped struggling. Her hair got messed up during our scuffle, so I pushed it off her temple, earning myself a furious hiss.

“You really are a kitten,” I said with a laugh. “And you fight like one.”

She growled, not unlike a cat, and I laughed again. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you go. In a minute, once you understand something.”

She didn’t reply, her chin jutting out rebelliously as she looked away, folding her arms on her heaving breasts. I still held her firmly enough not to let her bolt. She felt so good in my arms.

“Look, doll. I want you. I want you so bad, okay? It’s kind of pathetic, really.”

She looked up, not yet convinced, but her features softened a fraction. I took a deep breath and removed armor from my palm, cupping her cheek. She swallowed, her throat bobbing, and let me touch her.

“But you and I will never work,” I continued now that I had her attention. “Let’s face it, baby: you are nobility, while I am scum. You’re this innocent good girl who’s afraid of dogearing a book, while I kill people regularly. And I hate to say this, I really do, because I want nothing more than to ride you raw, but I can’t. It would end in tears for both of us.”

She huffed and pushed me away. I stepped back, wishing I could tattoo the feel of her on my skin, because I was pretty sure this was the last time she would ever let me hold her. And yet, I had to do this. If I fucked her, I would belong to her. And who would put me back together after she came to her senses and told me to fuck off?

I might be attractive in the dark of the night, with my bad boy aura, crude language, and abomination dick, but once they saw me in daylight, human girls tended to flee in shame.

And it was fine when it happened with a casual hookup, but with her? I would be destroyed.

She eyed me with that angry glare that made me all hot and bothered, until her lips tipped up in a challenging smile. It made me weak in the knees even as foreboding crept up my spine. She nodded once, coming over until we almost touched. I was frozen in place, staring down at her eerie smile.

“You really think you know everything,” she said, sliding her thumb over my outer teeth. Her scent enveloped me, and my skin tingled, needing to lose the armor and feel her heat directly.

“But you don’t know how hard I work once I have a goal,” she finished in a whisper, standing on her tiptoes.

Her lips brushed my chin, a barely-there kiss, and she pulled back, watching me with dark, determined eyes.

“Goodnight, Phantom. And watch out.”

CHAPTER 20

Barbara

I had to thank my mother, I decided as I got ready in front of my window, looking at the lone ember of Phantom’s cigarette. Because if not for her actions, I wouldn’t have lost all my fucks to give. I supposed Phantom was to be thanked, too, but I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate my gratitude considering what I was about to do.

When I was certain I had his attention, I reached back to unzip my dress. Slowly, I slid it down my shoulders, kneeling on the padded bench in my window nook so he could get an eyeful. Once the dress pooled around my hips, revealing my soft, pink bra, Phantom’s cigarette suddenly vanished, as if he dropped it. I smiled, biting back my nerves. Undressing like this, knowing a man watched, was so far out of my comfort zone.

But I told Phantom the truth. I was a hard worker, and I learned fast, too. Right now, all my determination was focused on him, whether he liked it or not. Since he wanted me anyway, all I had to do was break through his weird scruples.

He said he didn’t want to be my little rebellion. Well, I didn’t want him to be that, either. I simply wanted him, and so, I’d do everything I could to have him. It shouldn’t be more difficult than mastering a challenging choreography, really.

The tree opposite my window rustled. I stepped out of my dress and knelt back on the bench, biting the inside of my cheek as I toyed with the strap of my bra. Was I brave enough to take it off? With the cigarette gone, I didn’t even know if he was watching.

A dark shape exploded out of the tree, flying gracefully through the air. I fell back with a shriek of surprise when Phantom landed on my windowsill, keeping impeccable balance. He grabbed the edges of my window frame and pressed his face to the glass with an eerie grin.

I landed on my ass when he appeared, and now, I instinctively covered myself with my hands, spooked by his proximity. Phantom’s grin widened when he saw it. He raised one hand, wagged his finger chidingly, and fell off the sill in an easy leap.

I knew he’d be fine but still rushed over to open the window and stuck my head out. Phantom waved at me from the ground.

“Don’t play adult games with me, little girl,” he called out with a cackle before disappearing around the corner.

I pulled back into the room, slowly closing the window while my face burned. I felt humiliated, yes, but mostly furious. Little girl? I would show him a little girl.

And yet, I had no idea what to do next. Maybe it was naïve of me, but I thought he’d give in if he saw me undress for him. Men were supposed to be easy like that, according to some of my friends back at school.

“Just take off your clothes,” Jenna once said with a shrug, like it was obvious. “And I promise you, he will be yours.”

Well, I did take off some clothes, but I chickened out before I went through with it. Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy for me yet. But what else could I do?

Feeling a bit defeated, I got in the shower, washing off the remains of the gala. Then, I wrapped myself in my fluffiest pink bathrobe, put on a hair mask, and sat down at my desk.

How to seduce a man, I typed into the search bar.

Half an hour later, I had an entire list of useless things. “Lean in when he speaks, laugh at his jokes, play with your hair, hold intimate eye contact, compliment him, listen to him…” It was all things I’ve been taught to do in conversation with any man, whether he was seventeen or seventy, no matter our relationship. It was the stuff well-behaved girls were supposed to do. Listen to him and laugh at his jokes. Yes, that about summed it up.

But none of the websites I looked at explained how to actually get a man into bed with me. I stuck out my chin in thought, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

How to get a man to sleep with you.

The search engine offered to show me only the safe results, which meant I was on to something. I swallowed nervously and toggled the safety off.

A whole new world opened up for me. I read with my cheeks blushing, devouring the information like a good student craving her education. At school, I always strove to get an A. I would get an A from Phantom, too.

Not everything was useful, admittedly. The top result suggested just to be direct and grab the man’s crotch, squeezing lightly, but Phantom was armored. He’d probably barely feel it. And also—really? It seemed incredibly violating.

Some other articles repeated what I already knew: make eye contact, lean in, tell him nice things. To cover all my bases, I spent ten minutes jotting down compliment ideas and had a whole bunch by the time I was done. It was too easy, really, to name all the amazing things about him.

The way he smelled. His sharp wit. His jokes. His strength, his beautiful bone structure, his disdain for the rules. His voice, oh, his voice. I hadn’t appreciated it properly until he growled in my ear that he would rail me against the balustrade for everyone to see.

And then, the way he walked like he owned the world. His abrupt, self-confident movements, his grace and the way he took up space. The way his eyes changed color. His mouth and tongue that I desperately wanted to see again. The way his armor plates stacked on the tops of his hands to reveal his palms.

How he felt like a sculpture sometimes. Like… Like he was almost too perfect to be a living being.

I liked everything about him, it seemed. But I also had a nagging suspicion he would see right through me if I came out with a bunch of compliments. I’d definitely have to be smart about it.

The next article I read promised to teach me how to turn my lover into a begging, moaning mess in bed. I read it with wide eyes, learning more than I could handle about deepthroating, dirty talk, and the art of stimulating the prostate.

Do abomination men have a prostate? I typed after recovering from the information overload.

They did, as it turned out. It was located similarly to the human prostate. But that wasn’t the only thing I learned.

Since the safety was turned off, the browser spat out images, diagrams, and videos. I pressed my hand to my mouth, the need to laugh or scream overwhelming.

Dicks. Everywhere. Erect dicks. Flaccid dicks. Dick sculptures and dick memes.

Abomination cocks galore.

I stared at the screen, terrified yet too curious for my own good. Once I realized what I saw, I clicked one of the clearer pictures to enlarge it.

The image included a very helpful banana for scale.

When I had enough control over myself, I slowly released my mouth and leaned in, tracing the shape with my eyes. The first thing that drew my attention was the color. Phantom’s skin was dark gray, as if covered with soot, but the abomination dicks I saw were deep red, some closer to blood, some the color of strawberry syrup.

They were all uncut, the heads longer and slightly pointier than on humans. What really set them apart, though, was a row of round protrusions running like a spine on top of the shaft.

And then, there was the banana. It was substantially smaller than the appendage in the picture.

I clicked away from the image, enlarging a meme instead. It showed a woman looking lecherously over her shoulder at an abomination man, while a human man at her side seemed offended. The text read, When she knows his is twice as big.

Yikes.

That sparked my curiosity, though. A few searches later, I was entirely too well informed about the abomination kink, which seemed to be super popular. I found out there were even special nightclubs where human women went to find monster men for sex. Abominations seemed to be high up in the popularity ranking because they were so rare, but also because their dicks were supposed to feel especially good.

Better than a G-spot massager. 10/10, someone wrote on a monster fetish forum.

I processed all of it while washing the mask off my hair. The fetish thing seemed reductive to me, and it also complicated my plan a bit. If Phantom had a gaggle of thirsty women surrounding him every time he went out into a nightclub, no wonder he wasn’t that eager for me. I would have to do something those women couldn’t, but then, what would that be?

Think, I urged myself, looking into the mirror as I dried my hair. What can you do that they can’t?

Well, I could parade naked in front of him, but I’d have to practice more. To test things out, I let my bathrobe fall open, revealing hints of naked breasts and stomach. Maybe I could do it. But what else?

I climbed into bed feeling disgruntled but determined. At the last moment, I shucked off my nightshirt and lay down naked, deciding maybe I should get used to nakedness first. Then, an idea occurred to me.

I grabbed my phone and draped my comforter over me just enough to reveal half of one breast. Smiling innocently, I took a selfie and sent it to him before I chickened out.

“Thinking of you,” I said in the text.

I hid the phone in my bedside drawer and went to sleep, doing my best not to fret about what he’d think.

Nothing, as it turned out. Because the next morning, he was nowhere to be seen.

My mother went off to church, and since she gave me the silent treatment, I got no comments when I didn’t set off with her. My father wasn’t home, of course, and I wondered bitterly how many nights a week he actually spent here.

I never gave it much thought, most likely to protect myself, but he was probably cheating on my mother. They didn’t love each other, after all. Their marriage had been arranged or maybe forced, and no wonder it was unhappy.

With a start, I understood that even if I had been born the boy they wanted, they’d still be miserably stuck together, without even the option of divorce, since it would likely tank my father’s career. A weight lifted off my shoulders, and I realized I must have carried a load of guilt around having been born a girl. But none of it was my fault.

Feeling bolstered and even more determined to avoid the hell my parents lived in, I set out to find Phantom. But he wasn’t in his room nor in the kitchen. When I went out into the garden, searching for him, I thought I heard faint rustles and once, I saw a flash of black.

“Are you playing hide and seek?” I asked, turning in a circle to find him.

He didn’t answer. I rolled my eyes and sighed, wondering if he was avoiding me because of the half-nude picture I sent him. It was ridiculous, too. Hadn’t he already seen my breasts when he peeped at me from the tree?

I gasped when an idea hit me, turning to look at the wall of windows marking my ballet studio.

There was one thing I could do, after all. Except… ballet wasn’t sexy, was it? But I sometimes tried other types of dance when I knew for sure I was on my own. I loved channeling my emotions into movement, but it was private and vulnerable, and that was the reason why I was so upset when Phantom saw me then.

This time, though, I wanted him to look.

Bracing my shoulders, I went inside.

CHAPTER 21

Phantom

I hid high in a tree, watching her as she stomped off to the house. I didn’t trust myself to face her. My phone burned a hole in my pants, and even though I looked at her photo just five minutes ago, I wanted to take it out and look again.

I was doomed.

It wasn’t even that spicy. I’d received many more explicit ones over the years from women who wanted to fuck me, but this hit different. My doll smiled with just a hint of shyness, teasing me, her clean face framed by the pink sheets, and I just couldn’t handle it.

She was too sweet for me. Too good. Too shy. Too naïve. Too…

Music blasted from the house, making me flinch. I crept closer on the branch, honing in on the ballet studio, where Barbara stood, wearing just a bright pink leotard, her legs bare save for a pair of socks. A single chair stood in the middle of the dancefloor.

My jaw dropped as she grabbed it and lowered herself to the ground, opening her legs wide, her feet poised on tiptoes. Her eyes were trained on the windows, her face determined. It wasn’t even a very seductive look, all things considered, but it was my catnip.

Because I loved it when she was angry. Every glare in my direction was like a hot lick to my cock, and now, as she stood and circled the chair in slow, enticing steps, I couldn’t help but groan from the weight of her delicious glower.

She didn’t even see me, but she knew I was looking.

When she bent over that chair, giving me a first-class view of her ass, I clutched the branch so as not to fall off. Her legs slid slowly apart, and then she arched, swinging her leg back and turning, her hands clutching the seat of the chair behind her. Her head fell back, eyes closed, while she worked her legs, showing off for me.

“Dirty girl,” I whispered reverently, watching as she swung her leg in a wide circle, giving me a glimpse of her barely covered crotch. I had no doubt what this was. She danced for me, determined to break through my restraint. I had no idea the little kitten had it in her.

Fuck, I could go there right now. I could tackle her to the floor and make her pay for teasing me. My body throbbed, my vision pink with desire, and still, I didn’t move.

If I went to her, it would be messy. I’d take her roughly, just pushing the slip of fabric to the side and slamming in, not caring that she was a virgin. Because she asked for it so tauntingly, I would treat it like a challenge.

I would hurt her. And I’d rather die.

She let go of the chair, spun around in a few pirouettes, and then her legs slid apart in a slow, teasing split. I whimpered deep in my throat, the display of flexibility setting my imagination on fire. She could probably do things with her body few women could. Maybe I could fold her up like a pretzel, push her legs behind her head, hold down her wrists and ankles together, and pound into her while she screamed helplessly, unable to move.

When she got back to her feet, breathing hard, she turned the chair and straddled it. She looked out the window, right into the tree I hid in, and slowly rode the seat, her eyes burning with every seductive roll of her hips.

I snapped.

“Filthy harlot,” I gritted out, sliding down the tree. “Sexy little viper. You wanna play games? Fine.”

The back door of the house banged against the wall as I went in, armor already falling away to free my aching dick. When I tore into the ballet studio, she didn’t stop dancing but gave me a long look over her shoulder before she swayed her hips. Now that I was here, smelling her, seeing her up close, some of my urgency settled. I stalked closer, my every step thudding against the wooden floor.

She turned, putting the chair between us, and then put her back against it, sliding lower. I couldn’t look away.

When she rolled on the floor, finally stopping on her side, and raised her straight leg high, toes pointed, I growled at her audacity. That tiny slip of fabric between her legs taunted me. It was so flimsy. So inadequate a barrier.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I said hoarsely, stepping closer.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she said with an infuriating smirk. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

I was on her within seconds. Her eyes barely widened when I had her in my grip, pulling her to her feet. I stood close behind her as both of us faced the mirror. She didn’t struggle but breathed fast, her chest heaving. She didn’t wear a bra, and the small curves of her breasts were perfectly visible, nipples hardening in a rush.

When she tried to raise her hand to my face, I gripped her wrist with a grunt.

“No. You wanted to play adult games, didn’t you? Let’s play,” I bit out, nuzzling the shell of her ear while she inhaled shakily.

I grabbed her other hand and yanked them both back, securing them with a cable tie from my belt. The restraint wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but she wouldn’t get out of it on her own.

When I pressed closer, rolling my hips so she’d feel the bulk of my cock, she gasped like she was afraid. Her eyes were wild and dark in the mirror, her nostrils flaring with every frantic breath. I grinned, relishing the sight of us. She was pink and slender, half-naked and restrained. Behind her, I was fully clothed all in black, down to my weapon-heavy belt and my boots. There was something so appealing about the sight. Everything clashed and contrasted, and somehow, it all fit.

“Phantom, please,” she whispered. “I want you.”

That just made me even more furious, even hornier. Everything was pink and red, and I didn’t know where my adoration ended and my wrath began.

“I tried to be honorable,” I hissed out, gripping her breast in my bare palm. “I tried to do good by you, to give you what you deserve. But you didn’t let me, you brat.”

I pinched her nipple, making her shudder with a raw cry. With my free hand, I unzipped myself and freed my cock, pressing the hot length to the back of her hip. She nodded desperately, and I shook my head.

“You want it? You’ll have to beg for it, kitten. You played your game. This one is mine.”

I pressed my face to her neck, which she bared for me eagerly, and let my tongue out. It was long and hot, and I was desperate to thrust it between her legs and taste her from the inside, but it would have to wait.

The little brat needed to be taught a lesson.

I licked her skin, marking her pulse points with my saliva. It barely satisfied the possessive urge in my blood, but fuck, I could be patient.

I was also pathetic. Even now, when she offered herself to me with naïve eagerness, I still wouldn’t take what was given. I cared about her more than about my own satisfaction, and I was determined not to hurt her.

But there were plenty other ways to make her suffer.

Slowly humping her backside, I teased both her nipples mercilessly while my tongue dipped lower, marking the top of her breast. She squirmed, whimpering, and I pinched harder before returning to an easy, teasing rhythm. She jolted and tried to push away, her hips working in a fruitless search for friction.

“We’ve only just started and my poor girl already can’t handle it, hm?” I murmured, nuzzling my face down her cheek. “You want out, doll? I’ll let you go if you ask nicely.”

She shook her head, and I pinched her nipples again. She cried out and pressed her ass into me, writhing as I tormented her sensitive flesh. My cock was so hard, my vision grew black at the edges. My face was numb, and I couldn’t feel my feet. It was like my body was bloodless, all of my life force flowing south.

“Still like this game, little tease?” I growled, licking her throat again. “Poor baby. Look how you’re shaking.”

I took her chin between two fingers and made her look at us in the mirror. She gasped, seeing herself. Her face and throat were flushed, nipples hard, and her body writhed of its own accord, trying to get away from my overstimulating touch yet pressing closer at the same time, like a cat begging to be stroked.

“See this? You’re such a mess, and I barely touched you. You can’t handle me, baby.”

She shook her head and took a frenzied breath. Her jaw jutted rebelliously when she caught my eye in the mirror.

“I want you,” she said again, her voice breaking when I tugged on her nipple hard.

“No, you don’t,” I bit out, anger buzzing at the base of my spine. “You want to fuck me because it will cause a scandal. You want to show them all. And I get it, but I won’t be your toy.”

She shook her head with a soft cry. “No! It’s not that! I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t care,” I hissed, grabbing my knife. “You’ll learn once and for all not to play with fire. Don’t move.”

She froze, her lips parting when she saw the long, serrated blade in my hand. I chuckled under my breath, running the dull side down her front between her breasts. She choked on her breath, shaking harder and harder, and I tsked.

“See? I play this way. Tell me to go, love. If you don’t, I will keep going.”

She hissed when I turned the knife, running the sharp tip down her stomach until it snagged on the fabric. Her muscles tensed, as if she could protect herself from the knife by clenching them hard enough.

When I looked up, her face was hard, too.

“No?” I asked with a reckless laugh. “How about now?”

Faster than she could follow, I slid the blade under the tight fabric at her hip, cutting up sharply. The leotard fell open, half-cut, half-torn. I stared at her bare breasts, honing in on the beauty mark on the underside of the left one.

“I still want you,” she choked out, staring at her nakedness with an expression that could be caused by pain or pleasure.

“Hmm.” I cut down, careful not to hurt her, and her seamless panties fluttered to the ground.

My grip tightened on the knife as I looked at the triangle of soft, trimmed curls. She was blonde down here, too. And I knew if I parted her, she would be pink. Just like the world around me.

My cock bucked at the sight, and I knew I played a very dangerous game, too. My control hung by a thread.

“F-fuck me,” she said, her eyes pleading in the mirror. “Please.”

I dropped the knife and stumbled away, my entire body throbbing with want. God, if I ever cried, I would right fucking now. It felt excruciating.

And yet, no.

I couldn’t have her. This was a lesson. Because she would get terrified and run from me in the end. The goal was to make that happen before I fell for her completely.

“Please,” she said, turning awkwardly with her wrists tied behind her back.

I shook my head, bending to retrieve my knife. I cut through the cable tie, freeing her hands, and pulled the chair closer. She breathed hard, her scent cloying up my lungs until I drowned in it, and I barely saw through the pink. And yet, I couldn’t leave. Not until she told me to.

“Hands in front of you,” I ordered, my voice so ragged, I barely recognized it.

She obeyed instantly, and my cock twitched, drawing her wide-eyed gaze. Damn, she was so good. She would have pleased me so much if this could ever turn into something more.

I secured another cable tie around her wrists and sat down in the chair, pulling her on top of me. She sat in my lap, her sweet ass crushing my cock, and I cursed when I felt how fucking slick I was, dripping all over her and myself.

Now she’d definitely be filthy because of me.

When she sat on me securely, shivering, I grabbed her tied wrists and pulled them up, looping her arms around my neck.

“Stay like this,” I growled, pulling her legs open.

She released a choked-up moan when I spread them wide, my bare fingers digging into the flesh of her inner thighs. Wanting to see more, I raised her knees and spread my legs under her until I saw everything in the mirror.

“Such a pretty doll,” I whispered, mesmerized by the glistening sheen at her core and inner thighs. “So shameless.”

She whimpered at that, her legs twitching as if to close, but she didn’t move them. Her muscles trembled, and when I hummed low in my throat, my shaft pulsing under her weight, her pussy clenched visibly.

“So good,” I whispered, running my finger up her thigh to gather her sweetness.

She gasped when I licked it off with my tongue lolling out, red and fleshy. I opened my mouth wide, giving her another look at my maw. She hiccupped, her eyes glued to our reflection, but didn’t tell me to go.

“You know what I’ll do?” I asked hoarsely. “I’ll make a mess of you. There.”

Unable to wait any longer, I ran my fingers gently between her legs. She jerked and moaned, her thighs shaking, and I watched my dark hand caressing that glistening pink flesh until my finger sank inside her, instantly gripped tight.

“I’d have to break you in good,” I murmured, sinking my finger deeper while she released shaky half-moans, breathing so fast, her entire body shook with it. “I’d play for hours, doll. This is so pretty. And you’d have to let me. I’d edge and torment you then make you come until you passed out. You’d wake up with me thrusting into you, but by that time, you’d be nice and pliant. Ready to take me.”

“Oh, God. Yes. Please,” she moaned, bracing her feet on my thighs until she could move her hips.

“You say that now. But baby, you’ll hate it soon enough. You’re a vanilla girl, one and done. I need a bitch in heat, not a good girl like you.”

Her eyes, previously hooded from pleasure, flew open. I froze, realizing what the look on her face meant. She was hurt.

My finger was still inside her, hot and wet with her arousal. We stared at each other in the mirror, and I waited for her to cry or tell me to stop. I’d apologize then, and this would be over. Tragedy averted.

I wasn’t ready for her eyes to narrow, her lips pursing in determination. She pulled herself higher using her arms looped around my neck and moved her hips, fucking herself clumsily on my finger.

“Try me,” she gritted out.

I would have laughed if I weren’t so out of my mind with lust.

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

I slid out of her and pulled her back into my lap, grunting when her weight settled back on my cock. The knobs on top of my shaft swelled bigger than ever, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from blowing my load. I was so hard, my skin tingled where my piercings kept it taut.

“What are you… Ah!”

I didn’t let her finish. With one hand, I pinched her nipple, and with the other, I attacked her clit, drawing tight, insistent circles. It was swollen, hardened with desire. My every touch made lurid, wet sounds, and the air was so heavy with her musk, I was dizzy just breathing it in.

She shook, whimpering and moaning, her feet scrambling on my thighs, stomach tense with mounting pleasure. I was relentless, bringing her to a fast, hard orgasm that wouldn’t be nearly satisfying enough.

She tensed further, arched, and came with a drawn-out moan. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her face that was a wild mask of euphoria. Here she was. My polished, elegant princess, turned animal by my touch.

As she slumped on top of me, her feet sliding off, I petted her mound and played with her wet curls, my touch light.

“Wow,” she whispered, watching our reflection with bleary eyes.

“Mmm. Yes, one is nice. But can you take ten?” I asked, sinking my finger inside her, my palm angled to grind on her clit.

She jerked, releasing a muffled cry, and I laughed like a maniac.

Now, she’d definitely run from me.

CHAPTER 22

Barbara

I was dizzy and hot all over, my skin tingling. It chafed where I touched his clothes, their fabric coarse, yet even that touch heightened my pleasure that was also agony.

He made me come three times in a row, and I was numb between my legs, my arms trembling where I held them high, tied wrists pressing into the warm skin of his nape.

He was unarmored under his clothes, the heat of him seeping through. His body was hard and unyielding under me, so very male, and I felt like a total mess. All my muscles shook, melting from the torturous pleasure. My stomach hurt from tensing every time he touched me.

The hard length of his cock under my ass drove me crazy, too. I wanted to see it again, because one small glimpse wasn’t enough, but I had no energy to try to get off and look. My seduction ended the moment Phantom barged in, and it was his show now. He seemed to prefer it this way.

“What’s wrong, pretty thing?” he crooned when I shuddered with a strangled cry as he tapped my clit gently. “Are you done? You look like you are. Such a pretty mess of a girl. Look at yourself. And you wanted to have pictures of us taken, huh? What would people say when they saw you like this, hm? A princess completely debased by her monster bodyguard.”

He laughed gutturally, sinking two fingers inside me. I whined from the stretch, but I was so wet, he moved easily in my slick, filling me to the knuckle.

“What shall I do with you, filthy girl?” he asked, caressing my cheek with his free hand. “You can’t handle any more but you won’t say it. My stubborn little doll. Tell you what. If you want more, ride my fingers. If you can’t, we will stop.”

I laughed hoarsely, pulling my legs up with effort. I trained four to six times a week with an exacting ballet teacher. Neither muscle burn nor discomfort were ever a good reason to stop.

I braced my feet on his widely spread thighs and began moving, haltingly at first. His length jerked under me when I pressed into it, and Phantom hissed, throwing his head back.

“Like this?” I asked, trying to sound innocent as I pressed down into him and moved my hips slowly, grinding on his erection.

“Yes,” he breathed, pumping his fingers. “Good girl. Exactly like this.”

I looked down, catching just a glimpse of his dark red tip. It glistened with something slick and blackish. Ignoring the burn in my thighs, I moved even further back to see more. Phantom gasped when I pressed in harder, and then his hand was on my chin, directing me to look in the mirror.

“Focus, doll. Make me come and I’ll let you taste it.”

Shivers went down my spine, and I felt myself clench around his fingers. He choked out a laugh and pulled hair off my face, combing the strands back gently.

“Not long now. Keep going.”

I pushed myself, rocking even as my stomach tightened with another impossible wave of anticipation. He angled his hand so that the heel of it pressed into my clit with every roll of my hips, and his fingers curled inside me until it felt shockingly good. Heat radiated from where he pressed in, and I whined, needing to come and yet unable to stop riding him.

His shaft was so wet, it slid against my skin with soft smacking sounds. I shivered, clenching my jaw as the pleasure inside me mounted.

“Such a sight. Perverse little thing,” he whispered harshly, pumping faster. “Will you be mine? Just for a bit? Just as long as… Oh, fuck… Yes… Right there, this is good… Yes, ride me, love.”

I trapped the grunt of effort that wanted to tear free and sped up, sliding on top of him with all my strength. His fingers pressed in harder, touching a place that flared with needy tension. I was almost there, but I needed him to finish more than I needed it for myself. I had to be the one who made him come, had to see that I could.

“Fuck!” he snapped, his hips jerking up as his fingers danced inside me.

I cried out, ecstasy breaking through. As my orgasm rolled through me in endless waves, I was vaguely aware of him jerking and cursing, his fingers digging possessively into my thigh as he took his pleasure with me.

When I settled, breathing hard, the first thing I noticed were black, half-translucent streaks of glistening fluid on the parquet. They reached far, almost to the mirror. I stared, and Phantom pulled his fingers out of me with a murmur, dipping between our bodies for a moment.

When his hand came back up, his fingers slightly wrinkled from moisture, they glistened with the same blackish fluid. His cum.

“Here. That’s how we taste together. Open your mouth.”

I did so at once.

“Good girl,” he murmured, sliding them in.

When I sucked on them, flicking my tongue to lick it all off, he released a hot breath and pressed his temple to mine, breathing deeply.

I swallowed the last traces of our joint pleasure. It was musk, primal and biting, but underneath, there was something milder and much more alien. It tasted like the earth smelled after rain.

Phantom stroked my tongue with his fingers. I bit them playfully, and he jerked with a surprised laugh, nuzzling the side of my face.

“I was wrong,” he said with a rueful laugh, helping me bring my arms back down. “Ultimately, it didn’t matter how we did it. I’m still in pieces.”

My shoulders hurt and my body was weak from effort, but I still turned fast to look at him, alarmed by his words. Phantom avoided my eyes, busying himself with cutting my restraints. As soon as my wrists were free, he took them in his hands and gently massaged the lines from where the cable tie dug in.

“Why are you in pieces?” I asked after a moment when he still didn’t say anything.

I was naked, we were both sticky, but I wanted nothing else than to stay on top of him and keep touching. This was the best I’d ever felt with another person. I shuffled to sit sideways in his lap.

“Was I so bad?” I asked when he didn’t answer, still soothing my wrists.

I thought it was amazing and more than I could have imagined, even after reading all those things on the Internet. But then, what did I know? Phantom could have anyone, and I had no experience at all. Maybe he hated it.

His hands stilled on mine, and he barked an incredulous laugh, finally looking at my face.

“Bad? The opposite—you were so good, doll. The best. Here I thought I’d spoil men for you with my dick, and look at you go, doing that to me. Oh, well. We might as well fuck properly now. There’s nothing to lose.”

“I… spoiled men for you with my dick?” I asked as laughter bubbled in my chest. I felt light and dizzy, and oh, so happy.

Phantom smiled and ruffled my hair. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. We should get you in the shower, though. You smell like me.”

“I like the way you smell,” I said dreamily, remembering the list I wrote out yesterday. “And I like how you move, and your face…”

I pressed my hand to his cheek, exploring the panes of his skull carefully while he watched me, his eyes glowing pink, their vertical pupils clearly visible now that I was so close.

“And I like everything about you,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek with faint embarrassment, though it felt safe to say it after everything we just did.

“Yeah?” he asked after a beat, his expression sharpening. “Everything? Even when I peep at you, steal your books, and eat your pie?”

I hit his arm lightly, conscious of his lack of armor.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling until my cheeks hurt, only not like when I smiled for the cameras. This time, I couldn’t control my expression because happiness poured out of me in waves. “I like you even when you’re annoying. You’re amazing.”

Phantom stared at me, his hands holding me a tad too tightly, like he was determined not to let me go. I wasn’t leaving, though. I wanted to stay here forever and just be near him.

“Okay. Rewind,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse until he cleared his throat. “You like me. Like, ‘like me’ like me.”

I smiled. “Uh, yes. I just said that. I like you a lot.”

And I did. I was also pretty sure I had a huge crush on him, and maybe… Maybe even more. But that I wasn’t ready to say.

There was a moment of tense silence.

“I can’t handle it,” he said, standing abruptly.

I landed on the floor with an outraged gasp. Phantom groaned, shook his head, and pulled me up to my feet with a mumbled apology. He turned away, zipped up his pants, and made a call.

“Please, pick up. Please.”

I gaped at him, completely taken aback. I wasn’t even angry at his rude behavior, because hell, it was rude. Wasn’t he supposed to say it back or something? ‘Oh, I’m so glad you like me, I like you, too!’ Was that so hard?

But he was evidently distressed, and I didn’t understand why. What did I do wrong?

“Finally!” Phantom snarled into the phone. “Nat, she said she likes me. What do I do?”

Wow.

I huffed softly, picking up the chair to put it away by the wall. I took off the remains of my leotard and grabbed a robe from a hook by the door.

“What do you mean, I should be happy? Nat, I’m in agony! This has never happened to me. Help me, you stupid snake!”

I couldn’t hear the reply, but Phantom was completely frozen, listening to every word like it was his salvation. Moving slowly so as not to distract him, I crouched and used my torn up clothes to wipe the floor. From up close, I saw his cum glittered delicately, as if it contained tiny golden particles.

“Okay. I’m breathing. Yeah. No, I mean… Oh. Oh, fu—heck. Yeah, she’s still here. No, she hasn’t run away, you idiot! She knows I’m seeing you. And she knows I’m a psycho.”

He was silent again, his eyes trained on me as he stood motionless, holding the knife he’d used to cut up my clothes. I gave him an uncertain smile, and he shivered.

“But I have never ki—okay. Yeah. You’re right.”

Ki—what? I wondered what he meant, a shiver going down my spine. I reminded myself I trusted him no matter what as I moved further to wipe down another streak. I didn’t know if it was normal for men to ejaculate with so much force, but it definitely made for interesting results.

“No, I don’t need pointers from you! I’m pretty sure you’re a slimy kisser. Bye.”

He put his phone and knife away and strode to me, his long steps swallowing the distance between us. Unsure yet not afraid, I got up from my crouch, waiting.

Phantom said nothing. He took my face in both palms and leaned in, his bony outer teeth pressing to my lips. My breath hitched. His mouth opened, something akin to lips touching mine. I kissed him back at once, clumsily, because his outer teeth were in the way and I wasn’t sure how to make it work.

But he didn’t seem to care. Phantom groaned, one hand sliding to the back of my head to hold me, the other gripping my ass. I gasped, flicking my tongue out to see if it would help. As I gently licked into his mouth, he froze entirely.

I tried to pull back to ask if he was okay, but his grip tightened on me, and then, his tongue was in my mouth, pressing to mine. It was hot and tasted like him, and I moaned in pleasure, grabbing the back of his bony head to keep him there.

Taste after taste, lick after lick, we made it work. I nibbled on his tongue and on his outer teeth, then pressed deeper until our tongues wound together, his so much longer and thicker than mine. But it worked. We kissed, and I didn’t care what or who he was, just that it was him.

“Doll,” he breathed reverently, pulling back for just a second before he dove for my mouth again like he couldn’t get enough.

I shook all over, my hands sliding feverishly over his head and down his nape. His were all over me, grabbing my ass, caressing my hair, stroking my back.

He moaned, unabashed and needy. Tingles broke out all along my spine, and I kissed him harder, his masculine sounds of need making me ache with lust. I wanted to climb him, get him out of his clothes, and get him inside me. I’d never felt such a desperate need for anyone before.

“You’re so good,” he murmured, tearing his mouth away from mine.

He nuzzled a path down my jaw and neck with hot little licks that made me shiver. I moaned in response, and he moaned back, grabbing my ass in both hands and hauling me up until I straddled him.

He kissed me again, his tongue sliding deep in my mouth, and gripped my ass until my cheeks spread. I bucked against him, seeking friction, and he pressed me closer, returning to my mouth, his breath hot on my wet lips.

Something beeped. Phantom stilled, breathing hard, then shook his head like a dog.

“Someone just came in through the gate,” he said, his voice gritty. “I’m gonna let you go now, okay? And I’ll see you later. Yeah?”

I nodded, and he nodded back, then pressed his face to my hair and inhaled.

“Yeah. Okay. Have to let you go.”

I kissed his cheek when he let me down to my feet, and he shivered, his hands hanging loosely at his sides as he stared at me.

“See you later, handsome,” I whispered with a smile, then turned to run to my room.

I was pretty sure my mother was back. I didn’t shower, but I put on clothes and a dash of makeup to give her no more reasons than necessary to be furious with me. She would be, anyway, but I was ready to face her.

With that happiness flowing through my veins after being with Phantom, I felt invincible. Well, almost. The idea of rebelling against my mother still terrified me, but I was as ready as I’d ever be. This was the right moment, I knew. I’d just done something outrageous, something forbidden, that I had wanted with all my being.

It was a victory over my conditioning, and it gave me the self-confidence I needed to break free.

I was about to seek my mother out when she knocked on my door and let herself in without waiting for permission.

“You’re different,” she said accusingly without greeting me first.

She wore a cream pantsuit and gold jewelry, her makeup impeccable yet unable to hide the tired draw to her mouth. I realized with a start my mother looked thinner than normal, her hands clenched into fists at her sides seemingly bony.

I wondered if it was my fault, and then shut that thought down. Yet, my heart hammered sickly as slimy fear coiled in my gut. She still had power over me.

You don’t have to do this anymore, I told myself in a bid for control. You don’t have to let her take over.

“Yes, I am,” I said when I was sure my voice wouldn’t wobble. “I’ve done a lot of thinking lately.”

“Evidently,” she said with an angry huff. “Sit down. We need to have a talk.”

I twitched with an instinct to obey but stopped myself before moving. “I’ll stand. But of course, we can talk.”

She shot me an angry look and shook her head. I put my hands behind my back, because I had an urge to wring them in front of me, and I didn’t want to appear weak.

“Barbara, you have to stop this,” she said. “This is it. This is the moment we’ve both worked so hard for, and it’s the time to do your best. You can have your little rebellion after we get through the wedding. I won’t stop you then.”

My lip curled. “Sure. I’ll have the Landizzas to stop me, no? And you’ll wash your hands off me and be happy I’m gone. Well, Mother, I won’t marry anyone, but you will get rid of me. I’m moving out.”

She stared at me like I was insane and then laughed cruelly, like she couldn’t believe the drivel that came out of my mouth. I cringed, her mockery making me want to shrink, but I breathed through it and stood tall.

“And how will you afford to live on your own?” my mother asked when she was done laughing. “You don’t have a job, and besides, you’re too soft and naive. You won’t make it in the real world.”

My hands clenched into fists, and I took a step closer. At least I was angry now, and anger made me brave.

“Because you made me so,” I hissed. “You never let me learn how to have a proper life. But you know what? I’ll figure it out. Besides, I’m an adult and I can access my trust fund without your permission, which is what I’ll do.”

“No, you won’t,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “Not if we have you committed. Which is what will happen if you don’t listen to me!”

She screamed the last part, and I flinched away, fear choking me up. She breathed hard, stepping closer, until she had me cornered against the wall.

“Getting married is the one thing you’re good for, and by God, you will do it,” she hissed, getting in my face. “Adonis will be here for dinner. You’re going to smile, laugh at his jokes, and when he kisses you goodnight, you’ll kiss him back.”

Everything in me burned with the need to do what I always did: break down and say yes. But my body still buzzed from Phantom’s touch, his scent still clinging to my skin, and I remembered I was safe. He wouldn’t let her hurt me.

“No.” The word felt so alien and yet so right in my mouth. “If he comes here, I won’t see him. If you force me to be at the table, I will be rude to him and make him leave. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Well, that was a lie. When her face twisted into a mask of horrible fury, I wanted nothing more than to run in terror. For a moment, I thought she would hit me, but after a few tense seconds, she stepped away, her face smoothing out.

Now, that was even more terrifying.

“Fine. I’ll call off the dinner. But this isn’t over, Barbara. You will do what’s right in the end.”

She left, and I slid down to the floor, shaking. It didn’t feel like a victory, and yet, I was so proud of myself.

I was sick with fear, and yet I said no. It meant I was strong.

It meant I could do it again.

CHAPTER 23

Phantom

I watched my arts and crafts project critically as it sat at the desk in my room. Something wasn’t exactly right, and I tried to figure out what.

It was a sort of scarecrow, the suit Clarissa had given me filled out to resemble a person. Its head was a pillow I’d stolen from one of the guest bedrooms, its face painted to resemble my skull. It looked pretty good if I said so myself. I had skillful, crafty fingers.

Oh, yes, indeed. I laughed under my breath, remembering how Barbara had writhed on my hand. I couldn’t wait to make her do it again.

Now that I thought about her, I knew what was wrong with my big suited doll. I leaned in, grabbing a tub of pink paint, and carefully filled out the eye sockets to give them that pink glow I seemed to constantly have around her.

There. I put my hands on my hips, admiring my alter-ego. He was elegant, very handsome, and he would wear the suit in my stead if Madame Ashford ever demanded it of me again.

A beep from my comm set interrupted my thoughts, and I took the call to receive reports from the guards stationed around the property. Everything was fine, no suspicious behavior anywhere. As expected, the mind manipulator was a no-show once we’d increased security.

“Good job, boys. I expect another report at oh-six-hundred.”

I frowned, looking at my scarecrow. I’d lost my way a bit, I admitted. The goal had always been to get the mind manipulator to approach us and eliminate him. Even now as I thought about what he’d done to my girl, my eyes covered with red, and I had to shake my head to clear it from the angry daze.

Yes, I wanted him dead. But if he was dead, I’d have to move out. It was a conundrum, since I’d rather cut off my tongue than leave Barbara’s side. She had me now, and I didn’t think I could live without her.

Maybe… Maybe I could ask her to move in with me. I cringed, thinking about my apartment that was a fucking cave and not the right place for my doll. It was reasonably clean, granted, but my décor leaned goth rather than old-money-chic. Plus, I’d have to warn her off multiple weapons cabinets so she didn’t hurt herself. Also, I’d seen her bathroom counter and wasn’t sure I was ready to have so many pink, expensive bottles lying around my own utilitarian bathroom.

But maybe, just maybe, I could make it livable for her and she’d agree to limit her cosmetics collection to fifty items. Also, my bed was awesome. I had the perfect mattress, huge and not too soft. When I imagined fucking her into it, I couldn’t keep the horny smile off my face.

A soft knock came from the door. My heart sped up at once, and I jumped to open it, already knowing who was there.

“Hi.” Barbara gave me a shy smile, looking up as she played with the lacy trim of her silk robe that was deliciously indecent. “Can I come in?”

I shuffled away from the door, speechless. That robe was light pink, made of shimmery satin, and it barely covered her, hanging loosely around her frame. Underneath it, she wore a flimsy negligee that reached the tops of her thighs. Her legs were bare and I saw her nipples through the satin, pebbled from the cold or from her excitement to see me.

When she came in, her scent enveloped me. I breathed in shakily, the citrusy spice of it scrambling my brain. It was overlaid with other scents, too. Sweet, powdery fragrances that smelled pink.

One thought clawed at my brain, demanding attention. She got herself ready for me. Dressed up—for me. She did all those pretty, girly things, and it was all for my sake. My throat closed up, and the best I could do in lieu of a greeting was a hoarse grunt.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at my pink-eyed scarecrow. “Oh, it’s the suit! You said you’d do something with it. This looks really fun!”

She faced me with a smile, and I still couldn’t say a word. An urge to do something, right now, gripped me by the throat. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to do. I only knew she liked me, she was here, she wanted to fuck me, and it wasn’t enough. It never would be. I had to have her, forever. And I had to do something to make it happen. Right now.

God. Should I propose?

I didn’t have a ring. I had a grenade, though, but I was pretty sure the safety pin would be too big for her finger.

What else? What could I do?

“Phantom? Are you all right?” she asked, coming closer. “Why are you so quiet?”

Phantom. Fuck, it sounded so wrong.

“It’s not my name,” I blurted out. “It’s just a code name. It’s what everyone calls me, but you… You should call me by my real name.”

She nodded seriously, cupping the side of my face in her warm hand. I swallowed, my throat so tight. The way she touched me undid me, because I could tell it wasn’t because of a fetish but because she liked me.

“What’s your real name?” she asked softly, her thumb caressing  my cheek bone.

“Scarab,” I said hoarsely. “I, uh, named myself. Because in Mexico, they called me escarabajo whenever I was among humans. It’s because of the armor. It looks like… like I’m an insect.”

Only two other people knew my real name: Fatima and Nat. I hadn’t explained it to either of them, just introduced myself as Scarab once we became friends.

I wasn’t sure why I told her the origins of my name. It was like I wanted her to know everything about me. The more she didn’t recoil, the more I craved to show her everything that was horrible about me. Because she took it all, my darkness and filth. She didn’t even bat an eyelid. I couldn’t understand how a being so fragile could contain all my ugliness, but she did.

“Hello, Scarab,” she said with a smile. “Nice to meet you. I love your name.”

She loved my name.

I groaned, pink fireworks exploding in my brain. “You’re killing me, doll. Stop being so nice or I’ll expire.”

She laughed softly. “But why? You deserve to be told nice things.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, and I remembered I’d told her something similar before.

“I’m not like you,” I said, shaking my head. “You are genuinely a good person. You care about library books. Oh, by the way. Here. You said you wanted to return it, so I got you a new copy.”

I reached for the mind-manipulation book I’d hunted down and paid over five hundred bucks for. As she smiled her radiant, happy smile, taking it from my hands, I decided it was all worth it. Fuck, I’d do so much more for this woman’s smile.

Yeah, I was a doormat. And it didn’t matter because I didn’t care anymore. All that mattered was that she was happy, because then, I was happy, too.

“Thank you so much!” she exclaimed, reverently running her fingers over the cover. “But you didn’t have to! I looked for it on my own, only, I couldn’t find any copies online… How did you even get this?”

Through extortion. “I just asked around. A friend of a friend found it lying in her attic.”

And then was persuaded to sell it after I threatened to skin her cat. I didn’t say it out loud. Barbara struck me as the kind of person who cared about animals. Besides, I wasn’t really going to hurt the cat. Normally, I would have just stolen the book, but I refused to leave Barbara’s side, which complicated things.

“You have no idea how glad I am!” she said, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “It weighed on me, and I’m glad I can give it back. Though, maybe anonymously.”

She bit her lip, looking up guiltily. I grinned and took the book from her hand.

“I will return it, okay? Later. Now, doll. Show me what you’re wearing.”

“Oh.” She blushed, looking up through her eyelashes.

Slowly, she let the robe fall down her shoulders until it pooled at her feet. I retracted the armor from my palms and slid them down her arms, looking at my pink, pretty girl.

“There is no bed in here,” I murmured. “I don’t mind, but you deserve to be fucked on a bed like a queen.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “We can go to my room, but I really don’t care. I just want you.”

Fireworks again. I wondered idly if I would get brain damage from all the pink.

“I want to do something first,” I said on an impulse, glancing at where my tattooing kit sat on the shelf. “But you’ll freak out. You’ll hate it.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer until I took in another whiff of her scent.

“Try me.”

“I want to give you a tattoo,” I said in a rush. “Just a small one. No one will see it.”

Well, I would, every time I took her from behind, but that wasn’t what I meant.

She pressed her lips together, watching me with wide eyes, before giving me a single nod.

“Okay. What kind of tattoo?”

“That would be a surprise.”

Her brow furrowed, but I could tell she wasn’t turned off by the idea. My cock hardened at the thought of her bearing my mark forever, and I wondered idly if I’d come in my pants while I inked her. It was very likely.

She fidgeted for a moment, watching me with those vulnerable, blue eyes, and finally nodded again. “I trust you.”

That was enough for me. I wasn’t about to wait for her to change her mind, so I leapt into action, swiping everything off the desk apart from the lamp. When I realized the wooden surface was cold, I laid out my suited scarecrow for her to lie on. The suit was stuffed full of curtains I’d stolen from the same room as the pillow. It should be pretty comfy.

I helped her lie down on her belly and brought my supplies, snapping on gloves and laying out the ink. I just needed black and some green for the shading. The tattoo would be tiny, like I told her, but it would be very obvious for anyone who saw her naked.

When I turned on the machine, she flinched at the insistent buzzing. I grinned, sliding my hand slowly up her ass to hike up the negligee. My dick throbbed when I saw the thin line of pink lace disappearing in her crack.

“Doll. That’s a very naughty thong.”

“Is it?” she asked playfully, turning her head to look at me over her shoulder. “I thought every good girl is supposed to dress nicely for her man.”

Her man. Fuck, she wanted to kill me.

“You’re a very good girl for me,” I rasped, caressing the curve of her cheek until she moaned, arching into my touch. “So good. The best.”

I slapped her round flesh, not hard but enough to make a juicy sound. She yelped, tensing, and I stroked her again. Her legs fell open wider, and I saw how wet she was.

“Don’t tempt me, little tease, or it will come out wonky,” I said, reaching for the rest of my supplies. “I need you to be still now. That’s a good doll.”

She shivered but did as I said, and I marveled at that. It was like she was made for me. The instant obedience was such a turn-on, though I knew that she obeyed only because she wanted to. That made it all the better. She wanted to be here.

When I started the tattoo, which would be just below the left dimple on her lower back, she stayed put, not making a sound. The design was something I’d carried in my kit for some time, planning it for myself but never finding the time to actually do it. Now she would have it.

“When did you learn this?” she asked, shivering when I wiped off the excess ink.

“Ten years ago,” I said, filling out the contours. “Remember how I told you about those people who watched and shared the video of me? Well, I started hunting them down about then and needed a way to make it obvious what they did once they got to prison. To make it more fun.”

“Oh.” She sounded mildly surprised but not really disapproving.

I grinned. “Yeah, so I tattooed it on their foreheads after I tied them up. ‘Monster Snuff Lover’. The first guy I did it to squirmed so much, I almost gouged his eye out. That one was fun, but his tattoo is kinda bad since I didn’t know what I was doing at the time. Later, I realized I actually enjoyed it, so I learned how to make it safe and not as painful.”

“That’s… good.” Her voice was strained. I pulled back to give her a moment and sprayed her skin with a cooling solution.

“Just a bit longer, doll. It’s almost ready. I’ll fuck you after and you’ll forget all about the pain.”

She laughed shakily. “Promise?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll make you all mine.”

CHAPTER 24

Barbara

The buzzing stopped. Phantom wiped my skin for the last time, making me hiss from the scrape of the paper towel. He huffed softly.

“All ready. I’ll take a photo and show you.”

I bit my lip. The thought of being photographed like this made me a bit uneasy, but as Phantom gently stroked my skin around the tattoo, I relaxed. I trusted him and perversely wanted his phone to be filled with my pictures.

Maybe I would take some of him, too. That thought made my belly tighten with need, and I arched my back so he could get a nice shot.

“So good,” he murmured once the camera clicked. “So pretty. Such a perfect girl. Baby, you have no idea. I want to sit at your feet and worship you.”

I gasped in shock, his words striking something raw and wounded deep within my soul. “You don’t mean that,” I whispered, hiding my face in the pillow painted to resemble him.

“Oh, I do. I’ll wrap it up and show you just how much I mean it,” he said. “But take a look first.”

I sat up and he handed me his phone. I swiped through a few full body pictures of me preening, then finally found a closeup of the tattoo. It was a beetle, small, like he promised. It looked so realistic, though. Almost like a real insect climbing up my back.

“It’s so pretty,” I said in awe. “But… it’s a beetle.”

“A little scarab, baby,” Phantom said, leaning over my back to cover the tattoo with some sort of tape. “My signature, if you will.”

I stilled. “Signature. You mean… You signed me?”

I turned just in time to see his very pleased grin as he palmed his bulge. My insides lurched with need at the sight, and I couldn’t even be angry, even though it felt… Horribly transgressive. And… And mind-numbingly arousing at the same time.

“You bet I did,” he said, slowly stroking himself through his pants. “You’re mine. Now everyone who ever has the fortune of seeing you in a bikini will know it, too. I don’t share.”

You’re mine. My heart set off into a gallop while I stared at him, barely comprehending. He hadn’t even said it back when I told him I liked him, and now, I was his? From what I knew of relationships, they didn’t progress this way. We were supposed to go on dates, get to know each other, maybe move in together after a year…

And yet, I knew Phantom didn’t play by the rules. The tattoo on my back was alive with prickles of sensitivity, his name on my skin.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, cupping my face with his bare palm. “You don’t like it?”

I hesitated. His grin shrank, the glow in his eyes dulling as he waited for my answer. I remembered his call with his therapist. How he had no idea what to do after I told him how I felt.

Did I like it? Yes, of course I did. It was his name. Of course, I wanted it. My problem was that I thought I wasn’t supposed to like it, but I was trying to get over that. I chose what I wanted, not what I should have wanted.

“I love it,” I said, putting my hand over his. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

And I did. It felt thrilling to be claimed like this, to have something so intimately his to call my own.

He sighed shakily, bending low to touch his forehead to mine. His scent wrapped around me, dark smoke and that delicious masculine cologne. I closed my eyes and smiled.

“Good. Let’s go then.”

The world turned upside down as he picked me up and slung me over his shoulder with no effort at all. I gasped and then choked when he lightly slapped my butt before stroking along the thin strap of my thong.

“Someone will see!” I hissed when he strode out of the room, caressing my bare ass as he went.

“No one’s here, doll. The staff are asleep and your parents are gone. I could fuck you in every room of this house if I wanted to.”

I was about to answer when he dipped his fingers between my legs, sliding one into me. My answer turned into a moan, and he laughed darkly, taking the stairs two at a time.

“My girl,” he growled, climbing steadily. “I’ll make you take my cock, baby. You’ll scream my name when you come. Practice now. What’s my name?”

“Scarab,” I panted out as he curled his finger inside me, stroking that spot that had me seeing double. “It’s Scarab!”

“So good,” he said reverently, entering my bedroom. “And so needy. Oh, baby, you shouldn’t have teased me like that. You made me crazy. I’ll mess you up so bad.”

He threw me on my bed and kneeled on the floor, tugging my legs to him until they were draped over his shoulders. I was still trying to catch my breath when he opened his mouth and showed me his tongue as it slithered out, diving for me.

When he licked me slowly, I let my head fall back with a pained moan. He didn’t even take off my thong yet, just licked me through the fabric, and I was out of my mind with pleasure.

His tongue pulled back, warm bone brushing my inner thighs as he looked up from between my legs, grinning. “Good, love? You like having my tongue on you?”

I raised my head with effort and nodded. “Yes. Please. I love it.”

He laughed, giving my clit a single, toe-curling lick before he spread me obscenely open with his fingers.

“Like I said. You’re perfect. I’ll have this pussy every night and morning from now on. You’ll get sick of me.”

I shook my head to protest that no, I’d never get fed up with him. He didn’t see it, though, his face back between my legs, tongue winding around my entrance teasingly. He pushed the fabric to the side, his fingers keeping me open.

When his tongue dove in, I grabbed the sheets and whimpered. He was wet, hot, and bulky, and as he went deeper, opening me, my body welcomed him with effort. It was a stretch but not a bad one. Pleasure rode on the wings of discomfort, making it all worth it.

His outer teeth pressed to my labia, his face completely buried between my legs. I shook as he fucked me with his tongue, its strokes even and powerful. He made grunting, hungry sounds as he ate me out, and each made me shiver with pleasure. He loved doing this and he made it obvious.

Like he had promised me earlier. He was on his knees, and he worshiped me.

I closed my eyes and let go, moaning his name as he filled me. The more pleasure poured in, the more the voices in my head shut up, until only one remained—his voice, telling me how good I was. Telling me to take him.

“That’s a good doll,” he murmured, pulling back. “Just like this. Tell me how good it is. Beg me for more.”

“Please,” I said at once while he gently pressed his outer teeth into my clit and then sucked it into his mouth. “Please, Scarab!”

He groaned, sucking harder while his tongue stroked me. I came after a few breaths, arching off the bed while my ankles crossed behind his nape, pulling him closer.

When my body relaxed, my pussy pulsing with the final aftershocks, he straightened and gave me a long, pink-eyed look.

“Bad doll. You didn’t scream my name when you came.”

I opened my mouth in surprise. He didn’t sound angry but delighted, and as he stood, gripping the front of his shirt to pull it off with one, efficient move, I crawled back to the center of the bed to watch him.

His boots were next, each falling to the floor with a thud. I watched with a thundering heart as he unzipped his pants and pulled them off, standing naked in front of me, his gaze pink, his face grinning.

“I screamed your name before, though,” I said. My mouth was dry. He was gorgeous.

“Oh, that’s not good enough,” he said, taking a step closer. “But it’s fine. I’m up for a challenge, love. You like what you see?”

I nodded eagerly. Yes, I loved it. His skin was dark gray and smooth, stretched taut over beautifully shaped muscles. His torso was perfect, with a broad chest and chiseled stomach, his waist tapering into narrow hips. The muscles of his abdomen formed a sharp V that I wanted to lick.

He was completely bare, all his armor tucked away. It formed raised black lines mimicking his bones below, the plates running down the sides of his arms and forearms, coming up his legs and circling his pelvis. They ran over his ribs, too. He looked completely unique and devastatingly handsome.

My breath hitched when he came closer yet, and his stiff cock jerked with the movement.

It was dark red and long, the bumps on the top of his shaft throbbing gently. As he came closer, his knees touching the edge of the bed, I saw something glisten metallically on the underside. I reached out with a trembling hand, and he released a long, audible breath just before I tentatively wrapped my fingers around him.

“Fuck, yes,” he hissed. “Touch me.”

I scooted over to have a closer look as I ran my fingers over him, exploring the pulsing bumps first. From what I’d read about abominations, that was the reason for their sexual popularity. The bumps were supposed to feel ecstatic inside.

His head was even a darker red than his shaft, and it pulsed, the shape graceful, skin glistening with how taut it was. He leaked from the slit, glittering, blackish precum staining his tip. I swirled my finger in it, and he gasped, twitching in my hand.

I handled him gently, not sure how sensitive his cock was. Wrapping my fingers loosely around it, I tipped him slowly up to have a look at the underside. There was a row of seven piercings, each a small loop topped with a gleaming steel orb.

I ran my fingers along his shaft, feeling the knobs on top and the piercings on the underside. They were symmetrical. Seven on each side.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping into a deep growl. I looked up, and he nodded. “You see, the knobs only feel good when they tease your front side, so any position that allows that is amazing. But I love doggy style the best, so I got the piercings. Now it feels great in every position. Do you like it?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. It was so heavy and bulky in my hand. I fully understood that banana comparison now. Even though it prepared me somewhat for the size, it still didn’t fully give it justice.

“You’re big,” I said, looking up in apprehension.

“Yeah, baby. And you’ll be my good girl and take every inch, will you?”

My breath shuddered out of me when I looked at it again, slowly running my fingers up. They met around the narrower parts of him, but as soon as I slid my hand up a knob, I had to part them. He was so girthy.

“I mean…” I looked up again, licking my lips. “I’ll do my best.”

He laughed darkly, cupping the side of my head until his fingers tangled in my hair.

“No, love. You won’t do anything but lie there and take it. I’ll do the rest, and you’ll be good and let me stuff you full, hm?”

My hips rolled instinctively, and he nodded with a dark laugh. “That’s right. My filthy little doll. Lie down.”

“Oh.” I shuffled back but didn’t do as he said. “But you said you preferred, ugh…”

“Doggy style,” he said, climbing on the bed with me. The mattress dipped under his heavy weight, and I shivered. “But you know what I want even more? To see my girl’s face when I bottom out inside her. Lie down.”

I did as he said, biting the inside of my cheek when he didn’t move, simply looking at me for a long moment. I squirmed, wondering what else I was supposed to do, when he jolted into action, crawling on top of me as his expression tightened.

“I can barely handle how beautiful you are,” he murmured, teasing a strap of my negligee down my shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear if I close my eyes.”

I cried out when he dipped his head suddenly, enveloping my nipple in his hot mouth. He sucked viciously through the satin, and I writhed, my hips bucking from the burst of need.

When he pulled back, looking down at the wet patch he made, I shivered as the fabric cooled fast. He groaned and pulled my negligee down my body, taking the thong with it until I was completely naked. He pressed the fabric to his nose hole and breathed in deeply with a grunt of pleasure.

“I’m keeping this,” he rumbled, throwing my lingerie on the floor where his clothes lay. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“Okay,” I whispered, reaching up to touch his head.

As fast as a snake, he gripped my wrists and forced them down onto my bed. “No. I’ll explode if you do any more. Just you being here scrambles my brain. Be still. Good doll.”

I watched, breathing fast, as he settled himself between my parted legs, pushing them wider apart to fit his muscular frame. His face was tight, the glow in his eyes almost extinguished. I didn’t move, keeping my hands above my head as he slowly nuzzled down my face and neck, inhaling deeply. When his tongue rolled out to lick me in long, careful swipes, I shivered but stayed put.

“Good,” he murmured, nuzzling down my stomach. “You smell so nice. And here.”

He slid down my body and buried his face between my legs, inhaling deeply. I cried out softly, my legs trying to close from embarrassment. He gripped my thighs and pushed them up until my knees were bent and open, and he took another long sniff.

“I love how you smell,” he said, then licked my entrance and clit once before sliding back up my body. “And how you taste. I love everything about you.”

My lips parted in awe. I’d said those things to him, except, I said like. He said love. Was it just an expression or did he mean it?

He didn’t give me time to think about it. His cock pressed to my core, and he rolled his hips slowly, sliding it between my legs. Each piercing snagged on my clit as he went, making me jolt. He did it a few more times, both of us so wet, the friction caused lurid sounds. I breathed faster and faster, watching his face as he stared down at me.

“So beautiful.”

He pulled back, reaching down to grab his cock. He looked down at it, and I followed his line of sight. His arm bracing on the mattress shook slightly as he released a long breath and pressed against my opening. So slowly, he pushed forward, and after an agonizing moment of anticipation, he slid inside me.

“Oh. Oh, fuck,” I gasped, gripping the pillow behind me.

It didn’t hurt as such, but the stretch was uncomfortable, my body straining to adjust. He stopped, looking at me while I breathed fast, shaking. Maybe a fraction of him was inside me, and it already felt like too much.

“Oh, baby. It’s just an inch,” he said with a soft laugh, leaning in to nuzzle my cheek. “Look at you, already such a mess.”

“Because I’ve never…” I choked out, and he shook his head, his tongue shooting out to lick my lips into silence.

“Shh. I know. It’s okay. We’ll wait, yeah? Your pussy is so good, just like you. It will get used to me. Okay, baby?”

I nodded, trying to deepen my breathing. As he nuzzled my temple, my hands twitched with an urge to touch him. He noticed and reached up to tangle his fingers with mine.

“Breathe, baby. A bit more.”

I nodded, and he pressed in. The first bump slid inside, stretching my entrance with its girth. I moaned and gripped his hand, my legs shaking. I knew rationally not much of him was in yet, but the pressure was so immense, I couldn’t imagine being able to have more.

“Such a good doll,” he praised me, nuzzling my face. “I want to live inside you. Breathe for me, love. Let me in.”

He rocked in gently, and I cried out, my pussy spasming around him. But suddenly, it wasn’t too much anymore—it was perfect, and he pressed into a spot that felt insanely wonderful. I gripped his hand harder and opened my eyes, gazing into his pink irises.

“Please. Fuck me.”

He smiled, giving my lips a soft lick. “Of course, baby. Whatever you need.”

CHAPTER 25

Phantom

It was agony to fuck her with just half of my dick when I wanted to slam all the way home. But my doll was finally enjoying it, her brows pinched in desperation as she looked at me while I rocked into her with slow, even thrusts.

She was so hot inside. So soft and tight. Even now, halfway out of her, I had trouble controlling my breathing as that wet heat enveloped me from every side.

“Relax, baby. You’ll have to let me go deeper,” I gritted out.

As I tried to put another inch in her, she gasped so violently, I instantly pulled back with a hiss, squeezing her hand in mine like it was my lifeline.

Just look at me. Handholding while fucking.

I was turning into a nice guy. But my doll wanted that anchor, so I gave it to her, and I admitted it felt nice. Just like her legs shaking around me, her frantic breaths fanning my throat, and the soft whimpers she released every time I thrust.

Her pussy squeezed me tight, and I let out a hot breath, going as deep as she’d let me until now. I stopped and pressed my forehead to hers. She trembled, and then her free hand was on my skull, stroking me softly.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my voice breaking. “Baby, don’t. You’ll make me cry, and I’ve never cried in my life.”

Her hand froze on my nape. “Cry? But why?”

I exhaled shakily, my hips twitching to get just that fraction of an inch deeper inside her. I needed her to swallow me whole.

“Because it’s too good,” I said, my voice already thick with emotion that wanted out through my tear ducts. My eyes felt hot.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered, stroking my head again. “It’s okay. I’m here. What do you need?”

I swallowed, my throat feeling uncomfortably hot, too, and pulled back to look at her. There was no loathing on her face, no mockery. She was soft and open, and so very beautiful.

“This,” I said, thrusting a bit deeper. Fuck, it was a tight fit. “Just to be home.”

She nodded, her eyebrows furrowing with tension. I thrust again, and she inhaled sharply, shaking while I fucked her to that depth. I was three quarters in. My baby took me with such valiant effort, and the more I moved inside her, the more she relaxed, until I could go deeper yet.

“Please, baby,” I begged her. “Just let me come home. I just want to be home.”

“Yes. Oh my God. Yes, okay! You can.”

I nodded, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I was almost there, but there was that last bit of resistance inside her, and I didn’t want to force my way in. I wanted her to take me willingly, and I sobbed into her neck, that craving so consuming, it burned a hole in my chest.

“I need you so much,” I rasped, buried as deep as I could go, my hips jerking with the need to sink in balls deep. “My beautiful, precious doll. Please, let me in.”

She took a deep breath, embracing me with both arms as she wrapped her legs around me. I jerked deeper, unable to hold back, and suddenly, I was in. There was no more resistance, no more space left between us. Our bodies pressed intimately together, and she took all of me.

A wave of something akin to despair, only much, much better, rolled through me. I sobbed louder, my eyes wet and hot. She held me, murmuring softly, while I shook on top of her, unable to stop as a horrible weight lifted from my chest. I felt light, crazy with joy, and completely insane.

Because who did that? I wasn’t that guy. And yet, I was, too, weeping on top of my girl because my dick was finally inside her.

Madness.

“You’re so good. So beautiful,” she murmured, stroking my heaving back. “So handsome, so witty, so gorgeous. I’m so in love with you. You’re so amazing.”

I choked on a sob, stilling completely. She kept stroking me but was silent, her eyes wide when I raised my head to look at her.

“You’re in what with me?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

She swallowed thickly but held my gaze as she whispered back, “In love.”

A full-body shudder rocked me from my feet to the top of my head. On the upside, I wasn’t crying anymore. On the downside, she wasn’t gonna live through this.

“Oh, you did it now,” I snarled, pulling out almost completely.

Her eyes widened, lips parting to say something, but as I slammed deep in one, long thrust, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a sharp moan.

“That’s right,” I growled, pounding into her so hard, the bed shook. “That’s what you get. A tattoo on your back and your guts rearranged so you learn my shape once and for all. So no one but me can fit you perfectly.”

Her nails scratched down my back in desperation. I gathered her in my arms to hold her closer, our torsos flush while my hips worked with all the pent-up need she’d made me feel from day one. I fucked it all into her, my confusion, my lust, and the broken pieces of my heart that now belonged to her.

“You were too good to me.” My voice was guttural. “It’s your fault. Now take every inch, sweetheart, and get ready. I won’t let you sleep tonight. This is all mine, and I’ll take everything.”

She spasmed around me with a cry, coming all over my cock. I laughed, my hips snapping faster and faster while she still gripped me with the force of her orgasm. Hot weight gathered at the base of my spine, and then I came, too, shooting deep, deep inside her so I’d be embedded in her body forever.

When the orgasm rolled through me and out, I flipped us so as not to crush her with my weight. She moaned weakly, and I wrapped my arms and legs around her, so even though she was on top, she wouldn’t be able to leave. When she squirmed, I slapped her ass.

“Stay, doll. We’ll fuck again in a minute.”

“I can’t move anyway,” she said into my throat, her voice muffled. “Um. I’m sorry. For what I said.”

I slapped her ass again with an angry growl. “Don’t you dare be sorry. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life. In fact, say it again.”

She raised herself on shaky arms, and I let her come up just enough so she’d see my face. I couldn’t hold back a murmur of adoration when I saw her, too. Her cheeks were pink, eyes dark and bottomless with desire, her hair a total mess.

“I’m in love with you,” she whispered, looking a bit shy. My brave little doll.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, my cock twitching inside her. “I think if you say it enough, I’ll come again without even fucking you. God. You’re so good.”

She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. I frowned when she tensed.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, avoiding my eyes. Even though she didn’t move, I felt her pulling away as her body tightened with a faint tremor. My insides tensed, too. Something was wrong. She was unhappy, and I had to fix it. Right now.

“Doll,” I said sternly. “What is it? Are you cold? Hungry? Sore? Do you want me to massage your feet? Eat you out? Want me to get you another book?”

She huffed out a soft laugh and looked at me, cringing a bit. I stared at her intently, willing her to tell me with all my being.

“No. I just…” She stopped, taking a shaky breath. “You don’t have to. It’s not like… I just thought…”

“For fuck’s sake, just tell me,” I growled, gripping her thigh where it seemed to pull away from me. “And I will fix it. Whatever it is.”

“You didn’t say it back,” she said in a rush, then looked away. “But it’s okay. I just thought… Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.” Oh!

That was why I needed Nat for these things. I was so preoccupied with myself, with how her words made me feel, I totally missed how big of a leap it was for her. And I knew she was self-conscious, too, but I tended to forget it, because she was obviously so beautiful and perfect. She had no reason to ever doubt how she made me feel.

“My beautiful, perfect doll,” I whispered, my throat tightening with the weight of the words I was about to speak. “I don’t know anything about love. I have no idea how it feels. All I know is that you’re the only person I care about, the only person I want to share my life with, the only woman I ever want to fuck and hold. All I want is to make you happy. I want to feed you when you’re hungry, protect you when you’re in danger, and make you smile. I need you viscerally. You can never be away from me. You can never leave, because then, I will be lost. You make everything make sense.”

She stared at me with her lips parted, eyes huge. I stroked her cheek, gently pushing her hair behind her ear. She took a shaky breath at the affectionate gesture and leaned in to kiss my mouth.

“Thank you,” she said thickly as if her throat was full of tears, just like mine had been. “I, uh. I think yours was better than mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said with a grin, happy the problem was fixed. “Did my words make you come? No. But yours will make me shoot. Come on. Tell me you love me.”

She laughed like it was a joke, but I was perfectly serious. When I slapped her ass to remind her what I said, she took a deep, happy breath and looked into my eyes with that radiant smile that was my undoing.

“I love you.”

We both grunted when my cock bucked inside her.

“Mmm. Keep going,” I said, my balls tingling with pleasure.

“I love you,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “I love you.” The corner of my mouth. “I love you.” My chin. “I love you.”

My hips jerked, and I fucked up into her while my cock strained, pleasure radiating up and down my spine. She kept saying it, my pretty girl loving me when no one else ever had, and I came inside her, groaning in ecstasy.

Then I flipped us over and fucked her into the mattress, because she deserved to come, too.

Hours later, when dawn grayed the sky outside the window, we lay in bed together. We’d fucked a few times, dozed off for maybe half an hour, fucked again, showered, and fucked. My baby could barely keep her eyes open, but I wasn’t ready to let her sleep yet. There were so many things I needed to do, one especially that burned and itched in the back of my head.

I leaned over to reach for my discarded belt and got the single grenade I always kept on me. I put it in her limp hand.

“Here. Hold it for me.”

“What is it?” she mumbled, her fingers tightening around the grenade.

Next thing I knew, she sat bolt upright, staring at it and breathing hard, her eyes wide with panic. I laughed under my breath.

“Relax, doll. The safety is on. See? The pin is in. It won’t blow up. I’d never give you anything dangerous.”

“It’s a grenade,” she said in a weak voice. “It’s dangerous by definition.”

“Oh, fine,” I agreed. “But you’d never be stupid enough to activate it. Let me show you how it’s done, though.”

I took it from her and showed her the safety pin. “See? As long as this is inside, it won’t blow up. But let me show you how to remove it, in case you ever need it.”

“I doubt I’ll ever need it,” she said faintly.

“Mmm. Bear with me. Okay, see here? This is the lever. You need to hold it, like this, and then you can take out the pin. Let’s try it.”

She looked at me with huge eyes, and I smiled in encouragement, taking her hand. Holding the grenade in one palm and pressing the lever down, I put her ring finger through the safety pin. As I had suspected, it didn’t fit, but I looked carefully to see by how much it would have to be resized.

“And pull,” I said. “It’s safe. As long as I hold on to the lever, it won’t blow up.”

She took a shaky breath and pulled the pin out. It dangled from her finger while her nervous eyes darted between the grenade and my face.

“Okay, so what happens is, that pin held this lever in place. Now, if I throw the grenade, the lever will spring back and start the reaction that will make it detonate. There is a bit of a delay which allows you to throw it safely and get behind a barrier so you don’t get hit.”

She nodded frantically. “Okay, fine, yes. Can we please put the pin back in?”

I grinned at how scared she was. As if I would let her get blown up.

“In a second.”

I snickered, loving how she trembled. Maybe it was mean, but hell, she was so cute. I wanted to draw it out, so I explained, “I always have grenades on me, baby. You know why? They can’t hurt me. I could detonate one and drop it at my feet, and everyone around me would be blown to bits while my armor would keep me safe. Pretty neat, huh?”

She nodded with a shaky breath. “Please, put the pin back in!”

“Only if I can put my cock in you after,” I teased, ridiculously happy.

God, I wanted to spend every night, morning, and day with her. I was hooked.

“Oh,” she said, wincing. “I’m kinda sore.”

I took the pin from her, put it in, and secured the grenade on my belt. She breathed out in relief, and I grinned, nuzzling her face. “Okay, no more fucking. But can I eat you out? It should help.”

She huffed softly. “You’re insatiable. But I, um, I’m sticky.”

“You’re totally filthy with my mess.” I grinned proudly, saying what she was too delicate to say bluntly. “And I love it. Come on, baby. Get on your back like a good doll and let me eat my cum out of you.”

She stared at me for a beat, then smiled and lay back, spreading her thighs for me.

“That’s my girl,” I sighed happily, crawling down until my face was between her legs.

I pushed her knees open wider and just looked. It was so perfect. Her pink flesh was still swollen and tender from all the fucking while my black cum seeped out of her. The colors clashed, and yet they fit, too. We were so perfect together.

I dove for her, licking off my mess and hers with greedy swipes of my tongue. I loved her pussy. Loved it. I wanted to shower it with affection and bathe it in luxuries. Maybe she’d be game to have her clit pierced, I thought idly as I sucked it into my mouth. My girl deserved diamonds, after all.

And I’d just adore it if she had a nice clit piercing with a big, flashy diamond. I’d play with it for hours.

Though maybe I’d breach the topic once we were engaged. Or married. Or living together. Or whatever she gave me, because I wasn’t picky—I just wanted her with me every day, no matter how it happened.

“Yes, like this,” she begged as I teased her clit with sharp, fast licks while my two fingers worked her G-spot, though lightly. I felt how swollen she was, how hot and tender. A really well-fucked woman.

“Scarab!” she screamed as she came all over my face, and I laughed with pride.

I made her scream my name, after all.

When she came down from the high and smiled at me sleepily, I slithered up her body and kissed her.

“Nice one, doll. So, when will you move in with me? I can start moving your stuff tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 26

Barbara

“Tomorrow?” I repeated after him, my head spinning from my orgasm and his unexpected question.

“Yeah,” he said, propping his head up as he lay on his side next to me. “You’ll have to accompany me, of course, because I’m never letting you out of my sight, mind manipulator or not. But I can get you packed and then move everything, you’ll just tell me what to take and where to put it when we’re at my place.”

He grimaced, rubbing his forehead. “No, wait. I’ll have to make space for you first. Do you want to redecorate? I’ll let you redo the kitchen and the living room.”

“I haven’t even seen it yet,” I said, exasperated and overjoyed at the same time. “It’s not a no, but can we slow down? I mean, I want to be with you. I just have a lot to process right now. Decisions to make, like… what to do with my life now that I can actually choose for myself.”

He leaned in to nuzzle my cheek, his fingers gliding down my spine.

“Okay. Take your time. Is three days enough? Because I can’t wait to fuck you in my bed, and even though it pains me to say it, I really want to see all your pink shit littering my bathroom.”

I giggled, pressing closer until our legs tangled together. He thrust into my belly, his cock half-hard, and I sighed, dropping a kiss on the warm, dark gray skin of his throat.

“We’ll see. Not long, though. I suppose I’ll have to talk to my mother. I’ll do it today, and then we can figure out what to do next.”

I smiled, my chest filling with happiness. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact I would be free. Free to be with whoever I wanted, free to pursue a career I chose—maybe I could even go to college. Or get a cat. And I would be able to eat what I wanted, and sleep in on the weekends, and read what I chose, and maybe get another tattoo, and drink alcohol, and…

“I love it when you smile like this,” he murmured, pressing my knuckles to his mouth. “I’ll make you smile every day.”

I kissed him with a happy sigh, feeling that my life, which had seemed like a complete trainwreck just a few days ago, couldn’t be more perfect now.

After breakfast, when Scarab set out to do his rounds around the property, I called my mother on the phone to check whether she was in the office. I vibrated with the need to tell her I was moving out and going to live with my bodyguard. I knew she’d be angry, but I almost didn’t care. Soon, I would be free.

“I was just about to call you,” she said coldly. “Will you come to your father’s study, please?”

I agreed at once, thinking it was fortuitous that she was still home. The house was so big, our entire family could stay in and go about our day, not passing each other once.

Now that I had this freedom to discern what I liked and not, I decided I hated it. Living in an apartment would be a thousand times better. I’d always know whether Scarab was around. I’d never be lonely again.

I knocked on the study door and slid in, taking in the masculine room furnished in heavy wood with black upholstery. My mother presided behind Father’s enormous desk that stood on carved clawed feet in the middle of a burgundy carpet.

“You’re here,” she said, giving me a tired look. “Sit with me.”

She patted the seat of a stool next to her leather desk chair. I came over, hesitating because of the weird setup. If she wanted to talk, why not sit on the sofa?

As soon as I saw what was on the wide screen of Father’s computer, I knew. My mother didn’t let me ask questions, just hit play.

I saw a black and white but very crisp recording from last night. It showed Scarab carrying me on his shoulder and touching me intimately on the way to my room, our lewd conversation coming through the speakers. My face flamed, because I’d never even realized there were cameras in the house, and the fact my mother saw and heard this made me cringe with shame.

But then, what difference did it make? I was about to tell her I was moving in with him.

“Are there hidden cameras anywhere else?” I asked, pleasantly surprised by how cool my voice sounded.

“No,” she said, pausing the video. “Only in the corridors and on the stairs. We had a problem with the servants once, which was why these were installed. Explain yourself.”

I stared at her bitter, unfriendly face, and it struck me how old she looked. My mother, who was always impeccably dressed and made up, had eyeshadow rolling in the wrinkles around her eyes. A weak surge of guilt made me tense, but then, I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was her who failed me as a mother.

“I’m in love and I’m moving out to be with him,” I said simply, raising my chin.

Her face was impassive as she studied me. I clenched my jaw when I felt like my lip wanted to wobble under the weight of her judgmental gaze. Any moment now, she’d tell me how stupid I was, how naïve, how unable to choose the right thing. She’d insult Scarab and call him horrible names.

I waited with bated breath, but my mother did none of the things I expected. Instead, she slumped back in her chair, massaging the space between her eyebrows. Finally she looked at me, almost sadly.

“No, you are not.”

I bristled. “Yeah? And what will you do? Have me committed? He won’t let you do it! He loves me and he’ll save me, and I don’t care what else you threaten me with, but it won’t work!”

She nodded once, sighing heavily. “You’re so young, Barbara. Well, listen to what I have to tell you and then make up your mind.”

I wanted to walk out of there and slam the door in a fit. But my mother seemed so exhausted and defeated, the guilt I was conditioned to feel every time I disappointed her glued me to my chair. I could at least hear her out. There was nothing she could say that would change my mind, I was sure.

“The mind manipulator who attacked you was sent by Ernest Landizza,” my mother revealed in a tired voice, making me sit up with a shiver. “He wanted to show us how easy it is for a person with his influence to destroy your father’s career. After the video came out, he contacted us with his demands. Your father agreed to work on the bill Landizza wants passed.”

I held up a hand, my thoughts swirling with the information. Not only was this a shock, but the implications of what my mother just said were difficult to grasp.

“You knew?” I asked, my voice rising in outrage. “You knew about it all and you still blamed me? And now you want me to marry his son? They tried to kill me!”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “He wasn’t trying to kill you, just make it look like it. You would have fallen safely, maybe broken your arm at the most. And your father’s name would have been cleared.”

I shook my head, unable to comprehend the logic behind that. My mother knew I was going to be attacked? She agreed for them to make me fall off the balcony and break my arm? Not to mention the risk of me dying if something went wrong…

As I stared at her, shocked into speechlessness, she sat back with a pleased huff. She probably thought I was subdued by the revelation.

“After the video surfaced and your father agreed to Ernest’s demands, he sent the mind manipulator to fake the attack on you. However, he didn’t allow the information about it to surface until he was sure your father wouldn’t go back on his word. We tried to get it publicized, but Landizza is incredibly influential. He shot down all our attempts and made it clear any news coverage that came out would need his go ahead. Your father was impressed with the man’s power. They spent a lot of time talking. You came up.”

Her face soured in an accusatory look. “You know, Barbara, if you tried a bit harder to be the woman you’re supposed to be, you wouldn’t have attracted filth like the Landizzas and that horrible bodyguard of yours. Like calls to like, daughter. You should have known better, but it’s too late now.”

“I came up… how?” I asked, my voice so hoarse, it was barely a whisper.

She laughed nastily. “Well, Landizza mentioned his youngest son was interested in meeting you, but all his attempts at scheduling a meeting were shot down by your team, very rightly, of course. So Ernest added it to his list of demands. You will marry Adonis.”

I shook my head. This was outrageous, all of it, but the thing that hurt me the most was that both my parents had so obviously sacrificed me for their own ends.

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head. “Why didn’t you fight? Father is influential, too. He could have at least tried!”

“Oh, we tried,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I got you your bodyguard, didn’t I? We called in favors, offered Ernest other things… But the Landizzas have no class. They can’t negotiate like well-bred people. It was either their way or no way.”

I hid my face in my hands, trying to put it all together while my mother sighed, clicking away at the keyboard. So what happened was, Ernest Landizza sent the mind manipulator to record a video of me slamming my father. After he secured my father’s cooperation, he sent the manipulator again to attack me, and the viciousness of the attack was supposed to prove that our family were the victims of terrorists.

Though, it all depended on how it was spun in the media. Ernest Ladnizza owned most of the news stations that mattered and a bulk of online information centers, plus a popular social media platform. If he wanted a story told a certain way, he got it done.

Now I understood why the video went viral so fast. He did it on purpose to show my father his power.

And after they made me fall from the balcony, they left me alone, since Landizza secured my father’s help. The attack was publicized just before the gala, our good name cleared, and… And I was introduced to Adonis, who wanted to marry me—on a whim, most likely. He probably felt humiliated after he was rejected by my team.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up with a deep breath. “But this changes nothing. I still won’t marry him. I’m done living my life around my father’s career. Neither you nor him really care about me, so I will stop caring about you, too.”

“I thought you might say that, you little ingrate,” my mother said with a grim smile. “So take a look at this.”

I flinched when I saw the screen. It showed a paused video of an abomination man wearing jeans and a leather jacket, three human men holding chains surrounding him. It was shot from above, likely by someone recording from a second floor window.

“Is this… Phantom?” I asked, my throat convulsing.

He wore different clothes just this morning, but he could have changed. I had no idea when this was taken. I hadn’t seen him in over an hour, so it was possible this was him. The camera was too far away for me to see the abomination’s face properly.

My mother snorted with disdain, ignoring my question. She hit play.

The three men circled the abomination slowly, swinging their chains. He watched them, standing on bent knees, ready to move. They attacked together. He dodged one chain, rolled away from the other, and kicked one of the men. His movements were fast and sure, but the humans had the advantage of the chains, keeping their distance while they attacked. He seemed to have no weapons.

It’s not him. He always carries a grenade! I tried to convince myself as my heart beat faster and faster.

One of the attackers managed to get his chain around the abomination’s arm. Another got him from behind, winding his chain around the abomination’s neck, but that was fine. I knew that neck was armored. He wouldn’t suffocate.

And yet, those chains were enough to restrain him, just for a moment.

The third man had a gun. He brought it fast to the abomination’s eye and shot. I screamed.

The recording ended, and I turned to my mother, shaking. My knuckles were in my mouth, and I was breathing too fast, wheezing from fear and shock.

“Relax,” she said with a snort, unmoved by my distress. “It’s not your guy.”

I shook my head as bile rose in my throat. If I could have spoken without fear of vomiting, I would have told her she was sick. How was I supposed to relax? I just saw a real person murdered!

It was a monster snuff video, just like the ones Scarab told me about. I didn’t understand why my mother had it and why she showed it to me, until she spoke again.

“Those three men with chains are professional abomination hunters,” she said softly, almost with pity. “They are Russians, and it so happens, they are in the US currently. I hired them.”

“What?” I looked up, shock and nausea burning in my throat.

“Last night,” she said, a victorious smile spreading her lips when she saw how affected I was. “After I saw the footage of him taking advantage of you.”

God. I had to find Scarab right now and warn him. He might be lethal and hung with weapons, but if they were professionals, they could still hurt him. It was shocking how easily they had killed the abomination man in the video. If they got Scarab… If they shot him through the eye…

“Sit!” my mother screamed when I lurched to my feet. “Listen to me or I’ll give them the go ahead to end him right now!”

I sat down slowly, watching her without blinking. This couldn’t have been my mother. Clarissa Ashford was selfish and cruel, but this unfeeling, callous person was so much worse. She was a monster.

“Good,” she said through clenched teeth. “They are nearby, waiting for my call. But he doesn’t have to die, Barbara. You can save him.”

I didn’t move or speak, waiting for the inevitable. I didn’t know what was coming, and yet I did, too. It was like a horrible premonition that hung heavy in my chest but couldn’t be translated into words.

“You will make him leave. You will be thorough and do a good job. If he suspects anything and sniffs around, the hunters will eliminate him. Do you understand?”

I nodded once, hot tears sliding down my face.

“After that, you will accept Adonis’s courtship and marry him in two weeks. The invitations are being printed as we speak. If you do anything contrarian during that time or at the wedding, the hunters will find Phantom and eliminate him. Do you have any questions?”

“If… If I do it all,” I began, hating how tremulous I sounded. “You will send them away after the wedding? He will be safe?”

She nodded, shooting me a distasteful look.

“Oh, Barbara. If you had only been so loyal to your parents and not to a filthy monster. Don’t look at me like that. It’s all your fault. If you were a good daughter, I wouldn’t have had to do any of it.”

I hiccupped as my heart heaved with pain at what I had to do. To think that only last night, I said I loved him, and he was so happy. And now… I had to break him.

But even broken, he would at least be alive. I took a deep breath, looking at my mother with all the hate I felt for her. Unlike her, I knew exactly who was to blame for it all.

She rolled her eyes while a victorious smirk played on her lips.

“Well, go on. You have one hour to make him leave.”

CHAPTER 27

Phantom

I made my girl a rose bouquet. There was a small greenhouse in the garden, the roses inside luscious despite it being October, and I cut a dozen, tearing away their thorns. Nothing was allowed to hurt my beautiful doll, not even a thorn.

I hummed a love song under my breath when I spotted her in the ballet studio. She wore a black leotard, and I grinned. Not as sweet as pink, it made her look much naughtier. I wondered if she felt well enough for a quickie. Probably not. Maybe I could get my fix by eating her out again.

“Hey, baby,” I said with a grin, showing her the roses. “Beautiful flowers for my beautiful doll.”

I flinched at the look she gave me. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen on her face, so cold and unaffected, like she was a sculpture and not a person.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” I asked, looking around to see who had upset her so much. I’d fight them right now. Whoever hurt my girl would die.

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug. “I just got bored.”

I looked back at her. “Bored? Of dancing?”

“Of you,” she said, turning her back to me.

I saw her face in the mirror as she brought her arms high over her head and stretched to the side. She seemed impassive and disinterested, and my heart lurched in my chest. Even though my brain didn’t understand her yet, it was like my heart already knew. Like it had expected it all along.

“What… What did I do?” I asked, squeezing the roses so hard, the bouquet shook faintly.

She straightened, shrugging. “Well, you did everything I needed. I don’t want anything else from you.”

“I don’t understand.”

My broken parts screamed at me to leave, to spare myself the humiliation. After all, I’d known it all along: she was too good for me. Yet, I couldn’t just go. She told me she loved me.

“What’s there to understand?” she said, turning to face me.

Her movements were controlled, expression perfectly calm, her eyes cool with disdain. I flinched again, wishing I could hide from that scornful gaze.

“But… Just this morning…” I fumbled with my words, falling silent when she snorted with laughter.

“Look, it was fun and all, but I don’t have time and patience to pretend anymore,” she said with a huff of amusement. “It was a game, Phantom. You were this big, bad bodyguard. I wanted to see if I could bring you to your knees. And guess what? I did, and now the fun is over.”

She turned away again, stretching the other side of her body. I studied her, everything inside me rebelling at her words. I saw her last night. I felt how her body reacted, I heard her words and all the sounds she made. No one could pretend this well.

“You don’t mean that,” I said quietly, taking a lurching step closer on unsteady legs. “You… They told you to break up with me. It had to be something…”

She whipped around, her calm shattering. I fell silent, watching as her eyes narrowed, her face drawing tight in anger.

“Oh, I very much mean that,” she hissed, coming closer. “You want to know the truth? Fine! I read all about it. The magical abomination dicks. I read how every girl just dreams about fucking one, and guess what, I had my very own abomination on hand. So I led you on and got you to fuck me! And as a bonus, I can now brag about it and shock my parents! You didn’t want to be my little rebellion, remember? Well, you are! But that’s all you’re good for, and I don’t need you anymore! You’re fired.”

I felt it. Every little crack, every tear, every fissure. My heart, so freshly mended by her murmured I-love-yous, shattered again.

She was like all the women who wanted just my body, but not me. Except, she was worse, too. They didn’t pretend to like me, to accept me, to love me just for fun. She did, and even worse, she excelled at it. She had me fooled all along, from that moment I saved her life under her balcony.

I thought she was good, fragile, innocent, but it was all a mask. Barbara Ashford-Kingsley wasn’t a rare flower, a good person living among shit and corruption. She was the perfect reflection of her environment: cruel, egotistical, and vain.

“Say it to my face,” I demanded quietly, the flowers in my fist shaking with a rustle. “Tell me you don’t love me and want me to go, and I will.”

She took a deep breath to settle her anger. Her eyes bore into mine, the blue as cold as ice.

“I don’t love you. I never want to see you again.”

I stared at her, wishing for the barest flinch of her eyelid, a tremble of her lip, something. Proof that she was lying, or maybe that she was controlled by somebody else. But her face was hard, eyes flinty. After a few seconds, I took a lurching step back, then another. The roses fell out of my hand, scattering on the parquet.

I turned and ran, pressing a hand to my chest that tore open with the horrible pain of her rejection.

The next few days were a blur. I stole a bunch of rubbing alcohol from a vet clinic with the intention of drinking myself into a stupor. Normal alcohol, even if I drank lots of it, gave me a pleasant buzz at most. That was why I slammed shot after shot of the foul stuff, stopping only when I felt like puking. Once nausea passed, I had more shots, until I finally lost consciousness, and the pain ebbed away.

Until I woke up and did it again. Once the rubbing alcohol ran out, I tore into my extensive collection of luxurious liquors. I dulled my pain with single malt Scotch washed down with tequila aged in white oak barrels. Once those ran out, I drank homemade moonshine I’d had imported from Poland. It worked almost as well as the rubbing alcohol.

In the rare moments of clarity, I cussed and kicked the furniture, making a huge mess of my apartment. It was all right, though. She’d never see it. No one would, because I was done. No woman would ever cross the threshold of my place, because I was done hoping.

I wasn’t meant for relationships, and I should have never forgotten it. Women were either disgusted by me or scorned me, only valuing my body. I should have remembered that. Instead, I let stupid hope take over as soon as that cute bitch fluttered her lashes at me.

But was she even to blame for taking advantage when I was clearly a total moron? Ha! She probably laughed at me even now, telling her friends how she got the big, bad abomination to cry on top of her. And good for her. It was my fault for letting her fool me.

I should have never forgotten how impossible it was to love me.

A week passed like that, and then my liquor ran out. That was fine, too. I had other ways to dull the pain. Like crystal meth.

I called my dealer, who was thankfully still in business. I had been good for the past six years, since the Monster Security Agency required me to be clean, but I gave no fucks about my job anymore. Ash’takh promised to deliver my drugs in person, and I smoked cigarette after cigarette, my hands shaking as I waited for my salvation.

Except, when I opened the door to my dealer, it wasn’t Ash’takh. It was Nat.

“Fuck, you stink,” he said, pushing into the doorway when I tried to slam the door in his face.

“Go away,” I bit out through my teeth, trying to crush him with the door. “Get lost. I fucking hate you.”

But I was weak and shaky. I hadn’t eaten anything in the past week, just drank and drank, while Nat was a huge shehru who worked out five days a week and ate a ton. He pushed me inside my apartment and slithered in, his heavy snake body crushing a broken bottle with a crunch.

His silver scales shimmered faintly in the gloom. All the shades were drawn, just a few lights lit. I had a faint memory of breaking a few lightbulbs in a fit of rage. As Nat’s red eyes trained on me, I huffed and walked into the kitchen, stepping over all the debris strewn around: books, shattered bottles, cigarette butts, broken furniture. He followed, my stuff crunching under his steady onslaught.

“At least open the window,” he said, wrinkling his snaky nostrils when I lit another cigarette.

When I made no move to obey, he huffed and did it himself. Late October air poured in, making me shiver. I tightened my armor to keep the cold at bay. Some of the alcohol still lingered in my system, and I clung to its anesthetic effects.

Nat threw a bunch of envelopes on my filthy kitchen table. “You missed a week at work. Fatima says to grace her with a note the next time you want some impromptu leave.”

I shrugged, exhaling smoke through my nose hole. “Let her fire me. I don’t care.”

Nat nodded, studying me with that deliberative, non-judgmental air I so hated. I’d rather he told me off for missing work and being a pussy. But Nat was a strategist. He only did what worked, and he knew I would open up the soonest if he didn’t push.

Fucker.

“Fine,” I said, sitting down at the table. “Do you at least have my drugs?”

He took off his backpack, and I perked up. But instead of my sweet meth, Nat pulled out a huge takeaway box. He opened it and pushed empty bottles off the table to make room in front of me. Around three pounds of raw steak, still steaming with freshness, stared at me from the box.

“I fucking hate you,” I growled, giving him the most baleful look I could muster. “You’re a menace and a fucking bastard. Motherfucker!”

“That’s right. I fucked your mother and she loved it. Now eat.”

My jaw dropped. Nat grinned, showing me his sharp teeth, and I huffed. Fine. So he could speak my language. Big deal.

Since it would have been a travesty to let such good steak go to waste, I devoured it, not caring about my manners. Nat set about putting all the still intact bottles into a trash bag. I let him be, focusing on the food. Now that I started eating, I realized how hungry I was.

And even though it tasted amazing, the juicy meat bursting on my tongue with fresh blood, it also brought in a sense of awareness I’d deprived myself of in the last seven days. As sensations poured into me, my systems turning on now that food was available, the pain returned. I groaned and grabbed my chest with my bloody hand. My fucker of a heart was still in agony.

“That bad, huh?” Nat asked quietly, watching me from the other side of the table.

I shrugged, taking another big bite of steak while Nat opened my fridge, tutted at how empty it was, and put another box of meat inside. Fuck, he was a good friend, and it annoyed me so fucking much. I should have done a better job pissing him off in the past so he’d have fucked off for good.

When I was finally fed, I lurched up to my unsteady feet and washed my hands and face over the kitchen sink. Nat put a tall glass of water in front of me, and I drank it with grudging gratitude.

“So,” he said, taking his place opposite me. “I see you’re in a bad shape.”

It was the understatement of the year. I laughed hoarsely, my throat protesting. It was scratchy from all the smoke and the stinky air I’d breathed for a week.

“She broke me, Nat,” I said, looking away. “She said she loved me, and the next day, she took it back. Told me I was only good for fucking.”

He nodded without saying anything, and I groaned, throwing up my hands.

“Well, what else do you want me to say? I asked her to move in with me, Nat, and she said yes! But two hours later, she was like, no thank you, get out of my sight. How am I even supposed to trust women? Bitches, all of them.”

“Your pain is valid and understandable,” he said calmly, making me cuss viciously. I hated him so fucking much. “But have you considered that change in her behavior was very abrupt? Could there have been circumstances present you weren’t aware of?”

I snorted. “Nice try. The only circumstance I wasn’t aware of was the fact I’m a fucking moron, but I know better now. I’m gonna drink myself to death or be a celibate monk.”

Nat snorted, taking my glass to pour me more water. My stomach churned and growled, doing its best to handle actual nutrition after a week of poison.

“What I’m trying to say, Scarab, is that she hit you in your biggest insecurity. And I’m not excusing that, she did a shitty thing, but tell me—if she rejected you because you smoke or because you steal all the time, or maybe because of your stupid sense of humor, would you have been so crushed?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I guess. But it wouldn’t have been a dealbreaker. I could give up smoking for her. Or stop stealing. No biggie. She just needed to ask, and I would have changed my behavior. Or, well, hidden it better.”

“See?” Nat nodded. “You would have stayed and negotiated. You would have gone to the bottom of it and found out what her real problem was. But since she hit you where it hurts the most, you got scared and ran.”

“I did not get scared!” I roared, pushing away from the table so fast, my chair toppled. “She used me and laughed in my face! She told me to go! So I fucking did!”

He nodded placidly, completely ignoring my outburst. I clenched my jaw, picked up my chair, and sat down with a huff. We stared at each other over the table until Nat threw an envelope at me.

“From Clarissa Ashford’s lawyer,” he said, explaining.

I gave the letter a baleful look. I’d rather set it on fire than read it, but curiosity got the better of me. Because what business did they have writing me now? I was done.

Tearing the envelope open, I quickly scanned the letter, barking out an incredulous laugh when I understood what it meant.

“This is precious,” I cackled, handing it to Nat. “She wants me to pay fifty grand for breaching our contract. Apparently, I cussed on the job.”

My mood soured at once when I considered how Clarissa Ashford could have found out. I only cussed with one person—Barbara. That meant my bitchy doll had not only trampled all over my heart, she also went and snitched on me to her mommy.

“Fuck, I want to kill that bitch,” I growled, my fury and pain rising all over again.

Nat looked up, unmoved. “Who? Clarissa Ashford?”

“No! Her fucking daughter. She told on me!”

He shook his head, pointing at the letter. “It says here you were recorded breaching the contract while on the assignment. Apparently, they have sound files they will present in court if you refuse to pay the fine. It might be a bluff, though. A court case means negative publicity.”

I snatched the letter out of his hand and read it through, carefully this time. Yes, it said I was recorded on one instance. So—what? Barbara recorded me? When? I would have noticed. I only cussed with her when we were pretty close, then intimate. So, what else? Someone else recorded me? Or maybe there were devices in the house I didn’t know about?

“What are you thinking?” Nat asked, interrupting my frantic train of thought.

I didn’t want to say it. My hope, which I thought had died a grisly death, raised its head and sniffed the roses. Or, more accurately, the stink of my filthy place but—same thing. Yet could I even hope again? It would be dumb. Stupid. I’d already suffered enough.

But then, what else was there?

“Nat, what if they forced her to break up with me?” I asked slowly, refusing to look at him for fear of seeing pity on his face. Pity for my naïve, stupid hope. “What if… If we were somehow recorded and they found out I fucked her… And… And what if they threatened her? Like, her mother already did that, threatened to have her committed in some rich folk asylum if she didn’t behave. So… It’s not impossible, right?”

“I think you’d need to find out,” Nat said, his face perfectly impassive and judgment-free when I looked up.

“How?” I asked, crumpling the letter in frustration. “She said she doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

He grinned. “Scarab, your code name is the Phantom. You can be fucking invisible if you want.”

I clenched my jaw, looking back at the letter. Most likely, it was nothing. Just me being an idiot and making up wild theories to lessen my horrible pain.

But then, it could be something, too.

CHAPTER 28

Barbara

I stood in front of the mirror in my bridal suite. It shocked me how perfect I looked, my cheeks rosy, eyes big and glistening, lips red. The makeup did a great job hiding the evidence of all the sleepless nights I spent crying into my pillow. The dress lay perfectly, too. My mother had already praised me for finally getting around to losing those last ten pounds.

It was shocking how easy weight loss was when misery kept you from eating.

As she came over, her heels clicking, and stood behind me, I smiled automatically. It was all I did these days: smile, smile, smile. No one needed me to speak, it seemed, including my groom. He liked looking at me, though. He stared lecherously when I smiled or danced, even though I was just going through the motions, none of it bringing me joy.

I held on to my last freedom when I refused to kiss him, hinting at my shyness and good breeding. But even that freedom would end soon. We would get married in fifteen minutes.

“There you go,” my mother said softly, smiling back at my reflection. “See how easy it is? Mother always knows best. You will be so happy.”

I wanted to scratch the smile off my face and scream that she was wrong, but I didn’t move. Her terms were very clear. If I stopped being agreeable, she’d send her assassins to kill Scarab, and I couldn’t risk it. I had to protect him at all costs. Even if that cost was letting Adonis Landizza claim me as his wife and touch me with his slimy hands tonight.

And so I nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you. Her smile widened, and she embraced me from behind, sighing happily.

“Finally, you came around,” she said, pulling back to smooth out the white lace covering my arm. “Here is the daughter you should have always been. I’m so proud of you. I knew I did the right thing.”

I nodded again, bile burning my throat. It shocked me that she believed in my transformation when she herself knew that I was only doing it because she threatened the man I loved. But maybe I was better at fooling people than I thought. I certainly did a great job with Phantom. He believed I used him and didn’t try to contact me at all. I was so grateful. He was safe.

“Adonis will do right by you,” she said, fussing with my white veil that cascaded down my back from an elaborate updo the hairstylist managed to coax out of my nape-long hair. “So much better than that disgusting monster. He didn’t care about you at all. See? I saved you from so much heartbreak.”

I still said nothing, focusing on keeping a pleasant expression on my face. It was harder the longer she spoke.

“If he had truly loved you, he would have fought for you,” my mother said, as if sensing my quiet dissent. “But he only cares about himself, which is always the way with trash. Did you know he disappeared a week ago? We sent him a fine for breaking the terms of his contract, and that cockroach fled instead of paying. He’s probably out of the country by now. You dodged a bullet.”

He’s gone. They don’t know where he is.

I was completely still, barely breathing as I stared into her eyes in the mirror. Was it a trick? It had to be. Otherwise, why would she tell me? Why would she reveal her only means of controlling me was gone? I didn’t understand.

She patted my shoulders and looked up at my face with a wide grin. I smiled back on instinct, but my heart raced, my thoughts whirring frantically.

Could it be true?

If Phantom left, her assassins couldn’t get him. He was safe no matter what I did. And it meant… it meant…

I could say no.

Of course, with him gone, I had no one to protect me. My mother would likely make good on her threats and have me committed. That thought failed to make me afraid, though. I’d gone through so much pain and heartbreak, it suddenly didn’t matter what happened to me next. Being locked up in a mental institution couldn’t be as bad as marrying Adonis when I was in love with Phantom.

“It’s time. Let’s get you to the altar, my diamond.”

It hit me, then. I would have done anything to have that approval from my mother even just a few months ago. Now that I got it, it felt like ashes in my chest, because I was dead. It took killing off everything that was me to become the perfect daughter she’d always wanted. And for what? So I could die even more, killing off more parts of myself to please the husband I didn’t even want?

I’d rather get locked up.

As we walked slowly out of the suite to meet my father waiting for me in front of the church, my mind kept whirring, comparing the two futures that stood before me. In one, I was locked up, subdued with meds, my will and soul broken apart by cruel doctors who only cared about money.

But the other future was worse. I could imagine with perfect clarity becoming someone like my mother. If I lived my life alongside a man I hated, bearing him children I didn’t want, would I still be me? No, I wouldn’t. I would hate every day of that life, and I would probably hate my children, too—just like she hated me.

I finally understood her now that my future unrolled with perfect clarity, all smoke and mirrors falling away. She’d been forced to make this choice, too. She married my father out of duty and resented him every day for it. Then she resented me for not being born a boy, or maybe simply for being born at all.

If I married Adonis right now, I would have children. I’d either hate them or watch them grow up into monsters, since I would be powerless to make any meaningful decisions in their upbringing.

As I took my father’s arm and the music started to play, I walked slowly up to that altar that might as well have been the electric chair. Whatever I chose, it would be death for my soul, but I knew I preferred one death over the other.

Adonis looked perfect in a black suit, doing his name justice. I gave him a smile, too, as the pastor began to speak. I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, the church smelling heavily of flowers, the few hundred guests crowding the pews, the cameras quietly clicking in the background. It was a society wedding, the best our families could throw in two weeks.

It felt like a dream. My head swam, my fingers numb where Adonis held my hand. He said his “I do” with a perfect, white-toothed smile, the ruby glittering in his canine. Nausea swelled in my belly. The pastor spoke to me. Then there was silence.

Adonis watched me expectantly, his smile turning a bit rabid when I didn’t speak. Someone coughed in the back of the church. Something rustled. A camera clicked.

Slowly, making the moment stretch to bursting, I turned just enough to see my mother sitting in the first pew. She smiled wolfishly, delicately inclining her head to the side. I looked at the man sitting next to her.

Grayish skin, bald head, and eyes, eyes that glowed orange. I gasped, but his will already tumbled through my synapses, taking root deep in my brain.

Smile. Say “I do”. Smile. Say “I do”. Smile.

I felt his surprise when I didn’t immediately obey. My body was liquid, falling away as the world narrowed to me and him, wrestling in my mind. I felt his shock, his grudging admiration, then his resolve. My lips parted to speak, and I fought desperately, grabbing onto my dwindling will.

No, I pleaded. Don’t make me.

He pressed at my resistance, crushing it like it was paper.

Smile. Say “I do”.

I opened my mouth again, making a loud, grunting noise to keep the words from falling out. More rustling drifted to me, some whispers, frantic camera clicking. But the fight wasn’t over.

Pain enveloped my brain, an invisible force squeezing it from all sides. I remembered flashes of what I learned, eye contact, know what you want, weak-willed. None of it helped me as I struggled, the pain blinding me until I wanted to cry, fall to my knees, or curse, but I could do none of those things. He held my body rigid, controlling all of me save for my voice.

You’re weak, he whispered, his voice reverberating ominously in my skull. It sounded authoritarian and absolute. You don’t know what you want. I know better. You can’t do anything right. You can’t ever make the right choice. I choose for you. Say “I do.”

I felt my mouth form the words, but my throat tightened as I bid for control. No, I chanted. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.

Yes, you do, he hissed, his presence like a constrictor snake wrapped tightly around my mind. You want what I tell you to want. You say what I tell you to say. Be a good girl and do what I tell you!

His anger made me hurt, but I couldn’t let out the whimper of pain that clawed up my throat. He was in control, and I was fading. I was weak, after all. Too weak to withstand him. Too weak to choose for myself.

And yet, a feeble flame of anger warmed my chest, lending me one last, small burst of strength. Because I wasn’t his good girl. Only one man had a right to call me that. Only one man had a right to tell me what to do, because only he did it out of love.

No, I thought again, smacking my lips together when they opened to seal my fate. No. I know what I want, and this is not it.

My resistance shocked him again. I felt his confusion. I should have given up by now, yet I still made a stand. His control slipped as he wavered, just for a moment. It was enough.

“No!” I roared, my voice echoing off the tall walls. “I don’t want to! No! No! No!”

I fell to my knees, breathing hard, while chaos erupted all around me. Adonis screamed angrily, people talked over one another, and the cameras clicked like insects. I blinked time after time, refusing to raise my head for fear of meeting those glowing eyes again. I wouldn’t survive another fight, so when someone gripped my arm and hauled me to my feet, I slammed my eyes shut, stumbling.

My limbs shook, my head swimming. Nausea boiled up my throat. As the person who grabbed me pulled hard, making me stumble again, I had no choice but to follow, too weak to put up resistance.

We crossed the church. I looked at the floor, keeping my head down. A door opened, then clanged shut after we passed through. The chaos of the church grew muffled.

“You little bitch,” my mother hissed under her breath, wheezing from effort and hate. “You ingrate! I tried to be good, and what did you do? Caused a fucking scandal!”

She dragged me through a maze of corridors until we arrived at the door of my bridal suite. She pushed me inside, and I fell on the carpet, heaving. Sweat poured down my back and into my eyes. I felt feverish.

“You will stay here while I fix your mess,” she said, her voice high-pitched from fury. “And once my hunters find your monster, they will drag him here and finish him in front of your eyes. After that, you will go back to that altar and do what you’re told!”

Her heels clicked away, the door closing with a thud. The key turned in the lock. I still couldn’t move, desperately trying to breathe while acid burned my throat. I shook so hard, I had to lie down completely, curling up on the floor. The world spun when I opened my eyes, the light falling in through the big windows hurting my eyes.

But that physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. What if they found Scarab, after all? I was so stupid, playing with his life like this. I should have just done what I was told.

But then, Scarab was strong, wasn’t he? And he was gone. It would take time to find him. Maybe I could warn him.

I braced myself, trying to slide my weak, trembling legs under me. After the third attempt, my body listened, and I managed to heave myself up onto my knees. Nausea tightened my throat again, and I breathed slowly through my nose to make it pass.

Carefully and with many stops, I managed to crawl up to where my bag was. I took out my phone with shaking fingers and called his number. I hadn’t tried it before, because my mother made it clear any attempt to contact him would end up with him dead.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Those hunters were after him no matter what I did. I could warn him now so he could hide.

I waited. Three rings. Five. Seven. The call ended without making it through, and I sobbed, calling his number again. He probably hated me so much, he didn’t even want to hear my voice.

“Please, pick up,” I begged shakily. “Please.”

He didn’t. After the call disconnected, I opened my messages, starting to type. My hands shook so badly, I hit all the wrong letters. I groaned, furious with myself, and started again.

A faint click from the window made me look up in terror. Did someone come for me? The mind manipulator? Or the hunters? Did they already catch him?

A dark shape loomed behind the window, but the light blinded me so much, I couldn’t see who it was. I squinted, getting ready to close my eyes if I saw even a hint of an orange glow.

The window swung open. A heavy bag landed on the floor, followed by a pair of black combat boots. I hiccupped, terrified and ready to beg for my life, until I heard his voice.

“Hello, doll.”

CHAPTER 29

Phantom

She blinked at me, her pupils blown wide, as if she was drugged. I swore, crouching by her side, but I didn’t touch her. Her words still rang loud in my head. The fact she didn’t want to marry the perfect human boy didn’t mean she wanted me, after all.

“You’re here,” she mumbled, blinking fast like she tried to see me better. “You can’t… Go away! You need to leave!”

I thought I could handle it, but the pain of another rejection shot through my chest like a bullet. I stood up, turning away from her while my throat burned with a scream of pain and rage that I couldn’t let out. I had to be quiet to stay undetected.

“Look, I’m only here to make good on my promise,” I said roughly, not looking at her. “I said I’d save you from being shipped off to an institution. Come on. We’re going.”

She tried to get up, but her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees again, breathing hard. For a moment, I forgot about my own pain.

“Doll, what’s wrong? Are you actually on drugs? What did they give you?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. My mother… Assassins! They are looking for you. You need to run! Please, please, go! Hide before they get you!”

I reeled back, staring at her in confusion. “What assassins? Doll, are you all in there? You sound like you’re on some good shit.”

She groaned, then convulsed, whimpering from pain. I crouched by her side again, my hands itching with the need to touch her. From up close, I saw how sweaty she was. I saw blood coating her nostrils.

Uh-oh. She was bleeding.

My girl was bleeding.

“Who hurt you?” I asked, my voice falling into the low, deadly rumble of the predator while red seeped into my vision.

“I’ll be fine,” she choked out with effort. “You… Please! Abomination hunters. My mother hired them… They are looking for you.”

I paused, considering her. It could be just the rambling of a drugged girl. Hell, maybe she took something or was dosed to get through the wedding. And no wonder, since she evidently didn’t want to get married. I heard her “no” loud and clear when I watched the ceremony hidden in the church loft in the back.

I’d watched her for the past week, looking for evidence that she had been forced to push me away. I found nothing. My girl was perfectly happy, smiling, dancing, and going through tons of beauty treatments in preparation for the wedding.

With no more hope left, I came here to witness her betrayal in person. This was supposed to be closure. Instead, I saw her defy her family and get dragged away. The promise I made to her burned in my chest, and so I came here, knowing how she’d be punished for her defiance.

“I haven’t seen any abomination hunters around,” I said slowly. “I didn’t even know it was a thing in this country.”

“Please!” she grabbed my armored hand in a shaky hold, her eyes wild as she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Three Russian men! They kill your kind with chains! Shoot through the eye. Please, you need to hide!”

“Russian?”

I saw three Russians lurking around the property when I started stalking Barbara. They were big and burly, wore tactical vests and carried guns. I assumed they were new bodyguards that were brought in after I was fired.

“Please!” she begged again, shaking as she sobbed. “They will kill you! I saw what they do. I’m begging you, go!”

I didn’t move. A sudden suspicion burst into flame in the graveyard of my broken heart. I was almost afraid to say it out loud, but if she was telling the truth, we had no time. I shook myself off and put my hand on top of hers, staring into her terrified face.

“Doll. How long have they been around? Those hunters?”

She hiccupped, trying to sit up. I helped her, my hands lingering on her shaking arms. She seemed somehow smaller and weaker than only two weeks ago. My heart wrenched with horrible rage.

“Ever since I told you to go,” she whispered, clutching the front of my jacket. “I had to. If I hadn’t made you leave, they would have killed you. Please! There is still time.”

I nodded, a sudden cold blowing through my mind until everything sharpened, finally bright and crystal clear.

“Why are you so weak?” I asked, my voice sounding far away. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Her white wedding gown was free of blood, but I had to make sure she could wait until I dealt with all the immediate threats.

She shook her head. “I… Mind manipulator. He tried to make me say ‘I do’. I resisted.”

My chest swelled with pride. “Brave doll,” I whispered. “Okay. They are looking for me, right? I guess I’ll have to find them first, then.”

Her eyes widened in terror. “No! You don’t understand what they do! They are lethal, and you can’t…”

I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “You protected me,” I whispered, a flood of grateful appreciation pouring into my chest. “Now let me protect you.”

She groaned, trying to stand up. She got as far as a chair at a heavy wooden table. I huffed, helped her sit, and turned to my weapons bag. It was filled with all my favorite toys, but I couldn’t carry all of it while I hunted down the three Russians. I bent down to grab a machine gun, when something popped in the corridor outside. The lock burst, the door slowly swinging open.

“Get down!” I roared, toppling the table at the last moment to give her cover. “Stay there!”

I confirmed with one look that she was huddled safely behind the table before I threw my knife, barely missing one of the Russians, who pulled his head back at the last moment. The knife embedded in the doorframe. I tightened my armor, getting ready to fight.

Bullets flew into the room. I covered my eyes with my arm as they ricocheted off my armor. I shot a glance at Barbara. The table top was sturdy, and she was safe enough behind it. Still, shooting was a risk. I advanced. The room was red, my instincts activated.

I had one goal now: to kill.

Before I got to the door, one of the men came in, swinging his chain. I kept my distance, eyeing it. It was a sturdy, long chain, and if it wrapped around me, my mobility would be impaired.

“Abomination hunters, huh?” I asked while he watched me, working the chain to keep me at a distance. “Fuck, guys. Way to choose a career. How much do you make a year? Do you get health insurance? Dental? Maybe I can join?”

The man was silent, keeping his eyes on me. As fast as lighting, I threw another knife, aiming for his thigh. He swung with his chain, and the knife clattered to the floor behind him.

Fuck. Okay. They weren’t amateurs.

The two other men filed in, both wielding chains. I thought longingly about my bag that held everything I needed to blow each of them ten new holes. On me, I had only knives and also grenades, which I wouldn’t use for fear of hurting my doll.

“Bey!” The first guy, who had an ugly red scar running down his cheek, swung at me with the chain, as fast as a cobra. I stepped back to avoid it and he pushed closer, giving me an unhinged grin.

“You dance like bear in a circus, ah?” he said in a thick Russian accent.

“Yeah, and you are the clowns,” I said, returning his grin.

He swung at me again. I caught the chain and pulled hard, bringing him to his knees. I threw a kick at his face, breaking his nose in one go. He fell back into a small table with a fancy flower arrangement, which landed on top of his head.

While he was busy getting orchids out of his hair, his two friends swung at me in unison. I bent back to avoid the chains, my arm falling back to lean on the floor. I got a clear view of the crystal chandelier hanging right above me from the ceiling. Damn, this place was fancy.

The chains crossed above my stomach and pulled away. I straightened in a rush and sent another knife flying. It grazed one guy’s arm but didn’t do more damage.

“So, how about that dental? Casual Fridays?” I asked, bracing myself to attack.

The first guy got up, his face covered in blood. The other two swung at me again, perfectly in sync. I rolled on the floor, aiming to kick the middle guy in the nuts. He stepped back at the last moment, while the guy on the left leapt deeper into the room. I was surrounded, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, I wasn’t between them and my doll anymore.

“Oh, you did it now,” I said, crimson flooding my brain.

I jumped at the guy whose nose I broke. He tried to block me with his chain, but I flung it aside, getting his jaw with an uppercut. He punched me back, but I barely felt it. Not wasting a second, I jabbed his nose again. He stumbled back with a scream of pain.

While I dealt with him, his friend got a chain around my neck. I leaned forward and treated him to a high donkey kick.

“Oof!” He stumbled back but still held on tight.

I kicked him again until he let go, and I turned fast, murder on my mind. Grabbing my last knife from my belt, I dropped to one knee and sank it in his thigh.

Before he even made a sound, I pulled the knife out. He’d bleed faster this way. I turned, still low on my knees, and jabbed with the knife at the third guy. He got me with his chain, which briefly wrapped around my wrist. I pulled hard, using the hold he had on me to bring him closer, and kicked up, landing one between his legs.

He barely huffed. Fucker wore a groin guard. I dropped the knife to grip the chain, but he pulled it back, making me sprawl on the floor.

“Come on, let the old nuts breathe a little,” I grunted, rolling away to get back on my feet.

I didn’t make it. A boot landed on my nape, Broken Nose barking something in muffled Russian. I got my arms underneath me and did the hardest pushup in my life, grunting as I lifted not just my weight, but his, too. The guy stumbled away, but before I could get up, a chain hit the side of my head, rattling my brain.

That was fine. My head liked a bit of a shakedown.

I jumped to my feet, pirouetting away until I was face to face with Broken Nose. Another chain hit my ass, and I laughed, wasting a second to wiggle my bum tauntingly. My little dance done, I grinned and hit Nose with my head. He fell to the ground, losing consciousness.

“One down,” I announced cheerfully, grabbing the chain that had just wrapped around my middle.

I pulled the guy holding it closer, but he fought, his teeth bared, veins jumping on his forehead. While I was busy with him, his friend swung his chain at my legs. It wrapped around my ankle, and before I could react, the guy tripped me. I fell back, managing to turn to my stomach at the last moment.

In the matter of a second, another chain wrapped around my neck. A gun swung into view as one of them straddled my back with a grunt. He grabbed my skull, his fingers finding purchase in my eye sockets.

The gun came closer as he raised my head with effort. Realization hit me. I was going to die. Actually die.

I couldn’t protect her anymore.

“I’m sorry, doll,” I whispered.

CHAPTER 30

Barbara

The terror I felt when watching that video came back as a powerful echo when the fight began. Bile rose in my throat. I knew Scarab was strong, probably stronger than all three of them together, but what if they got lucky? Just once was enough, and he’d be dead. I couldn’t allow it.

Ignoring the way my head pounded, I crawled out of my hiding place. I couldn’t help breathing hard but bit back all sounds of pain so as not to attract their attention. Chains clung, Scarab mouthed off, weapons scraped and bodies thudded, and I ignored it all, focusing on one goal only.

Scarab’s bag.

As soon as I got to it, I knew I was in trouble. There were multiple types of guns, and I clenched my jaw, searching with my shaking hands for anything I could use. I hissed when I cut myself on a knife. Of course, Scarab was armored, so he didn’t need all his blades to be sheathed.

Breathing too fast and fearing what else was in there, I kept searching until I found the single thing I knew how to use. I grabbed the lever of the grenade in my teeth and crawled back to the table, glancing at the fighters. One of the hunters was down, unconscious or dead on the floor.

And… Scarab was down, too. I hiccupped in terror as one of the hunters straddled his back and raised his skull, a gun in his other hand.

It was now or never. I was almost to the table but didn’t know whether I’d make it. It was fine, though. Wasn’t I ready to die just this morning?

I gripped the lever in my shaking hand and pulled out the pin.

I threw the grenade clumsily. It rolled on the floor, stopping by Scarab’s arm with a metallic clink. I crawled behind the table with the last of my strength, praying for enough time. Just one more second. One more.

There was a panicked shout.

A gunshot.

And then—an explosion.

I screamed when the table moved, pushed back by the shock wave. It hit my side, and I fell over, curling in on myself with shaking sobs I couldn’t hear, my ears deafened by the blast.

I was too late.

The gun went off, which meant they killed him, just before the grenade exploded.

Time slithered by, maybe a few seconds, maybe a minute. I was too weak to get up. As debris fell around the room, I shook and sobbed, my heart torn open. He was gone. Nothing I had done mattered—none of it. I truly was one stupid, vapid doll, all my choices leading to catastrophes.

Now I wished I hadn’t made it behind the table, after all. I wished I’d been blown to bits, too, my body parts littering the bridal suite.

If I had had any strength left, I would have crawled over to Phantom’s bag and picked out a gun to put a bullet through the roof of my mouth. As it was, I could only lie there curled up in a fetal position and weep, grieving the man who was dead because of me.

Smoke spread like a black cloak in the room, and I coughed soundlessly, inhaling the oily air that coated my throat with grime. I couldn’t get up. My ears rang, louder and louder. I didn’t hear anything else. Would people come to check what happened? Would they see me curled up behind the table?

Maybe it was better if they didn’t. The smoke would finish me off. It was fitting.

Time stretched into a viscous cage of agony. After another minute or maybe fifteen, the floor seemed to shake under my cheek. Then again. I opened my teary eyes, just making out the blurry shape of a black boot. Then, the floor fell away as I was lifted up, a pair of strong arms carrying me as we moved through the smoke. When it shifted, I saw the blood splattering the walls, then the holes in the ceiling. Something wet and bloody hung off the chandelier like a gory ornament. I closed my eyes.

The air cleared and cooled. I gulped big breaths of it, even though I wanted to go back there and suffocate. It was over. My love was dead, and I wanted to be by his side.

We kept moving, my body weightless and torn with pain. The air shifted once more, the scent of flowers making it through the layers of smoke clogging up my nose. I coughed and coughed, shaking, and someone stroked my hair and held me close, a warm body cushioning mine.

And then, they left. I thought I made a sound, something pleading and helpless, and a hand came back to stroke my back as I lay on my side on a hard surface. Somebody touched my head, gloved, cold hands sliding over my ear and down my cheek, and I shut my eyes even more tightly.

I wanted to go back.

They turned me to the other side. Something wet and cold wiped the shell of my ear gently. That warm hand kept stroking my hair, and I clung to that touch, terrified it would stop.

Then, suddenly, I could hear again. It was as if the world had been muted, and now the sound came back on.

“…and the trauma is just temporary. She should be able to hear soon once the repair kit kicks in. There’s no bleeding that I can see. How long was she exposed to the smoke?”

I had a déjà vu. It had to be it, because this was the voice of the doctor who treated me after I fell from the balcony.

“A few minutes, tops. But are you sure, Elijah? If she dies on your watch, I fucking swear, I’ll cut off your balls and make you eat them.”

I sobbed once, my body convulsing. Now I knew it was a dream or something similar, because it was Scarab’s voice.

The world moved again, and suddenly, there was a warm breath on my lips, frantic hands stroking my arms and touching my face.

“Baby? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, pretty thing. Look at me.”

It took effort to obey. I was grateful for the instruction, though, and so did my best, my heavy eyelids finally lifting to show me the grinning skull of his face.

“But they shot you,” I said, my voice sounding small and scratchy.

Tears fell down my face, maybe because of the smoke, maybe because of grief. Warm, careful fingers wiped them away.

“The moron tried to shoot the grenade. I’m fine, baby. They almost had me, but you did it. You blew them up. My deadly doll.”

He smiled with pride, his eyes glowing silver. I was almost afraid to believe him, but then I noticed the other sounds. Excited and scared voices, someone barking orders, the police sirens coming from a distance. When Scarab moved aside, I saw we were in the church where I had almost got married. I lay on the altar.

“Come back,” I whispered hoarsely, terrified of losing him.

His face appeared again, his hand cupping my cheek. “Sorry, baby. How are you feeling? Where does it hurt?”

Everywhere, but at the same time, that pain almost didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here. He was alive. I almost believed it now.

His skull was blackened with soot, his jacket dirty and torn up in places. A bloody scrap of meat was draped over his shoulder. I swallowed thickly, staring at it.

“You have something… There…”

He lifted it with his fingers, inspecting it carefully. “Will it make you laugh if I eat it? Just for fun?”

I shook my head weakly. He shrugged and threw the piece over his shoulder. The doctor’s face swung into view above me as he took the blood pressure cuff off my arm that I hadn’t even noticed I had on.

“Lots of rest, plenty of water, and she’ll be as good as new in a few days,” he told Scarab, his voice cool and professional. “Call me if you think something’s wrong.”

“You can bet I’ll call you,” Scarab growled, his voice so vicious, I flinched. “So make sure your will is in order just in case.”

“Let me go!”

I shivered, hearing my mother’s voice. Scarab looked up, his grin growing wide as red flashed in his eyes. I turned my head with difficulty, gasping when I saw her.

My mother, so perfectly put together when I saw her last, was a mess. Her dress was torn up, her hair full of twigs. A gorgeous woman with brown skin that shimmered gold around her cheekbones held my mother’s arms behind her back, looking almost bored while my mom struggled to break free.

“Fatima, you’re my favorite boss ever,” Scarab said with glee. “Can I torture her first? Off the record?”

I gasped, then coughed, my throat still tender. Fatima rolled her dark eyes, which briefly flashed gold under her blue and silver turban that was artistically wound around her head. From the neck down, she wore black clothes and a tactical vest.

“No, you may not. Clarissa Ashford will be tried for orchestrating an assassination attempt and whatever else we can find. I’ll make sure she gets at least twenty years with no parole. You can have your fun after she gets out of jail.”

Scarab sighed in mock disappointment. “But she will be my mother-in-law then. I don’t think I can torture my mother-in-law.”

“That’s your problem,” Fatima said. “You wanted to say something to your daughter, Clarissa. Now’s the time.”

“No.”

I turned away, covering my ears. Scarab laid his hand on top of mine and told Fatima to go away, his voice muffled through both our palms. Maybe it was childish, but I didn’t want to hear whatever my mother had to say. If I never talked to her again for the rest of my life, I’d be perfectly happy.

“She’s gone, baby,” he said, gently pulling my hand away from my ear. “It’s all over. Fatima will clean this up. We can go if you’re ready.”

I looked at his face, my chest squeezing with happiness and guilt. He still wanted to protect me after what I did to him. He was here. He wanted me, even joked about getting married. I didn’t deserve him.

As I stared, Scarab’s grin slowly shrank, his eyes losing their glow.

“I mean, assuming you want to come with me,” he said after a short pause, his voice quiet. “I thought you might, but…”

“I do!” I interrupted, coughing again. “I want to be with you. I love you, and I’m so sorry for everything I said! I was so terrified you wouldn’t believe me and they’d kill you, and…”

“Shh, baby doll. It’s okay.” He leaned in, his eyes flashing pink. “You did your best, and you did great. I’m just gonna need a lot of reassurance until you marry me, I guess.”

I smiled, reaching up to touch his face. Whatever the doctor gave me worked, because I already felt stronger and my limbs stopped shaking. I would probably be able to walk.

“I’d marry you right now,” I murmured jokingly. “I missed you so much.”

His eyes brightened, and he leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with a happy sigh. “Do you mean that, though?” he asked, pulling back.

I nodded. If it was even possible, which it wasn’t, I’d absolutely marry him. I was done waiting for good things to happen to me, done hoping that I’d be good enough one day. He was here, he wanted me, and I was ready to have him, once and for all.

Scarab laughed darkly and looked up, raising his hand.

“You there! Pastor! Come over here and marry us or I’ll blow up your church!”

I huffed softly. “I think we need a marriage license first.”

“My hacker friend will get it done,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Hey, pastor. That was a joke, by the way. I won’t blow up your church. But if you don’t want the joke to turn into reality, you’ll have to marry us right now.”

The minister, who was a slender man in his late forties, regarded Scarab through his rectangular glasses, clutching a Bible to his chest. He looked spooked and uncertain, and when Scarab took a step closer, he flinched.

“Come on, don’t be scared. We’re all friends here,” Scarab said with a low laugh. “You just need to marry me and my girl and we’ll be on our way. My foot will never step in your church again. Pinkie promise.”

“You can’t get everything you want with threats, you know,” a low voice rumbled from the side.

I sat up to see. A large shehru man stood nearby, his muscular, scaly arms folded on his massive chest. He looked amused.

“Watch me,” Scarab growled, turning back to the minister, who was now seemingly trapped between him and the shehru. “So, what will it be, pastor? You gonna marry us or should I get my grenades?”

The pastor glanced at the church door, where a couple of police officers were interviewing the wedding guests. Scarab snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Eyes up here, man. They won’t help you.”

I put my hand on his forearm, clearing my throat. “Pastor Michaels, please. I promise we’ll be out of your hair as soon as you officiate, and as a token of our gratitude, I’ll make sure the repair costs for the bridal suite are fully covered.”

The shehru laughed under his breath, and the minister shook his head, capitulating. “Fine, Barbara. If you insist.”

When Scarab gave me a pouty look, picking me up to help me off the altar, I smiled and brushed his cheek in a small kiss.

“Your friend is right. Sometimes a check works better than threats.”

He huffed, carrying me to where the pastor stood next to the altar, waiting for us. “Good thing that I’m about to marry a rich girl, then. Nat, come here. You’re gonna be my best man.”

The shehru slithered over, giving me a toothy grin. “Do you have rings?”

Scarab reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, producing two thin, metal bands that looked faintly familiar.

“Yeah, I do. I made them from grenade pins in a bout of depression. You don’t mind, doll, do you? I can get you diamonds later. I have ideas.”

“No, I don’t mind. I don’t need diamonds. Just need you.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, earning a disapproving look from pastor Michaels. “You really are too sweet for me. Well, get on with the vows. I can’t wait to be a married man.”

The pastor shuffled in place, clearing his throat. “Normally, we require interspecies couples like yours to sign a document confirming you’re aware it’s highly unlikely you will have offspring. In these circumstances, I’ll accept a verbal confirmation.”

“If I want to get her pregnant, I will get her pregnant,” Scarab said belligerently, giving me a very pink look. “But fine. I’m aware.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” I said.

I didn’t want to be a mother, and if I changed my mind in the future, there were plenty of options, I knew.

The pastor nodded and read the marriage rite. I looked at my abomination bodyguard, my heart bursting with joy. Earlier today, I stood in front of the same minister, my heart broken and full of sorrow. Now, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

“I do,” Scarab said, taking my hands. “I so fucking do.”

Pastor Michaels cleared his throat, reading my part of the vow, which I barely paid attention to. I stared at my beautiful man, who was so determined to marry me, he threatened to blow up a church, and I couldn’t help but shake with silent laughter.

“I do,” I said without hesitation when it was time.

“Fuck yes,” my groom murmured, leaning in to kiss me.

My lips met his mouth, our tongues touching briefly. Somewhere in the distance, a camera clicked. I pulled back to look, just in time to see Scarab give whoever took the photo the middle finger as he pulled my face closer for one more kiss. His free hand settled on my waist then slid lower to my ass as he groaned, tugging my hips against his.

“You might want to take it somewhere private,” his shehru friend said. “And take care of your lady. She’s been through a lot.”

Scarab pulled back, touching his forehead to mine, his hot breath fanning my face.

“I love you, doll. Will you come home with me? I need to fuck you real good since it’s our wedding night tonight.”

I smiled. “Yes to everything.”

My answer was always going to be yes.

CHAPTER 31

Phantom

Nat gave us a ride in his huge shehru car. It didn’t have seats in the front, allowing his snake body to fit in there, and I sat in the back with my girl in my lap. She nodded off pretty much immediately. When Nat tried to say something, I shushed him so he wouldn’t wake her up.

“Congratulations,” he whispered after we arrived at my place and I gathered her in my arms to carry her inside. “When you piss her off and need couples therapy, call me. I can fit you in next week.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. My baby stirred in my arms, and I decided her sleep was more important than telling Nat where he could stick his offer.

We were perfect together, me and her. We would make it work.

Up in my place, which I had thankfully cleaned up after Nat pulled me out of my funk a week ago, I laid my pretty doll in the middle of my bed. Her dress was so white against the black sheets, and for a moment, I just stood there and stared at her. It didn’t even matter that she hadn’t originally put this dress on for me, because I was the one who ended up marrying her.

After I’d looked my fill, I took off her shoes, smiling when I saw the pink nail polish on her toes. Then I grabbed my knife and carefully cut the dress open so she’d be more comfortable. She had on modest lingerie, simple and white like her dress. It still made my breath hitch with want.

I tucked her in and went to shower, packing my destroyed clothes into a trash bag to get rid of later. Once I was clean, I did my rounds, making sure the security system was on and the steel front door well locked. My windows were fitted with bulletproof glass, and I made sure they were all closed.

My apartment was a fortress since this was the place where I slept, and I’d never been more grateful for all the work I put into securing it than now. Because the most precious person in the world would now live here, and I would do anything to keep her safe.

I hung my towel out to dry and slid into bed with her, naked and unarmored, spooning my baby from behind. With the scent of her hair in my nose, tinged with smoke but still lovely, I finally fell asleep after weeks of staying awake.

When I woke up, it was night, and a faint sound of running water came in from the bathroom. I sat bolt upright, knowing at once she wasn’t in bed with me. I followed the sounds, opening the bathroom door to find the space fogged up with hot steam.

My cock filled out, and I grinned, closing the door without making a sound. My doll sighed audibly, unaware of my presence. I opened the glass shower door and came in just as she tipped her head back, letting the hot water rinse the shampoo out of her hair. Her eyes were closed.

I didn’t speak, just grabbed her waist and pressed in, flattening her front against the wet tiles. She gasped in shock, and I grabbed her hair, tipping her head to the side so she’d see it was me.

“Now, love. Since I have you to myself, let’s make something clear.”

She relaxed when she heard my voice, her trust melting me a little, but not much. I was furious with her for how she handled everything, and now that I knew we were both safe, that fury rose to the forefront. I wasn’t going to hurt her—I’d never do that—but she needed to be taught a lesson.

I grabbed her hip, angling her ass back, and slowly slid inside her hot little pussy. She moaned in pleasure, and I gritted my teeth, holding on to my fury while my brain tried to shut off everything and focus on the bliss that was her. My girl was so tight and sweet. Perfect for me.

Letting go of her hair, I braced my hand against the tiles, widening my stance.

“Don’t sacrifice yourself for me ever again,” I growled, thrusting balls deep.

She cried out, her eyes slamming shut, and I put my arm around her waist to hold her close when she started to wiggle.

“Don’t ever again reject me for bullshit reasons,” I bit out, thrusting again so hard, her entire body jolted with the force.

“Fucking talk to me, love!” I thrust, building up a reckless rhythm.

Her hands slid helplessly against the tiles in search for purchase as she moaned, her muscles clenching around me until I saw stars. I pounded her hard, gritting out profanities, until she came with a hoarse scream, shaking in my hold.

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t fix it!” I roared, slamming so deep, she made a low, broken noise. I stilled, breathing hard, and pressed my forehead to the back of her head.

“Do you understand?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Y-yes,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

I pulled back slowly and thrust back in, fucking my girl until she was moaning constantly, hot water cascading down our bodies. I pinched her clit, making her shudder, while my hips snapped back and forth. I got lost in the rhythm, the slap of our bodies becoming the perfect music.

“Good doll,” I grunted, when she came again, the piercings on my dick doing the job. “I’ll make you come so many times, you’ll never do it again. You’ll be good and let me handle all the fucking problems that come our way.”

She tried to nod, but her strength was flagging, her legs shaking after coming twice. I pressed her harder against the wall and sped up, working her clit hard. She whimpered and mewled in overstimulated pleasure, but I didn’t relent until she drenched my dick the third time, coming all over it like my good girl.

“That’s right,” I bit out, my vision pink and red while my balls wrenched up, ready to shoot. “You come for me. You listen to me. You let me handle your shit.”

“Yes,” she wept, and that was enough.

I went in as deep as I could, hot and cold waves crashing down my spine. My cock bucked and shot my load, everything that I had stored up all for her. When my orgasm crashed through me and I could breathe again, I pressed into her, still inside my gorgeous doll that shook between me an the wall.

“I’ll fuck you until you can’t take it anymore,” I whispered in her ear, making her gasp. “I couldn’t even fuck my hand after what you did to me. I was in pieces, baby. Now that you’re here, you’ll make it up to me.”

She nodded once, gasping brokenly. I nuzzled the side of her face, my cock twitching inside her. I was ready to go again.

“And I’ll make it up to you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t stay and push you harder to learn what was really the matter,” I murmured, my chest growing hot with guilt.

It was her fault for trying to save me on her sick mother’s terms, yes, but it was my fault, too.

“I should have had more trust in you.” My voice broke as my eyes turned hot. “I should have realized you were lying. I should have stayed. I’m sorry.”

I swallowed the stupid, disgusting tears, and she shook her head, reaching up to lay her palm on my hand still bracing against the wall.

“No, I wanted you to go,” she said, her voice hitching. “I wanted you to be safe.”

When I pulled out of her, she gasped, her pussy clutching me like it wanted me to stay. I put my hands on her hips and coaxed her to turn. When her huge, vulnerable eyes met mine, the last of my anger melted, and I hung my head in remorse.

“You did your best,” I admitted. “Don’t do it again, but… Thank you. My beautiful, brave girl. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Before she could answer, I dropped to my knees, the water from the shower beating against my skull. I took her knee and put it over my shoulder, diving in to eat my girl with all I had in me. She tasted like us, her cum and mine mixing into perfection. I licked her slowly from ass to clit, savoring the small, needy whimpers she released as she clutched the back of my head to herself.

This was my place, right here. At her feet. Maybe she didn’t know it yet, because I liked to order her around, but I was her servant. The stupid instincts that drove my species got somehow rewired in my brain. Her enemies were my enemies now, her needs—my needs. My girl would never be hungry, sad, unfucked.

Not if I could help it.

Her legs shook as she moaned loudly, her voice echoing in the bathroom. I thrust my tongue into her, unfurling it to its full length, and fucked her with it while my fingers worked her greedy clit. Soon, she shattered into another orgasm, howling long and deep. I licked her clean and got up, holding her when it seemed like she’d fall.

“Good, baby?” I asked, studying her soft, flushed face.

She nodded, turning her dreamy eyes on me. I shut off the water and carried her out, letting her stand on my soft bathroom mat. I grabbed my towel and dried her carefully, making sure not to pull on her hair. She let me, my doll pliant and relaxed, and when she was dry, I carried her into bed.

“Can I fuck you when you’re asleep?” I asked in between little, eager licks down her jaw and throat.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Are you sore? Does it hurt anywhere? Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, and I rumbled in pleasure, settling between her legs. I thrust in, coming back home. She gasped and looked at me, her brows slightly furrowed.

I froze. “What? What do you need?”

She shook her head. “Later. Fuck me, please.”

I growled, pulling out. She pouted, and I nuzzled her cheek, wrapping my fingers lightly around her throat.

“What do you need? Tell me right now, you naughty girl.”

She exhaled in frustration, then smiled, shaking with silent laughter. “Just water. But it can wait.”

“No, it damn well can’t.”

I bounded out of bed and went to the kitchen, my hard cock leading the way. I grabbed one bottle from the fridge and one from the cupboard, in case she didn’t want to drink cold water, and went back to bed. My baby gave me that radiant, happy smile I so loved and drank while I watched her with pleasure, my cock still hard, because she was so beautiful, so hot, so mine.

“Okay, I don’t need anything else. Promise.”

She lay back, stretching her arms up. I grinned, using that opportunity to press her wrists into the mattress. She opened her legs for me, and I let myself inside her, where it was warm and perfect. Where I was welcome.

“You have no idea how I love having you here,” I murmured, moving with slow reverence, my coveted abomination cock pleasing my girl in all the right places. “You look so good in my bed and under me. You’ll look even better when I bend you over the kitchen table tomorrow. And spread you open on my couch to eat you out.”

She moaned, writhing to meet my thrusts, and I let go of her wrists to tangle my fingers with hers.

It was time to accept it. I was the handholding type.

“You’ll look amazing grocery shopping by my side, sitting with me in the cinema, and fuck, I can’t wait to take you to the shooting range. Every time you have ballet practice, I’ll kidnap you right after and fuck you good while you’re still sweaty and hot. You’re my catnip, baby. You’re all I need.”

She closed her eyes, her face tightening as she squeezed me with her drawn out orgasm. I fucked her leisurely, her thighs trembling until she raised her legs with effort, wrapping them around me. Her eyes popped open and she stared at my face, breathing hard.

“Every day, you’ll leave the house with my cum dripping out of you,” I murmured reverently, my dick twitching in pleasure as I thrust deep. “And, fuck, I want you on your knees, worshipping my cock while I watch a game. Would you do that for me? Would you dress all in pink and please your husband this way?”

“God, yes,” she breathed, clutching my hand hard as her eyelids fluttered in pleasure.

“Such a good, perfect doll,” I praised her, speeding up to bring her to another orgasm.

By the time I finished inside her, she came two more times and couldn’t keep her eyes open. I pulled out, turning her half-asleep form until she was on her side, and settled in behind her, sliding my cock back in. When she murmured sleepily, I stroked her blonde hair with my dark fingers, shushing her in reassurance.

“Sleep, baby. I just need to be inside you. Nothing more.”

She drifted off, trusting me completely, and I held her close until sleep took me, too.

I woke up a little before noon. I was still hard, still inside my doll, and she slept soundly, her breathing slow and deep. Her sweet pussy hugged me tightly, but sometime during the night, I’d slid partly out of her, so I thrust instinctively to bury my whole length in her.

“Fuck,” I murmured, jerking inside her.

She didn’t move, sleeping like a log, and good for her. My baby was tired, but I was horny. Good thing I didn’t need her awake for that.

“Such a good baby doll,” I whispered, fucking her in long, easy thrusts. “Letting me have her when I want. Letting me fuck this gorgeous body.”

I grabbed her tit, gently flicking her nipple. She murmured softly but didn’t wake, and I buried my face in her hair and inhaled, taking my wife to sate my lust.

“Only you,” I promised her, even though she couldn’t hear me. “I’ll forever fuck only you. Love only you. My sweet girl. I love your tight pussy. So good. Hope you’re having nice, pink dreams right about now, while your abomination man uses your sweet body.”

She stirred with a muffled moan, arching into me. I pinched her nipple harder and sped up, deciding to wake her up with an orgasm. My doll deserved all the pleasure in the world.

“That’s it, baby,” I growled, my hips flexing with helpless need. “Love the way you take me. So good. Such a pretty girl.”

Her muscles tightened around me, pulsing with an orgasm while she whined. I sped up, licking a path up her neck. She reached back to hold onto my hip, and I knew she was awake as I pounded into her until I came, my baby taking every drop.

“I love you,” I murmured into her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered, taking my hand to kiss my knuckles.

I stayed inside her until her stomach growled, making me shoot out of bed. She protested, but I was helpless to resist the instinct to take care of her. It was stronger than me, and so I dressed in record time and sprinted to the nearest café, tipping as much as the coffee cost in the hopes of making the barista rush my order. I grabbed her muffins, sandwiches, and cookies, and was back in the apartment in under ten minutes.

My baby smiled after I fed her, and then I fucked her again, making an excellent start to the first day of our life together.

BARBARA’S EPILOGUE

“Oh, I love that dress! Can we go inside?”

Scarab stopped by the boutique, cocking his head to the side as he regarded the shopping window. His arms were laden with shopping bags that he carried with seemingly no effort, his posture straight and confident.

“Sure, baby.”

We went in. I tore into the racks, looking through the dresses, while he sat down in the armchair by the door, taking out his book. This one was a tentacle romance, with a woman tangled up in a kraken’s embrace on the cover. He read it without self-consciousness, his feet in combat boots spread wide. I smiled secretly when I saw how the shopping assistant looked between him and me, trying to figure out what two polar opposites like us were doing together.

I grabbed the dresses I liked and went over to the changing room. A moment later, heavy footfalls thudded on the floor, and my husband slipped inside with me. I grinned at him, taking off the dress I wore and flashing him my half-transparent, black bra.

“No touching,” I reminded him of the rules of our game in a whisper. “You can only look. And don’t make a sound.”

He nodded, his eyes shining pink as he pocketed his book. I ran my hands up my body with a saucy look. He released a long, shaky breath, his hands twitching by his sides, and I grinned. I knew exactly what would happen when we got home. After an entire day of teasing, he’d rail me all night long until my throat was hoarse from screaming, and I’d love every second of it.

For now, though, I got to torment him.

I slipped on the first dress, a frilly pink number that would be excellent for a public date. Paparazzi still followed me occasionally, and I loved the look of us in the papers so much, I started dressing up for the biggest impact.

After I wore this dress to an outing, we’d be pictured again, the bad, black abomination and his pink, blonde wife. I couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take this one,” I whispered, shimmying out of the dress as I turned my back to him. “Oh, what’s that?”

I bent over, picking up a piece of paper lying on the floor. Scarab released a quiet, tortured sound as I treated him to the sight of my black, lacy thong.

“All right, honey?” I asked, looking up, still bending at the waist.

“You’re so dead,” he whispered, the color in his eyes swirling, pink fighting with red.

A pleasant thrill ran down my spine. “Yeah? Promise?”

He nodded vehemently. I grinned and tried on the other things I brought. In the end, I only got the pink dress. The novelty of being able to buy and wear what I wanted was slowly wearing off, but I still had occasional urges to get new things, eat out at places that used to be forbidden, and do things that didn’t behoove an Ashford-Kingsley. My husband indulged all my whims. In fact, he indulged me so much, I gained some weight, my curves filling out in ways my mother would have hated.

He loved every inch of my body just the same as before.

“Oh, we need to get a present for Nat,” I remembered when we left the boutique.

He groaned. “Can’t it wait? I want to go home. My dick will fall off if I don’t fuck you soon, love.”

“No, it can’t wait,” I said sternly, though I was itching to get started, too. “I keep telling you to treat him better. He’s your best friend and you always take him for granted.”

Scarab grumbled under his breath, transferring the plethora of shopping bags onto one arm so he could take my hand. People gave us startled looks when he led me down the street to his favorite artisan blade shop. I wore a pink top and shorts, pink toenails peeking out of glittery sandals decorated with rhinestones. My husband wore a black T-shirt that stretched gorgeously over his wide chest, and jeans that sat low on his narrow hips. His skull gleamed in the sunlight.

“A chair for my lady, Jonathan,” he called from the threshold of the shop.

“Coming right up,” the shop owner said cheerfully, producing a comfortable padded chair he kept in the back for me.

We were loyal customers here, since Scarab couldn’t help but add to his knife collection at least once a month. As soon as he got me settled in the chair, my bags arranged all around me, he put his book in my hand.

“Chapter nineteen,” he whispered. “To get you all wet for me, baby.”

I didn’t need a book to do that, since the way he looked at me was enough to turn me into a horny puddle, but I started reading, anyway. Jonathan showed off his new acquisitions, and I knew we’d be here a while.

Half an hour later, I was a few chapters of tentacle smut deep into the book when my husband was finally done, a gift for Nat wrapped up in gift paper with a pink bow—“So he knows it’s your doing”—and Scarab’s new knife sitting at his belt.

As soon as the apartment door closed behind us, he dropped the bags and pushed my back into the door, growling as he fell to his knees in front of me. He tore my shorts open, sliding them down my legs lighting-fast, and impatiently hooked my knee over his shoulder, licking me through my thong.

I gasped, my head falling back against the door. He ate me with feverish need, and when I glanced down, I saw his jeans were already undone, his hard cock in his fist. He stroked himself while he fucked me with his tongue, his outer teeth scraping my labia. When I pressed into his face, almost there, he pulled back.

“What…” I began, delirious with the desire humming in my blood.

“You edged me all day long, love,” he said, laughing darkly. “It’s my turn. Go into the living room and bend over the table. I want your ass to be the first thing I see when I come in.”

I toed off my shoes and ran to plaster myself over the table, my ass up in the air. My heart hammered in my chest, my belly throbbing with need. A moment later, he came in, putting something on the table by my face.

“Oh my God,” I murmured when I saw what it was.

“Got you a gift, too,” he said with a chuckle. “See? I can be considerate.”

It was a pretty black butt plug with a large, pink rhinestone set in the base. I closed my eyes when he dropped to his knees behind me and nuzzled his face into my butt cheek.

“I thought about eating your ass all day, doll,” he murmured, his hot breath caressing my skin until it broke out in gooseflesh. “I finally get to have my dessert.”

He licked me slowly, his tongue hot and wet on my hole. I whimpered, and he spread my cheeks wide, slurping obscenely. Even through the horny daze in my head, I had to admit he was cunning. I wouldn’t come from what he did, but I damn wished I could.

Soon, he worked his tongue inside me with small, intrusive licks. I trembled and moaned, my hands scraping the smooth tabletop, while he plunged deeper, relaxing me with easy, wet strokes.

When my legs were about to give out, he pulled back and reached for the butt plug. A bottle squirted, and then, there was pressure at my hole.

“Breathe out, love. Easy does it.”

I released a shaky breath, bearing down, and the toy slipped in. He nuzzled my cheek again and stood up, grabbing my hips. He thrust into my buttock once, painting my skin with his precum. He was so hard.

When he pulled me upright, leading me to the couch, I stumbled. My pussy was on fire, my inner thighs sticky with arousal. Scarab sat down, spreading his thighs wide, and pointed at the floor between his feet.

“Now, you’ll kneel here while I watch that horror movie you were too afraid to watch with me. You won’t look at the screen, though. Your entire attention will be on my cock, while I’ll play with this little thing.”

A small, black remote flashed in his hand. The butt plug came to life inside me, vibrating lightly.

“Fuck me,” I gasped, my legs giving out.

“Mmm. After the movie. Now kneel, have some water, and get to work.”

He threw a pink cushion on the floor and handed me a glass of cold water. I drank it greedily, then settled myself between his legs, the steady vibration in my ass driving me crazy. It wouldn’t make me come, but it would keep me hot and bothered while I pleasured him.

“You really are a monster,” I said with a smirk, running my tongue up his hard, sticky cock.

He was all wet with precum, as aroused as he was.

“I am,” he said with a grin. “I’m turning on the movie. If the sounds make you afraid, suck on me to calm down.”

I shivered. This new game was already turning into my favorite one. He knew me so well. How I adored being ordered around and yet taken care of. Edged and then satisfied. Fucked and cuddled, and then fed my favorite foods and told how beautiful and good I was.

I spent the entire movie at his feet, with his dick in my mouth. But as he edged me, I edged him. I licked him carefully, played with his piercings, sucked on his knobs. He grunted and shifted, turning the vibration in my butt plug up and down as he pleased, but neither of us got to come. Finally, when the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and looked at me.

“Now, you can either finish me off and get my cum or we’ll have dinner. I’m fine with either option.”

I laughed under my breath, though the sound was strained. I was dying from the need to come. My entire pelvis throbbed for relief.

“That’s a lie, though,” I said, giving his leaking tip a careful lick. “You want to come down my throat. You would do anything for me to finish you off right now.”

His hips bucked instinctively, as if trying to thrust in my mouth. I pulled back.

“Bratty little doll,” he growled, clicking on the remote. “What do you choose?”

The toy suddenly flared to life, the vibration turned up to max. I grunted, squirming in place, while he laughed. I gritted my teeth, palmed his wide, muscular thighs, and swallowed his cock as far as I could take it.

He cussed, fisting my hair, which had grown back quite a lot and was one of his favorite parts of me to hold. I sucked him ardently, bringing him to a quick finish while the toy inside me buzzed like crazy.

As soon as I swallowed his thick cum, he fell down to the floor with me.

“Hands and knees, love.”

I obeyed at once. He palmed my hips and thrust deep, both of us groaning from pleasure at the feel. I was swollen and dripping from the constant stimulation, his cock the best reward for all the edging I went through.

Buried deep inside me, he stroked the beetle tattoo on my lower back, humming with pleasure. I knew how he loved the sight of it on me. His signature.

The tender moment was over soon. He fucked me hard and fast, grunting like an animal. I was almost too full with the toy and him inside, and it was absolutely perfect. I came fast, taking that pleasure greedily now that it was available. He pressed down on my lower back, urging me to lie down on my belly, and took me like that, until I came again.

His orgasm came soon after. Both satisfied, we lay on the carpet in front of the couch, breathing hard, until he remembered the remote and turned off the toy.

Then we had dinner and showered, and he railed me in the shower like he did on our wedding night.

It was a perfect day, one of many.

PHANTOM’S EPILOGUE

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to track you down?” I complained to my prisoner, who sat on the floor in the small bunker in the woods where I’d trapped him two days before.

There was nothing but forests around, and the bunker was well isolated. No one would hear us, whatever happened in here. Which was fortunate, because I had a lot of games in mind.

He was filthy, having soiled himself since I’d left him here. There was a bag on his head, just in case, and his hands were tied together behind a long pole that didn’t allow him to move from the spot.

The cable ties were probably too tight. His fingers were kinda gray and most likely felt numb. I wanted to cut the cable ties and see what happened. Would his hands hurt like a bitch? It was worth checking.

“Now, I’m gonna take the bag off your head. If you try your mental shit, I’ll stick pins under your toenails. Okay. Ready?”

I pulled the bag off with a flourish. The mind manipulator who attacked Barbara over a year ago instantly looked at me, his eyes glowing with his power before he realized what I was. He cringed, mumbling through the gag in his mouth.

Of course, his shit didn’t work on me. I was immune.

“That was naughty. I gave you a fair warning, didn’t I?”

When he closed his eyes, his mumbling growing faster while sweat poured down his face, I sighed.

“Man, I’m just trying to have a conversation here. Did I or did I not give you a fair warning?”

He opened his eyes, without the glow this time, and nodded frantically. I grinned.

“Yeah. Let’s see now.”

I crouched by his feet. He realized what I was about to do and tried to jerk his foot away, but I caught it fast. When he tried to kick me with the other, I sighed, slid nearer, and grabbed his leg. Catching his ankle and knee, I brought his calf down over my knee hard, like snapping a branch.

His shin bone broke in two. He howled.

“That will teach you to kick me,” I said pleasantly, grabbing his other foot again. “Now, what was it? Ah, pins. While I do that, let me tell you why you’re here.”

I carefully slid the first pin under his filthy big toenail. He cried out in pain, shaking. He stood no chance. There he was, sitting in his filth, and I knew I’d kill him tonight and leave him buried here forever, but for now, I would enjoy myself.

It took me over a fucking year to find him, every day of that year snapping tighter and tighter with urgency. That time was heaven, because my doll was with me, loving me and smiling at me every day. And it was hell, too.

Every day I was more and more aware that the person who threatened her walked free. That awareness was like a cancer, burning through my happiness and waking me up at night. Nat tried to talk me through it, using logical arguments.

He got paid to hurt her. The real perpetrators, meaning her mother and Ernest Ladnizza, were in jail. They couldn’t hurt her anymore. The mind manipulator had moved on. He wouldn’t hurt Barbara again.

That session had been profoundly unsuccessful, which Nat had expected. The nature of my survival instincts meant that they were irreversible. Once I locked in on a target to kill, it was over. Either they died or I did.

“You hurt my girl,” I growled, looking at the pathetic rakshasa man who howled in pain as I stuck another pin under his nail, his face wet with tears and snot. “And I’m not built for forgiveness, my friend. I am built for vengeance.”

Nat knew I was here, and he promised to keep his mouth shut. Now, I was grateful for all the times my baby forced me to get him gifts or invited him over, but I also knew he would have been loyal without it. My doctor and friend understood on a deep level how big of a gift my trust was.

He was the only person who knew. My doll thought I was with him tonight, and he was my cover. I would lie to her about it, lie shamelessly, because I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the truth of why I killed this man.

It’s all for my doll.

She was the reason for his death, and I would hide it from her until we both lay down in a marital grave, buried side by side for eternity.

“That’s all your toes,” I said after I was done, three pins stuck under each nail. “What should we do next? I brought lots of toys.”

His eyes rolled, his head lolling against the pole. He was close to losing consciousness. I considered briefly whether to give him a shot that would force him to stay awake for long hours of torture and finally decided against it. Instead, I cut the ties around his wrists, securing much looser ones in place. Now his blood flowed unobstructed into the necrotic areas.

I brought out my historical romance novel featuring a lord and a sassy governess, and read, waiting to see what happened.

But I barely got through a paragraph when the mind manipulator whined in pain. He shifted, trying to move his arms. Then, he whimpered. And then, he screamed.

I put my book away with a sigh, watching as he writhed in agony. I had thought it would bring me peace to see him tortured after he’d caused my sweetheart so much suffering, but his screams quickly got boring.

“Oh, do shut up,” I said finally, putting a bullet through his skull.

And that was that.

I packed my shit and doused the area in bleach, though I doubted anyone would ever find this little bunker. I went out, breathing in the clean night air of the forest in fall. It was cool, and it woke me up, lending me the strength I needed to haste back home.

My bike was parked a long trek away from the bunker, and I walked with pleasure, lightness suffusing my bones. Because that mind manipulator was the last one. I’d dealt with Ernest Landizza and his son, Adonis, a month ago. Both ingested poison, Ernest in prison, Adonis in a hotel.

And since my doll still cared somewhat about her parents, I left them alone. Clarissa was harmless in jail, anyway. I sent her letters every month, just to piss her off. They contained clippings from magazines with my and her daughter’s photos, showing off our unconventional lifestyle.

Barbara’s father was free, his career having survived the ordeal. He sent her a handsome check every month, which allowed me to leave the MSA. Fatima visited us sometimes, bemoaning the fact I was gone but never pressing hard for me to return.

I had a permanent assignment, though, and no space left for anything else. My doll, who attended college, danced modern jazz, and volunteered in a cat shelter, was not only my wife but also my principal.

She would remain it for life. I was her servant, her protector, her lover, and everything else she needed me to be. Taking care of her fulfilled me like nothing else ever had.

I was almost to my bike when my phone rang.

“Hey, baby,” I answered with a smile. “What’s up?”

“I miss you,” she said in her sweet, exaggerated, pink voice. I practically heard her juicy pout. “Just letting you know I’m about to touch myself since you’re not here.”

“Naughty doll,” I breathed, my cock instantly perking up. “Tell me, what are you doing?”

“Well, I’m wearing that negligee you got me last week,” she said, and I heard the sheets rustling, like she was settling in. “The green one. But I didn’t wear panties. Oh, and by the way, I got a Brazilian wax. I am perfectly bare. Not a hair down there.”

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do it,” I said, a dangerous note stealing into my voice.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Her voice was airy, like she had no idea how that ticked me off, but I knew she did it on purpose.

“A surprise for a night when I’m not in? That’s very naughty, love. I’ll have to spank you for this.”

“Oh, no,” she said with a smile. “That’s terrible. You know how I always come multiple times when you spank me, right? That’s such a cruel punishment.”

I grinned, then schooled my face into a stern expression. It wouldn’t do to let her know how I enjoyed her antics. She should at least squirm a little.

“If you’re so eager to get spanked, I can be there in an hour.”

Maybe. If I ran some red lights and really overdid it with the speed.

“Mhm, no, you don’t have to,” she breathed, her voice tinged with pleasure. “I’m already taking care of myself. Oh, it feels so good. Wish you were here to see it.”

“If you make yourself come before I get there, I’ll edge you for days,” I said, the world tinging red and pink, the perfect combination. “I’ll tie you to the bed and won’t let you come. You’ll be in agony.”

Her answer was a loud, shameless moan.

“Oh, doll,” I said with a sharp grin, straddling my bike. “Now you’re just playing with fire.”

“Get here quick,” she moaned. “I miss you so much.”

I hung up and set off, leaning over my bike as I swallowed the distance separating me and her at a speed that would surely put me in jail if I was caught. Dark world rushed past, soon giving way to the city lights. I ran a red light here and there, dodging cars, and was back at our place in fifty minutes.

I found my doll in front of the TV, eating popcorn while Pride and Prejudice played on the screen.

“You’re here!” she lit up, sitting straighter.

I scowled. She didn’t wear the green negligee but a long T-shirt, one of mine, and a pair of fluffy bunny slippers.

“Did you make yourself come, doll?” I asked, my voice low and controlled. My hands itched to grab her and spank her sassy ass.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” she said with a shameless grin, spreading her legs open. “I wanted to be comfortable, and the negligee had itchy lace. But I did get the Brazilian, and no, I’m not wearing panties.”

I dropped to my knees and nuzzled her inner thigh, breathing in the scent of my home, my haven, my destiny.

“I’m not a fucking seer, doll. Be straight with me. Did you make yourself come?”

She looked down, regarding me seriously while I knelt at her feet like the servant I was.

“Of course not,” she said quietly with a soft, loving smile. “I can’t make myself come the way you do. It was just teasing. I need you, honey. I need you so much, and I can’t spend even one night without you. It’s pathetic.”

I exhaled, pressing my cheek bone to her thigh. “Me, too, baby. You did good calling me. I’m here now.”

I fucked her slowly on the carpet, making her come the way only I could, and then we watched the rest of the movie together. She dozed off with her head in my lap, and I stroked her hair, finally at peace.

Her enemies were dead. We were safe, me and her, happy and in love. Our happily ever after was here, and I’d milk every day of it to the fullest.

AFTERWORD

I think this is my favorite book I’ve ever written, which is problematic, since I say this about every new book I write. A mother should love all her babies equally, and yet, there is just something about Phantom and Barbara’s story that sets them apart.

You have to know I love Phantom. I’ll skin alive everyone who dares to say a word against him (okay, that was a joke. I’m a writer, not a violent badass), because he is such a sweetheart and deserves all the love!

Barbara is one of my favorites, too. She’s unapologetically feminine and pink, yet fights for her independence desperately. We can be feminine and feminist, too, while also loving a good dicking. Ahem.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I did!

The more I mature as a writer, the more control I give away to my characters. This book is one of the best results of this practice. (The other being my dark fantasy romance, Devil’s Deal, in which I let the MCs do what they pleased and was awed by their choices.)

To be honest, I had to stop many times, just howling with laughter at something Phantom said or did. He was completely out of control. I am not responsible for him, just so you know. Phantom is his own person, and I like to think he exists in a parallel world somewhere, living his best life with his doll at his side. They don’t have children, by the way, and both are happy with that choice.

The insults Phantom and Fatima exchange in chapter three are, of course, Shakespearean.

I apologize for chapter twenty-seven. If it’s any consolation, I suffered a lot writing it.

Last but not least, I want to thank my husband and daughters for being so understanding when I descend into the writing cave and have no capacity to deal with the real world. You are the best. I love you with all my heart and am so grateful that you are mine.

Thank you, Ava, for being the best PA I could have ever wished for! And Shannon, you have my eternal gratitude for your excellent editing services.

And finally, thank you, beloved Reader. I wouldn’t be an author without you.

BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

Monster Security Agency

Monster Security Agency is the most elite bodyguard service in the world. These monster bodyguards are lethal, powerful, and determined to protect their clients at all costs. They shouldn't fall in love with their principals, but if they do? Things are bound to explode.

Here come spicy, romantic, and action-packed tales by your favorite paranormal and sci-fi romance authors: Cassie Alexander, Layla Fae, and Cara Wylde. Dive into the world of the Monster Security Agency.

Guarded By The Golem By Cara Wylde

Morals have no place in my line of work.

Monster Security Agency stands on neutral ground. As long as the client pays, we don't question their motives. Especially when the job is as easy as the one I’m on now.

All I have to do is stand guard outside a steel door in a mad scientist's basement. I don't even need to know who or what I'm guarding.

Then one day, I peek behind the door. From the farthest corner of the basement, bright blue eyes stare at me. Dark hair, fair skin, tear-streaked cheeks, and lips sealed with duct tape. I am doomed.

This woman is my mate. I know that with rock-solid conviction, and I don't care how much I'm being paid to keep her here.

Guarded By The Spider By Cassie Alexander

For my kind, to be without a mate is to be doomed. I know it is too late–all that awaits me is retirement and death, and I’ve embraced it.

But when a suicide mission lands on my old boss’s desk, I’m the one he calls. Who better to tackle the mission in the deep, oppressive mines of my own ancestral homeland, if not an Arachnae already slated to die? And it’s not a rescue mission–he wants me to retrieve the corpse of a billionaire’s daughter kidnapped by a terrorist organization.

Except our intel was wrong.

She’s alive. Tortured and injured–but alive.

And from the moment I scent her, I am certain she’s my mate.

She cowers in fear when she sees me, yet I will stop at nothing to protect her.

And now that I have a reason to live…a whole lot of people are going to die.

Guarded By The Snake By Layla Fae

She stole her way into my cold, serpent heart like a thief in the night.

The tiny human hires me to shield her from the vengeance of a powerful organization. There’s nothing wrong with that, except she stole from them, got caught, and now I have to clean up her mess. Add to that her incessant chatter, and I’m in for the most unpleasant job in my career.

Until her enemies bring out the big guns, turning the irksome protection assignment into a lethal fight for survival. Necessity pushes my principal closer and closer—too close for comfort. Forced to hide in small spaces, her skin rubbing against my scales, her warm breath on my face, my exasperation gives way to lust.

It’s just physical attraction, I tell myself. All I want is to bury my two spikes in her tight body and feel her writhing under me in pleasure. Nothing more than that. Because it’s impossible I could want her–the annoying, ballsy little thief who makes the sun shine with a smile.

One thing is certain: this is no longer just a job. I’ll butcher everyone who wants to hurt her.

Guarded By The Kraken By Cassie Alexander

A kraken, a scientist, and a love under pressure….

As a kraken bodyguard, I rarely get human clients. When I do, the only way to protect them is to form a telepathic bond. I don’t like it, but after my wife’s death years ago I’ve learned to build an impenetrable shield around myself and my emotions, until I meet my newest client. She's a scientist investigating an ancient relic on the ocean floor. The abyssal plane is no place for humans, but the job is the job, so I shut off my soul, bury my secrets, and link our minds.

The flood of her emotions takes me by surprise. I thought I would be in charge, but our bond is stripping us both bare, layer after layer, until she can see my bleeding wounds, and I can taste her unspoken desires.

We cannot be together. We can’t even touch. She breathes air, and I live at high pressure at the bottom of the ocean. Our feelings bring us nothing but torment, and I know once she’s on dry land again, I’ll have to sever our bond.

But when she’s betrayed by the people she’s working for, and her life is in danger–I will not rest until she’s safe in all of my arms.

Guarded By The Leshy By Cara Wylde

I am a force of nature, misshapen and untameable, until I meet her.

My mission is to deliver the human bride to her husband-to-be. She's to be married into one of the most powerful families in the state. Her husband is a spiritual leader, and he has one condition - she must prove she's worthy. Through the deepest woods, she must walk alone to meet him at the luxurious, isolated resort where their fates will be bound. The bride's father is not heartless, though. He knows the woods are dangerous, so he hires me to escort and protect his daughter.

Because I can become one with the trees...

I am to guard her from the shadows. My voice - the rustle of leaves, my hands - the branches she clings to. She must never know I'm there, even as her sweet innocence coaxes my body into taking a shape that allows us to touch. I change what I am, just for her.

This love is forbidden. She belongs to someone else, and I belong to the forest.

Guarded By The Vodnik By Layla Fae

She poured fire into my cold, emotionless heart. Now all I see and feel is her.

I’m a cold-blooded killer from the deep, always getting MSA’s most hazardous underwater tasks. Fear and emotion are foreign to me, which makes me efficient but too callous to work with clients.

Even though close protection is not my forte, I’m assigned a human principal–a witness testifying against a criminal organization. She is fragile, clingy, and too warm. I hate her instantly, her affectionate nature clashing with mine. But this assignment comes right from the top, and I can’t refuse it.

Every minute I spend with her is an annoyance, until we end up trapped in an underwater cave, where her survival hinges on being shockingly close to me. Her warm touch on my body is like a powerful current that tears my shields apart. Her trusting eyes locked with mine destroy my peace of mind. For the first time, I'm flooded with feelings.

And they are all about her. I’m addicted, my heart and body throbbing with the onslaught of emotions. The only way to soothe the pain is to get more of her, more touches, more smiles, more affection. I crave her even though I know I’m a monster and a killer, and she deserves better.

I’m not selfless enough to let her go.

Guarded By The Nightmare By Cassie Alexander

No one survives hiring me. Not even her.

I’m a Nightmare, a creature that feeds on fear, and I’m capable of boundless cruelty—which is why my services come at a steep price: the life of the person who hired me. As such, the only people who hire me on are those brought to me by fate, like Mina, a woman so desperate for revenge that she’s willing to spend her own life to get it.

I don’t usually care why I’m hired. Human affairs don’t matter to me. Food is food, and a job is a job.

Mina’s enemies will get what they deserve—and I’ll get what’s mine.

Her beating heart.

Guarded By The Reaper By Cara Wylde

There’s only death for her, and eternity for me.

My client, Millie, made the wrong deal - her soul for her sister's life. Now she must pay up, and she's ready, but she needs fourteen days to take care of one last thing. The creature who's waiting to dine on her soul won’t give her an extension, so Millie hires me to guard and protect her for the little time she has left on this earth. Who better to delay her death if not the Grim Reaper himself?

I’m a bag of bones, flesh held together by a magic cloak. For decades, I’ve wandered, aimless, lost, disenchanted with the world… But as I spend time with this mortal woman, forced close by my duty to her, Millie gradually reminds me who I am and what my purpose is.

Now that I found her, I can’t lose her. For her, I will break the rules of the universe, fight the soul eater that wants to devour her, and deceive death itself.

BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

The devil craves my soul. It calls to him like the scent of fresh blood.

I am not afraid.

The night of summer solstice, I do something stupid. Drawn to the fire of magic, I approach the gods in their sacred circle. I am just a mortal, one of many. I shouldn’t merit their attention.

But behind the royal figures of the gods a shadow looms, menacing yellow eyes burning in its gloom. He asks me to dance. His clawed hands circle my waist, turning me to the sound of hoofbeats while his demonic voice whispers seductive lies in my ear. For one night, and one night only, I let him touch me.

When it’s morning and gods return to their shrines, he stays. His bloodthirsty shadow follows me, a dark cloak hiding me from the sun and the light of hope. Where I walk, flowers wither and children sicken, touched by his suffocating darkness.

The harder I chase him away, the more he enshrouds me in his powerful presence, his claws trapping my body, his will reaching for my soul.

He takes away my tribe and poisons my life, trying to break me so I take his deal. But the devil is in for a surprise.

I may give him my body, but I’ll never break. With nothing to lose, I am ready to fight.

Ghosts Of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

Three vengeful spirits. One broken woman. One night.

Harlow can’t live with herself after the traumatic events of a fateful Halloween night two years ago. Half-broken then, she’s shattered now. The only way forward is to go back to the abandoned house where it all happened and pay the ultimate price for her sins.

But the house isn’t empty. Three vengeful spirits lie in wait, vowing to destroy the woman who sent them to hell. Given just one night of freedom, they will bleed every second dry, taking all their rage, suffering, and hatred out on her.

The three inflict agony twisted with pleasure until all secrets spill out of their coffins in the hallowed hours of the darkest night. Blood splatters the walls of the haunted house until cries of depraved pleasure wipe away sins and horrors past.

But what will happen when dawn rises, locking the gates of hell once and for all?

The rules are clear. Pain for pain. Blood for blood. Death for death.

Wed To The Lich

Every living thing is repelled by my corpse-like body… but not my wife.

Liches are almost gone, only a handful of us left. I must marry to keep my race from extinction, yet how? No living female will ever stoop so low as to marry a lich. People fear us. They say we are the harbingers of death, bad luck, rot and decomposition.

In one last bid to carry out my duty, I request a wife through the Temple. She turns out to be a neglected, sickly thing with trembling hands and downcast eyes, seeking an arranged marriage out of despair.

And she’s perfect. Her blushes burn hot, her voice rings with feeling, and her kisses taste like summer. She is life personified, all warmth, light, and sweetness, and I crave her like darkness craves the sun.

But will she sacrifice her warm, beating heart to a creature of death like me?