Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)

by J.T. Geissinger

“I’ll pass. Puking in public isn’t a good look for me.” She scoffs. “I know for a fact you’ve never puked in your life. You have zero gag reflex.” “That’s a very strange thing to know about me.” “There are no secrets here, babe. We’ve been best friends since before we had pubes.” I say drily, “How touching. I can see the Hallmark card now.”

“Your pirate just hit the restroom,” I say, sliding into my chair. “If you’re fast, you can catch him on the way out for a quickie in a dark corner of the hallway before he takes you back to the Black Pearl for more ravagement.”

“Okay, but I’m warning you right now, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” “Babe, I know you well enough to keep my hands at a safe distance when you’re eating. Remember that time we shared a bowl of popcorn while we watched The Notebook? I almost lost a finger.” “I can’t wait until we’re old and you have dementia. This photographic memory of yours is the worst.” “Why am I gonna be the one with dementia? You’re the one who refuses to eat a vegetable!” “I’m about to have some smashed avocadoes. Doesn’t that count?” “An avocado is a fruit, genius.” “It’s green, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Then it’s a veggie.” Sloane shakes her head. “You’re hopeless.”

Focused on me with startling intensity, those eyes don’t move or blink. But oh, how darkly they burn.

Sloane says, “Actually, since you’re here, Diane, maybe you could weigh in on the discussion Nat and I were having when you came over. We’d love to get your insight on the topic.” Diane preens, patting her hair. “Why, of course! As you know, I have quite a broad array of knowledge on various issues. Ask away.” This should be good. I sip my wine, trying not to smile. With a straight face, Sloane says, “Anal. Yes or no?” There’s a frozen pause, then Diane chirps, “Oh, look, there’s Margie Howland. I haven’t seen her in ages. I should say hello.” She rises and hurries off with a breathless, “Bye now!”

You’ve dated three guys in the last five years, none of whom you had sex with. At least if you were a nun, you’d get to have sex with Jesus.” “I don’t think that’s how that works. Also, I have plenty of sex. With myself. And my battery-operated friends. Relationships are just too complicated.”

If only she weren’t so goddamn beautiful. I don’t like to break beautiful things.

“Don’t sass me, young lady, or you’re grounded.” “Ha.” “And I’ll take away all your electronic devices.” She snickers. “Especially the vibrating ones.”

“You are beautiful,” comes the hard reply. “But it has nothing to do with that fussy fucking dress.”

“Interrupt me again and I’ll take you over my knee right here and spank that perfect ass of yours until you’re screaming.”

“Calm down.” “I will not. I’m indignant on behalf of sex-starved women everywhere.” “Excuse me, but the only sex-starved person on this phone call is me.”

“Also, it would break your tragic dry spell. It might even help you move on. Think of it like therapy.” “Therapy?” “For your vagina.” “Oh my god.”

“He wouldn’t want this for you. You’ll honor his memory much more by being happy than by staying stuck.” My lower lip quivers. My voice goes high and wavering. “Dammit. Why do you always have to be right?” Then I break down and start to sob. “I’m coming over. Be there in ten.”

Love best friends

“I’ll call them right now. Thanks again, Chris. It was nice to see you.” I’m about to close the door, but he stops me by blurting, “I think I made a mistake.” God, why do you hate me? Was it something I did? Do you disapprove of all the vibrators?

“You’re not even a little bit smarter than me.” “Am, too.” “Are not.” Sounding smug, she shoots back, “Yes, I am, and I have proof.” I mutter, “I can hardly wait to hear this.” “Your Honor, I present to the court the following irrefutable evidence: the defendant’s vagina.” I scoff. “How lovely. Do you have visual aids to accompany this exhibit?” She breezes right past that. “Which the defendant has been pummeling nonstop with personal pleasure devices set to their high settings since she met one Kage … whatever his last name is. Tell me I’m wrong.” I say crossly, “What’s your obsession with my vagina?” Now she sounds even more smug. “That’s what I thought.” “For your information, counselor, I haven’t used any battery-operated devices since I met the man.” “Hmm. Just your fingers, huh?” “Be gone, evil witch.” “Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.” “Why does every phone call with you end with me wanting to find a tall building to jump off?” She laughs. “That’s love, babe. If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t real.”

Their friendship cracks me up

“I’ve never met a beautiful woman who bakes.” I find that even more irritating. Because one, I don’t like backhanded compliments, two, skill with baking has absolutely nothing to do with a woman’s looks, and three, he makes it sound like beautiful women are draped all over him wherever he goes. Which they probably are, but still. I don’t like the idea. I say tartly, “And I’ve never met an eight-foot-tall debt collector who launders money through real estate and flies a plane into a closed airport during a snowstorm, so we’re even.” He grins. It’s breathtaking. He says, “Six foot six. Are you the jealous type?”

“I want everything you have to give, Natalie, for as long as you want to give it to me.”

“May I ask you a favor?” “Anything.” “Would it be possible for you to dial it down a few thousand notches?” “It?” “Your blistering machismo. It really messes with my equilibrium. I honestly don’t know how to properly respond to the use of the word ‘dick’ within five seconds of the start of a conversation. Especially when it’s accompanied by ‘rock hard.’ I must’ve missed that day in etiquette class.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time.” “Oh god. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I hate pity more than anything else in the world.” “It’s not pity. It’s empathy.” “I’m not sure they’re so different.” “They are. One is condescending. The other is understanding what someone’s going through because you’ve been there. And you wouldn’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone else. And you wish you could make it better.”

“I’m not going to play games with you. I won’t try to keep you guessing. I’ve told you what I feel and what I want. I’ll keep doing that until you feel safe enough to take the next step or you’ve had enough of it and tell me to fuck off. “There’s no need to be nervous around me. I’m the least unpredictable man you’ve ever met. What I want from you won’t change if you say the wrong thing. It won’t change if you gain weight or cut your hair or decide to go vegan. It won’t change even if you say you never want to see me again and we go our separate ways. I’d honor that request, but it wouldn’t make me stop wanting you. But you should know…” He hesitates. “You should know that I’m not a good man.”

“This is who I am. The only bad thing I don’t do is lie. I’ll never lie to you, even if I know you’ll fucking hate it.”

“My whole life, I’ve been good. I made all the right decisions. I didn’t do anything foolish or wild. Even when I was a kid, I followed all the rules. None of that protected me from the worst of what life had to offer. Being good didn’t keep me from being hurt, or being depressed, or wishing more days than not that I had the guts to kill myself to escape the pain. “That you’re honest enough to tell me what you just did … I suppose it should make me afraid, but instead it makes me feel safer. It makes me want to trust you. Because the truth is always so much harder than making up something pretty. I’d rather have the ugly truth than a beautiful lie.

“So either don’t tell me your secrets or don’t make me fall in love with you. Because once I fall in, even death can’t make me fall out.”

“What’s the other one? The signet thingie.” He slides it off his finger and holds it out to her. She takes it, then examines it with quirked lips. “Memento mori,” she reads. “What does that mean?” “Remember death.”

“Remember death? That’s morbid.” “It’s Latin. Literally translated, it’s ‘Remember that you must die.’ Legend goes that ancient Roman emperors used to hire slaves to whisper it in their ears during victory parades so they’d be reminded that earthly pleasures are fleeting. That no matter how powerful or great a man was, death would eventually find him.”

“You’re thinking the term ‘ravishing beauty’ doesn’t gel with your blistering machismo, am I right?” “I mean, I guess it’s flattering.” He sounds disturbed. I stifle a laugh, trying to play serious. “Except?” “Except it makes me sound like a debutante in a regency romance novel.” It’s my turn to be disturbed. “How the hell do you know what a regency romance novel is?” “I have eclectic taste in literature.” Incredulous, I rear up onto an elbow and stare at him. He’s smiling at me lazily, looking smug. I say flatly, “You read romance.” He pretends innocence, widening his eyes. “Why? Is that not something a ‘real’ man should do?”

Not lies, but secrets—a lot of them—and distance, all in the name of keeping me safe. Screw it. If that’s the price for being with him, I’ll pay it. I spent too long walking through my days as a zombie to pass up this electric new life, even if it does have its dark sides. All fairy tales do.

“You’ll be sending me an allowance now, is that what I’m hearing?” “Yes.” “Great. I’ll take it in gold bars, please. I’ve always wanted to stack them into a giant pyramid in the living room to see if I can communicate with aliens.”

“That’s where people go when they need to feel better: home.” “But your home is in New York.” “Home can be a person, too. That’s what you are for me.”

I have no idea where this dark part of me has been sleeping, how it’s lain dormant in my heart for so long, but Kage’s story has awoken something hard and flinty in my bones. A creature that believes the ends justify the means, no matter how bloody.

I can’t lose her. If ever I do, I’ll burn the whole world to the ground before following her into the dark.

Add the mafia as the cherry on top of our fucked-up sundae, and you’ve got a tragedy in the making.

“I’m a ride or die. All in or nothing. It doesn’t matter where we live or how far apart we are. I’m yours. You make your vows in blood, but I make them with my heart. And my heart belongs to you now. I don’t need a picket fence or picnics in the park. I only need what you give me. And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.” After a moment, he says roughly, “Which is?” “Yourself.”

He cups my face in his hands and turns it up so I’m looking at him. His eyes are shadowed. His voice comes very soft. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Giving me something to live for.”

“I love you, bossy man. You’re my life now. Come back to me soon.” I have to disconnect without answering. I can’t. Because for the first time since I was a boy, I’m fighting back tears.

“Listen to me now,” he says urgently, gazing down into my eyes. “If that ever happens, if he ever comes to me with that order, I won’t do it. I’ll disobey him. I’ll never be with anyone else but you.” Struggling not to cry, I say, “But you took a vow. You told me you’d have to—” “I’d kill him before I’d betray you. I’d burn his whole empire to the ground before I’d turn my back on the woman I love.”

It’s too bad I’m not the kind of man who prays. I could really use a higher power’s help right now.

“He lied to me.” She’s unimpressed. “Puh. He’s a man. Just withhold sex for a week or two and he’ll never lie again.” “It’s inappropriate to punish someone by withholding sex.” “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the most powerful tool in your arsenal.”

His voice rough, Kage says, “If ten carats aren’t enough, I’ll return it for a bigger one.” I close my eyes and drop my head to his chest, curling my hand around the ring. My heart in my throat and my soul flying, I whisper, “Ten carats? So tiny. God, you’re a cheapskate, gangster.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” When I don’t answer, he prompts impatiently, “Use your colors, stubborn girl.” A tear slipping down my cheek, I whisper, “Green, honey. All the green in the universe.”

She’s still wearing the wedding dress. Our gazes catch and hold, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she feels it, too. The need. The connection. But most of all, the danger. This is a new chapter of a very old book, and there’s no predicting how the story will end. I’m too much of a realist to imagine it will be happy, but I’m too far gone to care. Natalie Peterson is the brightest flame, and I’m the moth flying straight into her fire. Okay, baby. Let’s see how hot we’re gonna burn.