Some Kind of Monster (Friends with the Monsters, #2)

by Albany Walker

Grim’s breath hisses through his parted lips. “It’s been too long since I’ve touched you.” He plants one hand on the wall above my head before freeing my wrist, running his fingers across my collarbone and then gliding them down my chest until he presses his palm between my breasts. His eyes close as the tip of his finger taps out the rhythm of my pounding heart.

Grim drags this kind of intimacy from me at every turn. When I want to rush and just feel his skin against mine, he forces me to slow down and absorb the small moments. With my hand still wrapped around his length, I shift to stroke him. Grim’s jaw tics, telling me he’s grinding his teeth, but it still doesn’t spur him into action.

I feel a small sigh leave his chest before he answers. “They dissolve

slowly over time, until nothing remains but the shades.” I shiver. “Why would they choose that?” I breathe. “They are trapped by the fear of where they would go if they crossed. We’re not talking about people who lived good lives, Damiana. Most of those shades are dark witches or humans who behaved more like monsters than any of the creatures you call your friends.” “So they choose this instead of Hell?” I lean back so I can see his face. “They choose this over the chance of going to Hell,” he corrects with all too knowing eyes.

“I assumed you stripped the souls and released them. There aren’t many who are able to hold on to it. The natural process is for it to be disbursed, to move on to the next place.”

you.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not having an existential crisis here, Loverboy. I’m asking what I am. What kind of monster am I?” I clarify. Grim lifts his chin in understanding. “You are the daughter of Lilith, a goddess of life.”

“Help me understand why that matters,” he requests with genuine concern.

“Perception is reality.” He blinks slowly. “Many beings that we consider to be Charmed exist because someone, or many someones, believed them into reality. One does not exist without the other.”

“What stories do you know of Lilith?”

“She was beautiful, curious, and uncontainable, but not evil.” “Did you know her?” I accuse, jealousy darkening my voice. “We existed at the same time,” he answers cryptically. “That doesn’t answer my question.” I lower my chin and give him a scowl. “You called her beautiful.”

“In the same way a tidal wave is beautiful, chaotic and destructive, but still stunning,” Grim reasons. “So… she was evil?” “Not any more than you or me. We just are.” I rub my temple at Grim’s non-answer. “But you’re making my point. Your perception, along with everyone else’s, influences manifestations. You consume sins for substance because that is what one would expect from the daughter of Lilith.”

“But I didn’t know I was Lilith’s daughter.” “Yet you are, just as I am Death. Consuming sins doesn’t make you evil, any more than reaping souls makes me evil. It just helps you thrive on the perception of those that believe there is more to this world than what is clearly visible. Without that belief, most of us would cease to exist.” “So, is she still alive?” I bite my lip. I’m not sure I ever want to meet the wo...

“You are born of her. You are her daughter,”

“I have never in my life met anyone who owns what they are more than you, Dami. Knowing your origins doesn’t change who you are.” I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment, but it somehow feels like one. “I was born from Greek mythology, and Gunnar was changed from a human to a tool of vengeance for a witch. Does that change anything about us? No!” he answers his own question.

“It’s custom…” Calix shakes his head. “More like a law, I guess. In the shifter community, if your mate dies, you have three months to mourn: no challenges, no duties. That goes for the alpha or any other pack members.”

“No worries. Just make sure you tell your friend. I wouldn’t want to kill her over a misunderstanding.” I chuckle. Don scrunches up his nose and tilts his head to the side. “You’re remarkably straightforward, and a little strange,” he comments hesitantly. “Astute observation. We have to run along now.

A path clears for Grim, and silence follows in his wake. As he grows closer, I can see the dense

fabric of his cloak is darker at the hem, soaked with blood.

“Yeah, so it sucks that you don’t trust me. It makes me feel like you think I take this for granted. I get that you guys got the raw end of the deal when it comes to getting me as your mate, considering I got all of you, but I wouldn’t do that to you, not to any of you.”

“The Nemean and Berserker think you want to be

left alone because we’re idiots, but I think you already know we are idiots and we should be begging for your forgiveness.”

“You may not possess me, because I am my own, but I give myself to you freely. I pledge your name will be the only name I cry out for.” “Did you just marry her?” Calix stomps over, incredulous. “Aye,” Gunnar confirms. “You didn’t even ask her.” “She’s accepted my gifts, and I’ve spoken the vow.”