Gloam (Monstrous, #4)

by Lily Mayne

I wasn’t used to seeing Ghost be a hopeless mess over anything but his own internalised fears and worries, so it was a nice change.

Did he not see that most monsters weren’t so different to us—that they just wanted to live?

We are word-hoarders, my kind. We read all we can, learn every language we can. It is why we came here. To learn.

“I know, and I love you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But… you worry about everything, Ghost. Sometimes that much worry is crippling.”

Maybe I just had a thing for strong protector types. Maybe that said something about me, or my childhood, or whatever it was that people liked to insist was the root cause for all of someone’s issues and kinks and preferences. I didn’t know for certain, and I didn’t particularly care.

There were some that wanted to eat humans, sure, but I’d always seen that as no different to humans eating cows or pigs or chickens. We were just lower in the food chain to some of them. The only difference was, we weren’t used to it.

Was this what happened to some humans when they were left without true guidance for long enough? When everything around them crumbled and their carefully crafted world and belief systems turned to dust? Were they so desperate for some form of structure, to be told what to do and how to act, that they would willingly sink to these levels?

His trembling hands came up to cup the back of my head as I wept into his skin like a baby. I knew I was being selfish—this wasn’t about me. I wasn’t the one who had been horrifically maimed. But the horror of what he’d been put through, combined with the relief at finally getting that cage off, made me weak.

I did love him. I loved him so much it hurt. He was so gentle and kind and smart. Strong—not just physically, but mentally, even after all he’d been put through. He had protected me so much. Looked after me. And I realised… I realised that I looked after him too. That I wasn’t too stupid or useless to be of value to him in return. It wasn’t a one-sided thing, where he gave and I just took. I had given him companionship out here. And affection. And hope.

“Keep talking,” I mumbled, breathing in the scent of his skin. “You’ve had to listen to me talk shit for weeks without being able to tell me to shut up.” “I hung on every word you said,” Gloam told me, his mouth moving against my hair. “There is no sound I enjoy more.”

“And like the lion,”—Gloam reached out and cupped my chin—“I will be loyal to you always, my Adam. I will never leave your side.”

I tried to push away the doubt that I would be enough for him as I kissed him back. I tried to believe his words, because he had only ever been honest with me, even when there were things he couldn’t say. He’d never called me stupid. Or an idiot. He’d never, ever made me feel small or less just because he was incredibly intelligent and strong and just… more. He made me feel like I could be more.

hate what you have gone through for me. I hate that you walked away from everything you knew for me. But I am weak, because I cannot bring myself to regret any of it.”

“You are my greatest weakness—not my true name, or any compulsion I can be put under. But you are the one I gladly carry. I would do anything for you, just as you have done everything for me.”

“Why would he not want to come with us?” I threw my back arm around his shoulders. “We’re the best. Monsterfuckers and proud of it.”

Every time I remembered it was gone, I wanted to find Adam and cling to him. Enfold his body in my arms and never let go. Life had felt so very bleak for so long.

Humans were strange and flawed creatures, but they loved wholeheartedly.