Lor (Monstrous, #7)

by Lily Mayne

“Remember the legends about the salyik chieftain’s strange mate? The unknown creature that appeared from nowhere? They had to have come from somewhere. Why not some… other world?”

There were still rumours to this day that one had survived whatever fate befell them that day. Travelling folk insisted on seeing a lone isdernuc wandering the lands, sometimes in the company of one of the telyths—the ghoulish creatures from a forgotten age.

The longer I had been Moric, the lonelier and more isolated I felt.

“Because I like my hair.” He shrugged, but then his eyes gleamed as he added, “I like getting it pulled.” I made a sound of disgust in the back of my throat, reaching over to shove his shoulder. “You’re a beast.” Lyri chuckled. “That’s what the guards tell me.”

and to tell me that there was nothing wrong with not wanting sex or romance at all. Except I did. I wanted both of those things. I didn’t want to be alone forever.

And its ears were tiny. Rounded at the top. I eyed them in alarm. Had someone maimed it? How cruel.

Part of its body—an arm or front leg, I had no idea if it walked on all fours or not—came

“I’m not hurting it, it’s just…” He huffed, grabbing back on to the creature’s leg and tugging again. “Squirmy.” “It’s scared!” “Well if it stopped wriggling about so much, I wouldn’t have to—” Lyri succeeded in flipping the creature onto its belly and pinned its front legs together behind its back. “There.”

“Gittov—Omigawdwaddafukwaddafuk.” “Do you think that’s its… war cry?” Lyri asked, cocking his head as he stared down at the creature. “Or a distress call?”

soft. Doesn’t seem to have any weapons. Where would it even store them?” “That doesn’t mean anything!” I spluttered. “It could… spit venom! Or breathe fire!”

“Pliz,” he blurted when he saw me looking at him. “Juzpliz lehmigoh. Pliz, pliz, pliz—” “He’s chanting something.” Lyri sounded wary. “What is it? A curse? Is he cursing us? Stop it!”

That was part of my charm—rolling with the punches, never getting beaten down, always being fun and up for anything.

And I was the first one to go! The first one to go was always the loser—the one no one cared about dying. What the hell?

Oh my god, were these… were these aliens? Had they portalled me out of the forest to abduct me and experiment on me? Was that why they were looking at my dick? Were they going to experiment on my dick?

This is a weird spaceship, I vacantly thought, but then two werewolves walked in, and I passed out.

What is he? “He’s certainly a strange thing to look at.”

I started screaming the moment I came to.

The one who had given me that terrible, bloodthirsty smile like they just couldn’t wait to mess around with my junk—and not in a good way.

“T-tings,” the beautiful one said, and his cheeks darkened to near-black in what might have been a blush when the other hissed out a laugh and nudged him with his elbow.

The beautiful one lifted his chin, looking so regal and perfect in an otherworldly way that I stared at him, dumbstruck for a second.

At least she had gotten to see Lyri shape his body into the man he had always been. She had immediately called for the royal healthkeeper when he finally told her, years after he had told me, his hand sweating in mine the night we had gone to her chamber for him to finally tell her that he was her son, not her daughter.

But that was life. Cruel and unfair and confusing. Not even the crystallised flowers of the layth vines had helped her.

I found myself staring at him, taking everything in. His nose was fairly big, and more rounded than the sharp edge of a vint nose. His jaw was wider too, and his pink lips were full in a way that was oddly distracting.

I grew sad yet again at the sight of those rounded off ears. Was he born like that, or had someone disfigured him? What odd, tiny little ears.

I was just a strange creature to him, as he was to me.

And underneath it was something warm and soft, something that made me want to draw his scent into my lungs and hold it there.

Why was I feeling… sad about never seeing this creature again?

My chest ached with the desire to know what he had just said—to understand him.

I stood in silence, not quite sure why my throat was closing up with sorrow, as I watched him step through the void and vanish forever.

The… the monster—the beautiful one with the beads in his hair—had given me his robe. And I was still wearing it.

I didn’t hate my dad—I didn’t think I had it in me to hate anyone—but I didn’t like him. He was a bad father and a cold person. That didn’t stop me wishing he loved me though.

I kept looking down at the object in my hands to hide my confusing disappointment. Shouldn’t I be pleased that the creature had made it back safely to his world—his home?

Even if it was a little ruined, it was still a rare treasure. I wanted to keep it safe—to keep it on display so I could gaze at it often and remember the surreal night that a mysterious creature fell into my hyll.

The robe didn’t smell like him anymore, and how much of a weirdo was I to have sniffed it constantly until the scent had completely faded? I could still remember it though—smoky and herbal, like lavender on a bonfire.

You might not be able to find it again. You didn’t even find it the first time. You just fell directly into it like a loser.

they flexed before starting to retreat, vanishing back inside the portal. Panic streaked through me. No. He was leaving. He couldn’t… he couldn’t leave.

Juhgz. Was it… his name? Was he telling me his name? My heart leapt with excitement. “Lor,” I told him. “My name is Lor. Lor.”

His name was Juhgz. What an odd name—so unusual and exotic. I wondered if it held any special meaning in his world, in his language. Maybe it was a noble name, like mine.

I felt like I was floating the next day. The creature had returned. He had touched my hand. He had smiled at me and laughed and stayed to talk.

“He is…” I could feel my expression turning dreamy, and I could do nothing to stop it. “His name is Juhgz.”

“Are you smitten with him? With the otherworld creature?”

“What? N-no, of course not!” “You are.” Lyri laughed in disbelief, leaning back in his seat. “Look at you. Look at your face. You’re smitten.”

“My face is normal!” “Well I for one have never seen that expression on it before. Have you, Seis? Gryf?”

“Mm.” Lyri quirked a brow at me with a smirk. “Because that is why you want to be able to understand him. Not so you can woo him with sweet words.”

My interest in him should extend no further than curiosity over our differences, not this… this aching pressure in my chest. This desperate need to see him again. To hear his musical voice. To simply be near him.

I had finally found someone who made my chest flutter with sweet, breathless anticipation, and he was a mysterious being from another world.

“Lor,” I repeated, my face burning as I said, “It’s pretty.” “It is what?” He cocked his head. I cleared my throat. “Um, pretty. Your name is pretty.”

“I like them,” he told me imperiously, then reached out and lightly touched my pierced lobe. “So small and kaamy. Dainty.”

He gave me a sweet smile, and my heart practically burst.

He huffed. “Yes, actually. I heard you’d asked the cook to make lokl for dinner. Dessert for dinner, my dear brother? Someone’s feeling rebellious. I wanted to join you.”