Moth (Monstrous, #5)

by Lily Mayne

He was irritatingly attractive. Even the back of him was. The wide shoulders and long legs. The sword. Why was the sword so hot? He should have looked like a douche.

Yeah, I was attracted to Moth, even though he was an asshole most of the time and in love with a raider. And I was pretty sure that he was attracted to me too, even just a little. I was also pretty sure that he hated it.

“Whoops,” he said. My lips parted on a stunned little puff of breath. I turned to face him. “Whoops?” He quirked a brow at me. “Well, did you mean to kill him?” “Of course not!” “So it was an accident.”

“I know how difficult it must have been to let yourself be that vulnerable with me. I’m… It means a lot that you trust me enough. You’re really brave, Moth.”

“I love every part of you,” I told him. “You’re perfect.”

“Sorry I was so annoying.” “You weren’t.” His voice was muffled against my neck. “I just hate everyone.” He was silent for a moment, before he croaked, “I don’t hate you.”

I tried to fuss over him, which he seemed to secretly enjoy, even as he rolled his eyes and told me he was fine.

My gut clenched with a heavy throb of want. Not just for his body. Not just for sex. For him. I wanted him. Like wasn’t a strong enough word for what I felt for him, but love felt too strong just yet. But… I was pretty sure I could. Love him.

Fuck people. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need anyone else—that I’d stay with him. That I liked him—more than liked him—just the way he was. Prickly, defensive attitude, arrogance and all.

I loved everything about him that was different to my body, and I… I was starting to believe him when he said he loved the differences in my body too.

“Run away from the humans next time,” I told it flatly. “They’re all shit. Except for one.”

A tiny part of me hated myself for naming the monkey creature.

At least I’d had him for a little while. At least I knew what it was like to want someone so fiercely it consumed me, and to be wanted back.

Everything in me rebelled at the thought of him even talking to the quiet, unassuming raider, which was ridiculous and needy and way too possessive—worryingly possessive.

My mouth quirked. I wanted to chuckle every time Moth called Hunter my “big angry friend”. It was pretty apt.

Chuck loped along behind us with a chirp, and I glanced back to give her a smile even as I wondered how we could get rid of her for a little while. Lovingly. I wondered it lovingly. But still.

“Okay,” I rasped. “I talked a big game but I’m not actually all that great at deepthroating, so you’ll have to be patient with me.”

“Ah.” He shot me an impressed look. “A cagin. A tough foe. You are very strong, Moth. Don’t worry about the lack of horns. You don’t need them.”