Empusa's Hunger: A Reverse Harem Romance (Monsters and Gargoyles Book 8) Read online

  Except he was too big and too muscular to be a model. Not as big as the gargoyles by any means. Those two were like fucking football players. So big that doors weren’t properly made to accommodate their sizes, but still big.

  “I’m Conley,” he says, with a hesitant smile. “And you are way too comfortable with all of this.”

  His gaze goes to my claws, and his brows rise.

  “I’m not exactly human,” I whisper, even though he clearly already picked up on that.

  Hell, maybe I should have waited to say that until I was on the ground. If Phoenix-boy is working with the gargoyles, that might make us enemies by proxy. But I guess if it did, I’d know when I hit the ground.

  “Either am I,” he said with a shrug, surprising me.

  And then, reality comes crashing back in.

  “We have to go back!”

  Why did I even let him take me? Why did I get distracted by his good looks? That’s not the purpose of my life, not even in my wildest dreams.

  “Back?” he asks, looking confused.

  “That asshole can hurt the gargoyles with his powers!”

  He shrugs again. “They can handle it.”

  Or they won’t, and their lives will be lost because of me. Because I led a monster into the woods and didn’t have the stones to take him out.

  My mom was hurt over and over in her attempts to protect me. I’d never again let someone be hurt to protect me. And that included these guys.

  I retract my claws and glare at him. “Take me back. Now!”

  “Why?” he looks confused.

  Maybe I’m a little confused too. “They don’t have dark souls… I have to… I have to get back and keep them safe.”

  “We were there to rescue you,” he tells me as if I’m not very bright.

  Like I’m some maiden who needs rescuing...

  “Take me back,” I tell him, and there’s a threat in my voice this time.

  He studies me for a second, and then we switch directions. He flies faster, and I have to hold back a shriek as I finally look down at the woods far below us. My heart is back to racing like crazy, and I realize I’ve got a death-grip on his shirt a few moments too late, then force myself to release him.

  We shoot through a space between trees and land, and he lands, slowly letting my feet touch the ground, but still holding me close. Not far in front of us, I can see the red lightning.

  I shove out of his arm and start toward the light.

  He grabs my wrist, and I look back at him. Our eyes lock for a painfully long moment where I feel like he’s evaluating me. Deciding if I’m just going to get myself killed. I give him that one second before, regardless of what conclusion he comes to, I’m jumping back into the fight. But then, he releases me, and I bolt straight toward danger, trying not to think about what the phoenix saw when he looked at me.

  What I see next takes me by surprise. Three gargoyles are on their knees, with the psycho blasting deep red lightning at them like he’s trying to shatter them.

  I don’t think, I just act. My claws are already elongating before I leap onto his back. He makes a small sound, and then I slash his throat.

  The lightning stops. Almops tumbles onto his knees, and then down onto the ground.

  A human would bleed out and die very quickly from this wound. A near-immortal monstrous child of a God would heal. Eventually. And I’m not someone who lets my enemies get a second crack at me.

  And yet, I need to get the hell out of here.

  “You’ll remove his head?” I ask the phoenix, as soon as he comes through the trees, even though he’s staring at me like he doesn’t know what I am.

  The phoenix just keeps glancing between me and the asshole with wide eyes, while the only sound is that of the gargoyles gasping in pained breaths. Damn it! Staying here with angry gargoyles is not a good idea, but neither is trusting someone else to do what needs to be done.

  I feel annoyance rush through me, grab my dagger from my belt, and start sawing his throat. When his head finally comes clean, I’m covered in blood. I toss the head to the side and wince as my back screams in protest again. I’ll have to check out what the jerk did when I’m alone. Cleaning my knife off in the grass, I resheath it, then try to wipe as much of the blood from my hands and arms as I can.

  “What the hell are you?” I hear one of the gargoyles growl.

  He’s trying to get to his feet but keeps falling back down. I can’t quite see this one’s face in the shadows, but I can hear the threat in his voice. The phoenix goes to help them, but the instant he turns his back on me, I do the only thing I can think of… I take off running.

  They shout after me, but I don’t hear anyone following me.

  Still, I don’t slow. I make it to my car in the parking lot, a car I “borrowed” from one of the assholes I killed, and race out of the parking lot.

  I might not know if the gargoyles have dark souls, even if I suspect they don’t, but I did know that they’d think I have one. And the last thing I want to do is to try to kill three gargoyles and a phoenix.

  I’m tough, but no one is that tough.

  Still, the whole drive out of that shit town, I keep glancing out my rearview mirror at the sky. Chances are they’re cleaning up the body in the woods. But when they’re done, I have no doubt they’ll come for me.

  And I spent too many years being prey. I’m not about to become prey again. No matter how handsome the gargoyles might be.

  Chapter 3

  Conley

  * * *

  I’m the lookout. Which is unfortunately pretty standard. Until these gargoyles, I never felt tiny and petite. Even amongst the other phoenixes, I was considered to be huge. But not with these guys. Every time there’s heavy lifting to be done, they tell me to go keep an eye out for any trouble.

  It’s a little insulting. But I’m not going to say a word.

  There’s a strange tension between us that’s hard to explain. I was their prisoner for more years than I can count. For so long that the world looked like an entirely new place by the time I was set free. But being in that prison cell, guarded by Lucas and Rokad, we created more than just an alliance between us.

  I would say we even became friends.

  But that friendship had its limits. Every time I broached the subject of them letting me free. When I’d ask them to just tell the gargoyle council to screw it and open the locks on my cage, they grew guarded again. They said a gargoyle was nothing without his honor, and they’d given their word.

  Their word. It tumped the bond we created, and that was hard not to be hurt by.

  But when they awoke their brother Narath and shared with me the deal the gargoyle council had offered… if I fought the monsters that escaped the Underworld with them, they’d let me free. I’d agreed. I’d given them my word. And so, they’d let me go.

  The problem is simple. My word isn’t like the word of a gargoyle. I’ve broken it a thousand times before. All I have to do is wait to be alone and then leave these gargoyles and return home. It’s that easy. And they aren’t exactly watching me closely.

  So why don’t leave?

  It’s because this situation is fucked up. Narath doesn’t like me. Gargoyles and phoenixes are traditionally enemies. But Lucas and Rokad treat me like a brother.

  No one has ever treated me like family, not even my own family.

  So am I here because of my word? Because in this new world I’m scared and not sure what to do? Because I wonder if I return to the phoenixes if they’ll even let me come back? Or is it simply because of my bond with two of the triplets?

  I didn’t know. And I want to know, so I’ve stayed.

  A motion near me draws my eye. A moment late, Rokad lands on the branch beside me. He’s not in his stone form, but he does have his wings. And when he’s like this, it almost feels like we’re both the same. At least, I can pretend a little.

  “What was she?”

  Ah, the woman. I didn’t have a fucki
ng clue. A nymph? A goddess? No. There’s something… different about her. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “But she wasn’t human, not with those claws.” He looks toward me, waiting.

  I almost speak, but then hold back. Technically, the gargoyles are triplets and look very alike. But they’re all their own people. Rokad has the darkest hair and the darkest eyes. His build is somewhere in the middle of Narath, who looks like a titan on steroids, and Lucas, who could pass for a human football player. But of the three, he was the most reasonable. The thinker. He liked to plan things out ten steps ahead in every situation, and he took my opinion seriously, so I didn’t want to just spew out whatever disorganized crap had come to my mind.

  “No, she wasn’t, but she also didn’t seem… bad.”

  He tilts his head in that way that means he’s considering my words. “Why do you say that? She killed that bastard without hesitation.”

  It’s a gut instinct more than anything, but Rokad doesn’t understand things like that. If it isn’t a fact, it doesn’t matter. “She asked me to take her back to you. She didn’t want any of you to get hurt.”

  “To get hurt? Didn’t she realize what we were? And why would she care if strangers got hurt?”

  I smile. “Exactly. The only answer seems to be that she has a conscious.”

  His brows draw together. “Interesting. A female who can fight and has a moral compass. With claws.”

  “But she doesn’t really matter, right?” I ask, studying him. “We’re just on a mission to kill monsters. Nothing else.”

  He hesitates before speaking, which makes my stomach flutter. A small part of me wanted these gargoyles to realize that we weren’t just tools for their council. That we could have a life out here together, if they wanted. And that maybe if the stoic Rokad found a woman such as the one we met tonight, interesting, maybe he could find other women interesting too.

  Maybe… maybe then it wouldn’t just be me desperately wanting a life with them. There would be something outside of me creating a bond between us. Maybe a woman could be the thing to give them a reason to want more.

  And then, he speaks, dashing my hopes away. “You’re right. She doesn’t matter. We just need to focus on the next monster.”

  Damn gargoyles. Can’t they be a little less responsible?

  “Right.”

  We sit together in silence before I see the black smoke rise above the trees. The others were burning the body, using some special herbs we have to leave no evidence of what happened. And after this? We’d kill again.

  That’s what I have with these men. A mission to kill. Nothing else.

  So why am I holding onto them, hoping for something more?

  My mother was right, I am fucked up.

  Chapter 4

  Empusa

  * * *

  Within the space of a few weeks, I continue my new quest of killing people with dark souls. Just two. But it’s enough. What’s strange about this is that all I wanted since getting free from the Underworld was to no longer be forced to wait at crossroads for bad men, but now I’m actively seeking them out. It’s as if I have no idea what to do with true freedom.

  Actually, that’s exactly what it is.

  I’m in another shithole small town. I have the money from the wallets of the two assholes I’d killed in my pocket, and I’m still driving the truck I’d taken from the last guy. I always tried to get rid of the stolen vehicles as soon as I could. Not only wasn’t I a good driver, so I figured eventually I’d get caught… with no ID and no clear connection to the cars, but I also didn’t like the auras of anything related to the dark souls I killed.

  They feel tainted and slimy. Every time I step out of the damn truck I feel like I have to shake off the gross feeling that moves across my skin. I have no doubt it has to do with my demon side. But the thing is, it doesn’t matter. Maybe demons have to be able to sense these things to be able to find their “people,” but there’s enough of my mother in me that I might be drawn to the darkness, but I didn’t want to dance in it.

  “Another round?”

  I glance up from my booth and spot the waitress, a young thing with thinning hair. “Nah, I’ll wait for my meal.”

  She gives me a strained smile and moves away.

  It kind of hurts. I feel like I’m working on my people skills, but I still scare everyone normal away. It’s not like I’m flashing my claws and spitting blood, so what am I doing wrong?

  A man enters the bar, and I’m so hyper-aware of him that it shocks me. My gaze jerks to the door, and I’m damned sure he was one of the gargoyles that night. It’s like someone has punched through my skin and into my gut and is slowly turning their fist. I want to get up to leave, and yet, I want to stay.

  His dark gaze moves over the room, then freezes as it lands on me. I see shock on his face, and some of my anxiety eases. If he didn’t expect to see me here, he’s probably not hunting me. Maybe he was even drawn to this town when he heard about all the missing children, just like I had been.

  He starts to walk across the room and the noisy bar grows quieter. I sense every eye on him as the huge man makes his way toward me. In a strange way, it’s like watching a lion moving. Every other animal senses that they’re in the presence of something dangerous, and yet, all the lion is doing is walking.

  When he stops in front of my booth, he seems uncertain. “Can I join you?”

  What the hell? A monster and a gargoyle sharing a drink? That’s kind of weird. And yet, I say, “yes.”

  His hulking body folds into the booth across from me, and his dark eyes cling to me. I’m a little startled by how handsome he is. Most big men seem like the type who have trouble turning their necks, and their faces lose… I don’t know, something. Grant it, the only “big” men I’ve seen up until the gargoyles were demons and prisoners in the Underworld, so maybe that had something to do with it.

  But this man isn’t like that at all. His face is smooth with a hard jaw, and his eyes are intelligent. He looks nimble and like a well-made sculpture rather than a bodybuilder. It’s almost unsettling how proportion and handsome he is.

  “I’m Rokad,” he says.

  “I go by Em,” I tell him.

  “Em,” my name rolls off his tongue in a way that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  The waitress is back, dropping my plate in front of me. “Oh, does your friend want something?”

  “It’s on me,” I offer. Well, technically, it’s on the guy who liked to beat women, a man who was now a dead body in the woods far from here.

  The gargoyle frowns and looks at my burger and fries. “Okay. Food sounds good.”

  But, I’m familiar with the confusion on his face. I remember not understanding this new world when I got here. “He’ll have the same thing, plus a beer, any kind,” I say.

  The waitress nods and heads out.

  I push my plate between us. “Have some fries?”

  Yup, now I’m buying my potential enemy dinner and sharing my fries. That’s normal.

  My mom would be screaming at me to run right now if she knew how reckless I was being. But then, her first rule had always been to just survive, no matter the cost. She wouldn’t understand that my curiosity was worth exploring, even if it might lead me into danger.

  The gargoyle reaches across the table, but his hand hovers over my food.

  I pick up a fry and hand it to him.

  He frowns at it.

  “Trust me, it’s good,” I say.

  He flicks an unconvinced look my way, then brings the fry to his mouth.

  I’m memorized as he takes a bite out of it. His lips look soft. And once I realize how soft they look, I have trouble being aware of anything else. I feel the strangest need coming to life inside of me that I’ve never felt before. A hunger that frightens me.

  Jerking my gaze away, I reach for my fries and start eating too.

  “You were right
. These are good!” His voice rolls over me, like a deep rumble, and that tension inside of me builds.

  I keep eating until the fries are gone, and then I cut the burger in half and offer him one side.

  He takes it eagerly and digs in.

  I eat my half, but I’m more interested in him. Is that what I looked like the first time I had a burger? His eyes are wide, and he rolls the food around in his mouth for a bit before swallowing. His half is gone before he knows it, so I have to focus on my own and actually eat. When I’m done, an empty plate sits between us.

  The waitress brings him his beer, and he sips that, wrinkling his nose.

  I take my scotch and sip it, liking the way it soothes my nerves a bit.

  “So,” he drags out the word. “I’m surprised to find you here too.”

  I study him. “Why? I suspect we’re after the same thing.”

  “Same thing?” his gaze is guarded.

  I nod. “Whatever is taking the children.”

  He takes too long to answer, which makes my nerves jump again. “How long have you been in this town?”

  Ah, he thinks I could be the killer. “Just today. Sorry, that means I can’t be your culprit.”

  “I didn’t say you were,” he says, but I can see the truth in his eyes.

  “How long have you been here?”

  He smirks. “A gargoyle would never hurt a child. There’s nothing in the world we consider more precious than a child.”

  “Really?” I say, and my tone is unconvinced.

  He nods his head sharply. “Gargoyle babies are rare. So rare that any baby is a miracle to us. We’d give our right hands if it meant saving a child.”

  “So that means you wouldn’t hurt normal human children? How do I know you’re not the one taking them to give to the other gargoyles?”

  His expression is thunderous. “That would hurt a child. We don’t hurt children.”

  Okay, maybe it isn’t the time to push this, especially when I’m pretty sure he isn’t the monster in this town. “So, you’re hunting it too?”