When Monsters Mate

Lydia’s POV

The squeaking of the bed against the wall was my new fascination along with the wobbly fan buzzing overhead like a dying insect.

I couldn’t believe I was subjecting myself to this torture again.

Way too long since what, exactly?

Since I had sex. Apparently.

And so here I was, counting the seconds until this truckload of a man finished his heroic efforts on top of me and got the hell off.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good,” Mr. Truckload groaned. His voice was deep, the only deep thing about him.

He was sweating like he was scaling a mountain, and I hadn’t even blinked.

“Yep,” I replied, as lifeless as my will to live in that moment. Even I was shocked at how flat I sounded.

That must’ve tipped him off. His eyes opened mid-thrust, and he studied my face like he was searching for proof of enjoyment.

He’d be searching for a while.

“Are you not having fun?” he asked, tilting his head with all the sensitivity of a confused puppy.

Suddenly I felt hot, not in the good way. I didn’t like his gaze. I didn’t like that question.

“I am,” I screeched and if that didn’t sound like a lie on fire, I don’t know what did.

He paused.

Still staring.

I stared right back.

He must have taken my blank stare as permission to finish, because after a few more minutes of misery, he finally pulled away.

I exhaled in relief louder than I meant to. He must’ve heard it.

“This is the worst sex of my life,” he muttered, turning his back to me.

Well ouch.

I stood and leaned against the bedpost, unfazed.

He turned to glare at me. “You could’ve told me you weren’t enjoying it instead of lying there like a dead person.”

I blinked slowly.

He was blaming me? For the wrong hole, for the saliva tsunami that passed as kissing, for pulling my hair like it owed him money, and for biting my tongue mid-grope?

I raised a brow.

“It’s Cole.”

Oh.

Right.

I blinked again. “Well, Cole, me lying there like a dead person should’ve been your first clue. And for what it’s worth, you really should go back to sex school or wherever it is you men learn parts of the woman’s body. You don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman.”

He gaped at me. Actually gaped. Like a fish gasping on land.

“I do know how to please a woman,” he snapped, buckling his belt with righteous fury. His pale face went crimson. “Just… apparently not you.”

Exactly.

I smiled sweetly and gestured toward the door.

He spat something under his breath something about bitches, I think, before slamming the door behind him.

Finally.

I collapsed back on the bed, staring up at the rickety fan Rina pawned for me two years ago. I had more than enough money to replace it by now, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I needed the constant.

Everything else had changed.

These were the only constants in my life..

Rina, my only real friend in this city. In this life.

Moving here had been a desperate decision, a vampire fleeing the decay of her own people to live among humans. My parents weren’t thrilled. Neither was I, at first.

But after 28 years, I needed the distance. The silence. The break. The breathing space I didn’t technically require but longed for anyway.

My family had never been warm. My parents hated each other. My brother and I inherited the leftovers of that hate. It bled into everything like mold in the walls of an old house. And I wasn’t about to rot alongside it.

So I left. With the help of my uncle another vampire rebel who’d run off to marry a human. They took me in, taught me how to blend, how to survive. After a few years, I moved out and met Rina.

We were like fire and marble.

She was bright, loud, and painfully alive.

I was the shadow that followed her around pale, tired, visibly strange.

Most humans couldn’t tell what I was, but they knew enough to sense something was wrong. My skin was too pale, my limbs too long, my fingers unnaturally slim and sometimes, when I was hungry or aroused, the claws peeked through. That was hard to explain.

Rina didn’t care. She loved me instantly. Fiercely. And stupidly.

She used to be the only thing that could stir excitement in me.

Used to.

Now? I felt like a burden. A ghost in her otherwise colorful life.

The front door slammed open but I’d smelled her before it did.

Coffee and citrus.

Rina.

“This place is a mess, Lyds,” she said, stepping into my room without warning and flinging the door wide enough to hit the wall.

I didn’t move.

She stood there in an offensively bright yellow tank top and army green joggers, topped with a yellow baseball cap like a highlighter had vomited on her head.

Anyone else would’ve looked ridiculous.

But not Rina.

“Are you on one of those days again?” she asked from the doorway.

I blinked at the ceiling.

Then slowly turned to look at her.

She huffed. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

I held out my hand. “Coffee.”

With a dramatic eye-roll, she crossed the room and handed me the cup like it pained her.

“You’re lucky I love you, you heartless vampire,” she grumbled, scowling.

I took a sip.

It was cold.

I moaned anyway.

Rina gagged. “That was… inappropriate.”

“What brings you over on this fine morning, my human friend?” I asked, slowly sitting up.

She flopped onto my bed, her scent spreading around the room like the sunshine I didn’t ask for.

“Marcus and I broke up.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“You and Marcus are always breaking up, Ree. I’m guessing it’s part of your foreplay at this point.”

She groaned. “That’s not true.”

“It is. It’s like a ritual now. Break up, cry, get back together, sex, silence, repeat.”

She rolled over and smacked a pillow. “Okay, but this time it’s different.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is!” she insisted. “We’ve just been having issues.”

“Then end it. For good. Don’t let him string you along.”

“Says the one who hasn’t been in a relationship since… ever.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt. But it did.

I stopped rifling through my closet and stared at the hangers.

Rina must’ve felt it too.

“Are you upset?”

I forced a smile and turned. “Of course not.”

Rina opened her mouth to say something else when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Nobody ever called me.

Not unless it was urgent. Or manipulative.

“Well, that’s not ominous,” Rina muttered, over my shoulder leaning in to peek.

“Lydia,” came the voice, cold, sharp, and demanding, as always. “You’ll attend the Founders Ball this Saturday.”

“I wasn’t aware I was still part of the Founders Circle,” I said flatly, my heart gripping me in a tight vase, bile rising to my throat. Nothing strange, just my normal reaction to the animal that was my father.

“You’re still a daughter of the House. You will be there. Wear something appropriate.”

“Why now?” I asked. “Why suddenly care?”

Silence. Then, “There are... interests present. People you should meet. And people who should see you.”

That pricked something in me. Not curiosity. Something colder.

“Is this a threat or a trap?” I murmured.

“Neither. It’s an invitation,” he said. “You may even find the night... memorable.”

I stared at the phone like it had insulted me personally.

“The only one,” I muttered.

“What did he want?”

“Apparently I’ve been summoned to the Founders Ball.”

She sat up straighter. “Wait, the Founders Ball? The one with all the old bloods and shadow money?”

I groaned. “Yes. That one.”

“You have to go. Lydia, this is huge. It’s basically the vampire Met Gala.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to go.”

“Okay, but if you don’t, your dad’s gonna show up and drag you by your fangs.”

I rubbed my temples. “Ugh.”

“Wait,” Rina said suddenly, grinning. “Do you think the bracelet guy will be there?”

But the thought sat uncomfortably warm in my chest.

Because if he was...

I wasn’t sure what scared me more —

Seeing him again... or being seen.