Im A Monster Novels & Stories

Monster Romance • Alpha/Omega • Forced Proximity • Dark Romance Isabel has spent her whole life running from Alphas and hiding who she really is. Ever since monsters revealed their existence and seized control of the world, being an omega has become a life sentence of slavery. And she refuses to accept that fate. So she pretends to be a beta. But when Isabel is chosen to work directly under Razor — the most powerful, dominant, and dangerous of all the monsters — she realizes her lie is about to fall apart. He watches too closely. He knows too much. And he seems determined to drag out the secret she's been guarding. When an accident puts her family in danger, Isabel discovers there'

"He's a troubled man-unpredictable, they say. Every day I beg the Goddess why she mated me to him. What did I do to deserve this? She never answers, and despite what he promises, he never stops. And I put up with it for a long time because I love him, but with the pregnancy, I can't risk it. So I've been thinking, and I think I have a solution." "What is it?" She glances down. "I heard about that woman who killed her mate here." Bile rises in my stomach and I'm sure that I'm going to be sick. "Aurora-" Her eyes gloss over and redden, but she doesn't let the tears slip away from her. "I know it's sick. I-I keep hearing him say these things; how we act like humans trapped in monster bodies, wh

Yet now, faced with the cruel truth, the pain was unbearable. After saying that, Mom grabbed me by the collar. Her expression twisted with malice as she snarled, "Hand over the money, or don't bother calling me 'Mom'!" I wiped my tears and let out a cold laugh. "Fine." That single word made her freeze. When she came to her senses, a dark, vicious gleam flickered in her eyes. The next second, there was a deafening crack against my skull. Darkness swallowed my vision whole. When I woke up again, I couldn't see a thing.

Hope drains. Good. One of them—small, sweating, already apologizing with his posture—moves an inch too close. I stop walking. He freezes like prey. People call me Il Mostro, which is the term for the Monster. I never argued with them. Monsters don't need to explain themselves.

"You ungrateful little bitch! We never should have brought you back! You were a curse from the day you were born! A cold, emotionless monster!" There it was. The truth they’d painted over with family photos and forced dinners. A monster. Maybe he was right. "Finally, something we agree on," I said, my voice eerily pleasant. I slammed my palm down on the cheap IKEA coffee table between us. "I am a monster. And monsters eat their young. Get out. Now." The sound wasn't a slam. It was a crack. A spiderweb of fractures erupted from under my hand, racing across the laminated surface. Then, with a groan of surrendering particleboard, the entire table collapsed into a heap of splinters and shame.

I'm talking different because when I get well and truly pissed I turn into a vicious monster. I'm not talking a kiddie monster like the one that creeps under your bed while you are sleeping or chooses to hide in your closet. I'm the type that you cant get away from. I travel through space and time. If I want you, I will have you. I have the powers of invisibility on my side, and you will never see me coming. There is no one that can catch me because I can poof away at the drop of a hat. If that doesn't scare you than the thousands of scars on my body and my size definitely will. But who cares about that shit anyway. Looks aren't everything.

Busted. I stared at my phone, suddenly wondering if I had gone too far. He looked… annoyed. Just as I hesitated, a new message popped up from Liam. It was a sticker—a cartoon puppy in a yellow hat, eagerly nodding over a water bowl, and above its head were two bold words: "Mm-hmm!" I froze. A bold thought suddenly struck me— was Liam seriously searching for a cute sticker to send me just now? The very next message confirmed my suspicion.

I hate the look of my muscles all tense and stitched tight on my back. A lifetime of blows and bouncing back collects scars. I've had a lot of scalding showers, and bruises have become stretched and angry on me, causing pitted scars. There are no tears, but the groans come in multitude. As a monster, you learn never to accept pain. Pain only affects you if you let it. Black slacks. Black socks. Charcoal shoes are polished until they look like a crisp new apple skin. The shirt is deep forest green, which brings out the natural multiple hues of green in my eyes. Intentional. Gold flecks are juxtaposed in my iris.

Wanda asked, her voice softening slightly. I thought of Lucien standing in that study, shaking but refusing to give up. I thought of the way I had let everyone else write my story for twenty-one years. "I realized that if I’m going to be a monster in their eyes anyway, I might as well be a monster who plays the cello."