Novel & Cerita The Monstrous

Aunt Drucella says, pushing the book in front of me. I stare at the picture in front of me. A creature, built like a man, with the head of a wolf covered in scales with tiny furry hairs sprouting from its hedges. A primate with claws instead of fingers. I still can't understand. “What am I staring at?” “A Monogroth, A creature of darkness magic, created by Behemoth. It was last seen during the great war.” Greg says. “And was killed by your ancestor,” Aunt Drucella added.

His eyes are entirely pitch black, and he doesn’t look the slightest bit bothered even as Vanya chokes and sputters, her shaking fingers desperately trying to push his boot off. “I don’t hit women, Vanya. But I fight monsters and crush them because I can. And you…you’re just another breed of monster. The kind that is destined to die by my hands.” She coughs up blood, struggling to breathe. Her eyes are bigger than I’ve ever seen them, bulging in their sockets. She looks…terrified. Slowly, he moves his feet off her throat, and she chokes. I watch as he crouches in front of her, staring at her with a blank look on his face.

His hand lifted, hovered just inches from the handle. If he turned it , if he stepped inside there’d be no undoing it. Not this time. He could finish what they started. Bury himself so deep inside that mouth, inside that want, that for a few hours, he wouldn’t have to think about betrayal and bloodlines and wedding vows. He could forget. But the thing about monsters was they followed you, even after the lights went out. And Rafael already knew, no matter how hard he tried to kill this thing between them, it wouldn’t stay buried.

For those, who are not 'enough'... You are the ocean. You drown 'enough'. .. .. .. .. .. .. THIS STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL, ABUSIVE, AND VIOLENT CONTENT. HENCEFORTH, I ADVISE YOU TO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS ABOUT THE ABOVE-MENTIONED TOPICS. THE AUTHOR OR THE READERS DO NOT SUPPORT ANY FORM OF ABUSE OR RAPE. THESE ARE GRAVE CRIMES AND SHOULD NEVER BE ENCOURAGED.

"I gave you the chance to prove yourself to me, despite what you did to me in the past. But now you've only confirmed you're a monster. It is over between us!" Her words slammed into me, shaking me to my core. My eyes lit up in shock, I couldn't get myself to say another word. The weight of what I heard left me speechless. Then she walked away, and slammed the door behind her, leaving me rooted to my spot in total bewilderment. What do I do? I dropped to my knees as tears rolled down my cheeks, all I heard were her last words that kept replaying in my head. 'A Monster' 'It's over! It's OVER!'

I looked between them — Atlas steady as ever, Hunter still grinning like he'd won something bigger than a skate race — and felt, for the first time in longer than I could remember, like nothing about my life needed explaining to anyone anymore. "Let the world call us monsters," Atlas said quietly, watching the last of the porch lights flicker against the dark. "As long as you remember who you belong to."

I looked at Sienna. She looked terrified. I looked back at Raven. "You didn't?" Raven hesitated. Just slightly. Enough. I stepped closer. "You know what your problem is?" Raven stayed quiet. "You think monsters look a certain way." The room was silent. I could hear Sienna breathing. I looked directly into Raven's eyes. "You want me to be angry." Raven's hand tightened around her phone. "You want me to confess." I smiled. "But you don't understand something."

I created a monster to ruin her. Now he’s ruining me. **** Helena spent her nights writing savage Alphas who dominated, punished, and shattered their women. One car crash later, she died, and woke up trapped in the body of Azalea, the pure 18-year-old princess she had written to be broken. Her fictional story became real as King Valdman Wolverton came for her. Scarred by years of torture, this ruthless werewolf king slaughtered Azalea’s entire family in front of her eyes and dragged her away in chains. He doesn’t want a quick death. He wants her to bleed for every sin her father committed; slowly, brutally, and completely. Helena feels every second of it: every painful lash and every cr

Nicky had done far worse than just bite me. I looked up and coldly stared at her. "You people are really made for each other." "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "You know what it means," I said, standing up to jab my finger in her shoulder. "You're a monster who beat up my wife so badly that she was critically wounded." Then, I whipped my shaking finger around to point at Nicky. "And as for you, you're a little monster who flushed my wife's ashes down the toilet!"