An imaginary family emergency, just like my imaginary family. But he didn’t need to know that.
"That's all well and good," he huffed, giving me a scowl even though the top of his head barely reached my shoulder. "But I've got a class full of tipsy mums waiting to learn pilates in there, and no instructor."
My shoulders curved inward. I hated getting told off; it made me feel tiny and worthless. As small and unwanted as a gnat. A part of me waited for the metal tip of a cattle prod to bruise my stomach and send me crashing to the ground with a scream.
The door squeaked open behind me, and I jumped. I desperately wanted to see who'd entered, but Mr. Woodrow would have a hernia and maybe even fire me if I turned away. Ineededthis job, needed the money to pay the rent on my flat. Without my little sanctuary to hide in, it'd be much easier for the keepers to find me.
Memories flashed in bright, crimson colour behind my eyes. I couldn’t go back. I promised I’d live well, and run far from the hutch, and I wouldn’t go back on that promise.
"I'll be taking this out of your pay," Mr. Woodrow warned, his scowl moving from me to something over my shoulder, to whoever entered after me. "Close that door—"
I jumped, flinching several steps back when movement rushed past me, too fast for me to see who it was. I reacted on a well-honed instinct, throwing my hands up to protect myself and dredging up my worst memories so the pain could fill me with power.
Crying, pleading for it to stop. Blinding, electric pain in my stomach at the end of a burning prod. The knife shaking in my hand as I brought it up to the man's chest because I didn’t know how to use my magic to kill yet…
I blinked myself out of the memories in time to see a seething mass of dark blue muscle and tentacles storm past me and—and swallow Mr. Woodrow whole.
"You ate my boss," I blurted, staring at the navy-skinned shadowkind in true, absolute shock.
He ate Mr. Woodrow…
The monster closed his gaping maw and turned to face me as he swallowed, and my stomach dropped all the way to the floor.
Oh no. Ohhh no. This was bad. Worse than bad—I knew what to do with bad. But what evenwasthis?
Impossible. That was the only word.
"You're dead,” I said dumbly, staring at the blue shadowkind. “I killed you."
The monster smiled, baring sharp rows of teeth, and I took another step back, angling towards the door. My prosecco pilates class would have to do without me; the first chance I got, I was running as fast as my shaky legs could carry me.
This monster had beendead, and now here he was two weeks later grinning at me, digesting myboss.
"Do Ilookdead to you?" the shadowkind asked with a laugh, his voice sensual and velvety. "If you want to kill me, you'd better try harder next time."
I gave him a wide-eyed look, backing up another step. I was cold down to my bones, and starting to shake—but the monster didn’t need to know that, I realised.
"Next time?” I asked, faking bravado. “What aboutthistime? I killed you once; obviously, I can do it again."
I was too freaked out to even try. The second the door handle was within reach, I planned to run far and fast, and never look back. I held my hand out behind me, desperate to feel the press of cold metal.
"Come closer, I dare you," I rushed out when the huge, blue monster took a step, his mouth split in a delighted smile. "I'll turn you into a puddle of blood and guts.Again."
"You're gonna regret threatening me, firecracker," he taunted, crossing four huge tentacles over his chest. I couldn't help but stare at the sight, my stomach dropping to the floor. The shadowkind might have had a handsome face and sexy, rumpled hair, but there was nothing even remotely human about those thick tentacles, or his dark blue skin, or his bright turquoise eyes.
And I didn't like the way he was watching me. I couldn't tell if he wanted to eat me like he'd eaten Mr. Woodrow or … y'know …eatme.5
Rattled by his stare, I staggered back a few steps, my breathing broken and fast. I'd never—never—met a monster I couldn't kill. It was what I was good at, my only gift. I killed monsters, and I was good at it. But what good was a monster hunter if I couldn't properly kill them?
I backed up another step and yelped when I met something hard and hot—not the door. Oh god,notthe door.
Before I could wrench away, an arm locked around my middle—an actual arm, not a tentacle, thank god. Even if therewereunusual stripes on the light brown arm, for a split second, delirious with panic, I thought someone had come to save me.
"You're completely fucked now," the blue tentacle guy said with a low laugh.
Oh, Jesus.Nota rescuer.
I should have known better. Knights and saviours were for fairy tales, not real life. And certainly notmylife.