Shadow's Kiss (Monstrous Hearts: Fleur's Story)

Chapter Seven

Fleur returned home just as the sky glimmered lavender from the approaching dawn. She was sore, exhausted, and ready to put the entire night behind her. After taking a shower to wash off the sweat, she drifted over to her desk instead of the bed, wanting a few hours of mindless enjoyment.

Prosy was on her designated chair, cracking open one eye to watch Fleur approach. When Fleur scratched at the spots on her belly, Prosy caught her fingers and kicked at them a few times before giving up and rolling over onto her other side.

"Hello, grump," said Fleur, feeling a tinge of affection for her sullen tabby despite the static filling her head. Then she gingerly sat in her chair and turned on her computer. As the monitors flickered into life, crisp, huge, and vibrant, she sighed, starting to feel all tension seep away.

She had just booted up Blood and reached for her best pair of noise-canceling headphones when she heard it: a shivering thump, like something bumping against glass. It came from the direction of the kitchen, which had a back door. There were also several windows in that part of the house.

Fleur froze, headphones still in hand. A quick glance at Prosy revealed that she hadn't imagined the noise. The cat was hunched up and bristling, eyes huge.

Glass shattered, bright and unmistakable.

Prosy growled and fled beneath the bed. The movement broke Fleur's shock, and she lunged to her feet. Adrenaline erased all soreness when she ran down the hallway into her parents' bedroom—the closest room with a phone. Her heart pounded against her ribs while she grabbed it and then slid open the door to the giant walk-in closet, praying her father hadn't taken his golf clubs with him.

She pushed aside some suit bags and released a shaky breath. The clubs gleamed at her from a corner. After grabbing the one with the biggest head and shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible, she tried dialing 911.

The phone was dead. She bit back a curse, trying not to hyperventilate. Her plan to hide in the closet and hope the intruder wouldn't find her crumbled when she realized they might find Prosy instead.

Gnawing on her lip, she slowly opened the door again and peered down the hallway. Nothing moved in the dimness, and she risked stepping out for a better view.

"If you're looking for me, I'm right behind you." The voice was deep, male, and very amused.

Fleur shrieked and spun around, swinging without even looking. The club sliced through air on her first try. It smashed a lamp on her second. The bulb flickered on amid the remains of its porcelain vase, revealing the entire room—and the owner of the voice.

He looked like a forest constricted into the shape of a man. Cracked mud was caked on inches thick, obscuring his true silhouette. Tree roots and leafy vines wound around his limbs, some dangling loosely as if he'd torn himself free. Even his face was hidden by a mass of roots clumped with dirt that spilled over his head. Only the shape of his jaw and the sound of his voice were clear.

"What the fuck are you?" she managed, readying the club for another swing.

"Someone who answered your call." Then he pulled a vine off his arm as if it irritated him. "You don't seem happy. Most people are when they see me."

God, this supernatural bullshit wasn't over. She should have stayed with Alice. "You're too late, you freak. I can't be sacrificed to you because I'm no longer a virgin. The ritual failed."

"The summoning didn't fail. I'm here. And you are..." There was a brief silence that felt baffled, and something about the creature's next words suggested they weren't the end of his original thought. "You are human. Then those who performed the rite knew nothing about what they did. Mortals never do. So, an explanation. You were set up as the anchor, the only one who could fulfill the rite. Killing you would have destroyed the attempt and prevented me from appearing."