Lucien laughed, a sound like distant thunder. "Atlas, it's like you are watching paint dry. You're in deep, man, and you know it."
I swung the axe, splintering a nearby log. "She doesn't know me, Lucien. Not really. She thinks I'm some fucking dream."
He sobered at that, his wings folding neatly behind him. "So, tell her. Make her see the truth."
I leaned on the axe, the handle creaking under my weight. "And what truth is that? That she's stuck with me forever? That my dick had literally wrapped itself around her?" I shook my head, the coils around my shaft stirring at the memory. "She deserves better than that. Better than me."
Lucien stepped closer, his voice low. "Better than a Mothman who would tear the world apart for her? Better than someone who would rather die than see her hurt? You're an idiot, Atlas."
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He was right, but fear held me back. Fear of rejection, of disgust. Of losing her. Why couldn’t I be more confident like everyone else.
Grrr, I’m a monster, I take what I want. Rarr.
Lucien sighed, clapping me on the back. "Look, just talk to her. Tell her how you feel. The rest will work itself out. And for Night’s sake, text her. She thinks I am the one making you work hard. She threatened to spray furniture polish in my eyes if I make you work anymore."
I smirked. That sounded like her. She was one for violence in those games she played. To know she would stick up for me, gave me the warm fuzzies.
But would she really like the idea of Mothman… in real life?
Things were different when it was real life… weren’t they?
When I first met the mayor, he was… off-putting.
And other monsters I met, while some of their forms were… different, I came to understand them; they were nice.
“Maybe you’re right,” I began. “I need to tell her. Need to speak with her about all of it. She reads those books about monsters, and falling in love with them.”
Lucien made a face that could only be described as aare you fucking serious.
“Atlas,” he groaned and looked up to the sky.
The wind shifted—just slightly—but it was enough to tell us we weren’t alone. We both turned from the fallen tree to find not one, but three monsters standing behind us.
It was not who I wanted to see in the slightest.
On the left was the Headless Horseman, his broad shoulders cloaked in midnight fabric that billowed like smoke around his absent neck. His stallion, black as pitch with eyes like burning coals. Plumes of steam erupted from the beast's flared nostrils with each snort, dissipating into the cool forest air. The Horseman's gloved fingers pulled back on the worn leather reins, causing the material to creak as it tightened.
On the right stood a Skinwalker. Wet, obsidian limbs writhed beneath a half-attached bearskin, the pelt's empty eye sockets drooping while its massive paws dangled. The creature's own eyes, oily black marbles, peered through misaligned holes in the stolen hide. With each labored breath, the bear's muzzle twitched, and the thin needles of its own teeth appeared, as it continued to wrestle with the skin.
The Skinwalker snarled, not appreciating me staring.
Sometimes I forget my manners.
Hollow stepped forward, his long arms swishing at his sides like pendulums. "I figured if I tracked Lucien, he'd lead me straight to you, Atlas. You've been quite the elusive Mothman, lately."
Boo, I’m the topic of today’s discussion.
Hollow’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "There is a woman tearing my town apart, brick by brick, looking for you. She's threatening my citizens, disrupting businesses, and why? Because a certain Mothman couldn't be bothered to send asingle text after bedding her. Do you understand how this makes me feel, Atlas? Absolutely. Fucking. Livid."
I shuffled my feet against the forest floor, my wings drooping behind me. "Wait—you're saying she's actually looking for me?"
The mayor's eyes bulged as he gestured wildly. "What do you think happens when you mark someone and disappear? She's been prowling the town for forty-eight hours straight, following your scent like a bloodhound. The pheromones you left behind have her in a frenzy. Yesterday, she nearly dislocated the butcher's shoulder just for suggesting you might have left town."
My dick twitched. "Really?”
Lucien nudged me. “Dude, that’s hot.”
“Don’t talk about my match like that,” I snapped.
