Page 117 of Mated to Monsters
Three figures dart toward me, and it’s an effort not to scream when they leap right into my bed. I recognize them from earlier in the day, when they were eating and talking in the dining hall before the demon who claimed me caught me snooping.
All three of the demon girls have the same flaxen, white-blonde hair, and ashen gray skin, and all look to be about the same age, although that’s where their similarities end. Each of the girls has a different set of horns, all seeming to be at about the same stage of growth.
One of the girls, with bright violet eyes, has a ring of budding horns like a crown atop her head, similar to the demon man. The demon girl with fiery yellow eyes only has two smooth horns budding from the top of her head, and eyes me skeptically, her face a touch too close to mine for comfort. The third, quietest girl looks at me with wonder, stroking my hair softly, her head angled in a way that lets the light reflect off of her black eyes and the two antler-like stubs protruding from her skull.
“Her eyes are so big! And so pretty!” Remarks the violet-eyed girl.
“And her hair is so soft,” murmurs the dark-eyed one, continuing to stroke my hair in long motions as if she were petting a dog. The yellow-eyed one wrinkles her nose as her gaze falls to my clothing and asks “Are all humans this dirty? Why hasn’t she gotten new clothes?”
I would have half a mind to be embarrassed if I weren’t so scared out of my wits. Before I can think of anything to say or do, the girls berate me with questions, their voices lapping over one another before I can find the space to respond.
“What’s your name?”
“How did you get your hair to be so shiny? Mine is never that shiny!”
“Where is your house?”
“Why are you staying with us? Do you belong to Kha’zeth?”
“Do you want to play with us?”
“Can I brush your hair? Pleeease?”
“Why does your skin look so brown? Are all humans brown?”
“Do you have any friends? Are they coming to stay with us?”
“Are all humans this quiet?”
“Can you talk?”
At this point, I’d gladly take the scary, stony-faced demon over the three girls. I try to control my breathing, fighting the urge to clamp my hands down over my ears.
The demon girls are all smiling, fawning over my hair, skin, eyes, anything they can see, but I still can’t help but feel terrified. They’re all so loud and although they’re acting like children, they’re all so much bigger than I am.
A part of me is somewhat offended that I’m being treated like a new, shiny pet, but another, larger part of me is flattered that they’re so excited by my mere presence. In all my life, I’ve never been greeted with such enthusiasm, and it makes my heart warm to them – even if I can feel my hands trembling under the covers with fear.
It occurs to me as they chatter away and poke at me that these three girls may be the demon’s daughters, and the thought sends a whole new wave of emotions through me.
If these girls are his daughters, then he clearly must have a partner! Or do demons believe in concepts like love? Some strange part of me hopes that he does believe in love and marriage and other romantic concepts, but why this would matter to me I’m not sure.
But if he believes in love, then there’s someone he chose to have three daughters with.
Something like jealousy races through me before my fingers twine tightly in the sheets. If he’s in love, or even if he just has a partner who is bearing him children, then why in the gods’ names am I here?
Surely the woman of the house won’t be thrilled that her husband is bedding a human. Ice cold terror creeps through my veins as I consider the idea that I may have an enraged demon woman coming to murder me for sleeping with her husband.
I’ve almost worked up the courage to ask the girls where their mother is, and if I should be sleeping with one eye open when a massive, horned shadow appears in the doorway.
“STOP.” His voice is like frost, his already intimidating features hard with fury. If I wasn’t sitting down, I might have fainted from the terror of seeing him so angry. The three girls freeze where they are, heads turning toward the doorway so fast it’s a wonder they don’t snap their necks.
A silly voice inside me wants to protect the three girls, to tell him to go away, but I have no doubt they’re more than capable of defending themselves if they’re been sharing a house with the demon for this long.
I open my mouth to apologize, to beg for mercy, when I realize he’s glaring at the three demon girls, not me.
“I told the three of you,” he growls, his voice hardly above a whisper. “To stay out of the west wing, and not to bother our new guest.” A deep, black-blue aura pulses around him, crackling with energy like a roaring fire.
Guest? I think to myself, trying to reign in my surprise at being referred to with that kind of respect. If he didn’t look like he was about to combust with raw, magical power, I might thank him for reigning in the three demon sisters before all of the excitement well and truly overstimulates me.