“What?”
“I need you to stand, so I can put you over my shoulder and climb down.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can, and you will.” She has to listen, and do as she’s told, or we are both wasting our time. I lift her off me, then higher until she can get first one foot on the ledge and then the other. My cum trickles over her inner thigh and her skirt is hiked up, exposing her slick slit to me.
She grabs onto the rocks above my head, and I tuck my cock away before moving to the edge of the ledge. She folds over my shoulder without me asking and I swing down from the ledge. It’s only then I notice that two of my fingers are no longer tipped with claws.
The two that were buried inside her.
8
Julie/Prey
Horn doesn’t bother pulling my skirt down, leaving my ass exposed, as he strides through the desolate, rocky world. He moves silently and I’m too scared to speak in case another monster hears me and comes after us. I don’t want him to fight if it can be avoided.
The sky deepens to a sickly purple-red, which I guess passes for nighttime here.
At a puddle the size of a king bed, he sets me on the ground. My legs take a few heartbeats to remember how to work, but he steadies me to make sure I don’t fall. The shock of seeing the horn where his eye should be rips through me every time I look at him. A permanent reminder of what I asked for. The guilt nibbles at me even though he chose to accept. It would’ve been simpler for him to ignore my request. He didn’t have to drag me out of the puddle. He could have let me die and picked my bones clean.
I straighten my skirt and strip off the remains of my tights—they are ruined and hanging off my legs, anyway. My panties are in no better state, so even though I want something to wear under my skirt, they are useless.
Horn kneels at the puddle and scoops up water to drink. I swallow and notice the dryness of my throat. I’m not sure when I last had anything to drink or eat. I am not eating any meat here as it will be made of people, human or monster, and the thought turns my stomach.
Did it turn Horn’s when he first arrived? Or was he so hungry he ate the first monster he killed, not realizing it had once been human? When did he realize?
I open mouth to ask but shut it just as fast because he won’t be able to remember and asking will only annoy him.
“Drink,” he commands.
“You don’t boil it first?”
He rolls his eye. “No. It’s safe.”
“What if someone got stuck and…and died in there?” I glance around at some of the other puddles that dot the ground. Are there dead people in all of them?
“If there was, anything not bound by dirt will have been stripped clean. Drink. You will be fine.”
I have little choice. If I don’t drink, I will die within days, but food I can go without for longer. I remember watching something about all the things you should do in a survival situation—befriending a monster wasn’t on the list—and I never had time to grab supplies.
I can’t call for help and I don’t think anyone will search for me in the right place, so help won’t be coming.
This isn’t exactly an emergency. I’m just one more lost woman.
The person who’d been banging on my door might report something suspicious. Work will notice when I don’t show up. Then the cops will ask around and eventually they’ll say something like I wanted to disappear. Gran has gone through countless records and I remember her saying how similar they are. Those that are taken are forgotten. Gran said it has been hard for her to remember Mom even surrounded by photos of her. I don’t remember my mother. It could be a stranger in the photos, but I know she’s missing, and I feel the loss of growing up without a mother.
I kneel like Horn and cup my hands to scoop up water. It is cold and clear and when I take a small mouthful, it doesn’t taste foul. After one sip, it’s clear that I need more. My thirst has woken and claws at my throat. I take my fill while he watches, then I dip my panties in the water to wipe myself. My thighs are sticky, and I don’t like the feeling of walking around with a bare ass, dripping cum.
He grabs my hand before I can wipe anything. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I like my scent on you.”
His grip feels odd on my wrist, and I glance down. There are only three claws against my skin. His other two fingers have human looking nails. I’m sure they weren’t like that before. “What happened?”
He lets go like my skin burned him. “Nothing.”