Chapter Eleven Mabel

I wake up just as boneless as when I went to sleep. I have no idea if I have slept for five minutes or five years. Stretching slowly, I open my eyes, checking to see if anyone else is awake. Deep breathing greets me as I turn toward Brugo, his breath warm against my neck. Tentacles pulse rhythmically, a sign that Zeklan is also still asleep. And while an erection bumps hot at my back, the breath of the satyr on the back of my neck is even and there is no thrust to his wanton cock.

So far, it seems like only Arthur is this side of slumber as his dusty gray eyes meet mine. He smiles but it is filled with something I don't really want to be confronted with after last night.

Stretching further, I can feel the ache absolutely everywhere . It's bliss. However, the look in Arthur's eyes haunts me and while it is too early and too close after a perfect moment, it is a conversation we are going to have anyway.

"What is it, Arthur?" I whisper. I want to untangle myself from the mess of limbs holding me down but that would be unfair. While everyone slumbers, this conversation involves them all, nonetheless.

"We should kill Reeve," he returns, just as quietly.

"We don't need to now, though," I return. "Couldn't we just stay here?"

He's silent for so long I wonder if he has fallen back asleep since his eyes closed in what seemed like pain at my words.

"Don't you want me like I was?" he finally says and my heart cracks wide open with the absolute raggedness of his words. He is baring his soul with them and the pure gravel of it shows just how much he hurts at the thought of me not wanting him like he once was.

"Of course, I do," I say, an edge to my words that borders on tears. "I'll take you any way you present to me. Because it's you."

My words should ease his pain but all I see is the crinkle between his brows, so prominent when he is sunk so deeply down into his form. Reaching up, I run my finger along it, and it eases somewhat. Trickling down the bridge of his nose, I reach his lips, my forefinger settling there, feeling the smoky softness of him. His tongue darts out, licking my digit into his mouth for a moment before he speaks again.

"But it was the human me that you first fell for. How can that change?"

"I still love that version of you. I always will, and I will always miss it, just in the same way I miss my human form. But I have changed so much since those days. And not just in the obvious ways. I have more love to give you now."

He doesn't speak for a moment before returning to his original train of thought.

"I think it's best if we kill Reeve. It's the only right thing to do."

He's right about one thing: Reeve needs to die. However, I have issues with the rest of it.

"What if it breaks the curse and you return to a human and die? What if all the versions of you die as well?"

I gasp, swallowing a sob with the thought of losing everything. It can't happen, not so soon after finding him again. And to be left with nothing, it's too much. For, without a doubt, I would still be here, a monster hunter in misery, since I was changed before this curse settled over me.

"And maybe that's the right thing too."

His words are so soft that I barely hear him but now I can't stop the tears.

"Don't say that. You can't mean it. You can't want to leave me again. Don't you dare say that's what you really mean."

His hand reaches out so fast it is pure smoke for a moment until it connects with my skin then he settles back into his physical form. His fingers dig into my jaw so harshly I hiss.

"I never want to leave you. Never . However, I wonder what will happen to us if we keep going against the natural laws of the universe. Are we really supposed to be like this?"

"Magic exists," I return. "So, by your reasoning, it is very possible we are supposed to be exactly like this."

"But I want to be human again," Arthur replies, so low once again that it feels more like the whisper of his mind than actual words. "I don't want to be a monster. I want to be the way I once was."

"Me too, Arthur. But not at the expense of losing you." I mean by losing the other versions of him and I hope he understands that.

"You can't really want that," he replies. "You have to kill Reeve, you have to end this, regardless of what happens to the others."

"Why don't you say what you actually mean," Fenn hisses from behind me and I have never heard such venom in his voice. "Glad I know how you really feel about us now. It must suck to hate yourself that much."

I want to tell Fenn to settle down, to not make Arthur hurt more than he already is but I bite my tongue. Fenn has just as much right to his opinion as Arthur and I do. Plus, the satyr isn't finished yet.

"I was born this way, not made like you. Being a satyr is all I have ever known. The humans have never regarded my kind with any such wellness. We are treated as stupid and ridiculous. I have never wanted to be human. You can't take this decision away from me, or from Brugo and Zeklan. We have a say in this too."

Arthur settles his gaze on Fenn, and I can sense the conflict there. However, I can see beyond that too. His mind is made up. Regardless of what any of them say, no matter how they might be able to waver his conviction, his mind is still made up. He needs Reeve dead, and he desires it mostly because he wants to be human. He is selfish and I hate it, but I can also understand why. I want to be human too. I miss what I once was. The memory of me, of what I missed because of my change. But, at the same time, it was also worth it because of where I am now. Right here in this moment, surrounded by four men who adore me, who want nothing more than to please me.

That is worth more than being human.

And Arthur needs to see that.

"The satyr's right," Brugo says, finally entering the conversation. "We need to have a say in this. And I stand with him. Being human is not the be all and end all, regardless of what you think, Arthur. You might be a part of this. You may be the very reason for us all, but that doesn't mean you're right just because you think your kind is superior to any of ours."

I reach out, cupping Brugo's face just like Arthur is still holding mine, but my touch is gentle, whereas Arthur still has a chokehold on me.

Sweet Brugo. The orc who should be terrible by the very ilk of his kind but isn't. He is soft inside, gentle, desperate to love me, to make every moment of my life the best it can be. That is what makes him happy. This is the reason he breathes and there is no way I want that to change. My heart constricts so painfully I gasp in shock at the thought of him ceasing to exist.

"You can't make any of them disappear," I rasp out through the pain. "You can't take that from me, Arthur."

"What if it's for the best?" This time it is Zeklan who speaks. "I might have been born like this but, what am I? No one knows, so I have no desperate attachment to this form. I could be just as happy whatever this life dishes up to me so long as I can still have Mabel."

My heart softens just a little. His words ease the pain a smidge. But it doesn't soothe me entirely. I still have that frantic fear underneath it all. Zeklan may side with Arthur, but I will make the final decision–regardless of what Arthur wants.

Or any of them, actually.

I don't want to disappoint anyone. I want us all to be happy. But will Arthur ever be? Sure, Zeklan has less to lose, he will be fine, no matter what skin he wears. But Arthur? Will he become worse over time. Will he sink into despair and start to hate me? Hate the others. Hate himself?

Gods, what a mess. A horrible, horrible mess.

"We don't have to do anything right now, do we?" I ask of no one and everyone all at the same time. "We can just stay like this for a while, get to know each other more? There's no rush to kill Reeve, or not."

"How long can we stay here?" Zeklan asks as another tentacle hooks over my thigh and caresses the inside of my knee.

"The queen has no grief with me, so I suppose we can stay as long as we want. Of course, we will likely have to find somewhere other than the castle if we want an extended stay," Arthur replies.

"Well, that's settled then," I say, jumping in quickly so no one else can interrupt. "We can just stop and breathe for a while."

"And fuck," Fenn adds with a wink.

"That too, plenty of that," I say with a broad grin, already getting an inkling where this conversation is going and while my body aches from all my monsters' ministrations, it also aches for more.

Gods, when will they ever be enough?

But I also hope I never get to a point in time when I don't pulse for them.

Fenn's erection darts between my closed thighs. It hits my clit in such a delicious way that I curve my spine, reaching back to grab one of his horns as I moan deep and low. Brugo takes this opportunity to run a sharp claw across my nipple, which contracts so tightly that I feel the sensation deep down inside my body. And Zeklan's tentacle sucks one cup over the other up the inside of my thigh.

The swirl of air around me lets me know that Arthur is about to get in on the action as well but a knock at the door prevents his touch from reaching me.

"Fuck," Fenn hisses in my ear and I have never felt the regretful meaning of a word so deeply in all my life.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Queen Siorah asks, breezing into the room as though she has never waited for a reply in her entire life. Which she likely hasn't, because she's the freaking queen.

"Yes," Fenn mutters and she laughs, a sweet sound of bells that I instantly despise.

"The feast is ready, and the guests of honor can't be late. You have five minutes to dress and present yourself in the great hall."

"You came here to tell us yourself?" Zeklan asks, just as shitty as Fenn by the interruption.

"We have a satyr under our roof, I know just how likely they are to ignore a banquet when there's a different feast on the table, so I figured you'd just ignore any messenger I sent. Obviously, I was right."

She arches a perfect eyebrow at the mess of us in the bed and I want to slap her beautiful features. Maybe I could mess up her hair, knock that crown off-center just a little. Honestly, I'd be happy just to sling some dirt on her golden outfit. Anything, to make her look less than the perfect creature in front of me.

"Please tell me I don't have to put clothes on," Fenn mutters as he stands and Siorah takes a long look at his weeping erection.

Once more, I imagine slapping her face.

"I don't mind if you don't," the queen replies with a smirk, her eyes still on Fenn's package.

"Could you just quit already?" I hiss, the words out of my mouth before I even realize it. Shit , I've just yelled at the queen. But that doesn't stop me when Zeklan steps up beside me, obviously also pissed off the queen is eyeballing the satyr. "Fenn is mine ."

Siorah snaps her gaze to me, her eyes flashing with fury at my words, and I figure we might have to kill Reeve now. I may have just forced our hand and my stomach sinks with the horror of it. That sudden lurch tells me everything I need to know. I will never be ready to give my men up. I don't care how much Arthur argues, I will not kill Reeve if it means they all disappear on me. After having four versions of Arthur, I can never settle for just one now.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, biting down on my lip as I apologize.

Stepping up to me, the queen and I are eye to eye. "I will forgive you just this once but if you ever speak to me like that again in front of anyone, I will banish you from this land."

Siorah gives me a long steady look and I can read everything in that gaze. She knows what we will be giving up if we are banished.

I nod, not sure if I will be able to speak again as my chin wobbles and the sick dread rises, burning my throat with the acidity of it.

"Now, let's eat," the queen says, slapping her hands together and smiling, making a pointed effort to make eye contact with Fenn again, just to piss me off. But I am too ill with unease to have it create a rise in me.

Once she waltzes through the door, Fenn turns to me. His hooves trot over the stone floor and he grabs my face between his hands.

"Never be jealous, Mabel," he says. "There is only you and Zeklan for me."

I gaze into his dark eyes, deep and hot for me until Zeklan places his hands over the satyr's and he darts a look just as expressive at him too. Gods, how he loves us. I can tell that from the single touch and his heated words. How I worried, I have no idea but as I feel Brugo brush his claws through the mess of my hair and I gaze down at my cum-spattered body, I work out why I was so worried only moments ago. I feel inferior to the queen. Gods, she is perfect. Small and delicate, and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Look at me, I'm a hot mess.

"She's no comparison to you," Arthur says, his smoke fingers brushing across my skin, touching all the places they have branded me. The cum, the round suction cups from Zeklan's tentacles, the shallow slash of Brugo's claws. Each touch is delicate and causes me to shudder and close my eyes.

"There had better be some sort of perfume around here somewhere, because everyone is going to smell the sex on me," I say with a tremulous laugh, my attempt to break the tension building. If we can't all fuck, it's the next best thing.

"They are going to know regardless," Arthur says. "They can read your mind too."

"Fuck," I hiss. "They know everything I think?"

"No, not in the way I can. What they sense is more like shadows of thoughts. They can tell if you are happy or sad. Or, thoroughly fucked."

"Just Mabel's thoughts, or all of us?" Fenn asks with a twinkle in his eye. "Because I can put on quite the show for them."

"No, just humans," Arthur says, rolling his eyes at the satyr.

"Well, that blows," Fenn returns. "But not in the good way."

I laugh at the satyr and link my arm through his before dragging an outfit towards me. "Well, since you're not getting dressed, you can help me put this damned thing on the queen supplied."

While the queen included a tunic and pants like I prefer to wear on a daily basis, there are also formal clothes included in the mix. I watch as Brugo pulls a silky white shirt over his head. It billows and settles on his muscles in the most delicious way, and I am happy to see that there are no buttons, only a golden sash that ties around his middle.

Zeklan's tentacles move over my body as Fenn undoes all the buttons on the back of the deep purple dress Siorah provided. It matches the color of the velvet pants supplied for all my men. His appendages soften the dried bits of cum and loosen them, the slime wiping everything away. When he reaches between my legs, I moan, and everyone freezes.

"Please don't make this harder than it already is because I will happily prove I feel nothing for the queen and stay here and spread your legs instead," Fenn utters.

I groan again, wetness pooling that doesn't belong to Zelan's tentacles.

"Just hurry up," I say through clenched teeth. Brugo is dressed so he follows behind Zeklan, a towel in hand, ready to dry my skin.

Fenn then gets me to raise my hands in the air so he can pull the slip of a dress over my head. It drapes over my body, settling in pools of fabric at my ankles. The bodice fits me like a glove before it flares out and sinks to the ground. The sleeves are long and the cleavage deep. Arthur whistles at me as Fenn ties a gold sash around my waist.

"You look like the old days," he says and there is a twinkle in his eyes that has me craving the timeframe he is talking about. But it's only for a moment, for when Fenn hands me a delicate pair of purple slippers, I remember that the olden times Arthur and I shared were devoid of the others. No matter how much I can tell myself that they were all there, back when I was human, just hiding inside Arthur, I can't make myself believe that I can settle for that now. Still, the way in which Arthur looks at me has me hoping that I can sway him to stay just like he is. He may not be the traditionally handsome knight that he misses but, gods, he still makes me thirsty. My mouth actually waters as his eyes darken and I catch the drift of just how much he wants to tear the dress off me–regardless of how much it reminds him of how I used to be the daughter of a nobleman.

Now that I am free from filth, Zeklan has also shrugged on his outfit–pants with no shirt because it must be a pain in the ass to source a shirt with that many sleeves at short notice, let alone make one. It seems that even the queen can't complete such a feat and that makes me smile.

Once we step outside the door, Arthur leads us along the corridor and down a flight of stairs. While it is a considerable hike, this set is nowhere as long as the first lot we had to climb when we got here. Another long corridor leads to enormous doors that are opened by two guards as soon as we approach.

Inside, the room is spectacular. I feel spoiled just by stepping over into its boundary. The banquet hall glows like the outside but more intensely and I don't think it's from the myriad candles everywhere, some set in chandeliers, others in candelabras in the center of the long table that runs along the center of the length of the room. Far away, at the other end, another table–smaller, this time–sits on a platform and is even more splendidly decorated than the larger one.

Arthur walks us along the length of the lower table. Shadow people lean back to ogle us as we pass. I smile at some of the smaller children, who reach out to touch my dress as I pass but ignore the stares of the adults. They are not intrigued like the children, instead, judging us all as we pass.

The aroma of cooked meat and decadent sauces meets my nostrils and my stomach lurches with the absolute hunger the scents arouse. I continue to ignore the ogling and check out the food in the center of the table. I can recognize the meat, although not the types. The other things, vegetables, bowls of what looks like soup, piles of some sort of grain made into little round balls, are all foreign to me. Regardless, I can't wait to try it all.

We finally reach the other side of the long room and Arthur leads us up the few stairs that lead to the queen's table. She sits in the middle, overseeing the scene like only royalty can. Her head held high, her clothes the richest in the room, and fitting her to perfection. Her long black hair is arranged in braids around her crown but masses of it also tumbles free down her back.

However, it is the person sitting next to her that catches my attention the most.

For, beside her, sits another monster hunter.

A man, just like me.