Chapter Twenty-One

As soon as I round the VIP area, the girls bombard me with questions all at once.

"Is everything okay?" Zo asks.

"Who were you up there with?" Astrid's tone is heavy with suspicion.

"Do we need to fight someone?" B quips.

I nearly chuckle at her penchant for violence, when I realize Scarlett is the only one who isn't curious about my whereabouts. In fact, she hovers behind Astrid, unwilling to meet my gaze.

I focus my stare on her. "You knew."

She swallows, heat blooming high on her cheeks.

"That's why you wanted to come to Strega tonight," I surmise.

Astrid swivels her gaze from me to Scarlett. "What's she talking about, Scar? What's going on?"

Scar finally emerges from behind Astrid. "I just wanted you and Nick to hash out whatever it is that's going on between you two."

" Nick, is the host of this chaos?" Zo interrupts incredulously.

"It's his birthday," Scar says quietly.

‘I thought you said he was celebrating ‘quietly?'" Sarcasm drips from Astrid's voice on that last word.

Scar visibly pales, clearly caught in a tangled web of lies. Though, I can't fault her. Lying isn't her forte, which must run in the family since Nick is a terrible liar as well. But her lying wasn't done with malicious intent, as they so often are, if I have anything to do with it. My lies are calculated. Scar's are desperate.

"It's ok. I understand why you lied. No harm, no foul."

Tension leaves her shoulders as they sag forward. "So, did you have a chance to talk?"

If, by talking, you mean he fucked me with his fingers until I came undone, then sure.

"Yes. We're uh…civil." That's as good a word as any to describe our relationship, I guess.

Scar pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze bouncing among the four of us. All eyes are on her, except for B's, who stares intently at something behind Scar, but I keep my focus on Scarlett. "He hasn't been the same since he and Rhi broke up."

"He's upset, Scar, and understandably so," Astrid assures.

Scar shakes her head. "It's more than that. He's my big brother, and I love him. I know he'll never hurt me, but sometimes I'm…" A heavy silence settles in the air as her voice trials.

"Afraid of him," I state plainly.

Scar's hazel eyes widen, and for a moment, I think she'll deny it, but then her shoulders tremble and she nods.

Astrid shoots me a scathing glare coupled with a forceful look that says you need to tell her.

I do need to tell her, and it's not that I don't want to, but the middle of a sex club is definitely not the place to have that conversation.

"Let's head back to campus," I suggest. "There's something I need to-"

"Motherfuckers." B snarls and gestures towards the bar at two yuppie-looking men. A woman stands between them, her attention sliding back and forth, and I note that the man behind her holds two drinks in his hand.

My stomach plummets .

"He put something in her drink." B says, the space between us heating with anger.

Astrid's sapphire eyes flash. Zo's lips peel back, revealing sharp fangs that turn her grin monstrous. Scar's normally warm eyes harden and laser in on the two men, both wearing similar navy jackets over light button downs. They appear clean-cut, as though they've stumbled out of a Brooks Brothers catalog.

Styled with a side of date-rape activities, obviously.

I say nothing as I stalk toward the two assholes, making a beeline toward the dark-haired fucker holding the drinks. He nervously glances around, as if making sure no one saw him slip the drug into her beverage.

His blonde friend, on the other hand, laughs effortlessly at something the woman says. His easy-going demeanor ignites a burning wrath in the pit of stomach. He's wholly unbothered that he's about to ruin someone's life.

Not just someone's. A woman. A woman dressed like me or any one of my friends, who, if this asshole has his way, will likely be judged and met with statements like, "well, you were asking for it, dressing like that." As if what a woman wears gives anyone license to touch her without her consent. But that's the fucked up truth, isn't it? Men will always blame women for their transgressions. Talbot said as much to Nick in his office, insinuating Nick's behavior was somehow my fault.

The anger mounts and mounts as I remember what I learned last year in Mythical Beasts class. The monsters most of us descended from were never born monsters. They were cursed. Yet every pop film and bestselling book series featuring Greek mythology praised the gods of Olympus and their demi-god spawn as benevolent heroes for slaughtering the same monsters who were cursed simply because they didn't return the affections of said gods.

Medusa's story is nothing if a blaring testament to the injustice suffered by women.

And why? Because their stories were written by men.

Life imitates art, just like the scene that unfolds before me at this very moment. And just like the female monsters of our myth, this woman's story is about to be ripped apart by men.

Over my dead fucking body.

"Oops!" I knock into the brown-haired douche with more force than necessary and watch as both drinks tumble to the floor. He curses as his date-rape concoction spills down his front. His murderous stare softens when I pull out my best flush of embarrassment and tug my bottom lip between my teeth. "I'm so sorry."

He opens his mouth to reply, but the blonde dipshit behind me interrupts. "Not yet, but you will be."

The Scylla immediately springs to life at the sound of his voice, snapping its jaws and hissing. Interesting.

I face the prick, who doesn't hide the appreciation in his gaze as his eyes peruse every inch of my body, burning with cold fire when they land at my breasts and stay there.

"Excuse me-" their original victim tries to win back the men's attention, but she's immediately silenced by Zo.

"You were just leaving."

I resist the urge to smile. I didn't have to glance behind me to know all the girls had followed. I knew I didn't need to voice my plan.

"But-" the poor woman protests, and is then cut off by the blonde douche.

"She's right," he says in a no-nonsense tone, eyes flickering over the now five women he thinks he has at his disposal. His menacing glare returns to his former conquest. "Leave."

The woman pouts before shooting daggers at me.

Girl, I'm doing you a huge favor .

She huffs in aggravation before she departs and disappears into the throngs of bodies on the dance floor, hopefully leaving the club for good.

Not that these two will have any more opportunities to harm any woman. Ever.

The blonde's arm snakes around my waist, and he positions me between his legs. The Scylla violently hisses. My mouth immediately fills with the flavor of almonds, but I exert all of my energy into forcing back the fangs that erupted from my gums.

Not yet.

‘So," he says, in a slithery voice, "how do you plan on making amends?"

I play dumb. "For what?"

His grip on my waist tightens, and his thighs cage me in. I place my palms on his chest to avoid getting any closer to him than I have to.

Though it's been months, the demon Leviathan's words lash across my brain as I take a good look at the asshole. You should know better than anyone that the word ‘monster' encompasses so much more than teeth and claws.

The man holding me captive is the quintessential boy-next-door. Hair a shiny gold that rival's Astrids, cut close around the sides but longer on top and combed to perfection. Eyes a cerulean so deep it's like he stole the color from the sky itself. His face is tanned and smooth, no hint of stubble. His teeth are gleaming white and probably fake.

Like his tan.

Like his whole fucking appearance.

A monster in a thousand dollar suit.

His smile is as slimy as the hand slithering towards my ass. "You cost me my date."

I note the possessive adjective before the word "date." Interesting. He considered the woman his, even though his friend was holding the spiked drink. So blondie is the mastermind, and his brown-haired companion is his lackey, who probably was promised a turn after fuckboy is done.

I'll keep this in mind for when I tear him limb from limb later.

"Maybe," I say coyly, licking my lips. He tracks the movement, just as I knew he would. Heat flares in his glacial eyes. "But before, you had only one date, and now, you have five."

I glance behind me to where Zo is ahead of the game, toying with the buttons of the lackey's shirt. Astrid and Scar are kissing, fully aware of how that entices men like these, for some odd reason. They don't need to know that Astrid and Scar have no interest in them, only each other .

The only one who doesn't play along is B, who stares with a vicious intensity at Zo's hand caressing the now exposed chest of the brown-haired lackey. Her eyes darken, jealousy warping them to near onyx. Only a glint of possessiveness keeps them a richer dark brown.

If I hadn't known what was going on with the two of them before, now I do, and I need to wrap this game up before B loses it.

His gaze flits behind me. "And what if I don't want all five of you?" Boredom saturates his voice, and when his eyes land on me, the implication is there, as is his hand that creeps beyond the hem of my short dress, skimming my bare ass.

He's not interested in anyone else. I blew his original plan to smithereens, therefore I have to pay for it.

Gladly.

I wriggle free from his grasp and take the hand that was close to palming my bare ass. "Follow me," I say huskily.

The blonde stands up, the hard bulge in his pants enough to make me want to vomit. Bile rises as his other palm finds my ass again. It's bad enough the Scylla's hisses are so deafening, I'm surprised no one else can hear them .

"Hey," the lackey protests, but he's shot down immediately.

"She's mine. " The snarl is nearly inhuman, but that's not what jolts me. It's hearing those words out of this fucker's mouth, and not Nick's.

Mental Note: take his tongue first.

I shiver with anticipation at the stark reminder of how much I enjoyed the taste of Jesse's tongue that I almost bit it off. But where I was horrified with how I almost maimed my best friend, I'm overjoyed at the opportunity to tear the guy's flesh from his body and feast on his screams.

I shoot a pointed look at Zo and the girls. "Take care of him," I say sweetly. Zo's malicious grin is confirmation she knows exactly what to do. Astrid and Scar share a secret smile, and B looks about ready to rip the lackey's heart right from his chest.

All is as it should be.

I lead my meal over to the VIP section, stopping in front of Lyncus. I arch a brow at him when I note the entire bowl of cherries is empty.

"Rhiannon," he purrs. "Back again?" He follows my gaze. "Alas, I seem to have eaten all the cherries. My apologies."

"No apology, necessary. Though to make it up to me, you can give me one of your private rooms for the evening."

His cat-eyes narrow warily, flitting toward the balcony before they take in the man standing behind me. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

I know Lyncus is referring to Nick and is taking my appearance here with this prick at face value.

"Very." I flash him a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Lyncus raises two gold dusted eyebrows, and an intrigued smile creeps across his face. "Enter through the corridor. A room will be available."

"Whatever it costs-" the douche-canoe behind me starts.

"No cost." Lyncus immediately interjects. "Rhiannon is a very special customer."

I shoot him a glare and mouth " Play it down a bit. "

Lyncus shrugs and returns to his bowl of cherries, once again filled to the brim. If my prey notices, he doesn't mention it.

My prey follows me out of VIP and through the first corridor I used to see Nick. However, the staircase is gone, replaced by a wall of onyx and another door with no handle. It swings open easily for me and closes once he follows me over the threshold.

The room is considerably large, with exposed brick on the western wall and the rest painted a dark red. Fitting for the amount of blood I plan to spill. The purple carpeted floor may not hide the bloodstains, however. A leather couch rests along the far wall, and a small rectangular table sits directly in front of it, ladened with another ice bucket filled with liquor.

"So, that's your name." His breath creeps around my neck like a strangling vine. "Rhiannon."

I turn to face him, noting the blue of his eyes has darkened immensely. "Does it matter?"

His brows arch in surprise, likely due both to my comment and the fact I didn't ask him for his name.

He won't need it when I'm done with him.

"I suppose not." He encroaches my space. "Women like you are easily forgotten, anyway."

I step back. "Women like me?"

He shrugs indolently before he steps toward me again. Danger lurks in each of his footsteps, but fear is an emotion I'm short on. The Scylla is more than ready to tear him to pieces. Besides, a singular, stark sensation trumps all others.

Hunger.

"Whores. No one gives a fuck what your name is." He closes the space between us, the blue of his eyes now wholly black, his breath reeking of something sour and sinister. "Or if you disappear," he adds with an insidious grin .

At my lack of response, he roughly fists my hair before shoving his tongue down my throat. I push him back with more strength than normal for someone my size. "Get off !"

Surprise zips across his gaze before his entire face twists. "Don't pretend you don't want it all of a sudden. You threw yourself all over me back there. So do what's expected of you and sit on my cock."

I don't move, exerting every ounce of control not to unleash the Scylla just yet. I'm having a hard enough time just keeping my claws sheathed, but I want to draw this out. I want to see how far he'll take it before I give in to my ravenous desire.

I want to play with my food.

"You want to make this difficult? Fine."

I feign running when he reaches for me, and he grabs my hair again before shoving me toward the floor. I gracefully fall to my hands and knees, turning quickly, but he crushes my body beneath his. He takes a hold of my hair - for fuck's sake, seriously? - and slams my head against the ground.

Oof. Rapid healing abilities aside, that fucking hurt.

"You want to know a secret?" he asks in a sickeningly sweet tone. "I drug them to make it easier, but I really love it when they fight back."

This fucking dick. I struggle beneath him to make it appear like I actually need to fight, when, in reality, unleashing just one of the snake-like heads is all it would take to silence him forever.

All good things come in time, I suppose.

He painfully squeezes my cheeks between a calloused hand, while the other goes directly up my dress.

That's when I lose it. Partially.

I swipe at his face with a full set of claws, his face snapping to the side with a swift, brutal movement.

"Fucking bitch!"

A victorious smile nearly touches my lips, but then my eyes widen in horror.

He's healing. Fast. Really fucking fast.

What. The. Fuck.

His face peels back towards mine, his eyes luminous, gleaming with something otherworldly. His mouth is turned up in the most terrifying grin, but it's his sheer calmness that has small kernels of fear finally taking root.

He's not human.

Let him fear you.

I startle at that voice. The one like gentle poison. I've gone months without hearing it. Yet it soothes me. Calms my breathing.

The words remind me that although he might not be human, another monster perhaps, of the two of us in this room, I am the one he should fear. The one who can render him powerless with a mere nick of my fangs. I'm immune to almost everything, but no one is immune to me.

I'm fucking venomous.

"That's it," he says in a strange, soothing voice, and I realize he must mistake my calmness for being affected by whatever he thinks he's doing to me. "Stay still. I do like it when you fight, but you appear to be more trouble than you're worth. So, let's stay calm, hm?"

He releases my cheeks and roughly runs a knuckle down the side of my face. I continue to play along, assuming his power is Persuasion, since it seems he wants to appeal to my emotional state. The scratch marks on his face have disappeared entirely.

Though I'm still pinned beneath his body, the fact that fear no longer takes residence has me contemplating what kind of monster he is.

Aside from being a piece of shit rapist, of course.

He secures both of my wrists above my head, his strength triple that of a normal human.

"It's going to be worse for you, though." Mere centimeters separate his mouth from mine, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to snap my restraint and bite his face off.

It's not time just yet.

"The drugged ones are asleep through most of it or too fucked up to understand what's happening. By the morning, they have an idea. Of course, it's too late. But you?" His free hand pushes my dress to my waist. "You are going to be aware of everything that's happening. You'll feel it, too, and you know the best part?" Pain splinters through my wrists as he tightens his grip, cracking the bone with his inhuman strength. "You won't be able to do a fucking thing about it. You are so…" He licks one side of my face. "Fucking…" Licks the other. "Helpless."

Let him fear you.

His tongue spears my mouth apart, tangling with mine, and then a piercing scream permeates the air. He scrambles away from me, freeing my hands which I bring toward my mouth to wipe the blood clean as I stand. His own fingers tremble as they approach his lips, blood gushing through them like a broken dam. I notice dark, golden tendrils entwined in the bloody digits. He must have ripped out some of my hair when he pulled it. Which is fine.

Because I ripped out his tongue.

My fangs tear the sinewy muscle to shreds in my mouth. I expected him to taste like shit, the flavor of him to be reminiscent of his tarnished, despicable soul, yet he tastes positively divine.

I finish chewing and swallow, the strong, tangy scent of fear imbuing the space. His muffled cries and the gurgling sound of blood pooling in his mouth and spilling to the floor are a fucking symphony to my ears. His wide, horrified eyes stare up at me, confusion and shock rippling across his face.

His cowering position only stokes my hunger, and I lose all sense of logic as the monster consumes me. Drool pours from the corners of my lips, mixing with the blood. I swallow, tasting almonds mixed with copper. I stalk toward him, tilting my head to the side as I size up my prey, wanting to draw this punishment out as long as possible. Because, unfortunately, there will always be another him. Another Kieran. Another Silas. Or, in Medusa's case, another fucking Poseidon. Men that take and take without consequence because they can. Because justice is merely an abstract construct that serves those who bend it to their will by whatever means necessary.

Good thing I'm not interested in justice.

My victim continues to sputter on his hands and knees before I realize he is actually trying to speak.

"Wh-what are you? "

I mimic his earlier indolent shrug. "Oh, I'm so many things…"

"A fu-fucking mo-monster," he spits out.

I assume his tongue grew back. I'll have to rip it out again.

"A woman."

"Same thing," he snaps.

I pause for a moment, my face pensive. "In your case, it is."

Then, my mouth splits into a wide grin, wide enough to show my sharp, crude fangs that overcome my teeth, all thirty-four of them. Two additional long and extremely pointed incisors descend alongside the others.

Whatever color he slowly regained drains from his cheeks; he resembles nothing more than a walking corpse.

Which he will be, shortly.

He moves to attack me, but I strike with only one of the snakeheads, and he falls back down to the ground where he fucking belongs. Another strike and the snake-like beast tears a generous amount of flesh from his side. A high-pitched scream fills the room, and my eyes are drawn to the gaping hole in his abdomen, deep enough to reveal the muscle and tendons beneath .

Almond-filled saliva gathers in abundance and drips from the side of my mouth, which is literally watering at the sight of his blood pooling around him like a grotesque scarlet throw rug.

I tower above him, his body slumped against the wall, and grab a fistful of his hair in one hand. He tugs at my wrists, trying to free himself, but the effort is lackadaisical. I suppose that despite his healing abilities, the rapid blood loss isn't doing him any favors.

My lips brush his ear. "But I'm so much more than that." I yank his head back so I can witness the fear in his eyes and watch the despair rise like tidal waves. My jaw unhinges, my mouth unnaturally elongating, and a morbid satisfaction overcomes me as his fear becomes a palpable entity. My tongue falls from my mouth, dipping far past my chin and oddly dark in color.

Black, a locked away, rational part of my brain whispers, but I'm too far gone to stumble on this new piece of information. Not when my prey cowers before me and smells so fucking delectable .

"I'm a woman." I use my grip on his hair to turn his face to the side, and my tongue glides over his cheek languorously, mocking his earlier actions. "A monster." I turn his face to the opposite side and repeat my stroke. "Your retribution…" I pause, bringing his face fo rward so his wide, frantic eyes lock on mine. His lips tremble beneath my own.

"And your worst fucking nightmare." The monstrous snarl that rips from my throat is a shock even to my own ears, but again, I'm too lost in the scent of blood and flesh as I yank his head to the side with such force, something snaps with a sickening pop, and I sink my teeth into the tender skin at this throat. My tastebuds combust as different flavors go to war across my tongue. Almonds and honey. Honey and copper. Copper and smoked meat. I release a vicious moan as I take another gluttonous bite, letting my eyelids flutter closed while I savor the taste. I only open when his soft pleas grow silent, wondering if my prey is still on this side of the River Styx.

His blue eyes are open, uncanny in their rigid state, but not glassed over. He's still slumped against the wall, but unmoving. Disappointment bleeds into my hunger as I think he truly might be dead already when I notice a slight twitch of his fingertips. Upon closer inspection, I catch the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

He's alive, albeit barely, but he's…

A maniacal giggle escapes my mouth. "Oh. You're paralyzed." I kneel between his spread legs. "I forgot to mention: I'm venomous. Tetrodotoxin. Kills regular humans in high doses such as I possess, but…" I cock my head to the side, feigning inspection. "I'm sure your monster abilities will keep you from dying too quickly on me." There's a slight furrow of his brows.

I dig my claws into his skin as I feed his exact words back to him. "You are going to be aware of everything that's happening. You'll feel it, too, and you know the best part? You won't be able to do a fucking thing about it." I smile. "So…Fucking…Helpless."

My jaw elongates again, and I rip into the center of his chest.