Where Monsters Lie (The Monster Within 2)

“This is the longest we’ve spent together in a while,” Piers says.

“Ever, probably.” I snuggle against him a little more. His arms tighten around me.

“Hey … nobody’s around.”

“I’m aware.”

“No, I mean—Avery. We’re out here. Alone. In an empty forest.”

I glance up at him. He’s grinning. Could he really be thinking about sex at a time like this?

So are you, I chide myself.

It’s true. Pressed against him, his handsome face so close, my thigh brushing against his … I can’t help but think about the things I’d like to do to him. Besides take revenge, that is. I think back to last year, when he, Owen, Bennett, and I made out together outside the tavern in the village near Saint M. What sort of things would he have done to me if I’d let it continue?

He’s thinking about the same thing, because I feel his hand drift to my thigh as he says, “Remember that night at the tavern?”

My answer should be obvious, so I don’t reply. I let him gently run his hand up and down my leg.

“I wanted you bad,” he breathes into my ear.

“Wanted?” I say despite myself. “Past tense?”

His hand slips around to my backside and squeezes. That’s all the answer I need.

I put my own hand beneath his coat, under his shirt, and touch his bare stomach. I shouldn’t do this with him. It’ll just complicate things. But my hands are moving on their own, touching his abs, running up to his chest. He pulls me closer, and I feel his teeth on my neck.

“Piers,” I sigh.

That drives him over the edge. He throws the sleeping bag open and rolls on top of me, leaning down to kiss me urgently. With the way his hands are yanking at my pants, I can tell he’s going to be rough. I help him excitedly. I don’t want to be gentle with him, anyways.

His lips are still on mine; with one hand, he pins my shoulder to the ground. He lowers his mouth down to my shoulder, his lips teasing at the skin there for a moment—and then he bites it, hard. I cry out in both pain and pleasure, digging my fingers into his scalp to yank his head away. If he’s going to be rough, I am, too.

I push him off me and discard my coat, tearing his clothes away from him. I grab him by the throat and shove him down to the ground, straddling him. I feel him harden beneath me as I lean my weight more onto his throat, squeezing.

“Avery.”

My body alights at the sound of him moaning my name. I reach down, tugging down at the waistband of his pants with one free hand. I’m ready to take him here and now—until he says my name again.

“Avery!”

It isn’t a moan. It’s a warning.

Outside, Cleaver barks.

I freeze, letting up on Piers’ throat. He gasps a bit, not from pain but rather denied pleasure, and lifts his head.

Cleaver keeps barking. I stand up and tug down my shirt. I hadn’t even realized it’d nearly come off.

“Hey, wait!” Piers cries out, but I’m already fixing my clothes and throwing my coat back on.

“Something’s got Cleaver bothered.” I grab a few of my daggers and one spear.

“He’s just barking! C’mon, you’re gonna give me blue balls over here.”

“He doesn’t just bark,” I snap, opening the flap of the tent and stepping out into the snow. Cleaver is no longer barking, but he’s growling and baring his teeth, staring off into the trees. I approach him and kneel next to him, but he doesn’t try to climb onto my lap like he usually does. He’s seen something.

A pinecone comes hurtling out of the woods and smacks me in the shoulder painfully.