Page 9 of Monsters' Touch

However, once housed in the back of her mind, theory proven, I see the scene in front of her.

In front of us.

Feel her dis-ease.

Ourdis-ease.

I glare at the miscreant through her. His dull, lifeless eyes dilate with misplaced desire, as do the blood vessels across his cheeks and nose when his body temperature rises.

I could rip his head off his body right here and now for making our host so uncomfortable. For treating her like an object, a thing to be conquered.

Our host is no such thing.

She is mighty. A jewel among her kind. Vitality pumps through her. Even if she doesn’t know it.

I stand and stride closer to the human filth, craning our neck to meet his eye.

It is curious being short. Needing to look up at a being to meet their gaze. But I’ve grown accustomed to it and my host’s stature only serves to intensify thisBrad’s fear as I allow him to see me staring through her for the briefest moment.

He steps back. A single step away from us. But I close the distance once more and pull him by the shirt to our level.

“What is more clear than ‘no, thank you?’”

Brad goes slack-jawed and pale.

Excellent.

“And, for your own edification, HRwillcare if I make them care. This lunch might not have happened on company property or on their dime, but I bet they would care about all the time you’ve wasted coming to my desk to harass me during the workday. Or when you tried to corner me in the copy room, physically blocking my exit.”

I knew these things because Lily knew them, and with each truth I brought to light, new beads of sweat appeared at Brad’s hairline.

Brad. Similar to Tad, the male who wouldn’t leave our host alone in her own home.

Curious. Is name magic a part of the human realm? Do names make the man here?

Are Chads also odious?

Thads?

I’ve reaped countless souls from humans with all those names. Are they equally offensive?

The Brad thing stammered, his scent curdling under my nose. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Lily. I won’t bother you again.”

“You will not,” I say through her and again allow the male to see the being he’s truly talking to.

It is only the briefest second.

Just the barest hint of my true face peering through Lily’s.

The male urinates himself.

“Christ, Brad, get yourself together,” the female friend says with disgust when the acrid ammonia scent reaches her.

I release his shirt and he stumbles backward, face ghostly white, eyes wide and wild like prey darting back and forth, searching for the big-horned beast lurking in the darkness.

Once his feet are under him, Brad scuttles away, straight for the door.

The female friend slaps us on the back.