Page 6

My mind is preoccupied with dirty thoughts of pretty leathery wings, and glowing blue eyes. Ryker. Monster gods, even his name is hot.

I slow my pace, pretending to adjust the cuff of my oversized jacket, and sneak a sly look over my shoulder toward the riverbank.

Ryker is still standing near the flickering shadows of the trees, towering over the crowd like a sculpted deity. A tiny pixie with glittering iridescent wings is flitting around his broad shoulders, laughing at something he said. Ryker holds a red plastic cup in one clawed hand, taking a casual sip, but over the rim of the cup, his dark eyes are fixed straight on me.

He flashes me a slow, wicked smile, and I swear it’s a silent, knowing acknowledgment that he caught me staring.

A fresh surge of lust shoots straight to my cock. I bite my lower lip, ducking my head to hide the sudden blush creeping up my neck. Fucking hell, I don’t remember the last time my body reacted like this.

Beside me, Ethan stops mid-sentence. He looks at me, follows my gaze back to the purple gargoyle, and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, monster gods,” Ethan groans, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been in Creelin for less than twelve hours and you’re already smitten with that seven-foot gargoyle. I’m out. I’m going to go find my bestie before you embarrass me.”

“I’m not smitten,” I lie. “I’m just…appreciating the view. Damn, do you think he’s actually seven feet tall?” Around us there are several large monsters, some even the same height, including a large purple ogre that looks familiar. But thanks to Ryker’s horns and wings, none of them are that tall, wide, and muscular.

Ethan gives me a dull stare, patting my shoulder in mock pity. “R.I.P. to your focus, Teag. See you back at the dorm.”

After a quick hug and some reassurance that he isn’t drinking anymore, he wanders off into the crowd, leaving me standing here alone.

I take a moment to readjust my hair before casually glancing back toward the riverbank, ready to give Ryker another flirty smirk.

He’s gone.

I blink.

Scanning the area around the trees I don’t spot him. The pretty pixie is now chatting with a satyr, but my mysterious gargoyle has completely vanished into the night. Disappointment pricks at my chest.

Relax, Dae, I tell myself, making my way to the coolers and grabbing an unopened bottle of soda. You just freaking met the guy. You aren’t supposed to be chasing after him like a pathetic little human spotting his first ever monster.

To keep from looking like a total loner, I start aimlessly wandering through the bonfire party, lowkey keeping my eyes peeled for a flash of violet skin or dark leather wings. At one point, I meet a sweet house cat shifter named Sam. Apparently, her human brother, Christopher, is a huge fan of mine. I chat with her for a while and even exchange numbers.

On one hand, I’m proud of myself for making a friend, but also disappointed I didn’t think to get Ryker’s number too.

The party is alive with energy. Creepin U is even more diverse than I imagined. I pass a group of shifters comparing football stats, a few harpies preening their feathers near the music setup, and an orc carefully holding a small beer can as if he’s trying not to smash it while he drinks. I fucking love it here.

As I weave my way toward the edge of the party, my gaze lands on a familiar figure, and my steps come to a sudden halt.

No fucking way.

Standing a few feet away, sipping nervously from a cup, is Mort.

The Mort. The iconic mothboy from that wildly popular childhood sitcom I used to binge-watch reruns back when I was a teen in Korea. He looks almost the same as he did on TV, only older. He has a soft dark fuzz along his neck that reminds me of a trendy scarf, large dark vibrant eyes, and delicate brown antenna. He’s really attractive.

A jolt of excited celebrity solidarity zips through me. Another former child star on campus.

I take a step forward with a welcoming smile forming on my lips. I’m eager to walk over, introduce myself, and commiserate about the absurdities of growing up in the spotlight. We could totally be industry buddies.

But as I get closer, I pause.

Mort isn’t enjoying the party. His large antennae are twitching frantically at the booming bass of the speakers and his hands are visibly trembling. He’s huddled in on himself, shifting uncomfortably as another group of passing students point at him and whisper loudly, pulling out their phones to take sneak photos. He looks overwhelmed and uncomfortable.

The excited grin fades from my face, replaced by a pang of familiar empathy. I know that exact feeling. It’s the suffocating weight of unwanted eyes when you just want to exist. A few curious eyes are on me, but not as many. Walking over right now, even with good intentions, would probably just draw more unwanted attention to him. I make a mental note to maybe try and reach out through social media.

I back off quietly, giving him his space, and decide it’s time to call it a night. Exhaustion washes over me.

Scanning the perimeter one last time for any sign of the gargoyle who got away, I finally spot Kieran talking to a wolf shifter. Pulling my jacket tighter around my shoulders against the cool night breeze, I head over to my new roommate so we can trek back together to our ridiculously small dorm suite.

Chapter four