Monsters kiss, p.1
Monster's Kiss, page 1
MONSTER’S KISS
BLACKTHORN ACADEMY FOR SUPERNATURALS
BOOK ONE
C.D. GORRI
CONTENTS
Monster’s Kiss
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
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Monster’s Kiss
blackthorn Academy for Supernaturals
Book one
Copyright © 2023
C.D. Gorri
ISBN: 978-1-77357-567-4
978-1-77357-566-7
Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC
Cover Art By Silvana G. Sánchez
@ SelfPub Designs
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MONSTER’S KISS
Will a curvy necromancer succumb to a monster’s kiss?
Serena
I spent my childhood avoiding things that went bump in the night. Not an easy feat, considering I saw ghosts. Ignoring the dead was part of my daily routine.
After dozens of visits with doctors, hypnotists, and priests forced on me by my aunt and uncle, I’d learned to keep quiet. It wasn’t until I received my invitation to Blackthorn Academy that I finally felt hope.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve felt someone watching me. Glowing eyes pierced the darkness, always trailing after me, but whenever I turned to confront the owner of those eyes—poof—he was gone. Like magic.
I didn’t know my mystery stalker, but at least I wasn’t alone anymore.
Draugr
Cursed with an insatiable thirst, I’ve spent decades searching for the one who can sate my desire for blood. I thought all hope was lost until she arrived at Blackthorn Academy.
The second I scented her, I knew she was mine. Now, I just have to convince her. There is only one question. Can this beauty learn to love a beast?
Monster’s Kiss is book one in the Blackthorn Academy for Supernaturals shared world, featuring a curvy necromancer new to the supernatural world, and a Viking revenant suffering from an unimaginable curse!
PROLOGUE
Draugr
“Hello, Draugr,” Headmistress Blackthorn said as I walked into her study. “It’s time to renew our agreement for the upcoming term. I need your signature here, ink and blood.”
I snarled as I called on my DeathFace, using my preternatural fangs to pierce my tough, dark hide and dipping the quill into the warm, red blood that flowed from my bite. I understood this was the only way I could remain at Blackthorn, and though I had not been a fan of the Academy at first, it had changed my life.
“Good evening, Headmistress, I am ready,” I replied, ever polite as I signed my name in scrawling script in my blood, using a different quill before following that signature in black ink.
“Good. Now, for our review. What can you recall about your arrival here last year and how have things changed for you?”
I sat down on the velvet-covered loveseat opposite the headmistress, taking in the subdued opulence with an approving nod. She was from an old, powerful line, and I had nothing but respect for the female.
“The thing I remember most vividly was the pain. Well, that and the darkness,” I began as the memories flooded into my brain.
One year ago…
The days were blurring one into the next as my thirst for that life-giving substance grew and grew. My regular feeders were scared of me. Frightened of their inability to appease my appetite.
It was happening.
I stared at my reflection in the small silver mirror in my bedroom and hated what I saw.
Son of the Draugr, destined to replace the sufferer. The time was upon me, and I hated it. I stared at the glaringly obvious changes in my person. The differences between me and everyone else so abhorrently apparent it was ridiculous. Never again could I cross worlds, passing as a human or something close.
Forever would I be other. Always would I be monster.
My skin had turned the color of pitch, great horns spiraled out from my head, enormous wings appeared and disappeared at my beck and call, but along with all these changes, there was one I could have lived my entire life without.
Hunger.
Like no ordinary hunger. This was a bone-deep yearning. A thirst greater than the sea. A craving so wide, it could never be filled. It clawed and plagued me like a bad dream that would not go away. Tears pricked my eyes as the pain made me blind to everything around me. Everyone I came into contact with was reduced to a heartbeat and the sound of blood rushing through their veins was like someone ringing the dinner bell.
Fuck me. I am starving.
No. You mustn’t.
Why me? All Father, have mercy.
But my prayers went unanswered, and as I came into my own, I felt that burn inside me grow and grow until it became like an oubliette in my very flesh. An abyss of nothing but need. And what did I need?
Blood.
Of course, it was always blood. I loathed myself, the thing I had become. To pay for sins I had not committed, I was asked to bear the unbearable. It was not my fault, though. How I hated my father for making me do this! For not finding a way to stop the curse.
“You will embrace this, my son. Your task, like the task of the many before you, is one of honor and privilege. Carry the thirst. Do not fall prey to the Bloodlust. Be strong, my son.”
“Really?” I replied. “Honor? Privilege? I die every time my hunger strikes, fearing who I will kill next!”
It was not just hysteria. Blood was on my hands. It was part of the curse, of course, this living with one foot over the veil and one within. I was a monster. My need for blood was part of my penance.
“It is your duty to live with it, not sate it, son,” my father growled.
Didn’t that suck? No pun intended.
“Why, Father? Why must I suffer so?”
“Because it is your duty—”
“You speak to me of duty? Look at me! I am a Demon now. Is that not enough? Runes carved into my ruined flesh. Horns. Wings. No female will ever have me. Why must I pay for a debt owed because of sins committed by my forefathers, sire?”
“It is a debt, but what of this talk? Your mother bore me you—” my father said, his voice void of all emotion.
“Out of duty, sire. Why else did she not stay to raise her only son?” I asked, having heard the tale of her abandonment long ago by those males who tended our keep.
My line was a warrior line. To keep the Clan safe, it must be continued. Females had serviced my family for centuries for that reason alone.
“Love does not live here, Raven. You know this.”
I snapped my head to the side, unable to look at him. He was to blame for all of this. As a youngling, my skin had been as pink and pretty as any other member of my people.
True, the Draugen had been cursed long ago, but why could he not make my mother happy? Now, it was my turn to fail. Soon, I would be too far gone to care, wouldn’t I?
As my body changed, so did my appetite. I’d been battling the Bloodlust for decades now, but just lately, it had gotten worse.
Like ten times worse.
“You almost drained your last donor dry, Raven,” my father said.
“No. You don’t call me that! I am not Raven anymore, am I? I am Draugr,” I sneered.
“Raven, you must—”
“Call me by my true name,” I demanded, the growl in my chest rumbling loudly in the small chamber where my father held court.
He had been the Draugr before I ascended. And his father before him. The males of my line had been cursed for centuries.
“Stop acting like a child,” my father grunted. “The Draugr is a servant. So, serve,” he demanded.
Just like that, all my angry rebuttals died on my lips. He was right. The Draugr was a servant and not just to the Bloodlust, but to all the members of the Clan. The Draugen and their mates and young were all protected from the curse by the chosen one who bore the weight for all.
I did not ask to be born. I was no one’s idea of a hero. Even when my skin started to turn black as a raven’s wing, I fought against it. But the Norns refused to be outwitted. Those sister Fates held my destiny in their skeletal hands, and it was time I accepted there was no hope.
With that in mind, I stalked outside under the cloak of night, and walked through our land. I stayed in the shadows, more comfortable there, ever since I had come into my position. The Draugr was feared, reviled, and even hated by some.
I heard the whispers. Felt their eyes piercing the darkness, searching for me. I was the stuff of nightmares. The monster waiting under the bed, in the closet, behind the stairwell. My hunger burned inside my throat, the agony too great.
I walked and walked, stumbling to where a group of young males and females had gathered around a bonfire. They laughed and drank ale, sharing stories. I watched with greedy eyes as hands were held, couples choosing their mates for the night.
All Draugen fed on blood, but none were as insatiable as I. Everything turned black as my pulse pounded in my ears. The agony of it was a never-ending scream that sent me to my knees. Louder and louder, the wail grew until it was all I could hear. My eardrums pounded in pain at the sheer volume of that cry.
It was not until I felt hands on my shoulders, holding me down, that I realized I was the one making that horrible sound. I thrashed atop the mound of snow while a dozen Draugen warriors struggled to keep me still.
“Raven!” my father screamed, the sadness in his eyes telling me the truth for once.
I was doomed to suffer the torment of our people. For the first time, I saw my father’s strength. He was not just some cold and calculated revenant of a man. He was the Draugr before me, and his strength was immense. I was an ungrateful whelp. A weakling. And it was time to change.
“I will get you help, son,” he grunted, and I felt shackles clamp down on my wrists and ankles.
When I woke up, I was no longer in the North with my Clan, but on Northumberland Island, newly enrolled in Blackthorn Academy. I admit the castle was frightening at first. Dark and ominous, it loomed over the rest of the island.
Present day…
“Yes, I recall the day you arrived, Draugr. You were not happy,” the headmistress offered politely.
“I was not. But I have learned many things here. I have learned that through my suffering, I am saving my own people. It is, as my father said, noble, but that is not how I bear it,” I confessed.
Headmistress Blackthorn leaned forward, her tight bun never moving as she craned her neck and looked me over.
“Pray tell, have you discovered the reason or found the fortitude to bear your burden, then? And what are they?”
“Being the Draugr is a nightmare, Headmistress. But not being the Draugr means someone else would have to be. I have learned one thing my father and all the long line of our ancestors have not. It is that one thing that will end this curse.”
“Really? And what is that?”
I turned my head, taking a sip of the mint tea she offered from an antique set. It was good stuff, satisfying one thirst only to enhance my other. I had resolved myself to a very important decision. An understanding that would hopefully end this horror from happening to anyone else.
“Blackthorn Academy has the honor of hosting the very last Draugr of the Clan Draugen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I will not procreate. I will not ever breed with a female.”
“But how can you say that?” she asked, her face revealing no emotion.
“Because I refuse to pass this curse on to a son. My father before me was a servant to the curse, but I will be stronger. This ends with me.”
We sat in silence for some time. There I was, stoically resigned to my fate alone, with Headmistress Blackthorn sipping her tea, quietly watching me.
“I wonder if you realize the arrogance of such a statement, young Draugr.”
“It is not arrogance. It is my will. Besides, what worthy female would seek to be bedded by a monster like me?”
“Oh, I believe you would be surprised, Draugr,” she said as I stood to take my leave.
Surprised? Ha! Not likely.
The other students gave me a wide berth and with good reason. The few times I accepted feedings, I had to be restrained to keep from killing my donors. That kind of thing got around, and it did not do my reputation any favors.
It did not matter. I was not some Romeo looking for his Juliet. I was the Draugr, a revenant, a Vampiric Viking whose Bloodlust would be the death of all if I did not learn to control it. That was why I remained at the academy. To work on my control so that I could hold the seat longer than those who came before me.
With every new generation, the Draugr was younger and younger. As the elders lost control, they gave up the curse to their sons. It was a long and bloody lineage. And it would stop with me.
“Damn fucking straight,” I snarled from my perch on top of the castle.
I chose a long since abandoned watchtower as the perfect spot to build my sanctuary, though technically I was assigned a dorm room. That did not matter to me. Sleep never came easy, anyway.
I was the Draugr. I was death. A monster made flesh by a vengeful deity, destined for ruination.
I tipped my head back and opened my mouth, howling as my hunger grew. My stomach burned as the pain had me doubling over. But still I screamed, and screamed, though the sound was whisked away by the wind coming off the raging seas.
I had to let go of my childish dreams. There was no end coming for me. No happy ever after with a mate or family.
No.
I was the Draugr. And that would be my end.
Roooooaaaaaarrrrrrr!
CHAPTER 1
Serena
The sky was overcast when I stepped out of the airport. It was gloomy and depressing, but I was told that was common for the United Kingdom. I’d been dreaming of visiting England, Ireland, Scotland, all of it, since reading my very first Shakespeare sonnet.
I had imagined rolling green hills and bright blue skies, a warm, orange ball of light in the center of it all. But the reality was the total opposite. Stupid of me, really. London was a city. Crowded and congested.
The skies outside of Heathrow Airport were gray and dark, and I thought back on what I’d read in the travel book I’d downloaded. Rain was common in the Fall. Still, as I turned my head to the cloudy skies, I had to admit disappointment. I thought I had heard a sound. Like a lion’s roar, only deeper, darker.
Whatever.
I must have been imagining things.
Anyway, this was not at all how I pictured this place. It was only the first day, and I supposed I was angry and nervous. I’d spent so much of my life in denial about my preternatural abilities.
Truly, it had been something of an epiphany to realize I was not crazy. Sure, I’d terrified my aunt and uncle ever since I was six years old and told them my maternal grandmother was not happy about them selling her wedding crystal.
At the time, I did not understand how upsetting such a statement was coming from their recently orphaned niece. Aunt Gabby was my mother’s only sister. She and Uncle Patrick had taken me in when my parents died in a car accident coming home from the movie theater.
Drunk driver. Yeah, it sucked.
Aunt Gabby had been very angry at me for telling lies. I wasn’t lying, but how was six year old me supposed to know I was the only one who could see and hear them?
Who are they?
Well, to put it simply, they are the others. The dead, the buried, poltergeists, shadows, spectres, spirits—whatever you wanted to call them. Speaking plainly, they were ghosts. And they were all around us.
“Where you headed, miss?”
“The railway station. I have to catch the 2:25 to Hexhamshire. Um, which way do I go?” I asked the man wearing the airport security jacket.
His gaze roamed over me, and I bit back the snarky comment that was on the tip of my tongue. I was a little oversensitive about men ogling my curvy frame, having been the butt of more than my fair share of rude comments.
