Whose Bed Have Your Claws Been Under?: A sweet & steamy monster romance (Monsterville, USA Book 3)
Whose Bed Have Your Claws Been Under: Chapter 3

Why did Darrow have to be such a sexy asshole? I should be glaring at him now, not drooling about him whenever he wasn’t looking my way.

He’d grown both upward and outward, though there didn’t appear to be a scrap of fat on him. Nope, he could compete with a wall of muscles.

His snake-like hair only added to his appeal. His skin had taken on a silver cast when he was changed, the color of his hair was only slightly darker. His teal eyes that were the original Darrow had a gleam behind them that wasn’t there before, making him even more appealing than he’d been back when we were sixteen. He was a force to be reckoned with, a guy to long for the rest of my days.

And he hated me.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that. When my parents told me he died, I’d curled in a ball on my bed and sobbed for weeks. I’d only come out of my room when Mom and Dad threatened me with force-feedings.

I’d spent years mourning his loss, as if a part of me had been ripped away and buried along with him. Some say first love is the strongest, and they had to be right. Look at me, my heart squeezing tight because he’d tossed a look of anger my way.

I wanted to curl up on a bed and cry because I’d lost him all over again.

We stepped onto the dance floor, and for a second, he stared at me like he was going to reject me in front of everyone. Then he took my hand and tugged me close. We swayed together to the slow tune, and while I might be cursed for doing it, I laid my head on his chest. His heart drummed faster than it should.

If I was a girl who believed in second chances, I’d think his heart was responding to my presence. Nope. He was probably wishing he could run away and never see me again.

I wasn’t going to keep pleading my case. If he didn’t believe me, there wasn’t anything I could do but let it go.

It hurt, and it wasn’t going to get any better, but slinking away sure beat letting him reject me over and over.

I closed my eyes, swaying in tune with his body. When we were sixteen, we’d almost gone all the way. I wasn’t sure why we’d stopped, and after he “died,” I’d mourned that I didn’t have that memory to cling to.

“Don’t get into this too much,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“I’m enjoying the music.” My eyes stung, and I hoped I didn’t cry.

To him, I epitomized betrayal. To me, he was a dream that was wrenched from my arms. It wasn’t fair of fate to thrust him back into my life but still deny me the chance to be with him.

“As soon as we can do this politely, I’ll go to my room,” he said.

Each of us had our own room in the castle.

“You can enjoy the rest of the evening,” he added. “And I’ll avoid you throughout the weekend.”

“That would probably be best.”

Monica and Trevor had planned various activities for us. Darrow and I could get caught up in everything and replace a way to avoid each other.

Or I could remain in my room, crying.

Except . . . I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d come to Petrified Woods to enjoy Monica and Trevor’s wedding, and that was what I was going to do, dammit. Darrow could hide away if he wanted to avoid close contact with me.

I’d smile and . . . flirt. Yes! I’d replace someone to flirt with ASAP and show Darrow I didn’t need him in my life to feel complete. I’d survived his death; I could make it through his rejection.

Why did it hurt so much, then?

He gave me a curt nod, and I returned it.

The song ended, and we returned to our table. As I sat, my phone buzzed. I scrolled in to see who was calling, only to huff Darrow’s way.

This should be interesting.

I answered the call. “Hi, Mom and Dad!”