Rattled: A Monster Romance (Monster Mate Hunt Book 1), page 1
Rattled
Monster Mate Hunt, Book 1
Sakura Black
Nightbloom Publishing
Copyright © 2023 by Sakura Black
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Editor: Zainab M.
Cover: Phantom Dame
Chapter art: Luna Rose Digital
Blurb
What if you were Selected?
Personally, I’ve never had much of an issue with the fae. Sure, I was as surprised as any lass when they burst into our world over a decade ago, but every race has its pricks, us humans included.
When the fae leave their calling card in my bed, I’ve got no choice but to go on the run, fleeing into the vast Scottish Highlands. I’d been Selected, and nobody was going to bat an eyelash when the fae came for me.
Where are they taking us and for what? It’s anybody’s guess, but if I’d won a luxury cruise with topless hotties serving me aged scotch, then why would they go to such lengths to hide any information?
Hard pass on the kidnapping, thanks.
Unfortunately for me, the fae have sent one of their most vicious hunters to chase me down—a sinfully scarred lamia with fangs dripping venom.
Unfortunately for him, I did years of military training in these Highlands and I won’t be going down without a fight. It might be cold out, but the thrill of the hunt is sure to heat my blood.
Judging by the hungry looks he gives me whenever we clash, I’m not the only one enjoying the chase…
Contents
Also By Sakura Black
Foreword
Dedication
1. Kelsea
2. Kelsea
3. Kelsea
4. Kelsea
5. Rattle
6. Kelsea
7. Kelsea
8. Kelsea
9. Rattle
10. Kelsea
11. Kelsea
12. Kelsea
13. Rattle
14. Kelsea
15. Kelsea
16. Kelsea
17. Kelsea
18. Kelsea
Afterword
A little teaser...
About Author
Also By Sakura Black
Fae Mate Hunt Series (complete):
0.5 – The Nymph’s Dark Pleasure
1 – Selected for the Shifters
2 – Hunted by the Minotaur
3 – Burning for the Fire Nymphs
4 – Fleeing the Feline King
5 – Their Concubine Queen
Monster Mate Hunt Series:
1 – Rattled
1 – Get Foxed (coming soon)
Playing with Demons Series:
1 – Take Me to Hell
2 – Capturing Sin (coming soon)
For all the latest book release information, subscribe to Sakura’s newsletter at sakurablackbooks.com and for a limited time, get a FREE bonus short story – The Nymph’s Dark Pleasure. Warning: it’s a steamy one!
Foreword
Thank you for picking up this book!
Just a little word of warning, the book you are about to read contains swearing, violence and steamy scenes with a magical fae male (because monsters need love too). Please head to sakurablackbooks.com to check the trigger warnings for this book.
If you have delicate sensibilities, maybe give this one a hard swerve…
For all those who think it would be fun to get rattled by a monster…
Chapter one
Kelsea
“Most men would be put off by a girl with muscles like that, but I still think you look hot,” a smooth male voice almost shouted by my ear.
I didn’t bother turning around.
Anyone opening with the classic ‘negging’ trick wasn’t going to be getting any action from me. He could look like an Adonis sent from Cupid to soak my panties, and I’d still tell him to go fuck himself after such a sly insult.
The man hovered, clearly not getting the hint. Maybe he thought my tiny female brain needed longer to absorb his underhanded compliment before swooning.
I took a sip of my drink, savouring the creaminess of the thick stout, then placed the pint down onto the sticky wood. The dark liquid dropped too close to the bottom of the glass for my liking.
“And yet you think it’s smart to pick me up with a line like that? How do you think I got so toned, pal?”
“Are you threatening me?” He scoffed, a small noise for so much entitled disbelief. “I knew you’d be a fucking dyke. If you don’t like dick, just say so.”
I whirled around and brushed a stray lock of indigo back behind my ear as I assessed the sneering idiot, determined to ruin my already crappy night.
Classically handsome, if on the slightly plain boy-next-door vibe, with perfect skin, bright blue eyes and a generous mop of sandy blonde hair, he was good-looking and confident enough that I’d bet he didn’t usually get rejected.
“Oh no, I love dick.” I licked my lips at an exaggerated slow pace. “Just the thought of a big throbbing cock sets my pussy all a-flutter. What I don’t like are sour puckered arseholes who think putting a girl down is the way to drop her panties along with her self-esteem. Now, fuck off before I show you what I really like.”
I just wanted to be left alone to enjoy my pint in peace. The light buzz was a bit too soothing, but I needed something to help me unwind. My day had been bad enough already.
“Shoulda known from that Halloween hair you’d be a fucking freak,” he said, purposefully loud enough for me to hear.
Rage surged through me, heating my blood until the stifling warmth of the crowded pub felt like a cool breeze.
I stood, barstool scraping against the floorboards, and faced the arsehole about to learn some manners.
A firm palm hit my backside. And squeezed.
“At least she’s got a great arse!” Another male chuckled, the sound booming obnoxiously loud in my ears as he tightened his hold on my goodies.
Sour Puckered Arsehole smirked at the man who’d crept up behind me.
The fact I’d let not one, but two mean sneak up on me just went to show how far I’d fallen.
I’d had enough of entitled men trying to take from me without consequence. Before I knew it, I swung.
My fist smacked into Sour Puckered Arsehole’s smirking face. His perfectly straight nose gave way with a satisfying crunch and spurt of blood. He stumbled back with a pained yell, crashing into the table behind him. A group of startled fire nymphs snarled at him as several of their pints shattered, spraying glass and ale.
The idiot at my back released my cheek. “What the f—”
I gripped the bar for support, snapping back a vicious kick. Right to the nads.
A pained whine accompanied the sound of a body dropping to the ground, clattering several barstools to the floor with him.
A few seats over, a wrinkled minotaur spluttered out a hacking laugh, quaking the golden bullring in his nose. “Fuck yeah, human! Go, donkey-kick another dude in the balls!”
I grunted, ignoring the cackling old man as I assessed the crowded bar for threats, but Sour Puckered Arsehole had disappeared.
With any obvious aggressors eliminated, I turned my attention to the handsy scumbag I’d downed. Like his friend, he was somewhat handsome, but with a shaved head and apparently more muscles than sense. He gripped his crotch, groaning as he rolled side to side across the worn floorboards.
“Ooh, in yer neep and tatties, eh? That’s gotta hurt.” I patted his cheek sarcastically, watching his eyes dart wildly at the little slaps. “Never touch someone without their permission, Chuckles. Next time, I’ll pull my fucking blade instead. Yours wouldn’t be the first diddly haggis I’ve skewered.”
Straightening, I bared my teeth at him, enjoying the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the quick brawl even as I stuffed down the dark memories that tried to surge up like toxic sludge.
Chuckles began pushing himself up with a groan.
“Stay down!” I snarled.
He paused at whatever he saw on my face before easing back to the floor. At least I’d not lost all my badass bitch vibes.
Leaving the whiny prick on the floor, I stepped back up to the bar, quickly righting my stool. I was more than ready for a fresh drink.
The bartender planted his hands on the worn top and raised a bushy salt-and-pepper brow. “You know you cannae stay after a stunt like that.”
I scowled, my victorious high ceding under the mounting injustice. “You’re really gonna kick me out? Those pricks were fucking asking for it, and you know it.”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Doona matter what I know.”
A worn sign clung to the faded wallpaper above rows of clear spirits, reading ‘Take it OUTSIDE’.
My eyes narrowed, the fire in my chest sparking as anger whispered in my ear like the devil, trying to lure me into lashing out. Gritting my teeth against the urge to throw a tantrum, I notched my chin instead. “Fine. But doona think I
The grizzled man shrugged. “Sorry, lassie. Rules are rules.”
My shoulders hiked up at that saying. That bloody fucking saying.
“Aye, rules are rules. But morals are fucking morals,” I snarled, baring my teeth like some shifter fae gone feral.
I ripped my jacket off the barstool and stalked towards the exit.
Sour Puckered Arsehole reappeared through the crowd, stepping into my path despite the blood leaking from his newly crooked nose. His handsome face twisted in a rage to match my own. Blood smeared his cheek and jaw, making him look like a particularly messy vampire.
I didn’t break stride, barrelling straight into his taller frame. He bounced off me with a high-pitched yelp, but I was too annoyed to truly enjoy the sound.
I shoved the heavy door open, stepping out into the biting cold. The chill robbed me of my well-deserved buzz, leaving me worse off than I’d started the evening—exhausted and bitter. I slipped my leather jacket on with a steady exhale, but it was already too late for my feeble attempt at inebriation.
The moon peered at me, judging my life choices as I looked around the empty street.
Now what?
Chapter two
Kelsea
Wind gusted, whipping my plum-coloured locks around my face in a mini purple cyclone.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, shoving my wild mane back behind my ears as I trudged towards home. My hair usually enjoyed being a curly nightmare, but ever since I’d dyed it this dark hue, it seemed to have a will of its own.
Which was getting into my mouth as often as my last boyfriend.
The chill seeped beneath my leather jacket as I walked, raising goosebumps along my arms. At least it was a cloudless night, revealing a few winking stars to flank a thin sliver of moon. I still half-expected it to rain anyway.
Welcome to Scotland.
The streets were quiet, only a few people spilling from a nearby pub as I passed. They quickly dispersed with a half-hearted farewell and power-walked to cars parked further down the road.
A wolf whistle sliced through the hush.
On instinct, I reached for the knife at the small of my back. I strained to detect any threats.
Frustrated, I rolled my eyes at my own edginess. Just because I’d played the victim once didn’t mean I would permanently star in that role.
Head swivelling, despite my internal pep talk, I scanned the canal and quiet street as I powered towards my home and the warmth it promised. As soon as I got in, I’d treat myself to a glass of scotch. Two fingers, one cube. I wasn’t one of those snooty whiskey purists who refused the let real ice sully their drink. Besides, since getting unceremoniously booted from the Navy, I was too poor for little luxuries like whiskey stones.
I’d light the log burner tonight and get cosy with a guilty pleasure dark romance novel before bed. After the rough day I’d had, getting rejection after rejection from every job I’d applied for, something extra spicy was in order.
It was only a half-hour walk home through the quiet streets of Inverness, but I slowed my pace to head south along the canal, savouring the night as I followed the winding River Ness. Something about the darkness had always comforted me. The way I could just be myself with no one to watch or judge me. It was freeing. Just me, the crescent moon and the pale stars.
“Stop! Please! Someone, help!” A shrill voice shattered the peace.
Instantly on high alert, I scanned the night.
The sounds of a scuffle followed. Sprinting towards the noise, I raced along the canal. A small side road branched off the main street. I halted at a corner and peered around the edge of a dark café.
Deep within the alleyway, barely illuminated by a streetlight at the far end, an enormous man held a slender fae pinned to the wall. The fae’s stubby bat-like wings beat frantically against the bricks in useless panic as he tried to rip the male’s hands from his neck. Long, pointed ears turned an alarming shade of purple.
A woman, swamped in a puffer jacket, stood beside the burly strangler, grinning viciously. “Fuckin’ fae scum.” She sneered. “Go back to yer own world.”
My lip curled in disgust. With Faerie dying, most of the fae had sought refuge here. After the Great War, humans and fae had finally signed the Peace Accords, meaning this had become their world almost as much as ours. With a few interesting rules, of course.
She slammed her fist into the fae’s cheek, snapping his head aside with the force.
I moved, swift and silent.
I stomped the back of the strangler’s knee, causing his weight to buckle with a shocked grunt. He dipped and I slammed my elbow into his temple, relishing the vicious strike as he released his victim. The fae landed in a gasping heap on the floor.
Before I could finish the strangler off with a knee to his face, the woman was on me, fist looming in my periphery. Adrenaline coursed through me, crystallising the moment. I snapped my forearm up as I spun, knocking the blow off-course with a smack I heard more than felt.
I grinned as she tried to roundhouse kick me next, stepping back to dodge the sloppy move and smashing my fist into her jaw, using her momentum to add impact. Eyes rolling back, she hit the cobblestones.
An enraged roar revved my instincts. I twisted, protecting my chin as a fist pounded against my raised arm, reverberating the bone. With a hiss, I ducked the strangler’s next punch, following it up with a solid hook to his paunchy middle.
He stumbled back with a wheeze, clutching his side. In the next breath, he sneered. “Fuckin’ bitch, yer gonna regret tha.”
I reached for the blade at the base of my spine and drew it from its kydex sheath, angling it. “Oh goodie, big boy wants to play.”
He took one look at the wicked fixed blade, glanced at his unconscious friend, and made the smart decision. Raising his free hand in surrender, he edged backwards in an awkward shuffle. “Hey, look, lass, I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just showin’ this alien his place, yeah?”
Enraged, I snarled, “You racist piece of shit. Fuck off before I get knife-happy and show you your place, bleeding out beneath my boot.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” he grunted, but turned and fled, leaving his friend on the floor.
Roundhouse was already coming to.
I sheathed the knife and offered a hand up to the fae crumpled against the bricks. “Come on, let’s clear out.”
He blinked up at me in a daze, owlish eyes slightly unfocussed. His sooty lashes were so long I could have sworn they created their own breeze with every blink. “What?”
I frowned, scanning his slender frame for injuries. Other than the angry marks around his long neck, he seemed ok, but I knew more about causing damage than I did fixing it. “Can you stand?” I asked, keeping my palm outstretched.
He eyed it for another suspicious beat before taking it. Cold and bony, yet surprisingly strong, he gripped my hand, letting me heave him up.
I couldn’t help marvelling at the unique texture to his semi-flared wings. They looked like the material love child of marble and leather. I was half-tempted to run my fingers along their length, just to feel their texture. Though after my own groping incident this evening, I was intimately familiar with just how unacceptable it was to start getting handsy with strangers.
“Why did you help me?” he blurted, yanking his hand back to wrap his arms around his middle, fluttering his grey wings restlessly as they shuffled against his back.
“Because you were literally shouting ‘someone help!’…?”
He narrowed his eyes, features turning hawkish. “So, you came running in like a berserking minotaur to slay my enemies?”
A wry smile twitched my lips. “Well, you were being beaten up in an alley…”
“Humans don’t normally save random fae,” he drawled, flashing short fangs.
“Yup, well, whatever race you are, you shouldn’t be strangled for that.” I shrugged. “Do you need help getting home? Because I gotta go before I get arrested for assault or something.”
