The corset emphasizes my hourglass figure—heavy breasts, tapered waist, and generous ass. It also makes my boobs look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. The dress itself is pale pink interwoven with black lace. It cups my breasts before spilling outwards in three layers of pink skirts. At the hem, the pink swirls into shades of onyx that cascade across the floor with each movement I make. My blonde hair is artfully curled into perfect ringlets, with a small portion tucked away in a golden clip. Two flyaway strands frame my face. The makeup isn’t heavy, but it heightens the golden flecks in my eyes and my already lush lips. The blush highlights my prominent cheekbones.
It took some urging, but I eventually used the balm Frankie created on my scars. The words are nothing but smeared pink lines, and even those are beginning to fade. Soon, they’ll be nothing but a horrible memory, though the scars on my soul are still as prevalent as ever. Nothing can eradicate that hurt.
I spin once, enjoying the way the fabric glides across the floor, before smiling at my reflection.
It’s amazing what a little confidence can do for a girl. Some people think we dress up and wear makeup to impress people, and maybe that’s true for some, but not all. Sometimes, we want to look beautiful in order to feel beautiful. We have trouble seeing past our flaws and mistakes, our transgressions and sins. By dressing up, we’re donning a mask—one we’re capable of removing whenever we so feel the need. It’s our battle armor and our sword. Our shield and our convoy. It’s a way for us to see the beauty the rest of the world already sees.
“Knock knock!” a cheery voice exclaims. “Don’t bother responding, because I’m coming in anyway.”
Without preamble, Mason pushes open the door, the others at his heels.
I take a moment to survey them all as they do the same for me.
Mason is bedecked in a three-piece suit with a pink tie. He still wears his customary beanie, the exact same shade of gray as his suit.
Vin, behind him, is handsomely dressed as well in a black suit with a white undershirt and white cufflinks. The material conforms to his muscular body, revealing his shapely thighs and toned arms.
Surprisingly, Hux is in control today. His suit is almost identical to Vin’s, though he has a pink bow tie completing the ensemble. His thick black hair has been combed back, his wicked scar proudly on display.
Frankie is the only one not wearing a suit. Instead, he has on tan dress pants with a light blue collared shirt tucked in. His normally disheveled curls have been tamed into some semblance of control.
Behind them all, Cal and Barret stand, looking dreadfully out of place and uneasy, as if they’re unsure of where they fit in this new dynamic. Frankly, I’m unsure too.
Cal’s pink hair is stylishly tousled, sweeping across his forehead and into his eyes. There are slits in his white suit jacket for his red wings to pop through, and if he were to extend those wings, they’d easily encompass the length of my room. Barret is smartly dressed in a black suit with a red undershirt, the exact shade of Cal’s wings. With his green hair, he looks like a life-sized Christmas ornament, though I’d never admit that to him.
All of them take my breath away.
For as long as I have been staring at them, they have been staring at me. Their eyes are physical caresses across my suddenly overheated skin. A girl could die from that burn.
Seriously. Look it up. Type in “spontaneous combustion.” Do it.
“Pinkie, you look—” Mason begins.
“Like a fucking vision,” Frankie cuts in, devouring me from head to toe with his warm gaze. I once thought it was icy and detached, but that’s not true anymore. Licks of flame dance on my skin from his stare.
“You look radiant,” Hux breathes, stomping forward until he’s able to touch my shoulders. “The most gorgeous gem in all the lands.”
“So fucking cheesy. If I were to say that, she would laugh in my face,” I hear Mason murmur from somewhere over Hux’s shoulder, but my attention is consumed by the ruggedly handsome man before me. There’s something feral about his beauty—something untamed—like a beast roaming the countryside.
“I will escort my precious treasure to the ceremony,” Hux announces abruptly. His words are domineering, bossy in nature, and brooks no room for argument.
Still, the rest of the men begin to grumble as Hux extends his arm for me to take. With a small smile, I place my hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to pull me out of my room.
“At least we have a nice view,” I hear someone—probably Mason or even Vin—whisper to the others. I have no doubt that all eyes are trained intently on my skirt-clad ass.
As we walk through the thick forest interspersed with oaks and maples, I can’t help but stare at the other monsters also bedecked in their best dresses and suits. I spot Birdy—the school’s secretary—giggling with a group of men who look at least twenty years younger than her. I always suspected she was up to shady shit. She really ruffles my feathers sometimes.
Snort.
Walking up ahead, arms hanging stiffly by their sides, are two monsters with gills clamoring down both of their blue necks. Cheryl’s parents. Or at the very least, a relative of my enemy.
Hundreds and hundreds of monsters are in attendance. More than I have ever seen in one setting before. Vampires and werewolves and ghosts and ghouls and a few that belong in the bottom of the ocean. A skeleton skips merrily across the lawn, an eerie sight to behold. And then…
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe as my eyes lock on the huge man lumbering forward.
Big Foot.
The Big Foot. I remember Cynthia’s old roommate was his daughter, and she would tell me stories about the monster with feet the length of a twin-sized bed. He’s naked, his coarse brown hair on display, and between his legs rests a…a cock.
The size of a twin-sized bed.
Hanging there.
Collecting dirt.
And his balls…
“Stop fucking staring at another’s man cock,” Hux hisses, hurling daggers at the oblivious man stepping forward to join a group of monsters.
“It’s like a monument,” I whisper. “A monument for cocks.”
“Violet…” he warns. “Unless you want me to go over there and castrate him, I would stop talking.”
Reluctantly, I wrench my gaze away from the humongous, almost ethereal, penis. Another thing I’m able to check off my bucket list.
Revel in a monster cock the size of a bed? Check.
“Precious Treasure.” Hux clears his throat once, and when I turn to stare at him, he’s very purposefully looking away, pink dusting his cheekbones. “I told you this before, and I’ll tell you again—you look beautiful. You look like everything I have ever wanted. Like the sun and the moon and the stars. I could live in darkness for all of eternity if you’re by my side.”
“Hux,” I begin, unable to articulate any of my thoughts. “I sort of want to kiss you right now.”
Before I can even finish my sentence, he’s lunging forward, lips puckered. I laugh and swat at his face half-heartedly, laughing harder at his look of bemusement.
“But I can’t. I have makeup on.”
“You don’t need makeup,” Hux insists adamantly. “You’re beautiful without it. But you’re also beautiful with it. Hell, you’d be beautiful if you were wearing a plastic bag and had a disco ball balancing on your head.”