Rue

Valentino.

Her Valentino.

This had her mouth dry, tongue flicking out to wet drying lips. She should not feel this way, shouldn’t have memories of her idiot number 3. But she did, and it came to her with a tornado of unsung regret, of pretty dreams and somewhat happy days.

It swam through her, those memories of laughter, jest, and her endless nagging for his shitty essays. Her pens were always in his face from his antics; his boxy smiles always filled with tease; his tentacles roaming her skin—his penises on her neck.

And to that he’d once screamed that while his phallic limbs could become sexual organs, they were also just fingers and hands. Thus, a tentacle to her arm was just him holding her hand with his thirty other fingers, which was utter bullshit to Rue. Utter bullshit.

Valentino was the eros from high school. The eros who’d once been so irrevocably and impossibly in love with her; the eros that had spent hours in her presence with only confession and yearning for her imaginary cock. The only man in the world that had tried so damn hard to convince her they were soulmates just because of a word, cursive on his collarbone.

‘Fuck’ had been his first word, his signal for his soulmate.

She’d said it once and she would say it again: a million people were going to say ‘fuck’ to Valentino and she wouldn’t be the first or the last. But of all the beautiful people in high school, he’d picked her, the scrawniest, most malnourished, and ugliest asshole in the world. A rat of an Alpha, trash of an Omega.

And to that ugly face he’d begged for all her love.

He fell for her at her worst, and then had disappeared from her life like a rush of wind, his promises of always begging quickly gone. His sworn oath to always yearn for her cum immediately lost the moment she’d blocked his contact number. Of course, Rue had been ecstatic at his disappearance, had toasted good riddance to a crazed Alpha that grew too close to the discovery of her truth.

Rue didn’t want a stalker, and her happiness was reasonable.

She had quickly assumed that he must have found his next victim or perhaps had settled like a good heterosexual Alpha for a nice, pretty eros Omega. With that many dicks she’d assumed that he must have found himself a pretty little harem of girls that looked nothing like her. Now, he should have a whole platoon to fuck, every single one of his thirty ‘fingers’ had their own personal orifice.

But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t just a tad disappointed that he’d left so easily and quickly. Because Rue was a mean bitch like that, enjoyed the attention but not the person. And for that Rue didn’t deserve Valentino, nor should he love her. But her teeth had snagged upon her lip, eyes drawing over the Alpha.

And yet here he was once again haunting her life, and her heart was soaring for a taste.

He’d grown. Devilishly handsome, as she remembered him to be. But worse, so much worse because now he was divine, classical in his beauty. A face that deserved its own altar and pedestal. He’d filled out, lost the baby of his cheeks, grew inhumanely gorgeous in the shapes and planes of his face.

His colours were all different. His eyes, no longer constantly dilated pupils of solid never-ending black but a simple glittery band of gold. And like his brethren, his hair had changed, no longer the sapphire she was used to but wavy long curls of inky black. The strands fluffy and wispy on his head, curling pretty around the heart of his face.

His tentacles were gone, his cloak cinched behind his back, and she could barely make out the curve of where they could exist. The squirm of each length held so tightly around his body that he almost didn’t seem to be eros. They did not writhe freely and around him like they once did but was now hidden along the seams of his figure.

She would not think him to be eros if she did not know him before. And without a dazed, lovesick smile on his lips she almost couldn’t recognize him. His aura drummed through the air like a cloud of poison, burned through his eyes and the ripple of tensed muscles, twisting in the tick of his jaw.

His presence tore through the room, danger spilling from the grit of his teeth and the flutter of his body. There was no denying the strength of his gaze, the utter hostility that he emitted like a beacon of pent-up frustration. And God he seemed ready to kill, radiating with so much aggression none dared look his way.

And everyone almost seemed to freeze for the top dog, the predator amongst the group of prey. Her classmates quivered within their seats, eyes shying away from his. Rue’s eyes narrowed, darted to Altair. She couldn’t deny Altair’s own concealed strength, the way he seemed so pretty and sweet and yet held an edge of his own pleasurable poison. Just like absinthe, just like drugs.

Her eyes flew to Altair, to the white feathers of an angel, to the display of feathery tails that fanned behind him, to the tiniest of smirks on the corner of his lips. Her memories rushed free. Altair, his sore spot, his stepbrother, the womanizer on campus. And this had a scowl forming on her face. So Valentino did have her on watch, could have been partly responsible for her return to University, and even her inability to enter University.

For that she turned to rest her eyes once again on his figure. But he didn’t meet her gaze, a scowl forming, a look of utter sneering detest. And despite that ugly expression, he remained just as ethereal, just as godly, just as incredibly attractive.

She could see the contemplation in his eyes to ignore her, the dart of his eyes. But they turned to hers finally in a split second, unable to resist. And within she saw a wildfire of rage before they moved to set upon his annoying brother, a bored look grazing his features.

“Come sit down,” he called again towards his brother, with a voice a thousand times deeper and richer than before, ignored her as if she were air. And Altair seemed to teeter upon her desk, leaning forward, drew close with a smile of wild insanity on his face. A sparkle of genuine crazed joy on the curve of his doll like lips.

“You want him first?” was his whisper, breath on her cheek. She flinched and he only giggled. “I can make that happen without him,”

There was a little laugh, a wild rush and— His eyes. His fucking face. Rue was almost startled by the smooth shift, a flicker and then it wasn’t Altair’s nose nor was it his lips. His features transformed, shifting swiftly into Valentino’s own cupid’s bow and fluttery lashes, right down to the beauty marks on his nose. She exhaled, star-struck, utterly horrified, already guessing his mix with the eros.

Altair was an aphrodite.

A rare breed born only from orgies and great beauty amongst the most sexual of all alien species. A specific sort of lust could only create an aphrodite, and what was born could only be described as a demon, an incubus. A being that could shapeshift into one’s wildest desires, drive themselves deep into the minds of their victims and sink their teeth upon their unconscious, feeding on wet dreams and sex.

Raw emotion was what charged them the most, which made them manipulative lovers that strove to tear upon bonds and destroy the most loving of couples just to taste depression in the air. It explained his countless flings, the sea of destroyed Omegas and Alphas left in his path. He’d been busy feasting on their destruction, tasting their demise just because he could. He was a demon of lust, far worst than what Valentino was. He was sex incarnate.

“Is that fear I smell?” Altair teased, sweetly, and his eyes turned into a solid raven black spread past the sclera eating up the whites. It was creepy and oh, so fucked up. “Is that jealousy I taste? Beautiful, beautiful Alpha,” he purred, lies spilling from his tongue just to get what he wanted, “if you want, I could even give myself a little pussy. I could turn myself Omega and I could let you fuck me. Would you like that?” His fingers darted down his body, pulled her gaze to his crotch.

His grin spread, the world around her dissolving into a blur as he pumped her air with his power. If Rue could taste his scent, she would be creaming herself in the seat, would have came a thousand times. Her Omega already whining from deep within, his pretty face drawing the most dangerous of needs from deep within her soul. But Rue wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him do that. And for some reason she could hold herself, could stand him enough to continue her glare.

“Or I could give you a dripping pussy and a tiny little clit,” his fingers moved to her, tentacles feathery as they spread with a sting of purple and orange. They waved, inched closer to her flesh, darted towards her neck, a wave of slowly rippling colours that spread around his frame, halo-like and almost biblical. His eyes grew lidded, lustful, his voice breathy. “Just. For. Me.”