Page 48 of Mate of a Monster

He clucks his tongue with a beat of amusement, as I push my hair back.

Palms—bleeding. Knee—bruised if not worse. Pride? That bitch is somewhere in pieces across these cobblestones. I can work with that.

I get up when dread suddenly fills every inch of my body. Fuck.

Every set of eyes in the immediate vicinity has already rotated toward me, and the ones farther back are craning. I can hear the silence spread like a ripple, conversation dying in rings from where I’m standing, voices dropping off one by one until the only sound is the soft drip of water from the stone ledges above.

Dozens of gifted—maybe more—frozen with their attention swung toward the girl who just dropped in the middle of the royal courtyard.

I straighten to my full height. Roll one shoulder. Then the other.

Fine. Okay. So that happened.

My eyes sweep the space on pure instinct, not that I can do fuck all about it.

Most of these people look startled. A handful look entertained, which I hate, but the majority? Look seriously pissed off, which I find mildly satisfying.

I get about ten feet before sirens cut the air and the clatter of armored boots follows. Lights flare in windows, voices rise into a chorus, and the guards pour out of hidden posts.

The Nightkin hums as if proud. “I was starting to get pissed off. Glad they realize the threat that we are.”

“Only Legend’s demon would be happy that guards are ascending on us.” My stance shifts, power rippling through my senses and taking over, because apparently, there’s no off-switch to this shit.

“Just like a Tourmaline Dragon.”

“What does this have to do with the protector?”

“Why do you think the black beast is the protector of the flock? He sees all, hears all, anticipates all.”

“You know, changed my mind. Not the time for a history lesson, beast,” I argue.

He rumbles, prepared to argue back, but then he goes silent, and the reason why reveals itself a breath later.

The bond pulses. It hums and thrums and claws at my insides, desperate for what’s mine.

I hate that that word is even related to that little prick. He deserves to be castrated. Hung up by his balls and—

“Focus.” The beast snaps.

My lungs inflate, the air sweeping over me like a wave of calm. “Stop doing that.”

“Do you think he has this gift by mistake?” The Nightkin teases. “The fates clearly knew he’d need it with a mate like you.”

My teeth clench. Chaos meets calm and with that: balance.

I glare. “Focus.”

The Nightkin chuckles.

We both fall silent as a deep tugging grows low in my belly.

“He’s close.”

“Not close enough.” I look up at Thyrix. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

With pleasure…

Chapter Ten