Page 30 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
My arms moved around his wide chest; my fingers dug into his hair, longer now but still the same. I breathed in his familiar scent: pine, smoke, and his own musk. My chest filled and constricted at the same time. I closed my eyes and let myself go to the gentle sway of him and the music. I allowed myself to float. To be swept away by my emotions, by being here, back in his arms. After all this time.
I felt his lips softly brushing my forehead, his kiss felt sweet and guilt-filled on my skin. I clung to him, thinking I could never let him go again.
And realized with a start that yes, he had shattered my heart when I was a teenager, but I’d put it back together, a bit crooked, a bit broken still, but back together. I'd already suspected that I wouldn't survive if it happened a second time, but in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that if I gave it back to him, and he did it again, there would be nothing left to rebuild. It wouldn't simply kill me. He would rip me into millions of pieces. There were fates worse than dying, and he had the power to completely obliterate me.
With a cry, I pulled back, staring up at him.
"Ells?"
I started shaking my head, "I can't, Pats. I'm sorry. I just can't!"
The last bit, I screamed. Then I ripped out of his hold and started running.
Her bodyin my arms felt like something sacred. So achingly familiar and…
MINE!
We swayed together beneath the soft glow of the firelight, her cheek pressed to my chest, the way it had always belonged there. She fit perfectly against me like we were carved from the same piece of time, like the ten years that had torn us apart were nothing more than a long breath between heartbeats.
And God help me, I was hard.
Not just aroused. Not just wanting her—that was a given. She’d always wrecked me. Always lit my blood on fire with just a look, a laugh, a touch. This—this—was more than physical. It was soul deep. Every inhale she took pressed her body tighterto mine, and every pass of her fingers through my hair undid another piece of my composure. Her scent—lemon, sugar, and something warm I could never name—wrapped around me, and I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to pick her up, carry her to the blankets by the fire, and worship every inch of her.
And then beg.
Beg her to stay.
To forgive me.
To let me be hers again.
Because I missed her. Every version of her. Every single breath of her presence that I had lived without for far too long. The girl she was, the woman she’d become—they both lived in my blood now. I buried my face in her hair, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and let my guilt seep into that small act of tenderness like a prayer.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
She held me tighter, fingers in my hair, soft sounds in her throat that could’ve been sighs or sobs. I didn’t know. I only knew I never wanted to let her go. So when she did—when she pulled back and looked up at me, tears glittering in her eyes—I felt it even before it happened.
"Ells?" I asked, heart cracking.
Her voice shook. "I can’t, Pats. I’m sorry. I just can’t!"
She ripped away from me like my touch burned her, and then—she ran. Just like that. Spun on her heel, dress flowing, hair wild, gone into the trees. For a second, I was too stunned to move. But then?—
Thorne roared,Go! Move. She's running. Our mate is running.
I froze.
We can’t chase her,I thought, even as adrenaline lit up every nerve in my body.
Thorne didn’t care.Yes. We can. We will. You let her get away once. Never again.
She needs space?—
No, she needs US.
My hands clenched. My body vibrated with the pull of the shift. It was the first time in my life Thorne had tried to force-take possession, and I didn't like it. Not one bit. And then I heard it—Ella’s cry from somewhere in the woods. Not in pain. Not in fear. Just raw and wrecked.
And that was it.
