Page 45 of Mated to the Monster God
Ithrow myself into chores—anything to distract my mind from Sagax. The day is bright with overdue sunlight, the kind that burns the morning dew off leaves and highlights dust motes drifting in the air like ancient spirits. Tara’s in the medical tent stacking medigel canisters. I help her measure doses—shielding the trembling memory of what happened last night behind clinical routine.
“Tara, we’re low again,” I say, my voice steady. “If we don’t stretch these, we’ll run out by midnight.”
She glances at me, the concern flickering in her hazel eyes. “I know. You’ve been holding us together. Again.”
I brush it off with a quick laugh, “Just doing my job.” But in the back of my mind, I know why—because facing what Sagax means to me is harder than any Baragon ambush.
Blondie, popping her head into the tent, tries to talk about feverblooms—but I only nod distractedly and retreat into the cool shadows. Mom sees me exit and starts a question. I dodge.
“Oh, just grabbing post-ration supplies,” I say, voice too bright. “Need to check on Jimmy anyway.”
“Okay, sweetie,” she says, not pressing. I catch the look in her eyes—concern mingled with something else. Maybe she senses the shift, the quiet tension rooting between us.
I slip away into the corridors, scent of antiseptic clinging to my clothes.
I find Jimmy in the workshop. He’s kneeling by scattered components, building something corrugated—presumably a toy. He looks up with big, curious eyes.
His pencil tips tap in rhythm with the machinery hum. “Hey, Big Sis. You’re heading out again?”
My heart lurches.
“No—just checking on supplies,” I lie, voice shaky.
Jimmy doesn’t say anything. He ducks behind a workbench while I gather screwdrivers. Fear, relief, and warmth mingle inside me.
Suddenly, he appears by my side. “Sis, I know where you’re going.”
“How?” I hiss.
He shrugs, innocent as the sunrise, and says softly, “Be safe, big sis.”
That’s it. No lecture. No betrayal. Just that. My throat tightens.
I scoop him up in a hug before he can blink. His laughter ripples into me something fierce and wholesome.
“I will,” I promise him in a whisper he doesn’t need to understand.
He digs a thumb into his mouth and melts away around the corner with a small whistle.
I stand alone in the hush of the workshop, the smell of solder and gear oil lingering. I realize then: I have more to lose than ever before. A colony, a family, and a man who might be all I’ve ever truly needed.
I wipe sweat from my palm, pressing it against the cool steel of the table—and let the weight of that sink in. The hum of distant generators resonates through me like a drum ready for battle.
I have responsibilities. To them. To him. And slowly, the panic in me quiets.
I take a breath, grappling with the fear and fierce joy of what I’ve found—and what I stand to lose.
Then I walk back to the medical tent.
The sky splits open with thunder as I stand at the edge of Sweetwater’s perimeter, the wind tangling my hair into knots that smell like rain and iron. I pull my jacket tighter, the fabric still damp from earlier storms and clinging to my skin like a second layer of worry.
Sagax stands beside me—tall, silent, a sentinel transfigured by love and guardianship. His golden eyes track the distant treeline as if it were the threshold between safety and oblivion.
I exhale, tasting cold and fear on my tongue. “We can’t stay here,” I say, voice low but rising. “We can’t just wait for them to spit us out.”
The rain spits ice-cold on my cheek, and Sagax remains unmoved, unmoving.
“But where would we go?” he asks after a beat. His words are soft, but each one weighs like iron. “There’s no help out there for the colony.”
