Page 84 of Mated to the Monster God

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My breath catches.

Goddamn it.

“You sap,” I whisper, throat tightening.

He brushes his lips against my temple. “Truth.”

I twist in his arms until we’re face to face. “You mean it?”

His expression doesn’t change. Doesn’t even flicker.

“I mean every syllable.”

I kiss him. Slow. Deep. Like the sun might never rise again.

When we break apart, I don’t pull away. I press my forehead to his and whisper, “Then let’s grow old right here.”

He doesn’t flinch.

“Affirmative,” he breathes. “With you, always.”

And just like that, I know. I know I don’t need the stars or the cities or the slick polished walls of orbital habitats. I don’t need a bigger life.

I just needthis.

His hand brushes a stray curl behind my ear. “Do you regret staying?”

“Never.”

Not even with the scars. Not even with the ghosts. Not even with the ache of loss that lingers in the quiet spaces.

Because I’ve found something here I never thought I’d have.

Belonging.

Love.

Peace.

And it’s all wrapped in six feet of muscle, scales, and the kindest soul in the known universe.

We lie there in silence as the sun rises higher, painting our skin in gold. A bird shrieks overhead, breaking the stillness, and I laugh into his chest. He chuckles too—awkward and deep—and the sound rumbles through my body like thunder through roots.

Eventually, we pull on our clothes, piece by piece, reluctant but smiling. He helps fasten my shirt like it’s the most delicatetask in the world, then runs his claws through my tangled hair like he’s trying to memorize the feel of every strand.

We don’t say much as we walk back through the jungle. But we don’t need to. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every shared breath says it all.

Sweetwater rises in the distance, smoke curling from chimneys, laughter echoing through the trees.

Home.

And I think to myself, not for the first time, how strange it is that I had to almost die to truly live.

He threads his fingers through mine and lifts our joined hands to his lips.

“You are everything,” he says.

And I believe him.

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