Page 21 of Mated to the Monster God
He’s helping haul a wounded colonist onto a gurney when he finally sees me.
“Esme—by the stars, what are you?—?”
“Ships are here,” I tell him. “Baragon. I saw them. Sagax told me. We need to evacuate or mount a defense?—”
He cuts me off with a steel-hard look. “Slow down. Take a breath.”
I keep going, voice cracking. “He’s not with me. He says it’s too dangerous. But that’s not good enough—I need to know we’re fucking safe.”
Tara’s eyes go wide as I approach the med tent, and Blondie drops her feverblooms, hands dripping crimson sap. Rick nearly falls off the wall.
“She’s here,” Tara says, voice shaking.
Their expressions shift between joy, relief, and confusion all in the same heartbeat.
“Esme?” Blondie says, taking my hand. “You look… like you saw a ghost.”
“Ships. Baragon ships.” I jab a finger upward. “At the treeline. I saw them. They’re coming in force.”
Tara frowns. “We’ve had hunches—Director Krewnshaw mentioned reinforcements. But ship movements overhead don’t respect phasing schedules.”
“How—how do you know it’s Baragon?” Rick asks, finally dropping the blowtorch and reaching for my shoulder.
“I was there,” I say, tears streaking down my dirt-smeared face. “I saw patrols. Shiny armor, mirrored helmets. I saw them—Sagax told me. He—” The words twist and stick in my throat.
My mother’s eyes pin me with a mercy that stuns me. “Sagax?”
I nod. “He saved me. He’s... an alien. But he helped. He told me what was coming.”
Silence swallows us.
Tara exhales. “An alien? Here? Esme, none of this makes sense.”
“It’s the truth,” I snap. “And I don’t need to explain more. We need to prepare for?—”
“I need to probe that intel.” Tara grabs her medical bag, but her voice is tight. “Where is he now?”
“He wouldn’t come back,” I say. “He said it’s not safe.”
Blondie looks at me like she’s waking from a dream. “You mean... you’ve been running around with a... a creature?”
“Yes,” I whisper, voice small and broken.
The panic around us surges. Rick calls for barricade reinforcements. Tara calls for more medigel. I’m left standing in the center of the chaos with disbelief on every face around me.
I realize then that the Colony will always believe what keeps them safe—or what they think they understand.
Because in Sweetwater, trust is currency. And right now, my words are bankrupt.
The night air tastes like static and fear—cold metal at the back of my throat, and beneath it, a bitter copper tang of adrenaline. I press deeper into the clinging shadows of the jungle, my heartbeat thrumming beneath my ribs like an urgent drumbeat, urging me forward. Every leaf underfoot is a whisper, every branch a potential betrayer. But then I catch a heartbeat that steadies me—one measured, vast, and undeniably him.
Sagax sits on the ridge, a hulking silhouette carved against a tapestry of scattered stars. His back is rigid, rigid with vigilance. The moon pins highlights to the angles of his form, forging him into something both feral and statuesque. He doesn’t acknowledge me when I ease beside him; he just breathes into the night, listening to the colony’s distant sob of panic.
I exhale, the motion fogging in the chill air. I should scold him. I should demand he come home. But the words stick, tangled in the haze of longing.
“Hey,” I whisper, quiet as falling ash. “You’re out late.”
He shifts, just a fraction, and I feel the brush of scaled shoulder under my fingers. He doesn't look at me, but the tension loosens in his spine.
