Page 32 of Mated to the Monster God
ESME
Iwake with a start, heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to break out of my chest. My skin's damp with sweat, clinging to the thin layers of my shirt, and my thighs are pressed tight together under the blanket. The morning air is still cool, but inside me, there's a wildfire burning.
The dream is still raw in my mind—Sagax’s hands on me, warm and curious. Not rough or demanding, but reverent, like he was reading scripture written across my skin. His mouth had hovered just over mine, his breath hot, fangs glinting like temptation itself. Every part of him had hummed with restraint, with power, with a kind of desperate hunger that echoed my own.
I sit up too quickly and hiss when my sore muscles scream in protest. I rub at my arms, trying to shake the image, but it’s useless. My body remembers it better than my mind does.
Sagax is there, just a few feet away, crouched by the remains of the fire. He’s still, silent—too still. He’s watching me without reallywatchingme, giving me the illusion of privacy I know he can see right through.
He doesn’t speak right away. Doesn't need to. That electric hum between us says everything.
“You had a dream,” he says softly, still not looking at me.
I flush, grabbing for my canteen just to give my hands something to do. “You—don't say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like youknow.”
He finally turns his head, his golden eyes locking onto mine with that eerie calm that drives me wild and crazy all at once. “Idoknow, Esme. I felt it too.”
My breath catches. Just like that. Three words. And I’m not even sure if I’m breathing or drowning.
“You—” I shake my head, gripping the canteen so tight it creaks. “What does that even mean?”
“I was connected to your neural rhythms while you slept. You didn’t shield your thoughts. Your sensations flooded through me.” He stands then, slow and deliberate, unfolding that massive body like a jungle cat. “I did not intend to intrude.”
“That... wasn’t just a dream,” I whisper. “You really felt it?”
He steps closer, the ground whispering under his bare feet. “Every heartbeat. Every quiver of want. Every ounce of restraint.”
I swallow hard. My throat is desert-dry. “I—I didn’t mean to... it was just a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
His voice isn’t accusing. It’s tender. Hell, it's worse than tender—it’sunderstanding.
“Then whatwasit?” I snap, more defensively than I mean. “Some kind of... telepathic sex hallucination?”
His lips twitch. “I believe you initiated it. I merely responded.”
I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Oh myGod,kill me now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not supposed to know that kind of thing!” I peek through my fingers at him. “It’s not fair.”
His voice dips low, a soft growl wrapped in velvet. “Nothing about this is fair. Least of all how much I want you.”
I freeze.
There’s no mistaking it. Not inference. Not implication. A declaration.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I whisper.
“Why?” he repeats.
“Because I don’t know what to do with it.”
