Page 42 of Mated to the Monster God
It’s strange—by asking for distance, I’ve given us perceived room, and yet his presence presses into me deeper, anchoring everything that’s shifted.
I sink into memory—his warmth, the pull of his body, the way he tasted like moss and fire. My skin pulses with the memory.Fear tugs—fear of losing this, of being too small, too flawed to deserve the sacredness we’re forging.
“Es?” he murmurs.
I open my eyes. He’s still there. Unmoved. Patient. Solid.
“I’m scared,” I confess. “What if I break this? What if I’m not enough?”
He tilts my chin up. His gaze never wavers. His voice is thick: “You’re already enough. More than enough. And I won’t let you break what we have.”
I stare into those gold eyes, the forest forgotten around us. Never has any creature sounded more human, more real.
“How are you so sure?”
He brushes the hair back from my forehead. “Because for the first time, I’m not living for fragments. I’m living foryou.Everything you are.”
I feel tears sting, not of pain, but something deeper. Completion? Belonging?
“Aren’t we fractured?” I whisper. “Won’t that always be part of you?”
He presses his lips to my temple. “Maybe. But our bond—our love—it’s something new. Something more whole than either of us alone.”
The sincerity leaves me choking. My breath hitches, and I press against him, mind rattling with love, fear, awe.
The world outside doesn’t matter.
The stars peer down, witnesses to this fragile budding connection.
I know exactly where I am.
And who I belong to.
CHAPTER 12
SAGAX
My chest tightens like steel wire each time I watch Esme from a distance. I follow her through the clearing, masked by shifting shadows, rooted to the ground yet tethered to her movement. She’s checking on her family—Tara smoothing bandages, Blondie arranging plant samples, Jimmy tinkering with damp wires. Every one of them matters, but none more than her.
A coil of jealousy knots beneath my ribs—jealousy of those who get to joke with her, touch her, rely on her without the wild current that hums between us. It's not envy, exactly. It’s protective, possessive. The human emotion tastes sharp in my throat—fear intertwined with pride.
She moves, hand brushing a frond of feverbloom, and I edge closer, every sense attuned to the way tension loosens in her posture. The sun falls behind the treetops, draping gold over her hair. I want to fold into her shadow, not just stand behind her but be part of her world.
My skin itches with a familiar longing—itching for her nearness, for the warmth of her laugh, for the sacred intimacy we found. The smell of cooling rain and moss is thick tonight,and I carry that scent like a promise. But there’s something more—her scent. Still sweet and strong, even from a small distance.
I grip a broken shard of bark, letting its rough grain press into my palms. It grounds me better than the real weapon rattling inside my bones: longing.
“Esme!” Her mother’s voice calls out.
I spring forward unbidden, toe barely touching control. She turns at the sound, concern pulling across her face. I almost break. The moment trembles between us.
“Everything okay?” I ask, stepping into the clearing.
Tara nods, relief flooding her expression. “Just a surprise storm last night. Most of the tents held, but we lost power to the med bay. We need spare panels.”
Esme exchanges a look with me. I flick my fingers toward my gear. The weight in my vest holds the extra patch kit.
“Let me help,” I say gently.
