Page 58 of Mated to the Monster God
“I might never want to be without you,” I whisper, words tangled with rain.
He presses a kiss behind my ear. “Then you don’t have to be.”
I let that promise anchor me stronger than any war ever could.
We stay there, as the storm above becomes the cradle of our future.
CHAPTER 18
SAGAX
Iwake to the tender pressure of Esme’s lips against my chest. Her breath, soft and rhythmic, trails warmth over my scales, ignition in the chill of dawn. The cave air stills, every raindrop above us hanging like silent witness. I’m intertwined with her—heart muscle pressed against skin and scale, every nerve trembling with wonder.
She moves her fingers, tracing patterns along my ribs—ancient maps reading my soul. The touch is reverent, tremulous. I taste the rain on her lips—somewhere between petrichor and honey—and I realize devotion blooms here, not fear.
I inhale her scent—wild mint tangled with sweat and earthiness—and exhale soundlessly, burnt away by how intimately I love her.
Then she moves, sliding up until she straddles me.
Her warmth floods me. Her hair spills like dark flame across my chest. She places hands on my shoulders, steadying, grounding. Her gaze is fierce in half-light, brilliant with dawn and still-wakes. “I’m here,” she murmurs, voice soft but full of unshakeable conviction.
My claws press into the stone beneath us, spine humming with the charge of belonging. “And I am yours,” I whisper, voice rumbling like thunder under skin.
She leans in, and our lips meet in hunger and worship. Not desperate—but inevitable. A knowing dance in the aftermath of chaos.
My hands glide along her hips, memory etched into muscle, curve, softness. I inhale the salt of her skin, the tremor in her breath, her heartbeat a wild confluence against my palm.
Esme rocks into me, soft moans that echo like prayer through the drips of the cave. Our bodies merge—flesh, scale, heat, need. I taste desire on her tongue, gratitude, joy.
She breaks our mouth-kiss with a gasp, voice blazing. “Sagax?—”
I lower my lips to her collarbone, then trail soft bites along her neck—teeth gentle, claiming. She arches, pulse pounding in my mouth and ribs.
Her hands clench in my hair. I lift her higher, chest to chest, everything lightning-fused. The cave’s breath quivers—the rain outside forgotten.
My tail coilsaround her waist, holding her aloft. I worship her with every trembling touch, reverence tattooed into our sweat and longing.
We break again—eyes locked. Mine gold and hungry. Hers feral and tender.
“You are mine,” I growl against her skin, voice rich with possessive devotion.
A tremor passes through her. Her breath hitches. “I always was,” she replies, voice full and holy.
She presses into me,claiming me. I respond by marking her with my mouth—gentle bites trailing scars of devotion across her shoulder. Pain and release bloom together on her skin—primal, sacred.
This moment is both carnal and divine. Flesh fused with spirit. Every nerve in my body roars, every scale sings. I hear her pulse echoing in our shared breath, cascading rhythm that ties us beyond words.
Outside,raindrops pound the dish shell. Inside, we are infinite in surrendered fire.
I lean upward and roar her name—low, feral, beautiful as life itself: “Esme!”
Her gasp quivers in reply, shaking me down to the depths. We collapse together, breath tangled, heartbeat thrumming through one another’s veins.
Time dissolves. There is no past. No future. Right now, under the fractured ribs of a fallen world, we are each other’s sanctuary—raw, worshipful, complete.
We staybeneath the fractured arches of the satellite dish, rain whispering around us like a lullaby. In the dim, fractured light, I cradle Esme’s body close—closer than life itself. Her eyelashes glisten with moisture, and each breath she draws trembles through me like the last spark of a dying sun. I’m drowning in the scent of her—wild mint, honeyed sweat, the deep salt of fear turned to survival. It clings to me, this scent, and I swallow it, it becomes fuel.
My heart poundsso hard I think the world might shatter. I’ve held her through infernos and insect swarms, through storms and ambushes. But in this moment, intimacy forged in softtremor after love—this is vulnerability. And I feel invincible and terrified in equal measure.
