Page 59 of Mated to the Monster God
My claws,still glistening with resin and sacrifice, flex in the moss beneath us. If someone dared to take her now, I wouldn’t merely fight—I would obliterate the world for her. The thought steels me with a clarity I’ve never had.
Esme murmursin her sleep or something like it, face softening. I press my laps against hers, gently swallowing her breath, memorizing the curve of her cheek.
I try to soothe my chaos with whispered reassurance, but my voice is hoarse. “I would—” I start, but the sound dissolves into silence, untethered to words.
She shifts, opening eyes luminous in the silver, bloodshot with the night's ecstasy. She studies me, pupils wide, golden light of dawn reflecting in them.
“Sagax,”she breathes.
I draw her closer,trembling. “I—what I feel for you... it's beyond any battle I can remember.”
Esme cups my cheek, thumb tracing a trembling line along my scale ridge. The touch sends a shiver through me—not fear, but deep, sacred belonging.
She murmurs, voice low and certain, “I trust you.”
That anchorsme more than any vow. I feel the swirl of storm inside me settle, replaced by something quieter, stronger—love.
I press my forehead to hers, breath mingling. “You have no idea what that—” I swallow hard, voice cracking. “Whatthatmeans to me.”
Her fingers tighten. Outside, the rain softens, as if the storm hears us and bows.
I whisper, “I promise you... I would do more than fight.”
She looks at me, her gaze becomes a prophecy. “I know.”
It breaks me open—tears of relief and love flood me, and I cradle her like I’m trying to keep her inside me forever. The scales on my chest press in, wanting to absorb her warmth, memorize the tremor of her heartbeat.
“Nothing can take you,” I vow, voice trembling like water on glass.
She smiles—soft, wounded, unbreakable. I taste her lips again, tasting salvation. My roar dies in my chest, becomes breath turned worship.
In that silence, under broken light and stone, something pulls tight between us.
We are no longer two souls clutching survival. We are forge and fire.
I trace the small scar on her temple—finger gentle as moth wing. “You’re more than enough,” I say. “Always have been.”
She closes her eyes and presses in, offering herself with no fear—just trust. I breathe her in, memorize the scent, taste valor on her lips.
“No one will ever—” I catch myself. Words can fail.
She says, against my mouth: “Just hold me.”
I do.
Rain drums overhead, and we lie bound—blood sweat scale and flesh, but stronger than any blade, tenderer than any lullaby.
Somewhere distant, the world rages on.
Here, under broken satellite ribs, we are invincible in love.
The serene echo of rain under the satellite ribs vanishes with a shrill whoop from the sky—an emergency flare scorches through the morning haze. It blasts red across the dawn, painting the crevasse walls in warning. The alarm pierces me so sharply I nearly drop Esme, still curled against my chest.
I push to my feet, her heartbeat skipping under my fingers. She’s alive, here—but danger’s energy crackles between us like broken lightning.
“Flare,” I growl. The word is ragged with warning and a surge of protective instinct.
Esme’s eyes snap open. “What?—?”
