Page 18 of Monster Daddies
A low, warning growl rumbles from the doorway.
Jodrick huffs a low chuckle that vibrates into my body. "Ignore the grump, little human."
I nod before looking up at Jodrick's face.
For a creature of the night, one made of stone, he's surprisingly... clean-cut.
If it wasn't for the horns and wings, I'd say he was almost... classically handsome.
"The reason everything feels so right," Jodrick starts before taking a breath, "is because..."
"You're our fated mate, Avalon."
The words—from Viraat—land about as softly as a precious china vase.
My heart skips.
Once. Twice.
Then starts racing.
"I told you," Viraat bites out as he storms into the room and crouches down in front of me. "Now the fragile human's heart's going to stop and we'll only have ourselves to blame for it." His large, dark hands cup my face, as he forces me to look straight at him.
He's rugged, dark, and enticingly exotic.
And frowning at me like he's trying to force me to breathe with some kind of mind control.
"Fated mate?" I finally manage to push the words out.
Viraat nods, his gaze is full of an emotion I can't quite put my finger on.
"You don't look very pleased about that, Viraat," I accuse.
"Ah, for fuck's sake," he bites out before pulling me close and landing a hot one on me.
Chapter Eight
Viraat
I don't mean to kiss her.
Not really. And definitely not like this... with so much heat.
But her lips are soft and parted and tasting of courage and the lemon tarts I know she favors. When I lean in, it's instinct more than thought that makes me shut her up with a kiss. Her breath catches—just once—and then she's kissing me back, her fingers clutching at the front of my chest, trying to gain purchase against the hard muscle she finds there.
It's almost as if she doesn't care that I'm a creature of stone.
Hell, maybe she doesn't.
But it's more likely the fragile human doesn't know how dangerous it is to want someone like us. Like me.
The kiss turns molten before I can stop it. I growl low in my throat, trying to keep my claws from curling too tight, trying to remind myself she's soft. Human. Breakable.
But she makes the tiniest sound into my mouth—a needy, happy sigh—and my restraint cracks.
My hand moves to her hip, then her waist. She's so small. So bloody fragile. One wrong move and I could shatter her. A wingtwitches behind me, aching to wrap around her, shield her from everything. Including myself.
Her hands dig into my hair and touch my horns.
