Page 42 of The Monster's Daughter
Natalie grins, wide and gap-toothed. “Hi, Mr. K!”
The sound nearly knocks me over.
My stomach flips, guilt clawing up my throat. My daughter just named him without knowing why. Without knowing who he is.
Kage’s smile widens, like he’s testing the name. “Mr. K,” he repeats. His voice rumbles like distant thunder. “I like that.”
I press my mug to my lips so he won’t see me shake.
The day drags me behind it like a prisoner in chains.
I watch them together—Kage crouched awkwardly on the floor, huge claws fumbling over Natalie’s toys, her little hands guiding him like a teacher scolding a student. She laughs when he knocks a block tower over with his elbow. She claps when he manages to balance the pieces without crushing them.
And me? I stand there, arms crossed, throat tight.
It’s too much. Too cruel.
Every smile she gives him feels like a secret tearing free of my chest. Every time she says “Mr. K,” it’s another reminder that I’m lying to them both.
I want to tell him. Gods, I want to scream it.She’s yours. She’s ours.
But every time the words rise, they choke me. What if he hates me for keeping it from him? What if he hates her for being half-human? What if this fragile, impossible thing between us shatters into dust?
So I bite my tongue and bleed inside.
After Natalie goes to bed, the apartment feels too quiet. The hum of the air unit buzzes in the background. Kage leans against the counter, arms folded, looking too big, too solid, too much for the tiny space.
I lean next to him, arms crossed, pretending I don’t feel the heat radiating from him.
He lowers his head, shadows wrapping around his features. Then, slowly, carefully, he presses his mouth to my forehead.
It’s soft. Reverent. Like a prayer.
My breath catches. My body trembles.
“Can I stay?” he asks, voice rough. “A little longer.”
I should say no. I should shove him out the door, lock it, and never let him split me open again.
Instead, I whisper, “Yes.”
And as the word leaves my lips, guilt roars in my chest.
Because it’s only a matter of time before this secret detonates.
CHAPTER 26
KAGE
I’ve never been good with children. They confuse me—too small, too fragile, too loud in ways I don’t understand. I know how to fight, how to break, how to survive. I don’t know how to play with blocks or answer questions like “why is the sky blue?”
But Natalie—Natalie is different.
She’s fearless. She clambers up my scaled arm like it’s a climbing frame, laughing when my claws twitch in surprise. She asks questions without fear of my growl, pokes at my frills when they flare, and looks at me with eyes that shine a shade too familiar.
Sometimes she stares at me too long, head tilted, lips pursed like she’s trying to remember a dream. I chalk it up to coincidence. Children are strange. They see things that aren’t there. I’m not naive, but I’m not cruel enough to presume either.
Bella, though—Bella seems tense every time Natalie’s near me. Guarded. Like she’s waiting for something to break, for me to snap, for the sky to fall. She hides it behind sarcasm, but I feel it in the set of her shoulders, the way her hand tightens around the girl’s when I’m too close.
