Page 1 of Mate of a Monster

Chapter One

Haide

“Did you just say…mate?” I hiss.

Swiping my blade from the ground, I kick up as it lands right at the horned figure’s throat. He catches my wrist before the tip lands, fingers locking around my hand. I slam my other into his ribs with the second blade, but it skids off him without a single fucking scratch.

“Fuck you.”

He says nothing.

I wrench free enough to drive my knee toward his stomach, but he turns with it, huge body angling at the last second, and my kneecap cracks against solid muscle. Pain shoots up my thigh, but I use it anyway, pivoting on my good foot, dropping low, and slicing the back of his leg. He moves—fast. Way too fast for his size, because all it takes is one step back, using what’s left of my dress to haul me into his chest.

Shit.

My other hand swings, aiming for under his arm, but he catches that wrist too, and now I’m pinned. Chest to chest with yet another monster that claims I’m his.

I jerk my head forward and smash my forehead into his face, but he doesn’t move. Not a damn inch.

A growl vibrates through him and into me, a low, rough sound, and then he throws me over the damn cliff.

I curse, knowing what comes next and planning exactly what I’m going to do about it when I get my hands around that fucker’s neck the next time I have the absolute displeasure of seeing his—if I can even call it a him—face.

Wind rushes through my hair as the ocean grows closer, and I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t about to pop out of my head.

How cliché of him to try to kill me. And what a little bitch to do it in such a boring way. Tossing me over a cliffside? I mean, come on! Hitting the water from this high will be like crashing into a sheet of ice. I won’t even feel a thing.

But something slams into me from below, breaking my fall and knocking the air out of my lungs.

I know the feel of it beneath my hands. Scales.

Thyrix?

His long neck snaps, my body once again meeting air and then he’s above me, his claws curling around my torso, tearing at this ridiculous gown I’d love nothing more than to rip from my body. His wings beat hard, banking us sideways over the shoreline, and I slap his foreleg twice because that’s our thing. Two taps. I’m good. I’m alive, and I’m not bleeding.

He doesn’t rumble back.

Normally, he’d give me something. A huff or a low vibration through his chest. Something. Anything. He’s small for a dragon, barely the size of a fishing vessel, but he’s meaner than anything twice his weight. And he’s mine. Has been ever since I can remember. Since I was old enough to stop fearing them and start respecting what they are.

But right now he’s furious.

“Thy, come on.” I pet his scales, bright blue that catch light and almost go transparent. “I’ve had a bad fucking day. It’s not my fault I left you.”

Nothing.

He drops me on the cliff’s edge and I mean drops me—releasing his grip just high enough that my knees buckle when I hit rock. I stumble, catching myself with both palms, and I’m about to yell at him when the heat hits my ass.

A short, precise burst. Just enough to singe a clean hole through the side of my dress.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Thyrix laughs, a clicking sound in his throat, and then he’s gone—shooting upward and banking lazy circles above the tree line where he can keep surveillance.

“I’m a little possessive of my mate.” The horned beast’s words from earlier echo through my mind. Is he fucking joking?

I smack the singed fabric against my thigh, trying to force every memory that the word mate alone triggers.

As soon as I’ve put out the flame, my legs give out and my ass hits the ground with a thud. This isn’t me. I don’t get sad, or mope about anything much less not being wanted.