Page 151 of Mate of a Monster

I start down the palace steps slowly as the murmuring crowd parts instinctively for me.

Every face turns, heads bowing, and my hands fold into fists.

They’re staring at me like I’m the center of something important.

Which I absolutely do not appreciate.

The air above the courtyard shifts suddenly. I sense not only my beast of a man, but the one connected to my magic, just before the shadow sweeps across the crowd.

Ben the dragon, as I’m officially calling him, drops from the sky. His massive emerald wings cut through the air before he lands in the center of the courtyard with effortless grace a creature his size should never possess.

He dips his head in greeting. He’s dead too.

The crowd gasps, awed to get as close to the massive beasts who normally stick to guarding the skies. I barely notice, because when Ben spreads his wings wide, my mate is revealed.

Legend leans casually against the curve of the massive emerald scale like he hasn’t just orchestrated the most suspicious gathering in Rathe’s recent history.

My eyes narrow, taking him in and my jaw clenches.

The fact that he’s wearing black isn’t unusual—but the tux is.

My gaze flicks slowly from his boots to his shoulders before landing on the smirk stretching across his face.

Legend’s voice slides into my mind immediately. Hello, mate.”

I glare at him from across the courtyard. “What did you do, Legend Deveraux?”

“It’s not what I did,” he replies smoothly and my stomach tightens. “It’s what I’m about to do.”

“Legend.”

He pushes away from Ben’s wing and straightens slowly.

“Come here,” he calls aloud.

My lips pinch.

“Haide,” he continues, voice carrying easily across the courtyard. “Guardian of Guardians. Drakaryth. Future Queen of Rathe.”

The title rolls through the courtyard like thunder, but no one makes a single sound.

He gestures lazily toward the platform. “Come. Here.”

I hesitate, planning how I’ll torture him later if he embarrasses me in front of an entire kingdom, but I step forward anyway.

The moment my foot hits the first stone step leading into the courtyard, my shoe changes.

My gaze drops slowly, taking in the black stiletto, spiked along the edges.

I take another step.

My leather pants dissolve like smoke. In their place a long silk dress flows down my legs, dark as midnight and cut in a way that clings to every curve like it was designed by someone who enjoys watching powerful women threaten violence.

The fabric moves like water when I walk.

My braid loosens.

The tight plait falls apart strand by strand until my hair spills down my back in long dark waves.