Page 67 of Mate of a Monster

“Beast?”

“Follow him,” he urges. “He knows the truth now, remember?”

“And what do we think he plans to do with this information?”

“One way to find out, Hellpet.”

“And if it goes south?”

“You can take him.”

I swallow the laugh threatening to build in my throat, not wanting to draw attention.

Might as well see what he’s got to say. Carefully, I slide out of my chair and follow through the same door he exited, where he waits on the other side.

He moves with purpose, leading me deeper into the palace than I’ve ever been, and I swear the walls around us hum faintly as we pass. We turn down a narrower hall, and he pushes open the final door.

Not sure where I expected us to end up, but it wasn’t a small circular room.

The windows cut high into the curved wall, and there’s nothing in the space but a single low table, covered in ink stains and books, that sits in the center. Torn pages are stacked under a—

“Is that my codex?” I jerk toward it.

The next thing I know, my back slams into cold stone.

Creed’s hand wraps around my throat, his other palm braced beside my head, boxing me in.

I tense instantly, muscles coiling and ready to knee his sorry ass in the nuts, but something in his expression stops me. His eyes are not their usual calm, calculating blue. They’re raw, but it’s not only that. His grip around my neck trembles, a sort of desperation wafting off him in waves and thickening the air around us.

The Nightkin was wrong.

Creed doesn’t know anything, at least not for sure. He suspects, but something holds him back from believing what he’s seen or sensed or however the royals’ magic really works at its core. Honestly, it’s probably me. I’m the problem.

The poison seeping into his thoughts and taking over.

That must kill a man like him. His own power being the reason for his sleepless nights. By the looks of it, he’s had a ton of those.

But something’s changed. What could have happened without me here that now has him second-guessing himself?

The longer he stares into my eyes, the more strained his become, his fingers twitching against my throat.

I should tell him to suck my dick and revel in his moment of weakness, because that’s what this is.

Only, for some stupid fucking reason, I don’t want to.

“How do I let him in?”

Creed’s brows pull together. “Who?”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

I feel the Nightkin shift inside me, that low hum turning attentive, but he doesn’t answer.

Creed’s grip loosens as realization slaps him across his face. His brows jump, eyes widening in a way that looks dangerously close to awe. “So it’s true.”

“Which part exactly?” I tilt my head despite his hold. “Last I heard, there are a fuck ton of things floating around about me right now.”

“His Ethos.”