Page 79 of Mate of a Monster

We’re led through a small home and up a spiraling staircase that leads to a single floor. Large doors open to water running down glass walls in thin sheets, pooling into wide channels carved along the room’s edges, but otherwise empty space. Well… almost empty, except for the visible outline of bodies hidden beneath a magical cloak.

White marble stretches beneath our feet, so polished it reflects the natural mist drifting through the room like we’re standing on a cloud. No windows or balconies, just air and water.

“Sir Marlok has arrived,” Aron declares, motioning to a familiar old man I’d seen around my father’s hunting parties.

Sir Marlok gives a brief greeting before jumping into the topic at hand. He gestures toward the floor, just as Knight and London walk in.

Arabella stiffens, moving closer until her arm is pressed at my side. “Did you call for them, mate?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Knight answers for me. He watches the old Fae closely, coming to stand on my opposite side. “Go on.”

Marlok waves his hands and the cloak disappears to reveal the bodies.

Unclothed. Hollowed up, like the life was sucked out of them – cheeks sunken into pits and eyes set in deep cavities. They’re nothing but skin and bone.

“There is no sign of struggle. No defensive magic triggered or markings to show they fought back.”

“And no forced entry,” I add. “All the locks are intact. Windows, too.”

The Fae nods. “If I had to guess, they were in a dream state when they were drained.”

“Drained?” London bends, cocking her head as she takes a closer look.

“If I didn’t know they were Argent Ordinaries,” Marlock frowns, looking from Arabella to her brother. “I would think they were human.”

“Why?”

“Not a drop of magic left in them. They were completely siphoned so there was no chance of healing, but not only that.” The old man bends, pushing the pointer of his walking stick into the man’s mouth and forcing his jaw open.

“The fuck?” It’s weird enough to shock Knight. That’s saying something.

I shuffle forward a little more to get a closer look. “They removed their tongues? Why?”

He shakes his head. “That’s all part of the mystery. They were kind. Lady Alo devoted her time in the outer wards to our less fortunate Argents, the troublesome ones in reform.”

Knight scoffs at his comment. Not a single person can help a troubled Argent. Where we Stygians own our fuck-ups, Argents like to try to hide theirs. Pretend it doesn’t exist until their fuck-up is burning shit to the ground because they didn’t get what they wanted.

And of course, I’m bonded to one.

“What exactly did she do out there?” London asks, moving back to Knight’s side.

“She held choir classes a few days a week.”

“So, a woman who likes to sing gets her tongue cut out and her magic stolen.”

Marlock holds my gaze.

“You don’t look so sad to see mommy mummified,” Knight observes, his stare pinned on Arabella with sharp interest. “Not surprised she’s dead?”

Fuck, I didn’t even think to pull her close and comfort her through the bond. I should have—

Wait.

No trace of tears. Knees strong beneath her. Spine straight and face as perfectly angelic as ever. The very air around her is serene. And—I strain my ears—a soft hum vibrates in her throat. I focus on the bond to determine her feelings. But as I pull on that tether between us, following it to her end of the mating bond, the thread thins until it’s like reaching into a void.

My brows snap together.

Is she blocking me out?