Page 80 of Mate of a Monster

“She’s not blocking you out because you were never inside her, you big fucking idiot.”

My muscles go rigid, a rock forming in my throat. Heat punches through my chest like molten stone. It’s sharp, sudden, and spreads by the second. Strength floods my limbs, violent and grounding at the same time, like something ancient stepped forward. For a second it feels like—

No. No, I’m going fucking mad because the air in this stupid fucking place is too pure or something. There is no way her voice is in my head.

I blink hard, putting my focus back where it belongs. On my mate at my side.

Bile threatens to rise up my throat but I force it down.

Shit, I’m losing it.

Arabella inhales, ignoring my brother’s question as she turns to me.

I should force her to answer him. He’s her king, too. She should know better.

“In Valeryth,” she continues, and her voice smooths, threading through my thoughts like silk, “the mating process is sacred. Bonds are finalized publicly with witnesses. It symbolizes an anchoring to one another before the line of those who came before us, and…blesses our grounds.”

London scoffs.

“Our realm is in peril, my mate,” she murmurs, pressing her palm to my chest, and the bond begins to pulse. “We should give them something to celebrate. Let’s complete the bonds in front of our kingdom.”

My kingdom, not yours.

The thought is instant and the betrayal burns me.

Fuck is wrong with me?

“Getting a little brave there, aren’t you Arabella?” Knight nearly growls.

Before I can acknowledge him, she grips my face quickly, keeping my attention on her. “My mate.”

“Legend, get away from her,” London snaps.

For half a breath, Arabella’s eyes darken but then she smiles.

“My people need assurance,” she says softly. “And Rathe needs strength. If we bond fully before the ancestral flame, both realms are protected.”

Her thumb traces slow circles over my wrist, and the calm returns, stronger now.

We could. Maybe that makes sense. Maybe if I give Rathe a new queen they—

“Legend,” Knight barks. “Come here.”

He yanks me toward him, and Arabella’s hand falls away.

London grips my arm as my brother places himself in front of me like some sort of shield.

“You better know your fucking role, girl,” Knight rumbles. “Do not try to claim what isn’t fucking yours.”

“Isn’t it?” Arabella smiles.

A growl tips from his throat as he stomps forward, claws extended.

Lunging out of London’s grasp, I snatch Knight’s wrist before he can reach Arabella. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This is wrong,” he seethes. “All of this. Legend, we need to go home. Now.”

“Why?”