Page 10 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)

Chapter Ten

B lair

After last night’s nightmares, I couldn’t bear the isolation of my lab, and even the library felt too secluded.

I needed the comfort of open space and the quiet buzz of sanctuary life around me, so I’ve set up a temporary workspace in the great hall.

The distant sounds of other cryptids going about their day provide a soothing backdrop that keeps the memories at bay.

The words I’m trying to read blur together. My mind keeps drifting back to last night—strong arms, the delicious scent of warm skin and spice, protective wings, and the way Dante’s tail curled around my waist as nightmares faded into dreamless sleep.

Marina gives me a gentle smile as she glides past, her scales dripping shimmering droplets from a recent dip in the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. “Sleep well?”

Heat creeps up my neck as I remember waking alone, though Dante’s lingering scent told me he had stayed most of the night. “Adequately,” I manage, burying myself in my data to avoid further conversation.

The sound of wings makes my heart race, but it’s only Volt landing in his usual spot. The massive Thunderbird’s electricity ripples with barely suppressed amusement as he watches me pretend to work.

“Interesting readings this morning,” he rumbles, gesturing to my monitoring equipment. “The crystal resonance patterns show unusual activity in the residential wing around 2 AM.”

“Environmental anomalies,” I protest weakly, though we both know what—who—caused those energy spikes.

“Of course.” His feathers ripple with knowing humor. “Just like Dante was simply ‘patrolling’ the hallway just outside your chamber all night.”

Before I can formulate a proper scientific response, familiar footsteps approach. My pulse quickens as Dante appears, carrying something wrapped in soft leather.

“Morning.” His skin shifts between crimson and obsidian as our gazes meet. We both glance away quickly, the memory of shared vulnerability still too raw.

“Good morning.” My voice emerges steadier than I feel. “I should review these test results…”

“Always working.” But his tail curls near his feet with what might be fondness as he sets the leather bundle beside me. “I found something you might appreciate.”

Curious, despite my attempt at professional dis tance, I carefully unwrap the package. Inside lies an ancient leather-bound journal, its pages filled with precise handwriting and detailed diagrams.

“It’s a research log,” he explains, skin darkening as I reverently touch the carefully preserved pages. “Written by a cryptid scientist centuries ago. She was like you—brilliant, methodical, always seeking to understand. She developed a unique system for cataloging cryptid physiological responses…”

My scanner and earbud are in my pocket. I quickly insert the earbud, excitement making my fingers fumble, and run the scanner as quickly as it can translate.

My breath catches as I recognize the elegant organizational structure. The way she cross-referenced observations and created matrices for tracking multiple variables—it’s exactly how my mind works.

“I’ve been organizing the library,” he continues, watching my fingers trace the careful notations. “Found this in a section on biochemical analysis. Thought you might want to see how another scientist approached similar research questions.”

The gift isn’t just a book—it’s validation. Understanding. He’s seen how I process information, how I make sense of the world through data and patterns, and instead of dismissing it as cold or clinical, he’s found a way to honor it.

“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate for the warmth blooming in my chest. “This is… perfectly organized.”

His tail brushes my arm as he leans closer, his horns gleaming in the citrine-colored gem light. His clawed nail points out a particularly detailed diagram. “She even developed her own notation system for tracking energy signatures. Reminded me of your spreadsheets.”

“The organizational methodology is fascinating.” Running the scanner slowly over the careful charts helps steady my racing thoughts. “The way she integrated multiple data streams…”

“Thought you’d like that.” His voice carries that mix of affection and amusement I’m learning to recognize. “She went on to make several important discoveries about cryptid biology. Her work laid the foundation for understanding how our abilities manifest.”

Looking up, I find his face closer than expected. His temperature seems to spike as our gazes lock, and for a moment, the great hall fades away. There’s only the warmth of his presence, the careful way he touches the precious book, the understanding in his eyes as he watches me explore its pages.

“I should…” His voice roughens. “That is, the perimeter needs checking…”

“Of course.” But neither of us moves. His tail remains curled loosely around my wrist as I clutch the journal like an anchor.

“You two are adorable.” Volt’s thunderous whisper breaks the moment. “But maybe take the meaningful staring somewhere more… private?”

Dante’s skin flushes darker as he steps back. “Right. Perimeter. Very important.”

“Thank you,” I say again, holding the journal close. “For… everything.”

His expression softens into something that makes my pulse race. “Always, Doc.”

As he disappears down the corridor, I open the journal with trembling fingers. A small note falls out, written in his elegant hand: “For the brilliant scientist who sees patterns others miss. Your mind is beautiful.”

Something warm and bright explodes in my chest—an emotion too complex for any spreadsheet to capture.

My body is thrumming, my nipples pricked with wanting, my lips feel achingly alone. I’m thunderstruck with the revelation that I want to kiss him.

Me, the girl who grew up believing in things others dismissed as flights of imagination. But I wasn’t the kind of girl who fantasized about meeting one in person and discovering more about them. I had something more sinister in mind.

And yet, those dreams have evaporated into smoke. Now the only thoughts pulsing through my brain—and body—are of kissing his crimson lips, touching the gentle curve of his horns, and once again feeling the safety of being wrapped in the embrace of his leathery wings.

Some gifts speak louder than words.

Some understanding runs deeper than data.

And some desires, once acknowledged, can never be forgotten.