Page 21 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)
Chapter Eightee n
D ante
The infirmary light seeps through my closed eyelids, crystal formations casting shifting patterns against the darkness. For three days, I’ve endured treatment in stony silence while our bodies betrayed us—the mate bond insisting on a connection that my pride rejected.
“Your wing is showing significant improvement.” Her voice carries professional detachment as she examines the toxic lines that have finally begun to recede. “The worst of the damage is finally reversing itself.”
“So, I won’t die after all. What a relief. Nice work, Doc.”
Her gaze flicks to mine, surprise evident at hearing more than monosyllabic responses for the first time in days. “Being near each other seems to be helping the healing process, whether we like it or not.”
“Biology has a funny way of ignoring our feelings on the matter.” My tail shifts restlessly against the examination table, betraying emotions my controlled expression attempts to hide.
“You should rest after th is treatment.” Her focus remains on my wing, avoiding direct eye contact as she works the healing salve into my sensitive membrane. “Your body needs to recover.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who looks like she hasn’t slept since Tuesday. Cliff says you’ve been living on coffee and stubbornness.”
Her hands pause momentarily before resuming their careful ministrations. “I’ve been busy. Sleep can wait until you’re out of danger.”
“At this rate, I’ll recover just in time to attend your collapse from exhaustion.” My skin darkens with frustration at her stubborn self-neglect. “The irony would be delicious if it weren’t so irritating.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your ‘fine’ and my ‘fine’ must come from different dictionaries. How about a deal?”
Her eyebrow rises with curiosity. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ll be the perfect patient—no complaints, no sarcasm, full cooperation. In exchange, you act like a human being with basic needs—actual meals, at least six hours of sleep, and occasionally seeing daylight outside this lab.”
“You’re bribing me to take care of myself by offering to let me take care of you.” Her lips twitch with what might almost be amusement. “That’s…surprisingly clever.”
“I have my moments. Rare as they may be lately. Do we have a deal?”
She studies me with that analytical gaze. “Deal. But with one addition.”
“I’m listening. ”
“When we’re together like this…we talk. Really talk.” Her voice carries unexpected vulnerability beneath her carefully controlled tone. “No hiding behind science or sarcasm. Just…truth.”
“Alright.” The word emerges slowly. This commitment can’t be easily withdrawn. “Truth for truth.”
She nods once, accepting the pact with characteristic directness. “I’ll start. I haven’t been sleeping because every time I close my eyes, I see your face when you found out who I was. What I was.”
“Your turn.” Her hands resume their careful work on my wing, eyes focused on the healing membrane rather than my face. “Fair’s fair.”
“I’ve been checking your vital signs through the monitoring system. Marina’s been my spy when you’re out of range.”
Her fingers pause momentarily, surprise evident in the slight widening of her eyes before professional composure returns. “That’s…not what I expected.”
“You wanted truth.” My skin darkens with embarrassment at being caught in an act of concern despite my anger. “I can be furious with you and still not want you dead from exhaustion.”
“It’s complicated, isn’t it? Being angry at someone you still care about.” Her honesty doesn’t quite mask the vulnerability beneath. “Wanting to push them away and pull them closer at the same time.”
“Who knew mate bonds coul d be so infuriatingly inconvenient?” My tail curls with reluctant amusement. “Though I suppose humans have their own version.”
“We call it ‘emotional entanglement.’ Less poetic, but equally messy.” Her scientific precision carries a hint of warmth I’ve missed. “The data indicates separation is… suboptimal for both parties.”
“A very scientific way of saying we’re miserable apart.” My wings shift with grudging acknowledgment.
“Empirical evidence supports that conclusion.” She meets my gaze directly. “Though further data collection is warranted.”
“Is that your way of asking if we can try again? Despite everything?”
“Hypothesis: We function better together than apart.” The vulnerability beneath her analytical framing makes my chest tighten. “Pending your willingness to test the theory.”
My skin shifts through shades of uncertainty, but my tail moves without conscious thought, curling gently around her wrist. “I’m still angry.”
“As you should be.” No defense, just acceptance. “I won’t ask for trust I haven’t earned.”
“But?” I prompt, sensing the unspoken continuation.
“But I’d like the chance to earn it back.” Her fingers tentatively graze my tail. “One day at a time.”
The simple honesty of her request breaks through layers of protective anger. Not forgiveness—not y et—but possibility.
“One day at a time,” I agree, the mate bond humming with cautious hope between us. “Starting with you getting some actual sleep.”
Her smile, small but genuine, feels like the first ray of sun after an endless storm. “Deal.”