Page 23 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)

Chapter Twenty

B lair

Later, as we check the eastern ridge defenses, Dante breaks the careful silence between us. “You knew exactly what they would do. Every step of the way.”

“I was raised on those tactical protocols.” My fingers trace the edge of a crystal formation that had amplified Volt’s defensive lightning. “I could diagram his approach patterns in my sleep.”

“Tell me about her,” he says unexpectedly. “Your mother.”

The question catches me off guard. I’ve shared fragments of my past, but never this—the origin point of everything that followed. His eyes hold genuine curiosity beneath lingering caution. There’s no judgment in his gaze.

Taking a deep breath, I settle on a rock outcropping.

“She was brilliant. A field researcher who believed in approaching unknown species with wonder rather than fear.” A smile touches my lips at memories long buried.

“My father was the m ethodical lab scientist; she was the one who dragged us into remote valleys and hidden caves, tracking creatures most people dismissed as legends.”

“She sounds like you,” Dante observes, settling beside me, close enough for comfort but maintaining a respectful distance.

“Actually, I think I’m becoming more like her,” I admit softly. “Before she died, their research was pure documentation. No hunting, no weapons. She believed cryptids had complex societies worth understanding, not just studying.”

“What happened to her?” His voice gentles, the question I’ve always dreaded somehow easier to face in this quiet moment.

“A research expedition went wrong. My father found her body.” My voice catches. “The official report called it an animal attack, but he recognized the marks.”

“A basilisk,” Dante supplies. He remembered from our previous conversation.

I nod. “When his colleagues dismissed his findings, called him grief-stricken and delusional… something broke in him. The devoted scientist became obsessed with proving cryptids existed—and then with developing weapons against them.”

“And you followed his path.”

“I was four when she died. He raised me to see cryptids as threats, but…” I pause, the realization crystallizing as I speak it.

“I think I was always trying to find my way back to her approach. To understand rather than fear things that were unfamiliar . I just took a very roundabout way to get there.”

His tail uncurls slightly, no longer held defensively tight against his body. “That explains why you changed so completely at Apex. You weren’t just rejecting your father’s beliefs—you were rediscovering hers.”

The insight strikes with unexpected clarity. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Sometimes we need distance to see patterns clearly,” he says, his wing brushing me in a gesture of understanding that sends warmth through the bond between us.

“My father still believes he’s honoring her memory through his work,” I continue. “That’s why he can’t accept my choices. To him, I’m betraying not just him, but her.”

“Yet you’re actually completing her research,” Dante observes. “Living among cryptids, documenting our societies, building connections rather than barriers.”

The simple truth of his statement catches in my throat. “Yes.”

We sit in silence as the sun begins its slow descent. The surrounding ridge bears evidence of the recent battle—scorched earth from Volt’s lightning, crystal formations still vibrating with defensive energy.

“Thank you,” Dante says finally, his skin shifting to a warmer crimson. “For trusting me with this.”

“I should have told you sooner,” I acknowledge. “About all of it.”

“You’re telling me now. ” His tail moves cautiously closer to me. “That’s what matters.”

As we make our way back to the sanctuary, something shifts between us—not forgiveness, not yet, but understanding beginning to take root where only hurt had existed before. The mate bond resonates with quiet acknowledgment, stronger for having weathered the storm.

Some truths hurt to share, but heal in the telling.

Some connections strengthen through challenge rather than breaking under pressure.

And sometimes, the path forward becomes clearer only when we finally understand where we’ve been.