Page 28 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)
Chapter Twenty-Four
D ante
I shouldn’t be replaying the life-altering intimacy I shared with Blair last night, especially since I’m certain my smile is so wide that my friends are all aware that we’ve mended all fences.
“Message intercepted from Frost Analytics frequency,” Volt announces, electricity crackling through his golden feathers as he strides into the room. “Addressed specifically to Blair.”
My skin shifts to obsidian as the Thunderbird places a crystal communication device on the stone table. The sanctuary’s senior council members exchange wary glances.
Blair’s expression remains carefully neutral, though the mate bond contracts with sudden tension between us. “What does it say?”
Volt flicks it on and the device projects a holographic message into the air. William Andrews appears—tall, distinguished, with silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes that ho ld an uncomfortable resemblance to Blair’s analytical gaze.
“You have my daughter. I demand her immediate release or an army will descend upon your mountain and will wipe out every creature in it. I’ll be at our old research outpost in the western valley tomorrow at midday. Allow her to come. Alone. Or suffer the consequences.”
The message ends, leaving heavy silence in its wake. My jaw tightens, betraying emotion I can’t fully suppress.
“Absolutely not,” I break the silence first, wings pulling tight against my back. “It’s obviously a trap.”
Blair’s eyes find mine across the table. “Probably.”
The council members debate the strategic implications, the risks of an invasion, the risk to Blair. Through it all, Blair remains silent, her analytical mind visibly processing options.
“I won’t go,” she finally says, setting her tablet down with deliberate precision.
“He’s bluffing. I don’t believe he has an army at his disposal to rescue me, nor do I believe he knows the exact location of this sanctuary.
The risk to the sanctuary is too great if he’s somehow using the meeting to confirm our location.
” She rises, gathering her materials with practiced efficiency. “The subject is closed.”
Later, I find her at the eastern outlook—a rocky ledge overlooking the valley where crystal formations catch the afternoon light.
“Your father has impeccable timing,” I say, announcing my presence. “Just when we’ve finally found our way back to each other.”
“He always did have a tal ent for disruption.” Her voice carries forced lightness.
Moving closer, I let my wing brush her shoulder—gentle contact that sends warmth cascading through our bond. “You surprised them back there. They expected you to want to go.”
“I’m afraid,” she admits after a long silence, the confession clearly costing her. “Not of hunters or weapons. But of standing before him and declaring who I’ve chosen to be. Who I’ve chosen to love.”
The last word emerges so quietly I might have missed it without cryptid hearing. My skin shifts instantly to that iridescent shade I can’t control when I’m around her.
“Blair…”
“Don’t get me wrong, Dante, I’m not ashamed of you.
I’m incredibly proud of you, and the mate bond we have is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I guess there will always be the little girl in me that still wants her father’s approval, the love he was never able to show me after my mother died. ”
She stands staring off into the distance. All I can do is to wrap my now fully healed wing around her while my tail finds her waist, supporting her while I let her brilliant brain process these strong, conflicting emotions.
“I’m going to meet him,” she says suddenly. Her expression is set—the kind that says her mind’s made up and there’s no use arguing.
“You’ve changed your mind?” My skin darkens with immediate concern.
“I need to face him. To f inally stand before him, not as his apprentice or his daughter, but as the person I’ve chosen to become.” Her voice strengthens with each word. “To tell him directly that I choose this life, this community. You .”
“You want closure,” I observe, recognizing the need beneath her strategic framing. “To say the things you couldn’t.”
“I want to stand before him as the person I’ve become,” she acknowledges. “Not running or hiding or pretending. Just… me. The scientist. The tactician. The woman who loves a Jersey Devil.”
That declaration makes my skin shift to iridescent wonder again, words temporarily beyond me.
“That woman,” I say finally, wings curving more fully around her, “is the most formidable being I’ve ever encountered. And if she believes she can face William Andrews on her own terms, with proper sanctuary protection, then I trust her judgment.”
Relief washes through our bond, her shoulders relaxing as she leans into my embrace. “Thank you.”
We quickly establish safety measures—I’ll be part of the security detail, close enough to intervene if needed, and she’ll wear monitoring equipment with emergency extraction protocols.
By the time we return to the sanctuary with our decision, the mate bond hums with shared purpose—not perfect agreement, but mutual respect for each other’s concerns.
Her hand finds mine as we w alk, fingers intertwining with casual intimacy that heats my skin. “The statistical probability of a positive outcome has increased significantly with our integrated tactical approach.”
“Is that your scientific way of saying we make a good team?” My tail curls around her wrist, drawing a small smile from her.
“Empirical evidence supports that conclusion, yes.” Her eyes meet mine with unexpected softness. “Though further data collection is always warranted for comprehensive verification.”
“Always the scientist.” There’s only affection in my observation as we prepare to face whatever comes next. As a team.