Page 31 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

D ante

The sanctuary alarms shatter the predawn silence, crystal formations pulsing with urgent crimson warning. I’m instantly alert, wings extending as Blair bolts upright beside me.

“Perimeter breach!” Volt’s voice thunders through the communication system. “Multiple incursion points detected. Sophisticated camouflage technology circumventing standard detection protocols.”

My skin shifts to pure obsidian as protective instincts surge. “Location?”

“Eastern approach primarily, with secondary vectors from north and south ridges.” Volt’s electricity intensifies, creating a visible current that races through the crystal arrays. “Coordinated assault pattern consistent with military precision.”

“My father’s tactical signature,” Blair confirms, instantly shifting from sleep to combat readiness. “The meeting was simply misdirection. Gathering intelligence while positioning forces for primary assault.”

We race through crystal-lin ed corridors as the sanctuary erupts into organized chaos. Young and elderly cryptids rush toward secure chambers deep within the mountain, defenders move to predetermined positions, and technologists activate crystal barrier systems.

“Confirmed infiltration.” Cypher materializes from the shadows near the main entrance, amber eyes blazing with unusual agitation. “Advanced weapons technology detected. Not standard hunter equipment.”

The monitoring center’s displays show an alarming development—hunter teams with advanced equipment moving through our defensive perimeter with unprecedented ease. Technologies neutralizing our sensors, targeting specific vulnerabilities with precision that speaks of insider knowledge.

“They’ve studied us,” Volt observes grimly. “They seem to know our defensive protocols, our species distribution, our security parameters.”

“Because I helped design those systems.” Blair’s voice carries controlled fury. “My father likely analyzed my tactical approaches, anticipated my security implementations.”

My wings extend fully as I prepare to join the defense. “Then we need unpredictable response patterns. Volt, coordinate non-standard defensive formations. Marina, deploy Water Sprites in counter-intuitive configurations. Cypher, shadowform reconnaissance beyond established parameters.”

As defenders rush to implement revised tactics, the crystal arrays pulse with increasing urgency. Hunter teams approach the main sanctuary entrances with coordinated precision that speaks of extensive preparation.

“They’ve neutralized th e outer crystal barriers,” Marina reports, her voice filled with tension. “Approaching secondary containment protocols now.”

“I should never have agreed to that meeting,” Blair says quietly, fingers flying across control interfaces to strengthen remaining defenses. “This is my fault.”

“Later,” I tell her, wings already extending for flight. “Self-recrimination after survival.”

Her hand catches mine with surprising strength.

“Be careful,” she says, scientific detachment momentarily abandoned.

“If my father is true to form, now that he knows we are bonded, their weapons are likely recalibrated for Jersey Devil physiology specifically. In addition, he saw Volt, Marina and her Sprites, and Cypher. He has a better idea what he’s up against.”

The truth in her assessment sends ice through my veins. “I’ll keep myself safe,” I promise, tail curling briefly around her wrist before I move toward the exit.

“Dante.” Her voice stops me again. When I turn, her expression holds none of the analytical precision she typically maintains in a crisis. Just raw emotion that vibrates through our bond. “I love you.”

My skin shifts instantly to that iridescent shade I reserve only for her. “I know,” I reply simply. “That’s why I’ll come back.”

I grab an earbud that will allow me to maintain communication with the command center while I do aerial reconnaissance.

Right behind me, Riven grabs an earbud, his moth-like wings quivering as he races in the opposite direction.

“Be safe , brother.” He calls over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner.

Brother. He’s right. We are family. Today I’m going to fight for my mate and my family.

The eastern corridor trembles with impact as I join Volt near the entrance. Crystal formations splinter under concentrated disruptor fire, their protective glow flickering dangerously.

“They’re well-equipped,” the Thunderbird observes, his emotions so high that his electricity crackles loudly. “Specialized weapons, tactical formation optimized for cryptid containment rather than elimination.”

“They want captives, not casualties,” I confirm, recognizing the approach pattern. “Particularly specific targets.”

“You and Blair,” Volt concludes grimly. “A mate-bonded pair presents a high-value research opportunity.”

The clinical assessment makes my skin darken further, tail lashing with protective rage. “They’ll have to get through me first.”

“Precisely what they’re counting on,” Volt warns. “Protective response patterns are predictable, exploitable.”

The first wave of well-equipped hunters breaches the inner defensive perimeter before we can implement full countermeasures.

The sanctuary again erupts into controlled chaos—defenders executing revised tactical formations, cryptids using natural abilities to counter advanced technologies, battles erupting throughout crystal-lined corridors.

I launch myself into the fr ay, wings carrying me above the initial assault team.

From my aerial vantage, patterns become clear—hunters moving with specific objectives rather than random aggression.

Teams designated for capture, for containment, for specific targets identified through careful intelligence gathering.

I relay the information back to the command center.

Through it all, I maintain awareness of Blair’s position through our bond. She remains in the command center, coordinating defensive responses with tactical precision.

Water Sprites create disorienting mists; Sasquatches deploy surprising strength, tossing huge boulders down embankments and hurling tree trunks like javelins; Shadow Cats materialize from darkness to neutralize advanced equipment with targeted strikes.

Despite our resistance, the hunters advance with methodical determination.

Their equipment neutralizes many cryptid abilities, their tactics account for defensive formations, and their objectives remain focused despite our attempts at misdirection.

“They’re approaching the command center,” Volt warns through our communication crystal. “It’s a primary strike team with specialized containment equipment.”

Anger surges through me as my blood runs cold. This isn’t a random assault but a targeted extraction—with Blair as the primary objective. Abandoning my current position, I launch toward the central chambers, wings straining for maximum speed.

The command center comes into view just as hunter teams breach its outer defenses. Crystal barriers shimmer and fail beneath concentrated disruptor fire, security proto cols are systematically neutralized by technologies clearly designed for this purpose.

Inside, Blair coordinates defensive responses, her analytical mind processing tactical information with remarkable efficiency despite the approaching danger. Through our bond, I feel no fear from her—only focused determination and calculated response patterns.

As hunters bring specialized weapons to bear on the final barrier, I dive toward their position, abandoning stealth for direct intervention.

My wings extend fully, talons prepared for precise strikes against equipment rather than personnel.

But before I can reach them, a familiar figure emerges from the assault team’s center.

William Andrews steps forward, specialized weapon in hand that doesn’t target the barrier—but tracks my approaching form with unsettling precision.

“Predictable response patterns,” he observes with clinical detachment that echoes his daughter’s scientific tone. “The mate bond creates exploitable behavioral vulnerabilities.”

The weapon discharges with pinpoint accuracy.

I twist midair, evading the primary trajectory but feeling a searing pain as the projectile grazes my wing membrane.

Unlike my previous encounter, this toxin spreads immediately, fiery agony racing through tissue faster than anything I’ve experienced before.

Behind the barrier, Blair’s eyes widen with recognition. “Improved neurotoxin delivery system,” she analyzes with a professional assessment that doesn’t mask her horror. “Accelerated propagation parameters.”

“Precisely.” Her father ’s voice carries pride in scientific achievement despite the context. “Specifically calibrated for Jersey Devil physiology based on recent assessments.”

Pain blurs my vision as I fight to maintain flight, wings struggling against rapidly spreading numbness. I sputter to the ground, unable to keep myself aloft.

“Blair. This is over. Come with me. We can study the Jersey Devil together.”

Through our bond, I feel Blair’s sudden shift from tactical assessment to desperate resolve. The barrier between us pulses with failing energy as hunter teams prepare their final breach.

“Secondary containment protocols engaged,” Andrews instructs his team, weapon still tracking my increasingly erratic flight. “Prepare for subject extraction with minimal damage. I’ll administer the antivenom when we have him contained.”

As another projectile launches toward me, something impossible happens. The barrier shatters outward rather than inward, and Blair lunges through the opening—directly into the weapon’s trajectory.

Time slows with crystalline clarity. The projectile meant for me grazes her shoulder as she moves between her father and me.

Not a direct hit—the reflexes honed through years of hunter training allow her to avoid the worst of the impact—but enough to tear fabric and break skin.

Enough for the toxin to enter her system.

“Blair!” Her father’s scientific detachment shatters completely, horror breaking through as his weapon strikes his daughter instead of its intended target.

I catch her before she can fall, wings curving protectively around her smaller form.

The toxin from my own injury burns through my system, but the mate bond energy surges with a protective intensity that temporarily overrides the pain.

Her body trembles against mine, the toxin designed for cryptid biology creating an immediate, more devastating, response in human physiology.

“Get her out of here,” Marina calls from nearby, Water Sprites creating a disorienting mist that momentarily renders the hunter teams sightless. “We’ll cover your retreat.”

William Andrews stands frozen, weapon lowered, expression locked in horrified disbelief at what his perfect tactical planning has wrought. “Blair,” he whispers, the hunter’s cold detachment abandoned in the face of paternal terror.

I don’t wait for his recovery. Body straining against growing toxin paralysis, I launch toward the sanctuary’s deeper chambers, Blair cradled against my chest. Behind us, sounds of battle continue, but with a subtle shift in intensity—hunters disorganized by their leader’s obvious distress, defensive teams exploiting the momentary tactical advantage.

“Secondary escape route,” Blair manages through gritted teeth, face pale but eyes clear despite toxin’s effects.

I follow her directions, navigating crystalline corridors toward the sanctuary’s deeper chambers, where medical facilities offer temporary safety. Each step becomes more difficu lt as the toxin spreads, but I refuse to falter while she’s in my arms.

“The toxin…” she analyzes, professional detachment providing a framework for processing her own symptoms. “Modified neural pathways… accelerated delivery system…”

“Save your strength,” I urge, lungs burning with each powerful stride. “Analysis after treatment.”

Her smile holds pain but genuine warmth. “Always the pragmatist.”

The infirmary appears ahead, crystalline doors opening at our approach. Inside, Cliff already prepares treatment protocols, massive hands moving with surprising gentleness among medical supplies.

Through the communication crystal comes unexpected news—hunter forces retreating in disarray, coordinated assault transforming into tactical withdrawal. William Andrews reportedly ordered immediate disengagement after Blair’s injury.

As I lay her carefully on the examination table, our eyes meet with perfect understanding. In one desperate moment, she chose me over everything else—just as her father, faced with the consequences of his obsession, finally chose her.

Some bonds run deeper than science can explain.

Some loves prove stronger than any weapon can destroy.