Page 10 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

Holy shit.

Varek is Kael’s mate.

It makes no fucking sense, but my thoughts latch onto it anyway. That’s the only explanation for the primal sound rumbling deep in Kael’s chest, for the way his body went rigid the second Varek touched me. Right?

Except… no. That can’t be it.

Varek’s been here for years, long before I ever stumbled into this world. And from what I understand, the bond doesn’t wait. It doesn’t delay. It sinks its claws in the moment the two fated souls are in the same space.

And Kael?

The guy has never looked at Varek with anything other than distant civility, the same way he regards every other person in this compound. Except for me when I think I’d have burnt to cinders a couple of times.

So then why the hell is he all growly and ridiculous?

There’s a flicker of something sharp and unwanted in my chest, a quiet, ridiculous longing. Not that I want him to be my mate. Fuck that. I don’t need some walking, brooding inferiority complex tied to me for eternity.

But if he were, I would know, wouldn’t I?

I swallow, pushing the thought down, trying to ignore the way it needles at me. Humans don’t feel the bond like others do. That’s what I’ve been told. That’s what I know. We don’t get the soul-deep certainty, the overwhelming pull, not until the bonding starts.

Not that it matters. Kael is not my mate. And I don’t care.

Before I can ask what the hell his problem is, the sharp, jerking motion of a body seizing pulls my attention back. Dawson convulses violently.

“Aelith, put him down!” My voice rings out, loud and powerful. I hadn’t even realised he’d tugged him back into his arms.

The prince doesn’t listen. His grip tightens on Dawson, as if sheer force of will alone will stop whatever is happening.

Aelith’s snarl is absolutely inhuman. Monstrous. His glowing eyes snap up to me, and the weight of his fury is terrifying. His power crackles around him, a barely leashed storm. But I don’t give a shit.

I shove forwards, only for Kael to move at the same time, positioning himself between us before Aelith can do something stupid. His voice is steady, calm in a way that seems to cut through the prince’s spiralling rage.

“He is trying to help, Aelith.” Kael’s hand grips on his prince’s shoulder, his hold firm but not forceful. “Let him.”

Aelith hesitates. Just for a second.

It’s enough.

I drop to Dawson’s side as his body writhes, his limbs jerking in unnatural, painful spasms. My training kicks in, the old muscle memory of my first-aid courses and long nights working clubs in Sydney taking over.

“Shit—someone help hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself.” It’s usually the wrong thing to do, but the room is laden with things to injure himself on. And this definitely isn’t anything like any epileptic fits I’ve seen over the years.

Varek moves in first, his sheer size making it easy for him to keep Dawson’s shoulders pinned. I shift to keep his head steady, my hands cradling it carefully to stop him from smashing it against the hard frame.

Kael doesn’t move. He’s still holding Aelith back. But his eyes are on me.

Not Dawson.

Me.

The fit continues, violent and relentless, and I bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep my own panic at bay. Seconds stretch unbearably long. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops.

Dawson slumps, his chest rising and falling in uneven, gasping breaths. But he’s breathing.

A heavy silence falls over the room. Everyone is looking at me, waiting for an explanation.

But fuck if I have one.

Aeroth crouches beside me, clicking something in her native language. Her brow is furrowed in frustration, her fingers trembling as she presses them to Dawson’s pulse.

“He’s breathing,” Varek translates for her. “But this—this is not right.”

No shit.

Aeroth is good. That much I know. She’s patched up injuries, healed wounds I was sure would be fatal. But humans? That’s different. And it’s clear as she frowns down at Dawson’s slack features that she’s flying blind.

“I—” My mouth opens, then shuts. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know what caused this, and I don’t know how to fix it.

But I know someone who might.

The reluctant thought settles, heavy and certain. “There’s a human,” I say, my voice measured. “A doctor. A surgeon. She passed through here a while back.”

Varek’s expression sharpens. “Iris.”

I nod. “She bonded with one of the—” I hesitate, trying to find the right word. “—less friendly species.”

Aelith exhales sharply, the tension in his frame shifting. “Where?”

“I know where they were heading. Her mate’s territory.”

Varek mutters a low curse under his breath. He already knows the problem. The species she bonded to doesn’t play well with others. They’re isolated for a reason. And if anyone else goes after them? They’ll be killed on sight. No hesitation. No mercy.

“I’m the only one who might stand a chance at getting through to him,” I finish. “Iris liked me. He almost tolerated me.” The weight of that admission settles over the room.

Varek exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “Sonny, you can’t?—”

“There’s no other choice. Dawson needs help. We don’t have the knowledge or resources here, but she might.”

Aelith’s sharp inhale draws my attention. He’s calmer now, his earlier panic settled into something colder, more dangerous. “You’re not going alone.”

I don’t have time to argue before he turns his attention to Kael.

“You’ll escort him.”

Kael straightens, his expression unreadable. There’s the barest hesitation. The flicker of something I can’t place in his gaze. Then he nods. “Understood,” he says in Glowranthian.

And just like that, my fate is sealed, and I’m left wishing I hadn’t been so eager to push myself and keep doing things for the greater good of the group. Why couldn’t I have continued being a selfish prick?