Page 13 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

SIX

“You know, I’m absolutely sure this is a kink.

” Since I haven’t been able to talk for the past five hours as Kael ran with me on his back, making it impossible to speak without biting my tongue, my filter has left me.

My brain’s also been jiggled around, which means all of my fucks have been bounced out of me.

Kael’s usual grunt to my verbal diarrhea, which he’s given me the past thirty minutes when he had no choice but to slow down to a walk due to the rough terrain, makes me grin.

It’s fun getting to him, each grunt like a tiny victory.

A confirmation that yes, I am irritating, and yes, he is suffering.

If I have to endure this undignified, bouncing backpack existence, then by God, I will make it as uncomfortable for him as possible.

Kael shifts me slightly, adjusting the straps of the ridiculous harness that keeps me plastered to his back like some kind of parasitic growth. “A kink?” he finally asks, his voice a smooth, stoic calm.

I nod, which he obviously can’t see, so I make an exaggerated noise of agreement. “Oh yeah. There’s definitely some depraved bastard out there who would pay good money for this kind of treatment.”

He falls silent, which only makes it funnier.

“Seriously,” I continue, trying to stretch out my legs—because damn, they’re cramping—“some people would be so into this. Being strapped up, carried around, no control, just completely at the mercy of a big, strong Glowranth?—”

“I’m going to drop you.”

I cackle. “You won’t.”

“… I might.”

I grin against his back. “Nah. You’d feel too guilty. You’re all noble and honour-bound. I bet you’d have to do some weird Glowranth ritual of atonement if you did.”

Kael sighs, long-suffering. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Do you always grunt this much?” I counter.

This time, he doesn’t grace me with a grunt. He’s silent, his long strides carrying us forwards over rough, uneven ground. I rest my chin on his shoulder—not exactly comfortable, but I’m so past caring at this point—and let my thoughts drift.

Curiosity gets the better of me. “So, how come you speak English so well?”

Kael exhales through his nose, and I get the sense he’s choosing his words carefully. “I have always been… gifted with languages.”

Huh. “That’s convenient.”

“It was necessary,” he corrects. “As the prince’s guard, it’s my duty to understand and communicate with the many species of Terrafeara.”

That’s… surprisingly practical. “Still,” I press, “English isn’t exactly common here. Did you, like, study it? Listen to humans speak?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, quietly—reluctantly—Kael mutters, “Books helped when I was being taught by the royal guard.”

I blink. “Books?”

Another beat. Another long, deep inhale. “I found… books.”

Holy shit. “You learned English from books?”

“… Yes.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic.” I shift slightly, trying to see his face. “What kind of books?”

Kael hesitates. He’s clearly regretting this entire conversation. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, no, it definitely matters.” I grin, sensing an opportunity to get under his skin. “What kind of books, Kael?”

Silence.

“Kael.”

More silence.

I nudge him with my chin. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume it was something really weird. Like… cookbooks. Or, bloody hell, children’s books.”

He makes a noise—something between a sigh and a growl. Then, so low, I almost miss it, he grumbles, “Romance.”

I freeze.

Wait. What?

“Romance?”

Kael’s grip on my thighs tightens slightly, and for the first time since I met him, he sounds genuinely embarrassed. “It was from a human dwelling. Many cycles ago.”

I bite my lip, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. “So, you learned English from… romance novels?”

“They were well-written.”

Oh, this is golden. “So wait, you’re telling me you speak English fluently because you spent cycles reading books about… what? Star-crossed lovers? Forbidden passion? Torrid affairs?”

Kael makes another of those long-suffering sighs. “It was informative.”

I lose it. I’m shaking against his back, gasping for air, my entire body convulsing with laughter. Kael mutters something in Glowranth under his breath. Probably a prayer for patience.

When I finally catch my breath, I wipe at my eyes, still giggling. “That’s incredible. That’s—wait, hold on.” A thought strikes me, and I can’t not ask. “Do you, like, understand human romance? Or did you just learn the words?”

There’s a pause. “Both.”

“So, theoretically,” I say, fighting another round of snorting laughter, “if I described, say, a romantic date, you’d get it?”

“… Yes.”

I cackle. “That’s so fucking weird.”

Kael ignores me. I shift slightly, thinking, and somehow, my brain takes a turn straight into personal territory.

“My mum used to read romance novels,” I muse aloud. “Not, like, nice ones. Trashy as hell. But she wasn’t really a nice person either.”

Kael doesn’t reply, but I can tell he’s listening.

“She wasn’t awful, I guess,” I continue, sighing. “Never kicked me out. Even when I told her I was gay.”

Kael slows slightly, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Gay?”

Oh, right. “Uh. Yeah. It means I’m into men.”

He frowns. “Why is there a word for that?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

Glowranth don’t have eyebrows, but his ridges pull together in something close to confusion. “Attraction is attraction. We don’t distinguish with labels.”

Huh. That’s… actually kind of cool. “So, Glowranth just, what? Like who they like?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” I mutter. “That sounds nice. No bullshit.”

Kael nods. Then, because he’s apparently not done surprising me today, he says, “I think humans complicate things unnecessarily.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s our brand.”

For the first time since we started this hellish journey, Kael peers back at me, and his lips twitch.

I grin. “Was that…? Kael, did you just smile?”

“No.”

“Oh, you totally did.”

He picks up speed again, bouncing me just enough to shut me up.

I groan. “I hate this.”

“Good.”

I mumble something about turtles, because that’s exactly what I feel like, and Kael actually pauses. “Turtles?”

I snicker. “You don’t know what a turtle is?”

His silence is answer enough.

“Oh, this is so happening.” I smirk. “As soon as we get back, I’m finding something to draw you a turtle.”

Kael sighs, long and exasperated. “Why?”

“Because it’s important.”

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t know that.”

He groans. “I regret engaging in conversation.”

I grin, resting my chin back on his shoulder. “Too late, buddy. You’re stuck with me.”

Kael mutters something under his breath, and I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t actually mind.

At some point, dignity has to take priority over efficiency. And right now, dignity is demanding a bathroom break.

“Okay, I need a minute,” I announce. “Like, an actual, non-bouncing minute where I can remember what it feels like to stand on my own two feet and also, uh… handle some business.”

Kael sighs, slowing to a stop with the reluctance of someone who is deeply, profoundly disappointed in me. “We’re making good time,” he mutters, but he kneels, loosening the straps and letting me slide off his back.

I stagger as my feet touch the ground. Everything feels weird. My legs wobble like a newborn foal’s, and I cling to the nearest tree for support. “Fuck—I think my ass has forgotten what it’s like to carry my own weight.”

Kael crosses his arms, unimpressed. “I will allow five minutes.”

I flip him off as I stumble into the trees. The terrain here is thick with foliage—tall, twisting trees with dark, smooth bark, their roots tangling like serpents over the ground. The air is humid, filled with the scent of damp earth and something sweet—almost floral, but not quite.

Beyond the trees, the land slopes downwards, revealing an expanse of still, glassy water. It stretches out further than I can see, the liquid dark and eerily purple, like ink spilled across a page. There’s no visible shoreline on the other side. No rippling, no waves. Just… vastness.

After I pee, I frown, stepping closer. “Kael,” I call. “What the hell is this?”

He’s already pulling out supplies from one of the packs, moving with his usual efficiency. “A body of water.”

“Yeah, no shit. Is it safe? Can we drink it?”

He glances up, following my gaze. “It isn’t poisonous,” he says, which is not the same as “yes, totally safe, go ahead and take a sip.” “There are creatures in its depths, but they rarely come near the surface unless disturbed.”

I do not like that wording. “Creatures?”

Kael shrugs. “Some are harmless.”

“And the others?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough.

I squint at the water. “So, this is like the sea?”

Kael tilts his head, clearly unfamiliar with the word.

“An ocean?” I clarify.

Recognition flickers across his face. “Yes. But without waves.”

I frown. “Why not?”

He gestures towards the sky, then the land. “This region has no strong winds to push the surface. No shifting tides.”

Huh. Weird. The ocean without waves feels… unnatural. But then, everything here feels unnatural.

I watch as Kael efficiently lays out food—something dried, something vaguely meat-like, and something that might be fruit if I don’t think too hard about it.

“I would like to travel a little longer before we stop for the night,” he says.

“We’re making good progress, and the land ahead is not as rough. ”

“Fine by me,” I say, but my focus is still on the water. Something about it makes my skin prickle.

And then it moves.

Just a flicker—a ripple breaking the otherwise-glassy surface. But it’s there. My heart kicks. I straighten, eyes scanning the water. “Kael.”

He looks up.

I don’t look away from the lake—ocean—whatever the hell it is. My fingers curl around my dagger. “Something’s moving.”

The surface stills.

Kael is watching now, body tense, food forgotten. “Did you see what it was?”

I shake my head, stomach clenching. “Just a ripple. But it was big.”