Page 16 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

I sigh. “Fine.” Too tired, too hungry, and too wrecked to argue.

Kael says nothing.

We settle in once we reach the cave—if you can even call it that. It’s really more of a jagged overhang, barely deep enough to block the worst of the wind. Kael leaves to hunt, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. A fucking terrible place to be.

My mind drifts.

To Kael.

To how wrong I was about him.

I’d convinced myself he had a thing for Varek. That every lingering glance, every tense exchange had meant something. But it didn’t.

It was never Varek. It was me.

I rub at my chest, irritation coiling tight in my gut. Am I just hurting myself more by pushing him away? Will I ever be able to forgive him?

I don’t know.

And maybe worse—I don’t know if I even feel different since the bonding started. The bond is supposed to mean something, but I feel like… me.

Though, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve always found Kael attractive. That was never the problem. The problem is—what now?

I know bonding effects are different depending on the species, but what should I even expect?

Before I can spiral further, Kael returns. His expression is… forlorn, like he’s carrying some silent weight on his shoulders, but he doesn’t let it stop him. He sets to work, skinning and preparing the rethog like nothing is wrong. Like he isn’t unravelling right in front of me.

Kael tries. More than once. Small, hesitant attempts—a question here, a comment there—all of them careful, all of them deliberate.

“Does your wound still ache?”

I don’t answer. I haven’t complained about my wound. Not once. Does he know because he senses my pain?

“You are cold.”

Nothing from me. And yes, I am cold. I’m also relieved that I’m out of the elements and the biting wind. The fire he’s made is finally doing the trick of warming me up. It would do an even better job if I moved closer, but since he’s there and I’m a petty bitch, I stay nearer to the shadows.

“The fever has not worsened.” A quiet observation, not quite a question.

Still, I refuse to engage. But fuck, I had a fever? I suppose that happened when I was unconscious. Fun times.

I focus on the fire, watching the flames flicker and curl, casting his face in shifting light. He comes closer as he works on cooking the fresh meat. He’s too close, but I won’t ask him to move. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

So I sit, silent and stiff, my arms curled around my knees. I can feel him watching me. Waiting. And then?—

“Have you always been stubborn?”

It’s a casual question with no heat or spite, but it’s one I know is meant to prod at me. And goddammit, it works. My head snaps up, a glare locked and loaded, because excuse me?

His lips twitch. Just a little. Almost like he’s relieved I took the bait.

I scowl harder. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

I scoff. “Yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?”

He tilts his head, studying me, his eyes flickering gold with the firelight.

“I know you act like you don’t care,” he says evenly, “but you care too much.”

Something in my chest twists. I hate that he said that. I hate that it’s true. I shift, looking away. “You don’t know shit.”

Kael exhales, slow and measured. He pokes at the fire, adjusting the wood. The silence stretches again—heavy, but different now. And then, softly, “I wish I had done things differently.”

It’s not the first time he’s apologised. But this time… this time, it feels different. Not just words. Not just duty. Something real.

I risk a glance at him.

His jaw is tight, his expression pained. Not just the usual unreadable stoicism. This looks like actual regret. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know if I even want to do anything with that.

So I shake my head. “Yeah, well. Too late.”

His gaze flickers, like the words hit him somewhere deep. But he doesn’t argue. He just nods. Somehow, that makes it worse.

He turns his attention back to the fire and the cooking rethog .

I should look away, but I can’t seem to find the will or the desire.

I don’t know if it’s curiosity, exhaustion, or something deeper that keeps my gaze fixed on him.

On the way his massive frame seems smaller somehow in the dim firelight.

On the faint, pulse-like glow of his markings, flickering in a rhythm I can’t quite track.

Kael doesn’t seem to notice me at first, focussed on the food.

But then his nostrils flare. A sharp inhale.

And when he glances up, his eyes locking with mine, he stills.

His surprise is obvious. I expect him to smirk, to make some arrogant remark about my staring.

Instead, he clears his throat, a rare show of discomfort, and breaks eye contact first.

The moment is over too quickly.

“Eat.” He passes me some of the cooked rethog , his fingers brushing against mine.

I swallow hard at the contact, my grip tightening around the cooked meat as if that will stop the traitorous shiver running through me.

His eyes flare. A barely there reaction, but I see it. Feel it.

My stomach twists, my thoughts a mess, but I remember my damn manners. “Thanks,” I mutter.

Kael gives a small nod. No arrogance, no teasing. Just a nod.

We eat in silence for a while. The fire crackles, the scent of the cooked meat thick in the air, but I barely taste it. My mind keeps circling back to something else.

Energy manipulation.

The Glowranth can do it—I’ve seen a couple of the ones who joined the Riftborn cause use it. It’s different from what I know of tech, different from magic too. Rawer. And now, with the bond partially formed, I can’t help but wonder….

I clear my throat. “So. Your… abilities. The energy manipulation thing.”

Kael pauses mid-bite, blinking. Then, to my surprise, he brightens. Not physically—though his markings do shift slightly, his bioluminescence flickering a little more vividly—but his whole presence changes. Like he wasn’t expecting the question but is eager to answer.

Almost happy about it.

“It’s… difficult to explain,” he says, setting his food down. “We don’t see energy the same way humans do. To us, it’s a current, a force that can be shaped. We train from childhood to harness it, to use it in combat, in construction, in healing. It’s….” He hesitates, searching for the right words.

I watch, fascinated despite myself. This is the most open I’ve ever seen him.

“It’s a part of us,” he continues. “Like breathing. We draw it from our bodies, from the world, and wield it.”

I frown. “Like how?”

Kael lifts a hand, palm up. At first, nothing happens. Then a faint shimmer appears just above his skin, like heat distortion. It twists and shifts, slowly forming into a crackling sphere.

My breath catches. It’s not fire. Not electricity. Something between. The sphere pulses once, then vanishes in a flicker of energy.

I exhale, realising I’d been holding my breath.

Kael watches me carefully. Too carefully. Like he’s gauging my reaction.

I try to keep my voice even. “And humans? If… if a human and a Glowranth… complete the bond, do they—” I don’t finish the question. But I don’t have to. He understands.

Hope flares in his luminous eyes, so sudden and raw that my stomach bottoms out. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have let him hope.

And fuck me, I shouldn’t want to comfort him.

But I do.

I want to reach out, touch him, say something that makes that vulnerable look in his eyes hurt less.

I don’t.

Can’t.

Kael shifts, the light of the fire casting shadows across his sharp features. He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his words with care. “I don’t know.”

I blink. “What?”

“I don’t know if you’d gain any of my abilities,” he clarifies. His markings pulse faintly, a slow, steady rhythm. “There are no bonded Glowranth. Not in this lifetime, anyway.”

I nod, knowing that fated mates, or having the ability to have one, wasn’t possible for his species. “Until me and Dawson.”

He hesitates, then says, “The ability to bond—the way it’s meant to happen—stopped over seven generations ago.”

“So, your species used to have fated mates?” I ask.

“Yes.” Kael’s voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper. Resignation, maybe. “The old records—the Kezthran Archives—mention fated mates, but only amongst other Glowranth.”

I tilt my head, absorbing that. “Not surprising, I guess. There’s no recorded history of the rifts, right? No proof that other species ever got pulled into your world before now.” Because that’s something we’d know about, right?

He nods. “Exactly. All Glowranth can manipulate energy, so there was no way to tell what… exchange happened between mates back then.” His voice turns contemplative. “Though it’s said that bonded mates could communicate without words.”

I sit with that for a moment, thinking. “Like telepathy?”

Kael inclines his head.

I nod, my mind drifting. “I’ve heard similar things.

Existing interspecies mates sometimes develop…

side effects. Shared dreams, extra senses, even minor and some major shifts in biology.

Nothing like energy manipulation, though.

” I chew my lower lip. “Still, the whole mind-talking thing would be kind of cool.”

Kael’s mouth quirks at the corner. “You would like that?”

I huff. “No need to sound so amused.”

His lips press together, amusement fading. “Bonded pairs could also sense emotions.”

That gives me pause.

“Joy,” he continues. “Pain.”

I watch him closely. His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare. And then—a wince.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

Kael exhales sharply through his nose, gaze flicking—just briefly—to my back. Where he saved me.

My stomach knots. I shift, feeling the tender pull of the healing wound. “You can feel that?”

His luminous eyes meet mine, glowing softly in the dim light. “I can feel all of it.”

And he’s not just talking about my back.

I suck in a breath, realisation slamming into me. My pain. My anger. My bitterness. He feels it. All of it.

I swallow hard, shifting uncomfortably. “And that means… what? That you’ll always be able to sense me?”

Kael nods. His gaze is steady, but there’s something raw underneath it.

How would that feel? To be known like that? To be seen without filters, without masks, without bullshit?

It should bother me. It does bother me. But at the same time… bloody hell, at least it would cut through the bullshit. At least I wouldn’t have to guess what he’s thinking.

Or what I’m thinking.

Kael’s voice drops lower, rougher. “I would be yours. And you would be mine. I would never leave you.”

Something inside me tightens. Because fuck, I don’t know if I want that.

And I don’t know if I don’t.

Clearly sensing my confusion, he indicates towards my uneaten food. “Eat. Then it’s time to rest.”

I nod. He’s right. It’ll likely be tomorrow by the time we reach the doctor. I have a feeling I’ll need my energy to be able to think and act fast so that when her mate spots us, I can talk him out of killing us.

It’s easier to think about that confrontation than everything else Kael has shared with me. So, with a resigned sigh, I take a bite of the rethog and allow myself to enjoy the flavour. I totally don’t think about Kael and how he provided for me or the longing glances he keeps sending my way.

If only he’d come to me when I’d first arrived, scared and so damn confused. But it’s a pointless wish. I learned a long time ago that wishing is for children and fools.

And it’s been a long time since I was either.