Page 21 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

I hum, a weak, croaking sound, but it’s enough. His fingers tighten around mine before smoothing out again.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “Alive, I think.”

“You are.” His voice is thick with something unspoken.

“I was about to beat the shit out of Henny,” Iris grinds out, her voice sharp with fury.

A laugh—rough, choked—punches out of me. “Henny?”

“Not his real name, obviously,” she mutters. “But that bastard deserves it for nearly killing you.”

I pry my eyes open slowly, the light sending a stab of pain through my skull before it evens out.

Blinking past the haze, I take them in. Kael, crouched beside me, fingers still tangled in my hair, his gaze burning with an intensity that makes my throat tight.

And Iris, arms crossed, shoulders tense, her mouth pressed into a hard line.

Iris exhales sharply. “I’m sorry.”

That yanks me out of my haze. I shift, trying to push myself up, but Kael’s hand instantly presses against my chest, urging me to stay down.

I frown at her. “For what?”

She glances at Kael before looking back at me, her lips twisting. “You remember what happened?”

“Your… the Hendroy,” I say, throat dry. “He… he was going to kill Kael. And I—” My breath hitches. “The bond.”

She nods grimly. “You initiated it. Not fully, but enough that it stalled him. Enough that he knew.”

A shiver rolls through me.

Iris sighs, rolling her shoulders. “My mate isn’t like the rest of us.

He’s… something other, even for the Hendroy.

He’s built for destruction, for war. And he was made that way.

” Her expression darkens, guilt flickering across her features before she quickly shoves it down.

“But you—” She exhales, shaking her head.

“He was going to kill Kael. I don’t think anything would have stopped him. Not even me.”

A cold weight settles in my chest.

“Then why did he?”

Her gaze flicks to Kael’s hand still resting against my chest, his other still in my hair, and something like understanding sharpens in her eyes. “Because of the bond.” Her voice is soft now, edged with something like awe. “Because you claimed Kael, and you meant it.”

A muscle feathers in Kael’s jaw. His clawed fingers curl slightly in my hair, a quiet anchor, but he doesn’t say anything.

Iris scoffs, shaking her head. “I don’t know if this was wanted or not, but I swear to the gods, if you ever pull that reckless shit again, I will personally murder you.”

I huff out a weak laugh. “Noted.” Though, to be fair, how else was I meant to get a message to her?

Kael still hasn’t stopped touching me. His fingers slide gently along my scalp, down to my temple, grounding.

It should feel weird. Too much.

But it doesn’t.

It just feels… right.

“Let’s get you up, and you can tell me what brought you here.”

Just like that, my mind sharpens. Dawson. His life is hanging in the balance, and every second we waste is a second too long.

Kael must sense my urgency because he moves first, easily shifting me upright, his arm bracing my back as I push myself up. My body protests—hell, my soul protests—but I shove it all down.

Iris watches me carefully, and before she turns to lead us forwards, I ask, “Where’s your mate?”

Her lips press together before she exhales. “Lurking.”

I raise an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes. “After you passed out, I ripped him a new one. Then I told him to make himself scarce before you woke up.”

I glance around, gaze skimming over the green pastures and rolling hills. Scarce probably means he’s standing just beyond sight—or in his woo-woo black smoke—watching us like a possessive demon-lurking arsehole. Because, well… that’s exactly what he is.

As we follow her towards the house, I take in everything, and my mind short-circuits. Again.

This is not what I expected.

The vibrant green grass underfoot, the crisp blue sky above, the scattering of wildflowers that look like they belong in an English countryside and not on a goddamn alien planet. It’s too… real. Too perfectly Earth-like.

I glance at Kael, but he’s busy keeping a hand on my lower back, steadying me as I try to take it all in. “How?” I breathe, eyes widening. “How the hell does this exist here?”

Iris’s lips quirk. “What, never seen grass before?”

“Not like this,” I say, still turning in a slow circle.

“Well, not in years. Hell, Iris—this is literally something I’ve only ever seen on TV.

” It is simply perfect. And then I freeze, my eyes snapping towards the stone cottage ahead of us, and my brain breaks.

My lips part. “Hold on. Is that Jude Law’s cottage from that Christmas movie? ”

She stops. Then, to my utter shock, her cheeks flush. She crosses her arms and mutters, “Maybe.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, turning wide eyes on her. “This is the cottage from The Holiday .”

Iris exhales through her nose, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Yeah. So?”

I blink at her. Then at the house. Then at her again. “Your mate built this?”

She nods, not meeting my gaze. “Created it for me.”

I don’t even know where to start with that. “Jesus. Okay, first, he’s a terrifying, uhm”—I hold back from saying “demon”—“Hendroy who nearly murdered me, but his skill set apparently includes architecturally perfect recreations of romantic comedy film sets?”

Her mouth twitches. “Guess so.”

My eyes goggle as I stare at the stone walls, the charming little windows, the goddamn ivy crawling up the sides. “This is insane.”

Iris clears her throat, her gaze flicking towards the door as if her mate might suddenly materialise. “ The Holiday is one of my favourite movies,” she admits, voice quieter now. “I always dreamed of living in a place like this.”

I let out a slow, awestruck whistle. “Damn.” I shake my head. “Impressive.” The second the words leave my mouth, I feel it. A sharp pang, deep in my chest. Not mine. Kael’s. I blink, confused for half a second before realisation dawns.

He’s jealous.

A laugh nearly spills from me, but I swallow it back. He knows I felt it too. The way he tenses slightly beside me, the way his hand presses just a little firmer against my lower back. I rub at my chest absentmindedly, trying to smooth the feeling out.

It’s funny. A little ridiculous, really. I could tease him about it.

But I don’t.

Because I passed out. Because he had to watch me go down, helpless, probably wondering if I was going to wake up at all.

Instead, I just exhale softly, letting warmth pool through the bond, through us, and I let him feel it.

I’m here.

And how the hell I’ve done that or even know that’s possible is beyond me. I’m going by pure instinct here. I don’t think he heard me as much as he sensed me.

Kael’s fingers twitch against my spine. And then, finally, the tension in him eases.

I’m sore, but I’m coping. I don’t know exactly what I was hit with or why I went down, but one of the things I’ve learned since being spliced through the rift is to not question everything. Some things just are, and survival depends on rolling with it.

Iris leads us inside, and the second I step into her cottage, I almost forget the soreness pulling at my muscles.

It’s perfect.

Warm and inviting, with wooden beams across the ceiling, a stone fireplace that crackles with soft orange light, and a couch so plush, I could sink into it for days.

The air smells like fresh wood and something lightly floral.

And then there’s the kitchen—a rustic dream, with dark oak cabinets, gleaming brass fixtures, and a sink that looks like it belongs in a period drama.

But all of that pales in comparison to what Iris hands me.

A glass of water.

A real glass—smooth and solid in my grip, not some cheap, repurposed scrap metal.

The water inside is crystal clear, beads of condensation trailing down the sides like something out of a goddamn commercial. I stare for half a second before instinct kicks in. I bring it to my lips and take a gulp—then another, and another, until I drain the entire thing.

The cold rushes through me, fresh and impossibly crisp. It tastes pure, none of the metallic tang I’ve grown used to on Terrafeara. It’s clean, smooth, almost silky against my tongue, quenching a thirst I hadn’t even realised I had.

Pre-Terrafeara me wouldn’t recognise this moment—me, standing here, damn near orgasming over water. I lower the empty glass, inhaling deeply as the coolness settles in my chest.

Iris watches me with an arched brow. “Thirsty?”

“You have no idea,” I mutter, voice rough.

She smirks but doesn’t comment further. Instead, she crosses her arms and nods towards Kael. “All right. Spill. What the hell brought you here?”

Kael glances at me, checking in. I give him a slight nod, still clutching my glass, and he shifts slightly, facing Iris. “It’s about Dawson,” he says, his voice steady but edged with something tight. “The new human.”

Iris nods, indicating that she’s listening.

Kael continues. “He’s been here a few days, but something’s… wrong.”

He hesitates, and I can feel the frustration in him—the need to explain this in a way that makes sense when none of it does.

She waits, her expression sharp with focus.

Kael exhales. “He wasn’t just pulled through a rift. He was pulled through the centre of the Earth to get here.”

Iris blinks. “Excuse me?”

He presses on. “Jack—another human—was pulled through from Australia. And we’re sure it was at the same time, the same rift.

Dawson came through in Portugal. Opposite sides of the world.

If you put a ruler straight through the Earth—” He mimics the motion, just as I had earlier. “—their locations practically line up.”

Her brows knit together, but her eyes gleam with something thoughtful.

Kael carries on. “Whatever happened to Dawson, it wasn’t natural. And now, something’s happening to him.” His words catch slightly, his jaw tightening.

I take over.