Page 29 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

TWELVE

By the time I wake fully, Kael is long gone. Not that he left without thoroughly kissing me and promising to join me for my meeting with Varek. And when I say kissing, I mean the kind that haunts your dreams and makes your body buzz long after you’ve stumbled back into sleep.

Now, though, I’m floating somewhere between sleepy bliss and semi-functional.

There’s a warmth under my skin that isn’t just from the blanket—or even last night’s activities.

No, this is all Kael. The bond is pulsing, soft but steady, like a low-frequency hum in my bones.

It’s… nice. Comforting. Kind of addictive.

The morning haze doesn’t lift as I make my way to the canteen, still in that postorgasmic dream state where every bit of food smells like heaven and gravity feels optional.

I drift through the door and head straight for the back, where I know Decca and Molsi will be stationed like two dragons guarding their culinary hoard.

“Look who’s got the walk of the thoroughly fucked,” Decca calls the moment I appear.

I blink at her. “You do realise there are delicate, innocent ears in here?”

Molsi snorts. “Delicate where? You think Fringt’s innocence is still intact after he tried to cook with that expired root rot last week?”

“Fringt tried to what?” I cringe. “Why didn’t I hear about that?”

“Because you’ve been too busy playing Glowranth snugglepuff,” Decca says, flicking her four-fingered hands at me like I’m smoke in her kitchen.

I slide onto a stool at the far counter and swipe a crusty roll from the tray. “Snugglepuff, really?”

“Your glow tells me all I need to know,” Molsi mutters, then gives me a once-over. “Plus, it’s the eyes. All soft and smug. And don’t think I can’t feel the Kael-vibes radiating off you. It’s like being stalked by warm thunder.”

I groan and let my head drop dramatically to the table. “I hate how emotionally perceptive you two are.”

“No, you don’t,” Decca replies. “You love us. And you’re gonna love us even more once we fill you in.”

I lift my head, one brow raised. “Oh?”

Decca and Molsi exchange a look, then lean in with matching grins.

“Zeyv’s causing trouble,” Molsi says, voice low. “More than usual.”

“Apparently,” Decca adds, “he’s still reeling after yesterday.”

I can’t help the grin that forms. Kicking his arse was pretty awesome.

Decca rolls her eyes. “Yes, he’s not happy about that, but he’s focussing on complaints about the royal Glowranth and guard being here.”

I sigh, not surprised but wishing Zeyv would wind his neck in. “How much of a dick is he being?”

“He’s not standing up and talking shit in public,” Molsi says. “Yet. But there’s rumbling. It’s not just the usual passive- aggressive stink-eye either. They’re spreading the idea that Varek’s gone soft. That he’s giving the enemy a foothold.”

I huff. “Typical Zeyv bullshit. Varek can be diplomatic and terrifying. Just because he’s not decapitating people every Tuesday doesn’t mean he’s losing his edge.”

Decca slides a plate towards me stacked with smoked meat slices and roasted gukle weed. “You might want to tell the camp that. Because a few folks are listening to Zeyv.”

I chew that over. Figuratively and literally. The gukle are crispy on the outside and buttery in the middle—how the hell do these two make everything taste like a hug? Okay, maybe that’s just my postorgasmic state talking. They’ve served several more-than-questionable meals.

It’s too early for a camp-wide PR campaign, though, when it comes to making it clear that Varek is the dog’s bollocks. And honestly, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Jack. Solan. Their theory.

Someone pulling the strings on the rifts. Deliberately? I’ve barely scratched the surface of what that could mean, and the implications are spinning around my skull like chaos on a carousel.

I exhale slowly and glance at the small satchel I brought with me. “I’m going to be late,” I mumble, grabbing two rolls and an extra slice of meat. “If you see Kael before I do, feed him.”

Molsi raises a brow. “You’re waiting on him now?”

“Obviously,” I say, loading up a cloth with the food. “He needs looking after. Plus, I might be a little obsessed. Or stupid. Or both.”

Decca smirks. “Both.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I’m halfway to the door when I pause, glance over my shoulder, and grin. “But seriously—Fringt tried to cook what?”

Molsi groans. “Don’t ask. Just know it involved tentacles and nearly melted a pot.”

I let out a strangled laugh and wave them off, heading towards Varek’s war room over at the bowling alley.

Kael’s presence flickers in the back of my mind—distant but there, like a heartbeat echoing in my own chest. Strong.

Reassuring. God help me, I’m really starting to like this Glowranth thing.

And yes, I’ve already considered what it’ll feel like to start touching myself when I’m alone just to see if he reacts while he’s on duty.

Life might be chaotic, but I fully intend to have some fun with it.

The journey from the canteen to the bowling alley passes in a blur of shifting stone and the low thrum of life in the settlement. I keep my head down, barely nodding at the handful of Riftborn who cross my path, my mind spinning with everything Decca and Molsi told me.

But as I near the edge of the training quarter, Jack and Solan fall into step beside me like it was planned.

“Morning,” Jack says, eyes bright despite the tension behind them.

“You look well-rested,” Solan adds, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He might be a Pyronox enforcer-turned-rebel, but his humour still catches me off-guard.

“Not sure if it counts as rest when half of it involved a giant, glowing guard and a mattress that didn’t survive,” I reply, grinning.

Jack barks a laugh, and Solan chuckles low in his throat. “Noted.”

Together, we slip through the entrance of the bowling alley. Inside, the repurposed lanes are quiet for once. No distant sound of pins being scattered from the one almost-intact lane, no shouted commands from trainers or the grunts of sparring. Just an eerie stillness that sinks into my bones.

Varek is already waiting.

He sits at the head of the oversized table at the back of the room, the one built from salvaged doors and reinforced panels. Shanae is beside him, ever stoic, her stance protective but calm. Her dark gaze flicks over me with a sharp once-over that doesn’t feel unkind.

Kael is already here, and my chest flutters. The moment our eyes meet, a warmth spreads through me, low and deep. My pulse skips, then steadies under his gaze. He looks tired—hell, more than tired—but the flicker of relief in his eyes when he sees me nearly drops me to my knees.

I want to run to him, to wrap my arms around his solid frame and bury my face against his chest. Instead, I manage a small smile, one I know he feels through our bond.

Varek gestures for us to sit.

The table’s surface is covered with maps, printouts, and a smattering of reports. There’s no one else here. No hunting party, no officers, no gawkers. That alone is telling. Varek took my request seriously. He took me seriously.

“Thank you for coming,” Varek says, voice calm, deliberate. “Let’s get started.”

We sit, Kael sliding into the seat beside me. His knee bumps mine, a silent reassurance. I glance towards Shanae, who gives me the barest nod. Then I exhale and look at Jack.

Time to talk about what we know—and what it could mean for all of us.

Jack clears his throat as we all settle around the table, his fingers drumming lightly on the scratched surface.

“Thanks for giving us the time,” he says, gaze flicking between Varek, Shanae, and Kael.

“What we want to talk about might sound far-fetched at first, but… we’ve seen too much to ignore it. ”

Varek leans forwards, those silver eyes glowing faintly. “Go on.”

Solan takes over, his voice measured. “We’ve been tracking rift patterns after what you shared. And what we’ve found—what Sonny uncovered before he left—it suggests there’s a possibility these rifts aren’t natural. That they’re being… manipulated. Created.”

Kael visibly stiffens. His reaction isn’t the disbelief I expect. It’s deeper. Sharper. Like something old and painful has just cracked open. I feel it ripple through the bond like a shadow I wasn’t ready for.

I glance at him, frowning. “You don’t doubt it.”

He doesn’t speak right away. His jaw clenches, and his eyes meet mine, stormy and raw. There’s guilt there. Thick. Heavy. “I do not,” he says at last.

I tilt my head, wondering at his emotions.

His throat works like the words are fighting him. “If someone brought you here—deliberately— because you’re my mate….” His voice trails off, but the bond pulses with everything he can’t say.

“You’re wondering what that makes you,” I murmur. “That I was here for over two years, and you didn’t come.”

Kael flinches. His emotions surge, too tangled to separate—shame, self-loathing, fear.

He swallows hard, the weight of it choking him.

I reach for him, not physically, but through the bond.

Letting him feel the steadiness inside me.

The forgiveness I’ve already given. It settles him. Not completely, but enough.

Solan gives a small, knowing nod. “Then maybe the real question is why now. Why are the bonds beginning again? Why all of a sudden are mates being drawn together after so long in this dimension? And why are they pulling together different species to do so?”

Shanae, quiet until now, studies us both. Her gaze sharpens. “You bonded?”

I nod, heat creeping up my neck. Kael shifts beside me like he’s preparing for backlash. Like he still expects to be punished for something he never understood.

“It’s not complete,” I say quickly. “But yeah… the bond’s started.”

Shanae doesn’t comment, but the look she gives us is full of questions. The room shifts, a new kind of awareness settling in.