Page 31 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

The corridors to the western wing are quieter than I expected.

Kael walks beside me, his stride purposeful.

I don’t need the bond to feel how reluctant he is to leave me again.

It flows from him in waves. Still, he says nothing, his lips pressed in a thin line, jaw set like stone.

That Glowranth soldier control on full display.

I almost hate how hot it makes him.

Almost.

The closer we get, the more tension coils in my gut. I can already feel the weight of it pressing through the walls of the facility. The heavy pulse of grief. Hope. Determination.

And fear.

Kael opens the door first. The medical bay is dimly lit, shadows playing along the far wall where Iris crouches beside the bed. Dawson hasn’t moved. Still pale. Still far too still. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, I might have thought we were too late.

Prince Aelith sits in a chair, unmoving, regal despite the exhaustion carved into his face. His luminous eyes are duller now, the once-fierce glow softened to something hollow. He doesn’t look at us. Kael immediately steps closer to his prince, then pauses.

Iris looks up, offers me a nod. “Good to see you.”

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “How is he?”

“Stable,” she says. “For now. But Aelith’s not helping his own case. He keeps trying to give more. I had to sedate him again this morning.”

I glance at Kael, who doesn’t flinch. Of course he already knows. I suspect he was the one who gave permission.

“You should rest,” Kael says quietly to the prince, but Aelith doesn’t respond.

The room buzzes with unspoken things. What’s happening to Dawson. What it might mean. What Kael told me in confidence just yesterday.

Iris rises, brushing her hands on her trousers. “Dawson had another seizure early this morning. Brief, but intense. I managed to stabilise him, but we’re running out of time.”

“Is Aelith still… feeding him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

“Not while sedated or it’s still in his system,” she says. “But when he’s fully comprehensive and the drugs have worn off, I doubt I can stop him.”

Kael places a hand on Aelith’s shoulder. Something wordless passes between them, and though the prince doesn’t lift his gaze, his hand reaches up to cover Kael’s.

I look away. It’s not jealousy. Not exactly. But it’s something.

“I have to stay,” Kael says to me, voice low.

I nod. I knew it was coming.

He steps back towards me, pausing close enough that I can feel the heat of him. His hand finds mine briefly. Discreetly. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” I promise.

He doesn’t kiss me. Not here. But the look he gives me before he turns back to Aelith is enough to keep me going.

Just.

I let myself linger at Dawson’s bedside for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hands look too small against the sterile white sheet. He looks young. Too young to be dying.

I glance at Iris. She’s already back at her post, monitoring something on the screen. “Tell me the moment anything changes,” I say.

She nods without looking up, and I leave quietly. The door clicks shut behind me, and the ache in my chest doesn’t ease. It only grows.

As I step back into the hall, I don’t leave immediately. I linger, leaning against the wall just outside the door, waiting for the tightness in my lungs to relax. It doesn’t.

Has Kael even told Aelith about me?

I’m not sure why the question hits so hard, but it does. The way the prince didn’t even glance at me—like I was just another Riftborn come to hover. Like I wasn’t… bonded. Not to him, obviously. But to Kael.

His personal guard.

Would Kael risk telling him?

The logical part of my brain says no. Of course not. Not yet. Not when the prince is teetering on the edge of burning himself out. Why give him something else to carry?

But the irrational part? The piece of me that’s already cracking from the weight of not being enough for my mother, for myself, for Kael during the early days… that part whispers that maybe I’m still something to hide.

The door creaks open behind me. I jolt upright, turning just as Iris slips out, gently pulling the door shut behind her.

She raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t leave.”

“I was about to,” I lie.

She doesn’t call me on it. Instead, she rubs at the back of her neck. “He’s holding on. Dawson, I mean. But… whatever’s happening in there, it’s pulling on all of us. Aelith’s getting reckless.”

“I know,” I say. “Kael told me.”

We fall into silence. Her gaze flicks back towards the door.

I shift, uncomfortable. “Your mate… he’s here?”

A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “He never really left.”

That doesn’t help my creeping unease. “I can’t see him.”

“No one does unless he wants it.” Her tone is casual, but I don’t miss the way her fingers twitch slightly, like she’s reminding herself to stay relaxed. “He’s always watching. Protective as hell. He was hovering while you were out, y’know. Not in a creepy way. Well… okay, maybe a little creepy.”

“Creepy’s generous,” I mutter. “More like pants-shitting terrifying.”

She snorts. “He likes you.”

I blink. “That was him liking me?”

“Well, he didn’t impale you, so yeah. That’s Hendroy for ‘I tolerate your presence.’”

My skin prickles. “Comforting.”

“You get used to it,” she says, then pauses, tilting her head slightly, studying me. “You okay?”

I open my mouth to say yes. What comes out is “I think something’s… shifting.”

Her brows lift.

“In me,” I clarify. “I’ve been feeling things. Kael. Even from a distance. And now… I don’t know. It’s like something’s… humming. Inside me. Warm, buzzing.”

Understanding floods her expression. “Energy manipulation.”

I nod slowly.

“Transference between bonded mates. It’s a lot, I know. But you’ll get used to it. Obviously, each fated pair is different, but as long as you take it easy and lean on your mate, you’ll be just fine.”

While I appreciate her confidence in me, I’m not so sure.

For one, I’m not the most patient guy in the world—Earth or Terrafeara.

But I’ve felt… sharper today. More attuned.

And yeah, I haven’t flung lightning bolts from my fingers or anything—not that I think Glowranth can actually do that—but I swear I could’ve lit a sconce just by touching it earlier.

“Is it dangerous?” I ask. “For humans,” I clarify.

“No,” she says. “Not unless you try to use whatever skills may have been transferred without understanding them. Kael should train you.”

Right. Kael.

The bond pulses faintly, warm and steady. Even if he hasn’t told the prince yet, I can feel him. And I know he feels me. That’s something.

I exhale, bracing myself to move again. “I should get back. Varek wanted a word.” Which is an absolute lie, but I also want to speak to him without outsiders present.

And yeah, it sounds shitty calling a fellow Aussie or even my mate that, but I’ve put my trust in both Varek and Shanae for over two years of my life.

I want to know what they’re really thinking and if they have a plan.

She nods. “Come back later. Dawson’s not out of the woods, but… it’s good he has people fighting for him.”

“Yeah,” I say, voice a little rough. “He’s got us.”

I just hope he survives this. If not, I have no idea what that will mean for me and Kael. And obviously, I want Dawson to survive. That goes without saying. But yeah, selfish or not, I’m thinking about myself too.

It starts with a tingle.

Not the sexy kind, unfortunately.

More like the pins-and-needles buzz of a limb that’s been asleep too long, crawling under my skin, moving in strange, rhythmic pulses. It begins in my palms. Spreads to my forearms. I rub them, thinking maybe I’m imagining it. That maybe I just slept weird or need to hydrate.

Spoiler: I’m not imagining anything either.

Since Varek wasn’t available to chat, I caught up on some of my community chores—joyous tasks like restocking rations, clearing the dried creeper vines from the main water pipe entrance, and arguing with Decca about the definition of “edible.” Standard Tuesday stuff.

Not that I know what day of the week it is in human terms.

But I’m very much awake.

And still tingling.

I’m back in my quarters, sitting cross-legged on the floor like I’m about to meditate—which is hilarious considering I have the focus of a magpie on a caffeine high. I stare at my palms, flexing them slowly.

It’s still there. That fizzing buzz of energy.

Curiosity gets the better of me.

I concentrate, like Kael described in one of our hushed, half-asleep conversations last night. Open myself to it. Picture the hum of connection, like a thread running from me to something… more.

At first, nothing. Then the space in front of me wobbles.

I blink. Lean forwards.

The air folds.

A ripple spreads like heat above asphalt, distorting everything it touches.

My breath hitches. The ripple builds, spiralling into a tiny vortex the size of a grapefruit—right in front of me.

It’s not a portal. Not quite. More like a pocket of unsteady space, warping the edges of my vision.

My chair near the wall creaks, then slides three inches to the left, as if nudged by an invisible hand.

Comics I’ve scavenged lift and flutter into the air. My shelf groans.

“Shitshitshit—”

I swipe at the ripple like that’ll help. It burps in protest, expands to the size of a beach ball, and pops with a sound like a deep, wet hiccup.

Books go flying. The natural lights in the walls flicker wildly. The floor shudders beneath me. One of the storage crates in the corner topples with a dramatic clatter.

I freeze.

And then the ceiling creaks ominously.

“ Sonny! ”