Page 36 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

We’re just about to reach the gate that separates our community compound from the main HQ outpost—the one where Varek and Henny are waiting—when I feel it. A shift. A crack in the air that doesn’t belong.

I stop short. Kael halts beside me, his head turning towards me in quiet question.

“What is it?” His voice brushes through my mind, even and low.

“It’s too quiet,” I send back, my mental voice less certain.

I look ahead. The gate that leads to the main courtyard should be open. It’s never closed during daylight hours. But now it is—shut tight with the thick security glass that’s reinforced against everything from the elements to minor explosions. And behind it, partially obscured, stands a Stirgule.

The glow of his green skin casts an eerie reflection on the glass. He’s armed. Intent clear.

Kael’s posture shifts immediately, weight centring. I feel his readiness ripple through the bond like a silent hum.

A sound scrapes behind us, and I turn, stomach clenching.

Zeyv.

Of course it’s fucking Zeyv.

He’s flanked by five others—both male and female, all different species. I recognise most of them. One is a human, and my gut twists with disappointment. We’re so few, and to see one of my own standing with them?

Three more bodies appear beyond the gate, shadows becoming solid. That’s ten in total.

Ten to two. Because undoubtedly that’s what this is. There’s no misunderstanding here.

And yet I don’t feel fear.

Kael stands beside me like a living weapon, every inch of him taut and battle-hardened. I reach for my dagger but don’t draw it yet.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, voice slicing through the tension like a whip crack.

Zeyv’s grin is all sharp teeth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of smile that wants to see someone bleed. “I’ll give you one chance to leave, Sonny,” he says, which honestly surprises me. “You can walk. We’re after him.” He jerks his chin towards Kael.

I let out a low laugh, full of bitter sarcasm. “Oh, how generous of you. Really stretching that big heart of yours today, huh, Zeyv?”

“Careful,” Kael warns me silently. “They’re unstable. And armed.”

Unstable? I barely hold back my snort. That doesn’t cover the half of it.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Kael says aloud, stepping forwards half a pace, his hands still at his sides. “Let us pass. I don’t wish to fight.”

Zeyv sneers. “Too late for diplomacy, Glowranth. You’re a symbol of everything that’s wrong here.

Both you and the prince here in our home?

What’s next? The queen herself knocking on our doors?

” He spits near Kael’s boots. “You’re a threat,” he continues.

“And once you’re dead, we’ll take out your prince next.

Varek can’t protect everyone. And don’t think we’ll spare your human toy either, if he makes the mistake of staying. ”

My jaw tightens. I feel Kael’s fury spike—barely held back by sheer force of will. But me? Oh, I’m done playing nice.

I step forwards, dagger drawn now, my eyes locked on Zeyv. “Then come and try,” I say. “Let’s see if you survive the attempt.”

His expression hardens, his sneer twisting into something far uglier. And then—chaos.

They surge forwards, weapons raised, the corridor narrowing with the weight of bodies and intent.

Kael’s arm swings up, intercepting the first blow aimed at me with the flat of his forearm.

The impact rattles through his armour, but he doesn’t flinch.

He moves like liquid vengeance—controlled, precise, devastating.

His gauntlet glows, power thrumming beneath the surface as he drives his fist into one attacker’s chest, sending them flying back into the wall with a crack that echoes down the corridor.

It’s hot. Ridiculously hot. But I don’t have time to be distracted.

Another comes at me fast, with a curved blade that whistles through the air. I dodge, barely, the steel grazing my shoulder. Pain sears through me, hot and wet. It’s not deep, but it’s enough.

Right. No more Mr Nice Guy.

I lash out, my foot connecting with their knee, and when they stagger, I slam the hilt of my dagger into their jaw. They crumple. Another takes their place.

There are too many.

Kael’s fighting off three at once. His power crackles with each movement, light and heat pulsing from his palms as he uses his energy to throw them back, knocking weapons from hands and bodies into walls.

And fuck, he’s beautiful like this. Focussed. Fierce. Lethal.

Distracting as hell.

But I push through it. Varek’s voice echoes in my mind, sharp, relentless. You’re not the strongest. So don’t try to be. Be smart. Be quick. Be unpredictable.

I duck low, sliding between two combatants, and jab my dagger into the back of a knee.

They scream, collapse. I roll away, using my momentum to dodge another attacker’s slash, and come up swinging with the pommel of my dagger.

It’s not pretty, but it’s effective. That’s Varek’s training—no frills, all grit.

I fight dirty. I use elbows, knees, teeth if I have to. My small size lets me slip through gaps, lets me strike where it hurts.

I’m covered in sweat and blood, and I don’t even know which is mine anymore. A dagger flashes towards me. I twist, raising my arm too late?—

—but the blade stops short. Hovers.

Glowing.

What the ? —

It’s me. My energy. Instinctive, raw, wild. The dagger vibrates, caught in the shimmer of gold-blue light emanating from my palm.

“Sonny!” Kael’s voice hits my mind, sharp with warning but also awe.

I don’t have time to think. I push. The dagger flings back towards its wielder, knocking them off balance.

I exhale hard. “Okay. That’s new.”

“Stay focussed,” Kael growls, slamming his opponent against the wall with bone-crunching force. “But yes. That was… impressive.”

Another attacker lunges at Kael’s back. I fling my hand towards them, the energy responding to my panic—arcing across the space like a whip and slamming into them mid-leap. They drop like a stone.

I blink. “Holy shit.”

Kael sends another sprawling with a kick that makes the walls shake. His eyes flash to mine, blazing. “We’ll talk later.”

Yeah. We will.

But first, we survive this.

The corridor’s still filled with enemies—I’m pretty sure more have joined Zeyv’s ranks—but something’s shifted. Zeyv’s eyes narrow, uncertainty flickering.

He should be scared. He really, really should.

But that’s when the rest of his little gang crashes in from the outside. Three more—armed and clearly ready for blood—burst through the exterior gate. It swings open wide enough to flood the corridor with harsh daylight.

We’re boxed in.

Zeyv makes his move, darting forwards with a twisted smile. And this time, I don’t hold back. He’s strong—but I took him down once. I strike with brutal precision, low and fast, darting between bodies, slicing his thigh, cutting shallow across his ribs.

He roars and throws a punch I barely duck. I spin, drive my elbow into his gut, but he grabs me, slamming me into the wall.

Kael bellows my name, his fury tangible through the bond while Zeyv throws something. I don’t know what it is until it’s midair.

It’s a weapon. Sharp. Spinning.

Headed straight for Kael.

Time slows.

Kael’s occupied, his back turned as he wrestles a female attacker with claws and too many teeth. He won’t see it.

But I do.

I don’t think. I move.

I fling my hand forwards, energy surging before I’ve even formed a thought. It crackles out of me, a shimmering arc that blasts the weapon off course. It slams into the wall and embeds deep in the plaster.

Zeyv’s eyes go wide.

Kael turns, eyes blazing. Then he turns back to Zeyv.

Kael moves like a force of nature. His body blurs, energy whipping around him like a storm. He hits Zeyv so hard, the air is knocked from the corridor. Zeyv stumbles, but Kael’s not done.

One blow. Two. A third that sends Zeyv crumpling to the ground.

I stagger to my feet, blood dripping from my arm, heart thundering. Zeyv gurgles, trying to rise. Kael’s blade flashes, and it’s over.

Zeyv is still.

We breathe. We bleed. We survive.

Bodies litter the corridor, steam rising from sliced flesh and scorched clothing. My chest heaves, adrenaline buzzing like a hive under my skin. Kael’s shoulder brushes mine as he straightens, blood and energy residue staining his armour.

We won—but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Not when we’re surrounded by the carnage of our own people. Riftborn. Rebels. Residents.

Footsteps echo beyond the far corridor. A door swings open. Gasps ring out.

Shit.

More residents filter into the hallway, faces pale and eyes wide. Some look horrified, others angry. More than a few are watching Kael like he’s a fucking threat all over again.

No. Not today.

I step forwards, planting myself in front of him. “Back off,” I snap, voice louder than I expect. “We were attacked. This”—I gesture to the bodies, to the mess—“was not our doing. Zeyv and his crew ambushed us.”

There’s murmuring, shifting, uncertain glances. Most know what a fuckhead Zeyv is. Was. No doubt whatever Varek got caught up in last night with Zeyv has reached the gossip mill too.

“Someone get Varek,” I add, heart still hammering.

The doors at the end of the hall slam open before anyone can move. Varek storms in like a tidal wave wrapped in fury.

For most, it’s the first time they see it—the full terrifying presence of our leader.

His skin gleams in the light like a living oil slick, every muscle coiled with restrained violence.

The silver of his eyes glows brighter than ever.

His horns curve like weapons themselves, casting long shadows behind him. Massive. Lethal.

The crowd recoils, even without a word from him. They feel it. The weight of him. The threat he holds in check.

His gaze snaps to the corpses, the still forms. To Zeyv’s body. Then to me. To Kael.

“What happened?”

“Zeyv tried to kill Kael,” I say, voice steady now. “He didn’t act alone. They were waiting.”

Kael stays silent at my side, every muscle locked, ready.

Varek’s gaze darkens as he surveys the scene. “Anyone else involved still breathing?”

One of Zeyv’s group moans faintly, twitching at the edge of the carnage. Another stirs with what looks to be a broken leg from its odd angle, whimpering.

Varek doesn’t even flinch. “Detain them. Now.”

Enforcers appear out of the shadows like summoned wraiths, stepping around the stunned onlookers and moving in without a word.

Varek doesn’t have to raise his voice. With one sweeping glare and a flex of his enormous form, he commands immediate attention.

The Riftborn who’d joined us after the fight fall silent.

Even the vocal ones hesitate, eyes flicking from the bodies on the floor to the blood-slicked walls and then to Kael and me.

“Disband,” Varek orders, voice low and lethal. “This ends now.”

A few mutter as they back away, clearly expecting answers, maybe even justice—or vengeance—but no one dares push it. Especially not with Varek radiating wrath and authority in equal measure.

“The bodies,” he instructs Shanae, who appears by his side without a sound, “remove them. The wounded… get them treated under guard. No exceptions.”

Translation: He believes us. Which… duh. Like we were going to start a brawl right before heading off to potentially save the two most politically inconvenient people in the realm.

“We don’t have time for this,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

I snort. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Varek’s brow lifts slightly. “Sher-lock?”

“Forget it,” I sigh. “Earth thing. Brilliant, moody detective with a god complex and no concept of personal space.”

Kael tilts his head slightly, curious, but I wave it off.

Only then do I actually get a good look at him.

Kael is covered in blood. Not just any blood—like, a rainbow mess of other-species blood, thick and drying across the metal sheen of his armour.

Most of it isn’t his, thank fuck, but I can see a few shallow cuts on his arm and neck, glowing faintly blue at the edges.

“Shit,” I breathe, reaching out without thinking. “You’re a mess.”

His gaze flicks over me like a scan. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” I shrug, even though I’m not entirely sure if that’s adrenaline talking or if I’ve gone into some next-level shock state. “Feels like nothing.”

“It will ache later,” Kael says, stepping closer. His hand comes up slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of the gash on my upper arm. “I can heal this.”

“You can what now?”

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften. “Energy manipulation, remember? It can be used to speed minor healing.”

My eyes widen. “You mean I’ve been walking around with thigh chafing from your kinky bondage like a chump, and you could’ve magicked it away?”

“It requires focus,” he says with a tiny smirk. “And permission.”

“Permission granted. Full clearance. Heal away.”

He lifts his hand again, but I hold up mine to stop him.

“Wait.”

His brow furrows.

“Maybe not all of it.” I point to the worst of the cuts on my arm. “I kinda want a scar. You know… to look fierce. Wounded warrior vibes. A little edge. Very ‘don’t mess with me or I’ll channel my Glowranth boyfriend and energy-blast your face off.’”

Kael blinks. “That is… specific.”

“You love that about me.”

“I do.”

Holy fuck. Did he…? Did I…? I swallow hard. The way he says it—quiet, sure—sends a warmth through my chest that I’m definitely blaming on residual battle adrenaline.

“Fine,” I add, trying not to blush. “Heal everything except the sexy battle souvenir.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the uninjured edge of my shoulder before lifting his palm.

“And then we get cleaned up,” I murmur. “Because if we show up at the queendom like this, they’re going to think we just murdered a small army.”

Kael doesn’t reply, but the glint in his eye tells me he’s already planning just how intimidating he wants us to look. Because hell, why not let the queendom know we’re not fucking around? You know, if we do run into anyone and our stealth plans go flying out the window.

And let’s face it, with the way our lives have been going since the moment we met, it’s not exactly like subtlety is our strong suit.

We’ve crashed through caves, scaled mountains, fought ambushes, and bonded in a blaze of bioluminescent glory.

Sneaking in quiet-like? Not really our brand.

So if shit goes sideways—and it probably will—we may as well look like the bloody storm rolling in.

Kael hums beside me, like he’s reading that thought loud and clear through the bond. “We will be seen,” he says, adjusting the last strap of his armour.

“Yeah,” I say with a huff of a laugh. “And they’re gonna shit themselves when they see us.”

His hand brushes mine. “That’s the goal.”

Bloody hell help whoever stands in our way.