Page 38 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

We follow him down a tight passage that opens into what looks like the back of a stable or a transport station.

Varek gestures for silence. There’s a building ahead—low, squat, more like a storage structure than a house.

A heavy stable-style door sits partially ajar, faint light spilling through the gap.

Voices carry out. First in Glowranthian—low, sharp, clipped. I pick up a few words, mostly due to Varek’s tutoring, but the dialect is fast. Three voices. Maybe more.

Then English.

My brows shoot up. I lean towards Kael. “Did you hear that?—”

Light explodes through the door. The wood jerks open with a creak, and a tall, brown-skinned man steps into the alleyway, eyes wide and mouth open.

He’s human, wearing the robes of a Glowranth native, but clearly not military.

My heart pounds, and Kael steps in front of me instantly, his body going taut, hand already near his sword.

The man curses, low and vicious.

I grab my dagger. Kael goes for his blade.

And then?—

The guy charges. Not at us. At Varek.

He grabs the massive, horned rebel by the collar, yanks him down, and kisses him. Hard.

I blink. “Uhh.”

Kael stills beside me, completely silent while the kiss lasts forever. Or maybe a few seconds. It’s hot. Intense. Messy. Then the human rears back—and punches Varek square in the nose.

Crunch.

“Ow.” I wince.

Varek’s head snaps back, blood trickling down his face, but he doesn’t move to retaliate. Doesn’t even flinch.

“What the actual fuck?” I whisper to Kael. “Is this foreplay or interdimensional retribution?”

The moment we’re inside, Kael doesn’t relax. Nor does he answer me. His palm stays firmly on the hilt of his sword, his posture rigid as his eyes scan the cramped interior.

I, on the other hand, am busy processing approximately fifty things at once.

Like the building—half stone, half whatever that is—and the man who just delivered the most feral welcome I’ve ever witnessed.

Not to mention the two other Glowranth now standing awkwardly to the side like they’re deciding whether to bolt or throw hands.

We’re ushered in with all the subtlety of a bar fight. Kael stays between me and the others, a wall of gleaming metal and protective vibes. His glowing markings pulse faintly, which does nothing for my heart rate.

The man—Varek’s mystery kisser/puncher—launches into a furious tirade in thick Glowranthian, his voice sharp and musical, like he’s singing insults at a very aggressive tempo. Every now and then, English words filter through: “betrayal,” “idiot,” “what the fuck, Varek.”

I blink. My lips twitch.

The two other Glowranth watch with wide eyes. One of them steps forwards as if to intervene, then hesitates when he catches sight of Kael. His eyes widen further. He whispers something to the other, and I swear I catch “royal guard.”

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Things go from awkward to nearly combustible. Kael’s markings blaze like warning lights, his entire being locked and loaded. The mystery man finally tears his attention away from Varek to snap something at Kael. It’s half growl, half snarl, and a hundred percent threatening.

“Okay!” I announce, stepping forwards and raising my hands like a referee between rabid wolves. “Everyone, take a breath. Or ten. Preferably before someone else gets kissed. Or punched. Or both.”

The Glowranth blink at me. Kael blinks at me. Even Varek blinks like he’s only just remembered I exist. And the bloke, he studies me hard, assessing, but some of the initial fury bleeds from his expression.

“Seriously,” I add. “Whatever I just walked into, we can sort it out after we figure out how not to let your prince die and maybe, maybe save a few hundred lives in the process.”

The silence is thick.

Then the puncher—who I’m now mentally calling “Kisspocalypse”—lets out a string of vicious-sounding Glowranthian. It’s definitely not polite.

Varek drags a hand down his face and mutters, “This is going well.”

Understatement of the year.

Kael shifts closer to me, his energy brushing mine in a silent pulse of reassurance. I have no idea what’s happening. But judging by the look on Varek’s face, he’s perhaps reconsidering his plan to come here to claim a favour.

I clear my throat. “Can we do this in English?” I ask. “I mean, yeah, I suck. I’m privileged. I’m the worst. But I’d love to actually know what the hell is going on.”

Kael’s voice slides into my mind, smooth and calm. “The human—his name is Pax—is furious. Varek promised never to come back here.”

“Like, promised how?” I murmur in my mind. “Are we talking a ‘my word is my bond’ kind of promise, or a ‘magical vow with actual painful consequences’ thing?”

He hesitates. “We’d know if it was a binding vow. He’s still alive.”

“Oh. Yay.”

Meanwhile, Pax is still pacing, dark eyes blazing.

His skin is rich brown, warm toned, marked with intricate tattoos that twist around one bicep and peek up past the collar of his shirt.

There’s a scar running from the corner of his left eye to his temple.

Thick muscles flex as he moves, and yeah, he’s got a bit of a dad bod thing going on, which shouldn’t be hot?—

Kael growls softly beside me.

Right. Focus.

The other two occupants, both Glowranth, are still watching Kael like he’s about to draw his sword. One of them murmurs something low and urgent in Glowranthian, and I catch the word “heir.”

“Wait,” I say, snapping my gaze to Pax. “You know Prince Aelith’s missing, right? Like, probably dying?” Which of course they don’t know the latter beyond my verbal diarrhea, but still, this shit right here is tedious. “And his unbonded fated mate is human. Dawson. He’s barely hanging on either.”

Shock ripples through the room. Pax stiffens.

Then he snorts. “Of course it’s a human.

” His mouth curls into something almost cruel.

“The prince. The one who demanded Riftborn be shackled the moment they stumbled into Terrafeara. The heir to a throne built not just on the bones but the backs of those they enslaved. Who sanctioned cruelty and collars and turned entire species into property. And now his life is tied to a human?” The laugh that follows is bitter. Harsh.

And it pisses me off.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” I snap. “The prince was a raging arsehole. Not denying that. But he’s also barely alive. His mate, Dawson, who’s a really nice fucking guy, is worse. So maybe show a little fucking compassion.”

That earns me a blink and then a slow, assessing look. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re mouthy.”

“Thanks.”

“And Aussie.” He bobs his head. “A refreshing surprise.” Before I can respond, he turns back to Varek, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Varek doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. But I can feel the change in him. He’s stiff. Closed off. Like a man preparing to break.

I frown. “Told us what?” Pax’s laugh this time has no humour. “Care to share with the class?” I add, annoyed.

He crosses his arms and tilts his head at Varek. The silence stretches. Then Pax sighs and looks me dead in the eye. “Varek is my fated mate.”

My jaw drops. “Wait. What?”

No one answers me, which I get, since I suppose I’m not the most important person in the room, and Pax simply continues shouting shit in Varek’s direction.

Varek looks like he’s been gutted. At first, Pax’s cold cruelty seems to roll right off him, but then I see it—the tightness in his jaw, the twitch in his fingers. He’s not immune. He’s just holding it in.

And Pax doesn’t let up.

“Shouldn’t have come,” he snaps, turning his back on us. “I’m not interested in your excuses or your mission. You’re on your own.”

My chest clenches. I glance at Varek. The guy looks… defeated. And it makes something twist deep in my gut. I suppose Pax has every right to be angry—but this level of venom? It’s cruel.

Kael, sensing the shift in me, gently brushes his energy against mine. It’s soft, steadying, and I lean into it instinctively.

“Pax,” I say, voice firmer than I expect. “You might think you’re justified, and maybe you are, because abandoning your fated mate, it’s shit. I know what it’s like to be left behind. And honestly?” I shoot Varek a sideways glance. “I have no idea why Varek did that to you?—”

Pax turns, eyes flashing. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But Varek doesn’t lash out. Doesn’t rage. Hell, he doesn’t confirm, deny, or even explain. Instead, he looks gutted—utterly wrecked. Like the ground’s crumbled beneath him, and he’s still trying to stand.

“I wanted it to work,” he says quietly, pain threading every syllable and surprising the shit outta me. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came because I thought maybe… maybe you regretted turning me away.”

My brows shoot high at that. Holy shit. Apparently, we all have ulterior motives.

Pax’s jaw clenches. His eyes darken, something volatile burning there.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” Varek continues, voice low, almost pleading. “You didn’t ask questions, didn’t want to hear anything. You demanded I leave, and I did—because it’s what you said you wanted.”

The room pulses with silence. Bloody hell.

I got that wrong, then. Varek didn’t abandon Pax at all.

Guilt shifts uncomfortably in my chest that I immediately thought a human would be the one wronged.

And that I thought Varek was the shitty party—the person who I trust and owe my life to—I think that makes me a shitty friend.

I watch on as Pax’s face twists into something venomous, his voice sharp enough to wound. “You killed my husband.”

The revelation drains the room of heat, of sound. I stop breathing. Kael tenses beside me.

Ho-ly shit.

Varek’s head jerks back as if struck. He opens his mouth—then closes it again, clearly struggling. “I didn’t know,” he rasps, agony hollowing out his features. “All I saw was a man. A human. Hurting you.”

Fuck. We shouldn’t be hearing this. This is too personal, too raw.

I step closer to Kael, heart hammering, and he pulls me in tight, grounding me. Neither of the Glowranth in the room say a word, but their expressions have shifted, wariness giving way to something deeper. Understanding, maybe. Or dread.

Kael’s the one who breaks the silence. “Enough.” His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts clean through the room. “This isn’t the time. Whatever history you have, whatever pain, put it aside. If you don’t want to help us, fine. But let us take a breath and figure out our next steps before we leave.”

His tone is so rational, so kind and resolute, that even Pax seems caught off-guard. Kael’s thumb brushes against mine, reminding me he’s here. That we’re here. Together.

“We’re searching for a hidden library,” Kael adds. “There are rumours it’s somewhere in the citadel, but it’s never been confirmed.”

That gets the attention of the other two Glowranth in the room. They exchange looks, and one of them finally steps forwards. “You think that’s where you’ll find the answers?” he asks, voice measured. “About the prince and his fated?” he clarifies.

He seriously sounds calm and not even puzzled over the barely there information we’ve dropped on his lap.

“Yes,” Kael says simply.

“And what’s in it for us?” Pax’s voice is all sharp angles again.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. Am I also kinda disappointed he’s gone there? Maybe, which is foolish of me. Na?ve too. “Maybe nothing. But if we can save the prince and Dawson, we might change everything. And not just for Riftborn. For everyone.”

Pax exhales hard, running a hand down his face.

It’s the first time he looks less like a stone wall and more like a man unravelling.

“I’m still not over what happened,” he mutters before swallowing hard, and I think he’s pointedly not looking at Varek.

“But I’ll get you started. No promises. No guiding hand. But I can get you into the citadel.”

“Why are you still here?” I ask before I can stop myself. “I mean, if you’re not with Varek….”

Pax arches a brow. “I’ve got my uses. Let’s just say I keep things running down here. Someone has to.”

It’s the “down here” that makes me think of shady dealings in the club I used to work at. “And them?” I nod towards the two Glowranth.

“They owe me.”

Not exactly the reassuring answer I was hoping for, but it’ll do.

Kael shifts beside me, his presence warm and steady. We’re not out of the woods yet—but at least we’re moving forwards.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in Terrafeara, it’s that momentum is everything.