Page 4 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

He lets out another dry chuckle, but when I turn to leave, his body goes tense again.

“You’re leaving?”

I pause, glancing back. His hands are gripping the blanket, knuckles slightly white.

“I’ll be right back,” I say. “No one’s coming in, I promise.”

His jaw works, like he’s trying to tamp down his reaction, but I can see it. The sheer fucking exhaustion, the fear lingering under his skin.

“There aren’t… other things here, right?” he asks.

I sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay, here’s the thing.

Yeah, there are other beings here. But we don’t call them ‘things’ or ‘monsters.’ Most of them are what we call Riftborn, while the dominant species here are Glowranth.

Each species here is intelligent, living their own lives, just like us.

Yeah, some have fangs or claws or magic, but that doesn’t mean they’re out to get you. ”

He swallows. “And the ones that are?”

“We keep them far away from the compound.” I meet his gaze, making sure he knows I’m not bullshitting him. “You’re safe here, Dawson.”

His shoulders relax, just a fraction.

“Good,” he mutters. “I don’t have the energy to fight off another one.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, let’s not test your caveman survival skills again just yet.” With that, I head out.

The second I step into the hall, Varek is there, arms crossed.

“Sonny,” he says, all business. “Report.”

I sigh. “He—Dawson—is awake. Banged up but fine. No major injuries. He killed a Dlanwik with a rock.”

Varek actually raises a brow. “A rock?”

“Yep. Man’s a menace.”

He exhales through his nose, like he doesn’t have time for my shit. “Good. And his memory?”

“Seems intact. He remembers coming through the rift, being attacked, nearly shitting himself.” I hesitate. “Also, he’s Australian.”

Varek narrows his eyes slightly. “Interesting. That makes three who arrived through the same rift.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that too.” I shift on my feet. “He says he was in Portugal when he got pulled through, though.”

He frowns. “That’s not the same place as Australia?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Complete opposite side of the wo— Holy shit, opposite side of the world. Like, my Earth geography is not the best, but I’m pretty sure if you looked at the globe and placed a ruler against it—through it—” I shrug.

“—I’m pretty sure the other side is Portugal, maybe Spain.

But considering where Dawson said he was, my money’s on Portugal.

“Hmm… unexpected.”

“Tell me about it.”

Varek studies me for a beat, then says, “The prince is demanding to see him.”

I wince, barely holding back my sneer at the mention of the Glowranth. Fuck. “Already?”

He tilts his head. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

I clear my throat, not about to admit I might’ve let it slip that Dawson is apparently the prince’s fated mate. “Varek, we both know humans don’t have ‘fated mates.’ That’s fantasy novel bullshit.”

Varek’s expression doesn’t change. “You need to prepare him.”

There’s something in his tone that sets me on edge. I narrow my eyes. “Prepare him for what, exactly?”

He doesn’t blink. “For the bond.”

I stare. “Oh hell no.”

Varek’s mouth tightens. “Sonny?—”

“No.” I cross my arms. “If you’re thinking of nudging him towards this ‘fated mate’ thing to flip the prince to our side, you can fuck right off.”

He exhales, but I see the flicker of guilt in his expression. “It would be advantageous?—”

“To who?” I snap. “Because it sure as shit wouldn’t be to Dawson.”

Varek studies me, probably weighing whether to argue. But then his shoulders ease just slightly. “You’re protective.”

“Damn right.” I lift my chin. “Spent enough years in the club scene seeing people get pressured into shit they didn’t want. Not on my watch.”

There’s a long pause. Then?—

Varek sighs. “You’re right.”

Wait, what?

He gives me a small, approving nod. “I respect your stance. And I appreciate your loyalty to your own kind.”

I blink. “You—are you actually apologising?”

Varek’s mouth twitches. “Don’t push it.”

I smirk. “Noted.”

Then, rubbing the back of my neck, I add, “Look, I’ll talk to Dawson. Get him up to speed. But no pressure, all right?”

He nods. “Agreed.”

I exhale. “Good.” Then I gesture towards the kitchens. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get our rock-wielding survivor some food before he passes out.”

Varek actually huffs a quiet laugh as he steps aside. And with that, I head off, already mentally preparing for how I’m going to support and protect Dawson. I make it about ten steps down the dimly lit hall before I run into a wall.

Not a literal wall. No, that’d be kinder. Instead, I find myself face to face with a Glowranth royal guard. Every part of me goes on high alert.

The moment he sees me, his entire body stiffens, shoulders locking, jaw tensing, like I’ve just personally offended him by existing in his vicinity.

All right, then.

I’m not looking for a fight—hell, I just want to grab food and get back to Dawson before he spirals—but something about the way this guy holds himself pisses me off immediately.

He’s tall. Taller than me by a solid foot, which, fine, a lot of people are. But it’s the way he feels tall that gets to me. Like the height’s not just genetic luck but something he wields, something he knows makes him untouchable. Like he’s been bred for it, trained for it.

And he has been.

He’s not just any Glowranth. He’s the prince’s personal guard. That means he’s not just strong—he’s dangerous.

And an arsehole, apparently.

He’s talking to Shanae, and she doesn’t seem remotely tense. That throws me. She’s relaxed, her arms loosely crossed, head bobbing slightly as she listens. She even greets me easily.

“How’s the human?” she asks.

Not the man. The human.

Something about the distinction sticks, so I need to be careful with how I respond.

“Awake,” I say. “Tired and scared, but I don’t think badly injured. Trying to process.”

The Glowranth doesn’t look at me. But he speaks. “Is he ready to see my prince?”

The words are clearly directed at me, but he doesn’t actually face me when he says them.

Something in my blood heats.

I take my time turning fully to him, dragging my gaze over him in a slow, deliberate sweep.

And okay, yes, fuck , he’s beautiful. Not in a delicate way.

Not even in a traditional way. It’s that kind of beauty that’s all sharp edges and impossible angles, something cut from stone and meant to intimidate.

His skin is deep, dark blue—darker than the prince’s—and gleams faintly in the dim light. Not just gleams. Pulses. There’s a faint bioluminescent glow along the ridges of his arms, slow-moving veins of light beneath his skin. It’s hypnotic.

Infuriatingly so.

Something in my chest tightens with an urge I can’t quite name. My fingers twitch before I can stop them, and his gaze snaps to mine.

Shit.

There’s nothing subtle about it. The second my fingers move, his eyes lock onto me, pinning me in place with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. It’s not just his size. It’s not just the sharp cut of his jaw or the way his muscles shift beneath that perfectly fitted uniform.

It’s the way he looks at me. Like he sees me. And not in a way I like.

It’s assessing. Calculating. Like he’s searching for something, expecting something, and coming up empty.

And it pisses me off.

The second my brain catches up to my body’s reaction, my spine locks straight, and I fix my expression into something deliberately neutral. I refuse to let him rattle me.

I clear my throat and finally answer, “No.”

His response?

Dismissal.

No acknowledgment, no indication that I’ve even spoken. Just a flicker of movement, a polite excuse to Shanae, and then he’s gone.

Shanae watches him leave, brow furrowing slightly. “Well, that was weird.”

I glare at his retreating form. “What a cunt.”

She snorts. “Kael didn’t do anything. He’s been nothing but chill and, honestly, down to earth. Well, until just now.”

“He didn’t have to.” I shake my head. “That’s the worst kind of arsehole. The ones who act like you’re beneath notice.” And “down to earth”? I barely hold back my snort. That’s not the Glowranth I’ve witnessed.

And Kael? I grind my molars. That’s the arsehat’s name? Stands to reason his name sounds like a green veg that tastes gross.

Shanae hums, clearly amused but not arguing.

I exhale sharply and turn to leave, my whole body still humming with irritation. But then, just before I disappear down the corridor?—

I feel him.

Not see. Feel.

A presence just at the edge of my awareness. Heavy. Pressing. I glance back, but the hall is empty. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching . Somewhere. I roll my shoulders, shrugging it off.

If the prince is anything like his guard, we’ve got a problem. And if either of them tries to get anywhere near Dawson? They’ve got another think coming.