Page 5 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

CHAPTER

THREE

After Dawson spent the night in the infirmary, he woke looking more rested and a lot less freaked out.

I’ve explained to him in more detail what I know about the rifts and how they work and told him that Jack—who I’ve since learned is the Aussie who got sliced into this world from Queensland with his nephew, Jamie—arrived at the same time.

Dawson is well enough to move, so I’m showing him around the headquarters. Varek wants to meet him and get answers before he’s willing to welcome him officially. It’s the usual way of things here. Varek’s bad-arse ability to siphon out the truth comes in handy when figuring out who to trust.

I can only assume that Prince Aelith and his dickhead guard, Kael, are here because Varek doesn’t view them as a direct threat. Though Varek hasn’t told them about the location of Dathanor yet either.

“You can trust Varek.” I push reassurance into my tone and offer Dawson a kind smile. “He can be a bit intense, and I know it can be intimidating when you first meet him, but he has all of our best interests at heart.” It’s what I believe soul deep.

Varek has gone to bat for me so many times—and everyone in our community, including the arsehole members.

It’s because of that he has my loyalty. Not to say I’ll roll over if I don’t agree with what he’s saying.

Case in point is me not pushing Dawson to meet Aelith.

I’ve yet to explain the whole “fated mates” thing, and for whatever reason, after my slip yesterday, Dawson hasn’t yet brought it back up. Thankfully.

“Right. Sure thing.” Dawson doesn’t seem convinced, but the guy is taking it all in his stride.

He runs a hand through his messy light brown hair, eyes flicking between me and the hallway ahead. “So, this Varek guy,” he says, voice still rough with sleep. “He’s not gonna, like… do a mind probe on me or anything, right?”

I snort. “No, Dawson, he’s not gonna mind-probe you.”

He squints. “You said he can tell if I’m lying.”

“Yeah, but not by, like, reading your brain.”

Dawson doesn’t look particularly reassured. “Right. Just… by tearing out the truth like some kind of interrogation wizard?”

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I said siphon out the truth, not rip it out. He’s not psychic. He just… has a way of knowing when someone’s full of shit.”

“Great,” he mutters. “Guess I better not lie, then.”

I shoot him a look. “You planning to?”

“No, but what if I accidentally do?” He spreads his arms in exasperation. “Like, what if I say something wrong and he thinks I’m shady? I’ve been here a day, mate. Half the time, I don’t even know what the hell I’m talking about.”

If that’s the case, he’s got a point.

I sigh and pat his shoulder. “Just be yourself.”

Dawson tilts his head, considering. “You sure? Because back home, being myself mostly involves avoiding responsibility, snowboarding, and convincing tourists I know more about wine than I do.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Varek will appreciate honesty.”

He hums. “And if he doesn’t?”

I flash him a grin. “Then we run.”

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fantastic. Love that for us.”

The door ahead slides open with a hiss, and we step into one of the private meeting rooms used for sensitive discussions.

Varek is already inside, his hulking form leaning against the table, arms crossed. He straightens when we enter, those piercing silver eyes locking onto Dawson in a way that makes the poor guy visibly tense.

I don’t blame him.

Varek is humanoid, but only just. His deep, iridescent purple skin shifts under the dim lights, an oil-slick shimmer rolling over his massive frame. His horns curve elegantly from his temples, framing a face that is both striking and unnerving.

It’s not just his size that makes him intimidating—it’s his presence. It commands. Like he could crush you without moving a muscle.

But instead of an immediate interrogation, he studies Dawson for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his eyes flick to me before returning to Dawson. His voice is low, but not unkind. “You were unconscious when you arrived.”

Dawson nods. “Yeah, apparently.”

Varek tilts his head slightly. “And when you woke, you were… cold?”

Dawson blinks. “I guess? I dunno. I was more focussed on the whole ‘where the hell am I’ thing.”

I frown. “Wait, so the whole cold thing wasn’t because he’d been out in the snow?” As soon as I speak, I scrunch my nose, realising that it obviously wasn’t since he’d been here, well away from the snow in Portugal, for a few days.

Varek’s gaze lingers on Dawson before shifting back to me. “When Aeroth examined him, his body temperature was noticeably lower than expected. Not dangerously so, but unusual.”

I process that, recalling how cool Dawson was to the touch. “Okay… but why?”

Varek exhales slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “I have a theory. The rift that brought Dawson here is… different.”

I narrow my eyes. “Different how?”

He folds his arms. “Most rifts pull from a specific location. A singular tear, leading from one place to another. But this one….” He glances at Dawson. “It sliced across Earth itself, didn’t it? Pulled from multiple locations?”

I nod, realisation dawning. “You think that affected him somehow?”

Varek doesn’t answer immediately, but his expression darkens with thought. “It’s possible.”

Dawson raises a hand awkwardly. “Uh, just to clarify. You’re saying I’m some kind of rift anomaly?”

Varek’s lips twitch slightly, almost amused. “Potentially.”

Dawson considers that. “Does that come with any benefits? Like, do I get laser vision or something?”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Varek, to my surprise, actually smiles—a rare thing. “Unlikely.”

Dawson sighs dramatically. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “Okay, but aside from his temperature being weird, is there anything we should be worried about?”

Varek studies Dawson again before answering. “Not immediately. But we should monitor him.”

Dawson shrugs. “Cool. I’m fine with that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Dawson glances between us, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… what’s the plan for getting me back home?”

I wince.

Varek doesn’t immediately answer. His silver gaze flickers to me, as if checking to see if I want to handle this one. I don’t. I don’t want to be the one to break this to Dawson. But the weight of it already sits heavy in my chest.

Varek sighs, standing straighter, his massive frame casting a shadow over the room.

“The rifts have been happening for over a human decade. Maybe even two.” His voice is calm, measured.

“No one knows why. No one has ever been able to control them. And no one who has come through has ever found a way back—that we know of.”

Dawson doesn’t speak at first. His fingers flex slightly at his sides, but his face remains steady. He nods once, slow and thoughtful, then exhales through his nose. “Right. So, stuck here, then.”

It’s not a question.

I can’t help the way my chest tightens. Because even though I’ve been here for years, even though I’ve carved out a place for myself in this world, it still stings to hear it laid out so plainly.

Dawson takes it with a kind of quiet acceptance. No tears. No yelling. Just that same steady composure, like a guy who’s too used to going with the flow to fight against the current.

He doesn’t panic. He doesn’t react the way most people would. It throws me a little.

Varek watches him closely, as if assessing, then nods approvingly. “You’re taking this well.”

Dawson snorts. “Mate, my life was already pretty weird. Now it’s just… a different kind of weird.”

I huff a laugh despite myself. “ Different is one way to put it.”

Dawson shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his borrowed pants.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s insane.

But it’s not like screaming about it is gonna change anything.

” He tilts his head, considering. “And it’s not the worst place to be stuck, I guess.

Got weirdly hot monsters—uhm, shit, no offence,” he says quickly to Varek.

“It’s got weirdly hot different species and some solid hospitality. ”

I blink.

Varek arches a brow, clearly amused.

Dawson smirks. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying, if I’d landed in some Mad Max , cannibal-infested wasteland, then yeah, maybe I’d be losing my shit. But this?” He gestures vaguely. “Seems all right so far.”

My lips twitch. “You do realise we’re literally in a rebel hideout, right? And didn’t you nearly get killed just yesterday?”

“Yeah,” he says easily, “but you seem to be doing okay, so how bad can it be, especially now I’m here?”

Varek actually chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that I don’t hear often. “You’re an unusual one.”

Dawson flashes him a grin. “So I’ve been told.”

Varek shakes his head, the faintest trace of a smirk lingering before his expression sobers. “You should at least understand why we’re fighting. You’ll need to know what kind of world you’re in now.”

Dawson straightens slightly. “Yeah, I guess that’d be useful.”

Varek steps around the table, his presence somehow even heavier when he moves. “We call ourselves the Riftborn Rebels. Most of us—myself included—are species that have been displaced, hunted, or forced under the rule of the queen.”

Dawson’s brow furrows. “Queen?”

“The ruling empire of this world. The one who decides who lives, who dies, and who gets used.”

Dawson exhales, nodding slowly. “Right. Sounds bad.”

Varek’s expression darkens. “It is.”

Dawson doesn’t ask for specifics. Not yet. Instead, he crosses his arms, thoughtful. “So, what’s the goal, then? Overthrow the evil overlord—lady?”

I grin. “Basically.”

Dawson tilts his head. “And how’s that going?”

Varek’s jaw tightens slightly. “We’re working on it.”