Page 6 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

Dawson watches him for a moment, then nods. “Well, if I’m not heading home, I can be down with that. But if it comes to any battle shit, like Game of Thrones meets Lord of the Rings , I’m not sure how handy I’ll be.”

I snort. “What, no sword-fighting experience?”

He scoffs. “Mate, I spend summers teaching rich Europeans how to snowboard and winters running ski tours in New Zealand. My muscles are strictly for balance and making beer runs.”

Varek smirks. “We’ll find another use for you.”

Dawson laughs. “Great. Looking forward to it.”

That’s when the door opens again.

And Kael walks in.

My entire body stiffens on instinct. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and yet the second he enters, I feel him before I see him. Like an invisible pressure in the air, something weighty and charged.

His posture is the same as always—spine straight, shoulders squared, every movement measured and precise. He doesn’t so much as glance at me before locking his piercing gaze onto Dawson.

And immediately, I don’t like it.

I step in, shifting slightly so I’m positioned between them—not obviously, not enough to make a scene, but enough that Kael will have to look at me if he wants to continue this silent scrutiny.

It works.

His piercing gaze flicks to mine, unreadable and intense. A static-like charge prickles along my skin under the weight of it. He holds my gaze for all of three seconds before dismissing me entirely.

Arsehole.

Varek, to my surprise, doesn’t immediately intervene. Instead, he leans back against the table, arms crossed, watching closely. There’s something unreadable flickering behind his silver gaze, something sharp and calculating.

Finally, Kael speaks, and when he does, his voice is low and clipped. “The human has been requested.”

I don’t like the way he says it. “Requested?” I echo, tone flat. “By who?”

His jaw tenses, but his voice remains neutral. “Aelith.”

Interesting that he doesn’t call him prince .

Varek still doesn’t jump in. He just watches. The pause stretches, and my gut tightens.

I know why Varek is holding back. He wants Dawson to meet Aelith. That much was clear yesterday, even though he apologised for being pushy. The prince is valuable. His alliance could tip the scales.

And Dawson?

Dawson is the key.

The problem is, Dawson doesn’t even know what the key unlocks. And the last thing I want is for him to be manipulated into something he doesn’t understand. Kael’s presence here means Aelith is already trying to get his claws in, which makes my hackles rise further.

I step forwards, shoulders squaring. “Why exactly does the prince want to see him?”

Kael’s gaze sharpens. “That is not your concern.”

I scoff. “Yeah, see, it kind of is.”

Varek finally speaks, though his voice remains measured. “Kael. This is an unusual situation. It’s understandable that there would be concerns.”

Kael barely moves, but his energy shifts slightly—like he’s acknowledging Varek’s words without outright agreeing.

I press my advantage. “If Aelith wants to meet Dawson,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “then I am concerned. And I want to know why.”

Kael’s bioluminescent ridges pulse faintly, and for a second, something flickers behind his gaze. Annoyance? Amusement? I can’t tell.

I brace for a fight.

But then Kael simply exhales and says, “He wants to assess him.”

That… is not a great answer.

Dawson looks at me. “Did you say prince, as in a prince to the evil queen?” His eyebrows are high by the time he stops speaking.

“One and the same,” I add helpfully, even as a wisp of doubt forms in my gut.

Should I be fighting them meeting so hard?

They’re fated mates, apparently, and even Prince Fuckwit wouldn’t have the need to lie about that.

But still, I refuse to allow Dawson to be railroaded.

The snowboarder is sweet as pie. I would hate for the prince to sour any of that.

“Huh. No shit.” Dawson shrugs and returns his focus to Kael. “Assess me how, exactly?”

Kael doesn’t answer, which makes me really not like the implications.

I open my mouth to argue further, but Varek—who has been watching this entire exchange with rapt interest—cuts in smoothly. “Perhaps Sonny should accompany us.”

Dawson, ever unbothered, just shrugs. “Yeah, cool. I can meet another blue dude like you. He’s not gonna try to eat me or anything, right? My man Sonny here promised me I was safe. I am, yeah?”

There’s something oddly trusting about the way he says it. Like he fully expects me to keep my word. And that does something to my chest. I exhale, nodding. “Yeah, Dawson. You’re safe.”

Kael straightens his huge form, raises his fisted hand, and pats it against the centre of his chest. “Dawson,” he starts, his voice deep and heavily accented. “You have my oath that no harm will come to you while I am around.”

Surprise sends my brows shooting high. Kael absolutely has my full attention.

Oaths here are some serious shit, mixed with some special juju.

That he’s made such a bold oath is… honestly, it’s interesting and kinda sweet.

Words like that mean he’ll protect Dawson from physical harm from everyone and everything, as long as it’s within his power.

Including from his prince.

“Very cool of you, Kael. ’Preciate it.” Dawson’s grin is megawatt bright. His reaction, his honesty, and his complete acceptance of Kael’s words loosen some of the tension that has kept my muscles taut since Kael entered the room.

Varek’s gaze flicks to me again. If he’s as surprised by the oath as I am, he doesn’t show it. There’s something careful about the way he speaks. “Good. Then we’ll eat first. There’s food available in the communal area.”

With Kael’s oath and Dawson’s reaction, I don’t know if I just got manoeuvred into agreeing, but somehow, we’ve got a breakfast to get through. And after that? Dawson’s going to meet Aelith, and I have to go with him.

I’m just not quite sure how I feel about any of it.

Breakfast is turning out to be a surprisingly pleasant affair.

I say surprisingly because, one: Kael has been with us this entire time, which I assumed would make my meal difficult to digest. And two: I just put something in my mouth that looks like the unholy love child of an octopus and a pufferfish.

It has tentacles.

But damn if it doesn’t taste like the most tender, buttery scallop I’ve ever had.

The first time I ate on Terrafeara, I barely kept anything down.

Between the weird textures, pungent smells, and the sheer wrongness of some of the colours (food should not be that shade of electric blue), I struggled.

But now? Sure, I’d commit a felony—maybe light arson—for a sausage sizzle or a lamington, but my palate has adapted.

Mostly.

Still, food aside, the bigger surprise is Kael.

Somehow—don’t ask me how—we end up sitting next to each other. It isn’t planned, at least not on my end, and I’d rather rip my own arm off than admit how hyperaware I am of him the entire time.

Which is infuriating, because he hasn’t so much as looked at me properly.

And yet he’s strangely charming.

Not to me, obviously. No, the arsehole is still avoiding eye contact like I carry some kind of contagious disease. But with Dawson? Sweet as. He answers his questions, listens with what looks like genuine interest, and even cracks what I think is supposed to be a joke at one point.

And Dawson laughs. Like, full-bodied, head-thrown-back laughs. Which is probably the only reason I don’t kick Kael under the table for being so insufferably likeable.

But just when I start to relax, just when I think I can actually eat in peace, his voice—low and deep—brushes against my ear. “So, how long have you been here?”

I jump.

Not a big jump, but enough that my knee knocks against the table with a dull thud.

His breath is warm against my skin. Close. Too close.

I turn my head slightly, but he’s already angled away, staring straight ahead like he didn’t just drop his voice an inch from my damn ear. His bioluminescent markings pulse faintly along his arms, betraying nothing.

Still, the question throws me.

Why would Kael be asking me personal questions? He hasn’t to anyone else around breakfast.

“Uh.” I clear my throat, trying to will my heart rate back to normal. “I don’t know exactly. But fifteen rifts have happened since I got here.”

That catches his attention. His gaze flickers towards me—almost.

“You track them?”

I nod. “They’re a big deal. Sometimes humans come through. Sometimes….” I hesitate, then shrug. “Sometimes other species do.”

Kael hums low in his throat, something thoughtful about the sound. Then he asks, “What was your life like on Earth?”

And that’s what really surprises me. No one’s ever asked me that before. Not really. People assume. People project. But Kael? He wants to know.

I shift, pushing my empty plate away. “I worked in clubs. Managed one for a while when my boss couldn’t get a replacement.”

Kael tilts his head slightly. “Clubs?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah, something called nightclubs. A place where people go to have fun, dance, move their bodies….” Here, I know I should stop for all the obvious reasons, but where’s the fun in that? I continue, “Usually end up getting down and dirty… hooking up.”

His lips twitch—not quite a smile, but close. “Down and dirty?”

“Sometimes people get dirty in a fun way that doesn’t involve grime or mud.”

Kael leans in slightly, his voice dipping lower. “Do you mean exchanging bodily fluids?”

There’s something almost teasing about it. My brain short-circuits for a second. Is he…? No.

Nope.

I must have imagined it.

Except now I’m thinking about it. Thinking about him .

I don’t know much about Glowranthian cities, what they do for fun, or how they unwind when they’re not training or fighting. Kael is a warrior—his entire species is—but something tells me that as the prince’s personal guard, he has no real concept of a good time.