Page 9 of Kael (Monsters & Mates #2)

There’s a sharp edge of distress in his voice that sends a jolt through me. Kael is already moving before I fully register what’s happening, his entire body snapping into action.

I twist towards the sound, and worry slams into my gut.

Dawson.

He’s collapsed.

Aelith is holding him carefully, his expression carved with something close to panic.

I lurch forwards, my chair scraping against the floor as I shove past it, but Kael is already there, kneeling beside them. His bioluminescent markings pulse brighter, his sharp gaze raking over Dawson’s unmoving form.

“What happened?” His voice is clipped, controlled.

Aelith shakes his head. “I don’t know. He just—he was talking, and then suddenly?—”

I don’t hear the rest.

Dawson is too still. His face is pale, his lips almost blue.

A sickening wave of dread crashes through me. I shove past Kael, dropping to my knees. “Put him down,” I demand, already reaching for Dawson.

Aelith doesn’t move. His hold tightens, and his glowing eyes snap to mine, narrowed with something sharp and territorial. Protective . “No.” His voice is low, warning.

I don’t care. I push against him, trying to pry Dawson from his grip. “He’s not breathing, Aelith. Let me help him.”

Aelith growls, the sound curling around my ribs like an instinctive threat. His aura pulses—a presence pressing against me, telling me to back off . A flicker of fear claws through my chest. He’s terrifying like this.

But I don’t stop.

I can’t.

Kael moves before I can even react. He steps between us, hand pressing firmly against Aelith’s shoulder, voice low and even. “Let him go.”

Aelith’s glowing markings pulse bright, his chest rising and falling too fast, his grip still tight on Dawson.

“Aelith.” Kael grips Aelith’s shoulder. “Let Sonny help him. They are both human.”

For a moment, I think the prince will fight him. That he’ll shove me away and keep Dawson caged in his arms. But Kael doesn’t back down. His hold is solid, grounding.

Something shifts.

Aelith blinks, his gaze flicking to mine. There must be something there—desperation, maybe—because he exhales sharply and lowers Dawson to the floor.

I don’t waste time. I press my fingers to Dawson’s throat. His pulse is there—weak, but there . But his chest isn’t moving.

Not breathing.

I shove my panic deep, letting muscle memory take over. Nightclub work in Sydney—drunk idiots, overdoses, accidents. I’ve done this before. I can do it again.

I tilt Dawson’s head back, open his airway, check for obstructions. Nothing.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter, pinching his nose and sealing my mouth over his. I breathe for him. Watch his chest rise.

Again.

And again.

Aelith is silent after his first low warning rumble when I sealed my mouth over Dawson’s. I glance up. Kael isn’t watching Dawson. He’s watching me . I feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of it, but I can’t afford the distraction. I focus and breathe for Dawson.

One, two, three?—

A shudder jerks through Dawson’s body. He coughs, his whole frame spasming as he sucks in a rattling breath.

Relief slams into me so hard, I nearly collapse. He’s breathing. He’s breathing. But he’s still unconscious.

I press my fingers to his pulse again, steadying myself. “We need help. We need Aeroth. Now. ”

Kael doesn’t hesitate. He turns, calling for help—his voice sharp, commanding. Aelith doesn’t move.

I glance at him. His expression is stricken, his intense eyes locked on Dawson’s face like he can will him to wake up. Then, without a word, Aelith sinks to the floor beside him, his composure crumbling. He grabs Dawson’s hand in both of his, bowing his head, his shoulders shaking.

It’s not the reaction of a prince. It’s the reaction of someone who cares.

Aeroth, our medic, arrives, kneeling beside me. I keep my voice steady as I run her through everything—pulse, breathing, response. She nods, moving efficiently as she checks Dawson over. Then she lifts him onto a stretcher brought in by a couple of Jigderias, Aelith rising instantly to follow.

Kael hesitates. He’s looking at me.

I realise—too late—that I’m shaking. My hands won’t stay steady. Adrenaline crash.

Kael reaches for me. His fingers hover just shy of my arm, like he’s about to?—

Aelith calls his name.

Kael clenches his jaw. Then, slowly, his hand tightens into a fist, and he pulls away. Without another word, he turns and follows his prince, leaving me sitting here alone.

Always a-fucking-lone.

I press my hands against my thighs, forcing in a deep breath.

Get it together, Sonny.

I glance towards Aeroth’s retreating form. See if they need help.

Kael might be some elite warrior. Aelith might be a prince. But I know humans. Our medic found some books, sure—but I’ve watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to pick up a thing or two.

And right now? That’s going to have to be enough.

It’s definitely enough to get my butt off the floor and make me stop feeling sorry for myself.

Of course Aelith is terrified and needs his guard.

Even though Dawson remains clueless, he and the prince are fated mates.

From what I know, the prince will feel the bond acutely.

Not so much for Dawson, who may feel some sort of attraction or pull, I suspect, to Aelith, but nothing hard-core or truly intense until they’ve completed the bond or at least some of the stages.

Or so I’ve heard. I can only assume it’s the same for the Glowranth.

Drawing in a breath, I pull myself together. My hands are still a little shaky, but I’m sure I’m not going to pitch over or make a twat of myself if I try to walk.

By the time I make it to the medical room—the same place I first set eyes on Dawson—I’m feeling more like myself.

Aeroth looks up when I enter, the clicky language indicating she wants me here.

I hold back my relieved sigh. I shouldn’t feel joy knowing I’m useful, right?

Especially not when a golden retriever of a sweet man collapsed and stopped breathing.

The thought sobers me up, and I take a moment to peer around the room.

Aelith still has his hand clamped around Dawson’s, and I assume from that—and him being in Aeroth’s way—that he refuses to let go. My gaze shifts to Kael, and disappointment that’s as ridiculous as it is real slams into me when I see his focus is completely on his prince.

I roll my eyes at myself before moving past them, not even giving a shit that I brush against—with a little more force than necessary—the hulk of a guard as I do.

And fuck, the diva in me needs to wind his neck in.

To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I felt the need for my inner diva to step out.

Certainly not since being in Terrafeara.

I kinda want to embrace it. I think that’s what going without sex for so long has done to me—both addled my brain and made me be a petty bitch. Until I remind myself to do better and reluctantly put my claws away.

Right now, I should be doing just that, considering poor Dawson almost died.

Fuck, I’m a twat who needs to do better and ideally stop having inner meltdowns while a bunch of folks are standing around worried and apparently waiting for me to say or do something. Because yes, Aelith’s eyes are on me.

“You saved him.” His voice is gruff. The emotion trapped in his throat makes me squirm with discomfort.

“Uhm, hopefully. I got him breathing at least.” The slightest of smiles forms on my lips, uncomfortable offering the prince any kind of sympathy. But I’m not a complete cunt.

“Save him again. Wake him up. If not, there will be consequences.”

My brows shoot high at the heat, the cruel authority in the prince’s tone. It’s wrapped around what I’m sure is a very real threat. He’s terrified, I know. But still… “What the fuck do you expect me to do? I don’t have the ability to weave magic. I’m not a human doctor.”

“You breathed life into him. Keep fixing him. If not?—”

“Aelith.” Kael reaches out and clamps his huge hand on his prince’s shoulder.

“Enough. Making threats will not work here. Sonny has done all he can. If there is more he can do, he will do so.” He glances at me, his expression stoic, but there’s emotion in his gaze that has me swallowing deeply and helps calm my irritation. “Right, Sonny?”

The question lacks demand, and the last of my ire falls away. “Of course I will.”

Aeroth intervenes with a question I can only partially decipher, but it’s enough for me to get the gist.

I nod at her and turn back to Aelith, whose luminous eyes are firmly on me.

“Aeroth wants to know exactly what happened. When he stopped breathing, were there signs or clues?” I consider what else to ask to help him be as specific as possible.

“Was Dawson talking, listening? Did you notice him eating anything different at breakfast?”

“Someone poisoned him?” Aelith stands abruptly, hand moving to where his sword should be. I’m kinda grateful Varek made them remove all their weapons as a condition of their entry.

But also, for fuck’s sake. Dramatic and reactive much? I swear, there’s only enough space for one drama queen, and I refuse to shed that title to a prince I wish would fuck right off.

The brush of a warm body pressing against my arm startles me. It’s Varek. I hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. His presence is immediately reassuring.

As I release a steadying breath, building up to call the prince a dickhead, I jolt at the gruff and absolutely menacing growl.

My gaze snaps to Kael in surprise. The fuck is he growling for? If he thinks for one second that his pain-in-the-arse prince can?—

Varek’s heat leaves my side, the growling cuts off, and loud pounding erupts in my ears.

What the holy fucking shit?

My eyes focus on Kael. He’s staring hard at the place where Varek pressed against me.

That growl was low, guttural, and unmistakably possessive. I blink, barely processing the weight of Kael’s stare locked on Varek before my brain jumps to the most ridiculous conclusion possible.