Page 101 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Stars

Tashka

The wind is soft today.

It drifts through the open terrace of our home, carrying the scent of the wild blossoms that grow along the cliffs. The air is warm, thick with the hum of the planet’s quiet pulse. The sky stretches endlessly above, a deep, infinite violet speckled with distant stars.

I watch them from my perch, curled on the cushions near the edge of the balcony, my fingers tracing the rim of my drink. The glass is cool against my palm, grounding me as I chase the thoughts that have been stirring inside me all day.

Because today, I remember.

Not everything. Not the cold, empty past that once unsettled me, that made me feel like a hollow thing waiting to be filled.

But something small. Something mine.

My name.

It had come in a whisper, in a fleeting flash of sound inside my mind as I stood beneath the pale morning sun. A name that felt like it had been waiting for me to become whole before revealing itself.

And now, I know it.

I say it softly, testing the weight of it on my tongue, feeling how it fits, how it belongs.

“Talia.”

A sense of peace settles inside me.

I am no longer afraid of what came before.

Because Veyrith has always been here.

When my memories slipped through my fingers, he was the one to collect the pieces, to hold me together.

When I was nothing but a woman without a past, he made me his future.

And now, I want to share this piece of me with him.

Footsteps echo behind me, slow and deliberate, followed by the familiar weight of his presence.

I don’t turn.

I don’t need to.

The heat of his body presses against my back before his arms come around me, his massive frame lowering until I am wrapped in the warmth of him. His tail curls around my waist, anchoring me to him in the way he always does, as if reminding me—I am his. I will always be his.

His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “You are thinking deeply.”

I smile, tilting my head slightly, nuzzling into his touch. “I remembered something.”

His muscles tense, the only sign of his sharp, singular focus as he waits for me to continue.

I turn in his arms, facing him, letting my fingers drift along the golden planes of his chest, tracing the familiar, beloved ridges of his scales.

“My name.”

His golden eyes darken, a flicker of intensity sparking in them. He cups my face in his large hand, his thumb stroking softly, reverently, along my cheek.

“Say it.”

I do.

“Talia.”

The sound is soft, intimate, carrying across the terrace like a quiet declaration.

His grip tightens, his tail coiling a fraction tighter, his pleasure rumbling deep in his chest. He loves this. He loves that I found something that belongs to me.

But he makes it his too.

He leans in, his lips brushing mine as he murmurs my name, low and possessive, shaping the syllables with his tongue like a sacred vow.

Heat rushes through me.

Because hearing him say it—hearing him claim it—is like claiming myself.

I shudder, my breath hitching as his mouth trails down my jaw, his tongue flicking teasingly over my pulse.

“Talia,” he growls against my throat, reminding me of what I have always known.

He lowers me onto the cushions, his body pressing into mine, his hands sliding beneath the loose fabric of my robes, peeling them away inch by inch as he marks every new piece of me I remember.

He kisses my name into my skin.

He speaks it into my pleasure, my cries, my release.

He makes it ours.

And as he fills me completely, as our bond flares bright and consuming between us, I know this is the only memory that matters.

Not the past.

Not the empty spaces I used to fear.

Only this. Only him.

And as he whispers my name again and again, pulling me apart in bliss, I hold onto it tightly.

Because this—this life, this love, this future we have built together.