Page 19 of Their Pretty Little Monster

I take in a heavy breath, fighting the urge to drag her back into the cave, to fuck her until she’s out of my mind. Maybe that’s what I’m feeling—a pent-up absence of sex.

Yet, a flicker of doubt crosses my mind. My attraction to her is undeniable, the connection intense. But I’ve been down this path before, years ago, and it nearly fucking destroyed me. The scars remain, a reminder of what I lost, so am I prepared to let myself believe again? To risk everything on the chance that this time, it might be real?

Clenching my hand at my side, I glance down at the girl.

The same girl who should mean nothing to me.

She’s standing so close that her breasts are pushed up against my arm. She stares up at me with innocence in her icy eyes, and even the way she tugs on her lower lip between her teeth isn’t helping me.

It’s impossible to look away with the twin beasts of lust and fury battling in my chest for control.

My gaze raked down her body as she slept in the cave, and the temptation to strip her, taste her, inhale her scent drove me mad. The savage hunger to bite into her skin, to spread her legs, to fuck her, left me pacing like a beast. I always get what I want. And if I didn’t want her scared out of her mind, needing her sane for what’s coming, I would have claimed her in that cave.

That’s how things work in Blight.

Hunt down your mate.

Bite her.

Fuck her brains out.

Then she’s yours for life.

There’s something troubling about how I react to her. I’m fucked because I shouldn’t be drawn this much to her, especially since she’s only a half-Shadowfen. She doesn’t even know she’s not fully human, yet I’m consumed with thoughts of claiming her.

True mates are real, rare as they are. They bind for life, and as her protector, I’d be committed to keeping her safe, breeding her, and responding to her every need.

She can’t be my true mate…

It sure as fuck also isn’t my intention to be distracted by thoughts of her full breasts, picturing them free of her clothes and licking them.

“Are you okay?” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “You’re staring at me strangely and haven’t said a word.”

A spark of anger flares within me at how quickly I’ve lost control. Fuck. I’ve let her distract me.

Here I am, imagining all the things I want to do to her, desiring her in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Her gaze holds mine, and I feel exposed, unnerved by how quickly I’ve become entangled.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say gruffly. “Just keep your attention on the water. There are more Tidecreepers that might come for us.” I step away, trying to put some distance between us, but her hand clings to mine, held by her fear.

I lift my gaze to the Howler gliding over the rough sea toward us, not arriving quickly enough. The fresh air helps clear the fog in my head, and I regain some composure. Straightening my shoulders, I refocus on the mission, pushing aside any feelings that have no place in me right now.

Taking a deep breath, I watch the vessel pause about twenty feet from the shore, which is as close as it can get without risking the rocks.

A horizontal protruding platform juts out from the bottom half of the vessel, directly in front of us. It’s as wide as my shoulder and immediately shoots out, powered by enchanted technology, its surface gleaming under the stormy skies.

Sage flinches beside me, her eyes wide at the sight. The Howler is unique and engineered by a master of magic and mechanics.

I squeeze her hand, saying, “We need to move fast now.”

“All right.” She sounds hesitant, but as I charge forward, taking her with me toward the rocky shore, she keeps pace.

We’re feet from the water.

The bridge has barely made landfall near us when one of the Tidecreepers lunges out of the water on all six legs, barely ten feet from us on the left. It hisses viciously, its companions mirroring its aggression as they rush at us, venomous drool dripping from their serrated, snapping teeth.

Sage cries out, backing up instinctively, but I tighten my grip on her arm.

“No running away,” I instruct. With strength fueled by adrenaline, I snatch her around the waist and, in one fluid motion, hoist her onto the bridge that reaches up to my hips. Without hesitating, I vault over onto the railing, landing solidly in front of her so I can hold her close and force her to run.

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