Page 32 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I leave, because if I don’t, I may not stop myself from finding out how deep this defiance of hers truly runs.

15

ERYSS

Iwake to the sensation of something heavy and warm curling around my wrist.

My breath tightens as I open my eyes, finding Naranus standing by my bed, his massive form casting a deep shadow over me. His golden eyes flicker in the dim morning light, his claws gently wrapped around my wrist. Not tight. Not painful. But unmovable.

“You’re coming with me,” he states. Not a question. A command.

I yank my arm back. His grip doesn’t budge.

“And if I refuse?” My voice is hoarse from sleep, but the defiance laces through every word.

His lips curl into something close to amusement. "Then I carry you."

I scowl, shoving off the blankets. “Where?”

The smirk vanishes. His expression hardens, unreadable. “Outside the stronghold.”

I stiffen. "Why?"

He cocks his head. "Curious, little bride?"

I grind my teeth, jerking my arm again. This time, he lets go.

"You give orders as if I’m supposed to listen," I snap. "I’m not your obedient pet."

His eyes flare, the molten gold pulsing as if he finds my defiance entertaining. "No. You're not. Pet and prisoner are different. "

I glare at him, unable to come up with words.

His wings shift, the blackened stone-like texture of them gleaming as he exhales slowly. “Dress yourself. We leave soon.” He doesn’t wait for my response, turning toward the door with an air of finality that makes my hands twitch to throw something at his head.

"Why should I come with you?" I press.

His gaze flicks back. "You want to leave the stronghold, don’t you?"

I narrow my eyes. "You think taking me out changes anything?"

He shrugs. “I think you’ll come regardless."

I hate that he's right.

I don’t trust this.

Not the way he’s acting. Not the way he wordlessly lifts me into his arms, talons curling beneath my legs and back as if I weigh nothing.

The world drops beneath us as his wings beat once, then twice, and suddenly, we are in the sky, soaring over the jagged cliffs of the stronghold.

The wind lashes against my skin, whipping my hair into my face, but I barely feel the cold because fuck, we’re flying.

Not levitating. Not gliding like a controlled descent. Truly flying.

My arms tighten around his shoulders instinctively as my stomach churns, the sight of the endless land below making my pulse race.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my ribs. “Scared, little bride?"

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