Page 23 of Monster's Pretty Bride

Not a breath of acknowledgment.

My wings flick, slow and calculated, my tail curling against the floor. I should leave. I should let her waste away in her stubbornness, let her body betray her before her mind ever will.

But the memory of last night lingers, of her bruises, her too-slow breathing, the way my fingers had traced the curve of her throat despite every instinct telling me to walk away.

I exhale sharply.

"You're acting like a child," I murmur.

She scoffs, the first reaction she's given me since I entered. "And you're acting like you give a damn."

Something tightens in my chest.

A slow, dangerous smirk curves my lips. "You think I brought you back from that fight just to let you rot?"

She finally looks at me, turning her head just enough for our gazes to lock. Storm-gray eyes burning, unwavering.

She’s daring me to do something about it.

Fine. I will.

In a single step, I cross the distance between us, grabbing the tray with one hand and sinking onto the bed beside her with the other. Before she can react, I pin her down, one massive palm braced against her thigh, my other arm caging her against the mattress.

Her sharp inhale breaks the silence.

Not fear.

Not surprise.

Something else. Something darker.

Something twisting.

I scoop up a piece of the meat with my claws, slow and deliberate. “Open your mouth.”

She presses her lips into a firm, unyielding line.

I let out a slow chuckle, lowering myself just enough that my breath skates along her jaw. "You're playing a dangerous game, little bride."

She glares. "And what? You're going to force me?"

A growl rumbles deep in my throat. My free hand tightens on her thigh, pressing down. Not cruel. Not quite. Just enough to feel the tension coil in her muscles, the fight still alive under my grip.

"You're mine to break," I murmur. "Mine to keep breathing. Mine to keep standing."

She doesn't answer. But her pulse betrays her, hammering at the base of her throat.

I bring the food closer, dragging it against her bottom lip, smearing the juice along her mouth. Her throat flexes, a small, barely perceptible swallow, but I see it.

I feel it.

"Eat," I say again, voice thick with something I can't name.

She glares harder. But this time, she parts her lips.

I push the food inside, watching the way she takes it. Watching the way she obeys.

The sight does something violent to me.

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