Page 34 of Monster's Pretty Bride

The girl laughs, looking up at him with bright eyes. She is not afraid of him.

None of them are.

The realization hits like a sharp kick to the ribs.

They call him warlord, but they don’t see him as a monster.

A woman nearby steps forward, offering a package wrapped in cloth. “You don’t have to give us more. You could take what you need.”

Naranus tilts his head. “I could.”

Eryss shakes her head, and whispers because she can’t help herself, “Then why don’t you?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Because I take nothing that isn’t worth the price.”

I stare at him.

At the way the humans speak to him. At the way they offer him respect, not fear.

This isn’t how things should be.

He is a beast.

A gargoyle warlord.

He should be just as vile and merciless as the stories say.

A child tugs on his wing.

He shifts, turning slightly, humoring her as she giggles.

The humans look at him as though he is their protector, not their executioner.

He is nothing like I expected.

My heart knots, confusion blooming into something unsteady.

I have spent my entire life hating his kind.

So why, then, does this feel more like a lie than the truth I was taught?

Maybe it’s only Naranus. Somehow, the thought is even more absurd… and terrifying to me.

16

ERYSS

The return to the stronghold should be easy.

Naranus is silent, his expression unreadable as he flies low over the jagged cliffs, his wings slicing through the air with controlled precision. His arms are locked around me, his grip firm but impersonal, like he’s already buried whatever strange shift had settled between us back in the human village.

I try not to think about it.

I try not to dwell on the way they spoke to him, the way they looked at him like a guardian rather than a beast. It doesn’t make sense.

None of this makes sense.

I push away the thoughts, keeping my focus ahead, counting the ridges of stone below as they race past beneath us. We should reach the stronghold soon. We should be safe.

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