Page 11 of Monster's Secret Baby

"What are you thinking about now, little bird?" Adellum's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "I can practically hear your thoughts trying to escape."

I trace the defined line of his collarbone, focusing on the way his dusky bronze skin looks almost gilded in the moonlight. "Just that I like this. Being with you. Like this."

"Naked under the stars?" His smile is audible.

"Safe," I correct softly. "I feel safe with you."

Something changes in the quality of his silence, a sudden stillness that feels weighted with emotion. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped to a reverent hush.

"Melivashanti cor elumae, navae solirae."

The words slide over me like warm honey, unfamiliar yet somehow intimate. I don't know any other languages, yet the words sound like a caress when Adellum speaks it.

"What does that mean?" I ask, propping myself up on an elbow to see his face.

His silver eyes hold mine, luminous in the darkness, his sharp-cut features softened by something that looks dangerously close to tenderness. "It's an old xaphan saying. Something like... 'My heart opens when yours beats beside it.'"

My own heart stutters at the translation. "That's beautiful."

"It's more than that." His fingers brush a curl from my face. "It's what xaphan say when..." He pauses, seeming to search for words. "When they've found someone who feels like home."

Home. The word reverberates through me. I've never had one, not really. The human commune where I grew up was shelter and survival, but never home. Lord Arkan's estate is where I work, where I sleep, but it belongs to him. Even my little gardener's cottage on the grounds is merely a privilege extended by my employer, not truly mine.

But here, lying in Adellum's arms beneath an endless spray of stars, I feel it—that elusive sense of belonging I've chased all my life.

"Say it again," I whisper, the request vulnerable in the night air between us.

Adellum's eyes darken. He props himself up, his body partially covering mine as he speaks the phrase again, this time directly against my lips. "Melivashanti cor elumae, navae solirae."

The words vibrate from his mouth to mine, and though I don't understand them linguistically, I feel their meaning deep in my bones. It's a declaration, a promise, and it wavers on the edges of something deeper than I've allowed myself to hope for.

His wing curls around me, massive gray feathers forming a cocoon that blocks out everything but Adellum. The world narrows to just us—his heartbeat against mine, the scent of him surrounding me, the safety of his presence.

"I never thought..." I begin, then falter, suddenly shy despite our intimacy. Adellum gives me beautiful words when we are together, but I always have to leave. We always have to return to our lives after this and I have to remember that secret words whispered in the night mean nothing.

Even if my heart clings to them like they mean everything.

"Tell me," he encourages, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I never thought I'd find a place that felt like it couldn't be taken away from me." The confession feels raw, exposing a wound I usually keep bandaged.

Adellum's eyes flare with something fierce. "No one will take this from you, Harmony. No one will take you from me."

The conviction in his voice soothes the restless part of me that's always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I've found something permanent. Something mine.

I nestle against Adellum's chest, his steady heartbeat a lullaby beneath my ear. His wing remains draped protectively over us, and his fingers resume their gentle stroking of my hip. The rhythm of his touch, combined with the profound sense of safety, begins to pull me toward sleep.

"Rest, little bird," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of my head.

I surrender to exhaustion, my eyes growing heavy. As consciousness slips away, I feel—for the first time in my life—that I've found a place in the world that won't be taken from me.

I don't yet know how wrong I am.

6

ADELLUM

Istand at my easel, dragging ochre-stained fingers across the canvas when the door to my studio bursts open. The delicate thread of creative focus snaps, and I don't need to turn to know it's Sior. His presence fills the room like smoke—unpleasant but familiar.

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