Page 9 of Monster's Secret Baby

"Ah yes, 'The Divine Spoon.' Very famous among celestial scholars." His voice drips with mock solemnity.

I elbow him gently. "Stop. Not all of us had fancy xaphan tutors teaching us the sky maps."

"I'll show you." Adellum shifts closer, his arm sliding beneath my shoulders as he points upward. "See there? That's the Hunter's Arrow. And just beside it?—"

"The Weeping Sister," I finish, surprising myself. "I do remember that one. My mother used to say she cried because she lost something precious."

Adellum's gaze shifts from the stars to my face. "What do you think she lost?"

"I don't know," I whisper. "Maybe her way home."

"Maybe a chance at having the things she wants most," he answers.

Something changes in the air between us—thickens, warms. Adellum's fingers find mine in the darkness, intertwining with gentle pressure. His breathing changes subtly, and I know he's going to kiss me before he moves.

For a man who could have anyone, he can't seem to keep his hands off of me. And for a human that should know better, I never stop him.

He leans in, his lips finding mine with practiced familiarity. It's careful at first—reverent almost—as if he's memorizing the taste of me all over again despite months of stolen nights like this.

Each time we're together, he does this—begins with such tender restraint that it makes my heart ache. Like he's giving me every opportunity to change my mind, to safeguard myself from him.

"You smell like dreelk leaves and sunlight," he murmurs against my mouth. "Like green things growing."

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. "Is that a compliment or are you saying I need a bath?"

"Definitely a compliment." His smile curves against my lips. "You smell like life itself."

A shiver runs through me at his words, at the worship in his voice. My hands clutch at his coat involuntarily, fingers digging into the fine fabric.

Something in Adellum shifts, breaks. With a sound like hunger, his control fractures. His wings, usually kept carefully contained, suddenly unfurl to their full impressive span, arching high above us both. The sight of them—massive and powerful, catching moonlight along each feather—steals my breath.

He presses me down into the soft grass, his weight a delicious pressure. "Are you going to tell me we shouldn't be doing this?" he whispers, even as his mouth traces the line of my throat. "That weshouldstop."

"I don't want you to stop." I arch against him, feeling reckless and wild. "I never want you to stop."

His hands tremble slightly as they find the ties of my dress, unraveling them with reverent patience. "I want to see you," he breathes. "All of you. In the moonlight."

I'm nodding before his words are even out..

There's something sacred in how he peels my dress away, like it's a ritual he's been granted the privilege to perform. The cool night air kisses my skin as it's revealed inch by inch, chills rising in its wake. But I don't feel exposed or vulnerable—not with how he's looking at me.

"You're so beautiful it hurts," Adellum says, his voice rough with emotion. His fingertips trace my collarbone, feather-light. "Like someone gathered all the good things in this world and shaped them into you."

Adellum is the only one that's ever looked at me like this—like I'm precious, powerful, a thing to be kept rather than conquered. His hands map me with artist's precision, finding places I never knew could bring such pleasure.

"Your wings," I whisper, reaching up to touch where they join his back. "I love when you show them to me, when you don't hide."

His silver eyes, almost luminous in the darkness, search mine. "Only you," he confesses. "Only you get to see me like this."

My heart twists at his words, and I'm suddenly desperate to get even closer to him.

My fingers work at the intricate laces of Adellum's pants, my movements growing clumsy with desire. The moonlight catches on the planes of his face as he watches me, his silver eyes gleaming with hunger and something deeper, something that makes my heart squeeze.

"Let me," he murmurs, catching my hands, pressing them to his bare chest where I can feel his heart thundering against my palms. "You're shaking, little bird."

"I always shake for you," I confess, the admission slipping out before I can trap it behind my teeth. "Every time feels like the first time."

A smile curves his beautiful mouth. "And the last," he adds, like a prayer, his voice rough. "Like we might never get another chance."

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