Page 25 of Mated to the Monster Under my Bed
“I’m so sorry you lost your first familiar like that, Danni, my love,” she murmured, her fingers carding through my tangled locks. “But don’t fret. You’ll get another. One will find you at the right time just like your crooked-neck crow did, I promise.”
Adult me, inside the dream, wanted to cry too as I watched my younger self weep. Even magic can’t fix death. Craig’s face blurred into the crow’s, frail and fading.
Even magic…even magic can’t fix it…
Suddenly the dream skipped again—many years this time. I was in the hospital room—the one I remembered so well. Machines were beeping. The smell of antiseptic and sickness were thick in the air.
Craig’s hand was in mine, light as paper. His eyes were sunken…unseeing. The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose. I tried to hold on, but he was slipping away no matter how hard I gripped.
Please don’t go, I thought. Please don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone…
I woke with tears in my eyes, my chest hitching. I was sobbing before I even understood why. The room was dim and soft around me, the smell of lavender mixed with fur and cedar strong in my nose. My pillow was damp and my chest ached. Oh God, I was so alone…so alone…
And then I felt a touch.
A big, furry hand slid out from under the bed and wrapped gently around mine, the long fingers entwining with my own.
I gasped, the sound sharp in the stillness, but the hand was warm, not cold. Not hurting me—just holding on.
I stiffened, my eyes going wide in the darkness.
Oh God, what was I going to do?
15
SHADOW
Her tears woke something in me.
I’d been watching, as I always did—quiet beneath the bed, my body cloaked in shadows and spell-threaded silence. The cottage allowed me this shape, this presence. It was the only place in her world where I could become real. In the bedroom—our old sanctuary—I could almost remember what it was like to hold her. To comfort her. To be hers and feel that she was mine.
But I didn’t expect the crying.
When she gasped awake, I felt it in every fiber of me. Her sadness—her pain—was a living thing that filled the room like smoke. And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t stay still—couldn’t wait. Not anymore.
I reached out.
I only showed her my hand—cloaked in midnight fur, tipped with claws I kept carefully dulled. I didn’t speak…didn’t move more than that. I simply let my hand rest in hers, offering warmth…caring…a link to something she’d forgotten.
For a moment she froze. I felt her pulse rabbit against my palm. She could run…she could scream…she could reject me.
But she didn’t.
She stayed.
The sheets rustled softly. Her breath hitched, and her fingers—tentative and trembling—curled into mine.
Gods. I had forgotten how small her hand was…forgotten the gentle press of her skin, the way she used to hold onto me with such trust.
Back then, she was just a girl. A scared, lonely child who called to me in her need and summoned me with her tears. I’d come to her when she was little, the moment she unlocked her magic, untrained and wild. She needed someone to protect her.
She needed me.
And I had answered.
Her shadow. Her guardian. Her monster under the bed.
I watched over her every night for years. I curled around her when the world was too loud. I made the nightmares scatter. I growled at the voices that wanted to hurt her. I would have torn them apart if I could—but I could only act within the limits of the sanctuary she gave me.
