Page 62 of Fated to Monsters

“We aren’t friends,” she says.

“Or something. Got it.” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a powerful witch has even more powerful connections with people from the underworld.

My boots crumble against the rocky ground, and if I didn’t know better, I’d never expect my entire being to actually be here, in this Angel-forsaken place. Ifeelhere. The heat covers my body like a cloak, and the stench of rotting flesh and charred ashes greets me. The desolate expanse calls to me—almost welcoming me home.

We follow Willow in a single-file line over an embankment and across a thin walkway surrounded by flowing lava.

Wren moves with ease behind her, never once faltering along the sketchy terrain. She is elegant and covert and if I had to guess, this is a result of her many years of being a hunter.

I do what I can to not stare at her plump ass as she walks, but it grows impossible when it's right in front of me.

“You okay back there?” Wren calls out to me over my shoulder.

"Yep." I give her a thumbs up and look anywhere but her rear end.

My shoe slips and I lose my footing. I slide toward a steep cliff overlooking a seemingly bottomless pit.

But instead of falling, Wren catches my arm and prevents me from tumbling over the edge.

“What the fuck, Bo?” She yanks me onto solid ground. “Did you do that on purpose?” Wren plants her hands on my shoulders and stares up at me. “Bo. Answer me.”

Raising my hand, I skim it across her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear.

“You two good?” Willow pauses to ask us.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Wren tells her then focuses on me. “Don’t you dare throw yourself off a cliff to get away from me. I can handle you being an asshole, but I can’t handle you being gone forever. Okay?”

My attention falls to her lips, soft and plush and begging to be taken.

“Do you hear me?” She shakes me.

“I hear you, Birdie. Loud and clear.”

“Good.” Wren releases me. “Now go ahead of me so I can keep an eye on you.”

My cheeks turn up. “Not a chance.”

“Then promise me you won’t mess up again.” She narrows her gaze.

How can I make that promise when that’s all I seem to be capable of doing?

Not just here, but in every facet of our relationship. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and everything I do only drives her away from me.

But if that were true, would she be standing here before me asking me not to die? Maybe I haven’t lost her after all. Maybe there’s still hope that I can fix this. Maybe I should tell her why I am the way I am, and then she could understand why I push her away every chance I get. Why I can’t get too close. Why I can’t be what she wants me to be.

In doing so, I would have to confess things that I’ve never told anyone before. And I’m not so sure I’m ready to admit, even to myself, what I keep locked inside.

Instead of giving her the response she wants, I say, “I’ll try.”

Her chest rises and she lets out a breath. “I can work with that.”

Wren returns to her spot in front of me, and Willow and I exchange a nod to signal that we can keep moving forward.

It’s only another minute until we step into a foggy clearing. Through the haze, a throne sits in the distance, covered in skulls and bones.

A man rises from the throne, standing tall and peering in our direction. He comes closer, his entire form gliding over the ground like he's hovering about an inch above it. His all-black outfit matches his fully black eyes.

Without meaning to, I kneel and bow my head.

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