Page 12 of Monster Mate

That’s when his phone made an obnoxiously loud noise. The woman at the store where he purchased it told him that noise meant he had a text message. And since the only person who had his number was Roxie…

Riordan leapt out of bed, nearly hitting the floor face-first when his foot tangled in the bedding. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, finally catching his balance and snatching the phone off his dresser.

The single word that appeared on the phone’s tiny screen nearly stopped his heart.

Help.

* * *

Roxie couldn’t figure out why she was dreaming of burnt toast.

And why the hell was she sweating? She was only thirty-two. It was way too early for menopause and hot flashes, wasn’t it?

Somewhere in the distant reaches of her hot, sweaty, toast-y dream she heard Waldo baying his little heart out, and it felt like someone was trying to rattle her brain out of her head by shaking her and kicking her bedframe. But through it all, she just couldn’t seem to open her eyes. She was just too damn tired.

“Wake up!”

Was that…Winston shouting at her?

I’m trying.

But she was pretty sure she hadn’t said that out loud, even though she’d tried. Everything was too hazy. Too foggy. Too…smokey?

Oh, Jesus, was her bed on fire? Holy shit, her bed was on fire and she couldn’t move! She was going to burn to death and take Winston and Waldo with her.

Run! Go! Leave me and save yourselves.

And still, the words were stuck in her throat, probably squashed under the weight of the soot and ash she was most likely breathing in.

Winston let out a startled gasp, then said, “About fucking time! Help me get her out of here!”

That’s when she felt strong arms sliding under her, lifting her out of the bed like she was weightless. “Grab the dog and hang onto my arm.”

She’d know that tense voice and those protective arms anywhere.

Riordan.

Thank God. Maybe they wouldn’t die after all.

She couldn’t be sure, though. Once she blacked out, there was no telling what happened to the only people she gave a shit about in the whole world.

See, this was the problem with caring for people.

It gave you something to lose.

CHAPTER 9

Another five minutes and he would’ve lost her. That’s how close the fire was to consuming her.

Riordan sat in a comically small plastic chair next to her hospital bed, cradling her delicate hand between his. The pulse pounding in her wrist was a greater balm to his nerves than anything else could’ve been.

Except for her waking up.

She’d been asleep since he’d pulled her, Winston, and Waldo out of the wreckage of her home. That was nearly eight hours ago. Long enough for Winston and Waldo to be checked out, pronounced healthy, and dropped off at Riordan’s house. Long enough for the fire department to douse the flames and tell him they’d investigate the source of the blaze (but given the state of the other homes in the neighborhood, it was likely faulty wiring).

But not long enough for his queen to wake up.

He wasn’t used to feeling so…small. Powerless. There was literally nothing he could do to fix this. It made him feel like the worst mate ever.

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