Page 7 of Monster Mate

She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning at him. “You can’t call me your queen anymore, though. I’m just Roxie.”

His eyes did the flame-y thing again. “Whether you’re my friend, my mate, or both, you’ll always be my queen, Roxie Rowe.”

Well. How could she argue with that?

* * *

Roxie learned a lot about Riordan during their impromptu not-a-date at the coffee shop downtown.

First of all, the little magic trick he’d done to pop up in front of her when she’d been trying to run away was something he could do anytime he wanted. Teleporting wherever he wanted to go was an innate ability in his people—a little genetic gift that helped him escape danger and travel between dimensions as needed.

He could also materialize shirts and shoes, because now, he was wearing a black T-shirt and black work boots along with the leather pants, which was both appropriate for the coffee shop and sad all at the same time. If she had muscles like that, she’d go around topless all the time. Anyone with a no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service policy wouldn’t ever get a dime of her hard-earned money.

Riordan didn’t seem to care much, though. He was clearly more comfortable shirtless (as evidenced by the way he kept tugging at the shirt’s neckline), but was willing to comply with human social standards as necessary to fit in.

He didn’t, though. Fit in, that is. Even here in the monster capital of the world, Riordan stood out like a sore thumb.

The coffee shop had been packed when they walked in. By the time they had their drinks and had chosen a seat, half the crowd had scurried off. If Riordan noticed the terrified stares of the escaping patrons, he didn’t let on.

It pissed Roxie off, though. In a town where supernatural and magical creatures nearly outnumbered humans, what kind of dick did you have to be to pre-judge a monster as dangerous? If they didn’t like giant, red monsters with horns and tails, they could go to Milwaukee or something. Residents of Sanity Falls should be made of sterner stuff.

But Riordan paid them no mind. His focus was solely on her. He answered her questions about his dimension (which sounded like a freakin’ nightmare, complete with rivers of lava and sulfur geysers), and how it was slowly dying due to his people’s misuse of natural resources. He mentioned not having any living family back home. But he always directed the conversation back to her.

He took a sip of his coffee, which looked hot enough to melt her face off, the cup seeming comically small in his huge hand. “So, tell me about your childhood.”

Roxie set her own cup down and braced herself for her least favorite small talk prompt. “That’s not something I talk about too much.”

His brows lowered. “It was not good?”

She shrugged. “It could’ve been worse. But I never knew my parents. Apparently, I was abandoned at a firehouse when I was a newborn. I had a couple foster families I don’t remember between that time and when I was five or six. When my last foster family gave me up, I went into a group home.”

She wished she could snatch the words back. She usually lied when people asked about her childhood. Told them it was all white picket fences, golden retrievers, and minivan rides to soccer practice every Wednesday, just to avoid the pity-filled looks people gave her when they heard about her bleak circumstances. But she’d just told Riordan the truth.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Now he’d stop looking at her like she was his queen and start looking at her like she was a pitiful orphan.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and laying his hand over hers. “That explains a lot,” he murmured. “You were forged in fire.”

Roxie was as distracted by his words as she was by the feel of his skin. It actually was as soft as it looked. And really warm. “What do you mean?”

“Steel is plunged into fire over and over again to make it strong enough to be used as weapons. I knew when I first saw you that you were stronger than any human I’d met so far. You were forged in fire from an early age. It made you indestructible, my…” He cleared his throat. “Uh, Roxie.”

There was that annoying lump of emotion again. It settled in her throat, and she had to blink back tears as he looked at her with anything but pity. He didn’t see her as some sad victim or tragic, martyrized heroine in a gothic romance novel. He still saw her as a badass. A queen.

His queen.

Huh. Maybe this whole fated mates/friends thing wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

CHAPTER 6

Riordan started to panic as they made their way back to Roxie’s car.

She was going to thank him for the coffee, say goodnight, get in her car, and leave him. Forever. It’s not like he’d been interesting in their time together. All he’d done was kill an orc who’d dared to touch her, told her about his horrible dimension that could be gone by now for all he knew, and failed to show a proper amount of sympathy for her less-than-ideal childhood.

What a bloody fucking imbecile he was.

He should have done something more than offer her a stupid platitude. He should’ve said something to make her feel better. But, no. He’d said the idiotic thing about being forged in fire.

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