The Mates of Monsters novel Chapter 25

The sky is murky above my head, and the surrounding forest is alive with the smallest of sounds all conjoining into one orchestra of buzzing and humming and brushing. The grass is soft, and I lay on my back against it, staring at the stars and fireflies carried by the breeze. I've never seen a firefly before, and they glow with an unrealistic brightness, like a hole poked through black curtains.

I sit up and smile when I see David's wolf skulking in the trees. He sneaks over and circles me. "What are you doing?" I ask as my eyes follow him. "Come on. Shift. Lay with me."

I fall to the grass as he steps over me. As his wolf scales my body, he shifts, and by the time his face reaches mine, I'm met with his flesh and not fur. His brilliant grey eyes are shadowed to black, and they wash over me as stripping and refreshing as a wave on a beach. I breathe in and my chest fills with his air. Just as he lowers his mouth to mine, a voice calls from behind.

"David. What are you doing?"

I panic and look out from under him. A girl emerges from the trees. Her face is flooded with the horror of heartbreak, and I realize her face is my own.

"David?" Another voice calls, and I lift my chin, looking at the figure now standing before us. My heart pulses at the sight of another doppelgänger.

"What are you doing?"

I frantically crawl out from under him and notice myself multiplying all around me.

"You love her?"

"You slept with her?"

"What are you doing? Lay with me."

"I don't want to talk to you."

I look back to David, my mouth open and my eyes tearing. But I'm still there, underneath him, or maybe one of my other selves are. "David?" I call. "What are—"

My eyes open at once. My heart continues to beat at the same urgent pace it was in my dream.

"Brigette?"

David is awake behind me. His body cradles my own, and his heavy arm reaches over and lays against my stomach, keeping me flush with him. My eyes dart around the room. The closed shutters let only slivers of daylight in, and I question, "W-What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," he says, his voice still tainted by sleep.

I feel his hand against my skin as it reaches just past the hem of my shirt, creeping under my clothes. I blink hard and shift my focus to the feel of his chest and legs—torso, breath—everything against me, pushing into me. When did we get like this? This is not how I fell asleep.

I do know one thing: I am safe with him like a pearl tucked away in a clam. Nothing can penetrate his shell and swipe me. No monster from my dream can spill out and get me. I soak this feeling in before my need to fully wake up is no longer an excuse. I murmur, "Don't you have to go?"

He says, "No," as his arm flexes and as his hand slides upward, bringing my shirt up with it. Instinctively, I place my hand on top of his, halting him from accidentally groping me in his sleepy haze.

"I thought you had to leave early? You always do."