The Mates of Monsters novel Chapter 34

His hands roam my back and toy with the hem of my shirt, pushing it up and slipping underneath as if teasing me. His kiss strays from my lips and wanders to my neck. There's a pull inside of me that's yearning to see this through—that wants nothing less than all of him. My rational brain battles with my encumbering need, and I consider submitting to the impulsive monster. I consider shoving my past self in a grave—shoveling and burying her. "David," I say suddenly and shift.

He leans back and I softly tell him, "Wait. Wait—I—"

"Let me hold you," he says, not needing to hear an explanation. It all comes back to him holding me as we sleep, and I breathe in slowly. I nod my head, so he eases down. I tip back with him and lay against him, closing my eyes as his fingers play with the ends of my hair.

I think of Lindsey and her two weeks, of the Greek Luna and her twelve babies, and the nerve-racking reality of belonging to someone—mind, body, and soul. For eighteen years I flew solo. No one promised to be mine—nor did I plan on anyone doing so ever. All of this feels like a secret poorly kept from the girl I used to be. In the back of my head, I am still making promises that this is only temporary, that one day I will return to who I was before.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, "for being annoying."

We lay horizontally along the bed, on top of the covers but too enraptured to care. This towering building may be full of people, but I have never felt so alone with him.

"Annoying? No."

"Maybe just a little," I say.

His arm secures around me, and I peer up from the crook. I think about saying it back—telling him, I'm yours, but it feels like a lie. How can I say I am his if I am unable to truly be his? I'm yours, but you can't touch me. I'm yours, but I'm too nervous to speak. I'm yours, I'm yours—

"I'm yours."

He gazes down at me. "I know, Brigette. I know."

David holds my hand in the morning as we attend the first meeting of the conference. He shows me to the right place—the main meeting room—and clasps my hand firmly as if someone may try to tear us apart. I could close my eyes and not run into a single person or thing, but instead, I peer up at the skylight now that the sun has risen and its beams cast through.

I feel like the princess of a faraway land wandering her grand castle, that is until David guides me through a giant doorway whose doors are swung open and held against the outer walls.

The light isn't as bright in this vast, echoing room. A few windows line the far wall sparsely—high up so no outsider can eavesdrop—and six weighty, circular chandeliers hang in two rows down the ceiling.