The Mates of Monsters novel Chapter 68

I see her and Tarlo out, getting in some final words about the proposition and how she's always welcome to join Bonny and I. Aurora says David has her contact information, and she asks me to call, to check-in, to give my own updates as she gives hers. I hug her and tell her to take care of herself before backing into the house. She sets off with Tarlo and glances back at me, nearly smiling with a trace of the fiery girl I remember. Her words return to me: we're the brave Lunas who do what has to be done.

She will journey home and live by that now. She won't have a choice; until her child is able, she'll be walking a tightrope each day. But I'm not worried about her. Aurora is the kind to flourish when everything is lost: the cunning, emerging survivor of the apocalypse.

I shut the front door. Nicodra is dead, Aurora is safe, and the air around me becomes breathable again. The campaign for the proposition will keep me busy, and the trip to Germany will condition me well, but the constant fear of impending doom—it lifts a bit off my chest and I remember what it feels like to exist in the moment. David walks in and finds me against the door, still holding its handle. He asks calmly, "Are you alright?"

I nod. He steps over, and I let go of the door. My arms mindlessly come around him, and I bask in his embrace. "Do you have to go?"

"No," he says, rubbing my back, "not today."

"Can we talk?"

He pulls his head back to analyze my face. "We can. What about?"

I take his hand and lead him out of the foyer, returning to the sitting room. "It's about what happened the other day in the rain—what was said."

David sits with me on the couch, knowing exactly what I am referring to, and not looking too eager to discuss it. I bring my leg up on the cushion and turn to him. "I've been thinking. We tend to get caught up in moments, in the emotion of our bond. It's hard to properly talk about things when we're so emotional, so I thought sitting down like this would be good for us. A proper conversation."

"You're right," he says, adjusting. "Let's talk about it."

"Right. Okay. Well, firstly, when you said you don't want me having children... Could you explain that a little more? I mean, it just seemed so sudden. I've joked about having tons of children, and you never said anything then."

"Things were different then. I was starting to get through to you, and I didn't want to say something that would've scared you back into hiding." He clears his throat. "I understand what I said in the forest was very cut and dried, and it isn't compatible with our roles. The pack will need someone to take over—"

"Not just someone, David. Your blood. Your name."

"I know." He exhales. "But it doesn't feel right. How can I do that to you? You are my mate, Brigette, not just a body to breed with out of necessity. And to see you struggle because of it—I couldn't bear it."

"I know you don't see me like that, and that's all that matters. We just can't think of it like that. Despite what everyone else says, we know who we are. It isn't solely about heirs and blood and the pack; it's about us, and I know I said it's for the pack, but I was playing defense. The pack may need it, but it will be ours, forever, like any other couple."

He leans forward. "And when you're hurting?"

"No pregnancy is pain-free," I assure him. "Just—all I'm asking is for you to keep an open mind."

He shakes his head. "How did you do it? How did you go from hating me to wanting a child?"

"I never hated you, I can promise you that. I was in denial. I hated myself for wanting you so badly."