The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 24

When I enter the bedroom, David is already sitting on the edge of the bed, on his side. He looks up as I continue to the opposite side. These past few nights, we've formed a routine of sorts. I get ready in my room and come over to the master where David will be waiting for me. I get in bed, he turns off the lights and settles down as well. We talk for a little before I eventually fall asleep, not remembering where the conversation ended. This night feels different, however.

Lindsey is tucked away in her private guest house; I thought she would enjoy the extra space and seclusion. So as usual, we are utterly alone. Maybe it was the children then-the talk of motherhood that's throwing me off. Something pulls in my gut as I lay down, and when he shuts off the light, the feeling worsens.

David lowers down and I turn to face him. He lays on his back, his chest open to the ceiling, and I feel my hand stray from my body. My fingertips brush against the bed and travel through the sheets so quietly that he's is entirely unaware. I hold my breath and dare myself to do it-to touch him, even if it is simply a pat on the arm. Suddenly, I reach his skin, and his head turns to me. My eyes are large and innocent as if my brush against him was completely on accident, but I know he knows otherwise.

"What is it?" He asks softly.

My lips part. And my lips close.

"You may as well say it."

"C-Could I move closer?"

David nods and I scoot over a space or two. He watches as I adjust in my new place beside him. Knowing this is not the end of it, he waits.

"Do you remember when I said I haven't loved anyone?" I ask, putting myself out there.

"I remember."

"So," I breathe, "have you? Have you loved anyone?"

David swallows then sits up a little. I push up from the mattress and wait for him to say the worst. What if there was someone else? It isn't unheard of for young people to pursue others before they're of age to find their mates. When we were fourteen, Lindsey was convinced another boy our age was going to be her mate. She said she felt something special for him, but all she felt was the intensity of a crush. There was another pair-two girls three years older than us-who loved each other deeply. When one of them turned eighteen, their dreams of being mated were shattered into a million pieces. So, it's possible David was disappointed as they were. The thought of it sends a wave of hurt through my heart, all the way to the deepest, darkest crevices.

I can tell he doesn't want to match my gaze. I've rarely seen David so hesitant. When he manages to look at me, he does so apologetically.

"Y-You loved her? Who?" I ask, letting my unease show in my voice.

"I have never felt love towards anyone, Brigette. But there was a time a few years ago where..." His words fade. "I knew we would have this conversation eventually, but I didn't expect you to be looking at me like this."

"You didn't love her but you-you what?"

It isn't unheard of to be intimate with someone other than your mate, but it is frowned upon. It is the difference between being angry and being disappointed. I know what he's trying to tell me, and I don't know why I am so eager to hear him say it. It's as if I want him to give me a reason to be upset with him. If he's imperfect, then maybe I don't have to feel so guilty about my own mistakes.

"You slept with her?" I ask quietly.

He reaches out to me, and I don't move back. His hand grips my upper arm then drags down my skin until my hand is held by his. "I did," he says, "with more than one person."

My brows furrow. "What? How many?"

"I will tell you anything you want to know, but you have to know that I haven't been that way or felt the want to do so since then. It was a phase I went through after my mother passed, after I became Alpha."

Do I want to know everything? I think hearing him talk about all of the girls he's been intimate with would send me into a deadly rage. If they were in this room, I might just kill them. "Just-do they belong to the pack?"

"No."

I nod and peer down at my hand in his. His fingers wrap around me, holding as if I might pull away. "It's fine," I mumble, still staring downward. "I just want to see Lindsey. I-I'm going to go to her."

"It's late; I don't want you walking in the dark. Please, stay here and we can talk."

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

His shoulders drop. "Don't pull away, Brigette. I regret those choices every time I look at you, but I won't sacrifice how far we've come."

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tears I was fearing begin to gather. "I can't do this. I just need to go right now."

"I know you're upset-"

"No. You don't know," I fire. "I'm not yelling or crying or wanting anything but privacy. I just want to process this without having you watch me."

He clenches his jaw and tightens his

grip on my hand. The feel of his touch ignites my skin, and despite my urgency, wish he would refuse to let go. Thoughts of him with others swarm my head, but my stubborn, immobile want for him stands like a beacon in the eye of the storm. I bite my lip as my hand refuses to yank free. It's got a hold of us both-the inner conflict, the clashing. I don't want to break down in front of him, yet I don't want to leave entirely either. I won't see him until tomorrow evening, and waiting so long feels like a punishment.

"Don't go," he says, unwavering. "At the time, the last thing I wanted was a mate. My mother had died and left my father in ruin. He made me Alpha and didn't stay long enough to say goodbye. I didn't want to turn out like him, utterly defeated and lost, so I rejected the idea of finding my

mate and figured the sacrality of the

bond no longer mattered."

I ask, my voice small, "What changed your mind?"

"I realized I would rather have such love and risk losing it forever than never having experienced it at all. Only something so great could destroy a man as resilient as my father."

I threaten to crumble into his arms.

"But you," he continues, "you hated the very idea of having a mate and yet you never opposed it in any way."

I think for a moment then freeze. "You want to know why I didn't do anything if I planned on refusing my mate? What a nice way to word it."

"Yes, Brigette, that's what I'm asking."

The innocent girl inside of me wants to blush and turn away. "I, well, I don't know. I just didn't-not in the way you did. Maybe I should have."

"No, you shouldn't have," he assures me.

I mutter, "It would have been fair-if I actually wanted to, which I didn't."

"Maybe I deserve it, but I can't stand to even think about it."

I take a breath and collect myself, slowing down and returning to a level head. The blackness outside the windows grounds me, and I say, "You have to get up early. Let's just go to bed."

The discontent still lingers in my stomach, lightly cramping and prodding, but this isn't a good time to figure everything out. I don't even know if there is a way to cure my jealousy either way, it will have to wait.

I lay back and bring the blankets over my chest. David gazes down at me regretfully before promptly turning off the light, returning to the routine. When he settles in bed, I remember to move over to my previous place, but before I get far, he says, "Stay close."

So I shift back and rest my head

against the pillow. Suddenly he

brings his arm around me and holds

me against his body. My breathing. grows shallow as he locks me in place, waiting for me to reciprocate. I ease into him and rest my hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall under my palm as if I'm breathing for him. My knee lifts over his, and I cling to him, now knowing what it's like to be held by him, and now never wanting to return to my nights alone.

"Thank you," he says.