The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 33

I take my pajamas into the bathroom to change and prepare for bed. After I do so, I notice a crack in the door. I position myself so my eye sees right through it, right at the bed where David is sitting against the tufted headboard, reading something on his laptop. The artificial light of the screen glows on his skin, and I hold my breath, leaning closer into the sliver of space, seeing he is bare from the waist up. My eyes widen and my brows tug together. When he mindlessly glances at the bathroom door, I spring away and make no sudden movements. I look at myself in the mirror, reconsidering my decision to wear a snug-fitting shirt with a thinner fabric. If he sleeps like that-which I'm assuming he is then when he holds me-which he always does-I'll almost feel his bare skin. This stupid shirt will be the only barrier between our skin. It's not just our hands touching; it's plains of body pressed against one another. It's-

I close my eyes and lean against the wall. There's no point in overthinking these minuscule details when I have to pop out a dozen babies just in case something happens to eleven of them. How do you name twelve children? I don't think I could come up with more than three names I like.

I have a deep breath, and when I open my eyes, I'm faced with myself. My reflection watches me just as I watch her. Are you really going to go in there and let him hold you and kiss you and keep you forever? She asks. You'll become just like those old, bitter Lunas whose bodies are worn from childbearing and whose Alphas are busy smoking up in the boys club.

I glare at her. She's just upset because no one loves her. No one dreams of her or protects her. No one babied her when she was a baby and now she's trying to ruin this for me.

I shut off the light and hope the darkness drowns her.

David looks up as I leave the bathroom. I slyly take in his shirtlessness as I make my way over to the farther side of the bed. I stand at the edge with my arms crossed-strategically concealing-and he closes the laptop, setting it on the nightstand. If I could freeze time to stare and touch him just to get it out of my system, I would.

"Ready for bed?" He asks.

Rather than answering verbally, I pull back my half of the covers and climb up onto the bed. The mattress is firmer than the one at home, so I move around to get comfortable. David turns off the lamp beside him, and I end up with my back to him. As expected, he comes over and brings his arm around me, but when his fist raises a little too high along my front, I jerk, startling him. "David!" I scold, bashful and alert.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Can we lay back down?"

I grumpily lower with my arms protecting me. He gives me a look and says, "We sleep in the same bed. It's nothing I haven't felt before."

"What does that mean?"

"When you lay against me "

I quickly say, "Don't. I didn't need to know that. Just-just sleep over there, and I'll sleep over here."

"Was it the talk about children? Is that what's making you act like this?"

I ignore him and settle down against my pillow, securing the covers over my shoulder. He sighs and says, "Come on. Come here."

I peer over my shoulder to find him laying on his back with his arm stretched out for me. "You really think I'm going to do that after what you just said?"

"You have to get over this random dilemma because I'm holding you whether you like it or not."

"Why are you shirtless?"

"I think you're looking a little far into things right now." When I don't answer he says, "Do you want me to put on a shirt? I'll put on a shirt if that means we can get to bed."

I sit up, face him, and ask, "Why do you have to hold me? Why do you have to touch me?"

"I don't know, Brigette, because you're my mate and I want to touch you. What do you want me to say?" His tone is shifting to something more serious.

"You know what," I mutter, "you sleep here, and I'll sleep out there."

I get out of bed and David takes a breath. "Don't go out there."

I turn at his warning. "I'm in trouble for wanting some space?"

"We both know that's not what this is about."

I continue to the door and murmur, "I don't want to argue."

David gets up and intercepts me. "Get back in bed," he says, acting more Alpha than I expected. When I stand my ground, he takes my arm and walks me back himself. Frustrated, I fight back and he eventually let's go. "What is it? Tell me what it is." A frown pulls at the corners of my mouth. "I told you what it is."

"You don't want me touching you?" He questions. "You expect me to believe that after we've been sleeping in the same bed for weeks? That you don't want to be touched anymore?" He shakes his head.

My eyes watch the nightstand behind him, knowing there is nothing plausible to say but the truth. However, my truth has ways of being blurred and muddled; it's hard to explain. The words feel like glue in my mouth.

"You know what I think the problem is? You want to be touched. You want to be touched so badly that it's frustrating you."

I swallow, my eyes returning the moment he says 'want.'

"Really? That's my problem?"

David's expression softens. "There's no need to be shy, Brigette. I'm yours."

I scoff, knowing that his words give me butterflies. "I'm not..." The word 'shy' never makes it out.

He stands before me, and in some imaginary way, I hear him tell me to touch him.

My heart beats fiercely. My hand raises but stops midway, clenching in uncertainty before gently landing on his bare chest. I watch my fingertips as they trickle down his body, feeling for the first time. He breathes underneath me, and when I look up, his eyes bore into my own. My lips part as his hands come to my face. He brings his mouth to mine, and I kiss him, relieved and willing to step out of my armor. His hands fall to my back and guide me closer, and my own slide down his neck, gliding to the front, to his chest.

Our kiss is much more lively-deeper and hungrier than earlier. He sits on the bed and brings me on top of him. My fingers comb into his hair, and I break our kiss to look down at what I've done-sitting on him, having his hands grip my waist. I've become fixated on his body, on his solidness and warmth, his stature and perfection. My brows furrow. He lifts my chin to kiss me again.