Page 147 of Mate of a Monster

“Still alive,” she says with a soft, mocking smile, eyes flicking over Haide’s blood-streaked face. “How disappointing.”

Haide doesn’t even look at her, those green eyes finding mine first.

For half a second, the world narrows to that single moment, the bond between us roaring to life in a way it hasn’t before.

The Nightkin inside me stirs, pleased.

Haide’s gaze flicks briefly to my chest, then back to my eyes.

“She misses me,” the Nightkin boasts.

“She has you.”

He groans.

Arabella shrieks, and the water behind her rises again, dark and furious, towering over the space like an incoming tide. “You still don’t understand,” she continues. “The thread doesn’t simply restrain him. It anchors him. You rip it out and it tears everything attached to it with—”

The power surges up my spine like something finally given permission to breathe, colliding with the pale Argent thread around my heart with the force of a collapsing star.

Arabella’s eyes widen and my hand drives forward, straight through her fucking chest.

There is only brief resistance, then bone cracks.

Blood spills hot across my wrist as my fingers close around the beating thing inside her ribcage. Arabella gasps, her entire body going rigid as the connection between us flares violently.

“Silly little Argent girl.”

The Nightkin snarls inside my chest. “Pull. Pull and all that will be left is our mate.”

I tighten my grip and Arabella laughs. Blood pours from her mouth as she looks up at me with wild, delighted eyes.

“Do it,” she rasps. “I dare you. Without your Ethos, I take you with me.”

My laugh is hollow, fingers digging deeper.

“Wait.”

Haide’s voice cuts through the moment. She slowly steps closer, the heat rolling off her skin enough to make the air distort.

Something in her expression has the Nightkin going cold within my chest. He reaches for her, but she is singularly focused.

I can feel the bond between us vibrating with sorrow, but I don’t understand why until she speaks again.

“This one,” she says softly, stepping up beside me while Arabella chokes on her own blood between us, “is for the dragons you murdered.”

Haide lifts one of the black blades strapped across her thigh and drags it clean across Arabella’s ribs, and while she tries to pretend she’s as tough as my mate, her features give her away. The grimace contorts her expression, but Haide is too focused on her art to notice.

“And this,” Haide continues calmly, the blade moving again, carving a line across her face, “is for thinking you could touch, let alone keep, my mate.”

Arabella trembles but the smile never quite leaves her face.

Haide leans closer.

“And this one,” she says, her voice finally breaking just slightly, “is for him.”

The blade slides across Arabella’s throat, just deep enough to make the blood spill faster.

Arabella coughs.