Page 96 of Mate of a Monster

I take a slow breath, forcing control into my muscles the way I had on Exile when panic got you killed.

This is not Exile.

I look past him for a heartbeat, needing to understand the cost of what comes next.

Arabella lifts herself to her knees, shakily trying to push to her feet in her ruined dress. Her hands claw at the marble like she can dig her way back into whatever illusion she lived inside.

Sweat slicks over her face, pupils blown wide as she fixes him with a pleading look that goes ignored. Then, her gaze cuts to me.

A possessive rage blazes across her features, furious that her toy has stopped working.

It’s the look of a girl who has never lost anything she claimed as hers.

A raw sort of rumble pushes past Knight’s lips, fighting for control with every passing second. He’s not going to get it.

None of them will until I allow it.

The Nightkin might be a nice little boost in my veins, the calm that’s been forced into those around us, and the chaos that will follow. But the main source of the power locked in this space is mine.

Legends starts to buckle.

A handful of Argents have started backing away, their expressions torn between horror and fascination, like watching a king break is a sin you cannot stop yourself from committing.

I swallow.

This is what the bond does: it forces you to care when it’s not always deserved. This is why I didn’t want or need the bond. It’s why I don’t like emotions in general, but then this motherfucker came along and forced them on me.

He should suffer.

He should choke on every consequence.

But he is their king.

And he is breaking in front of them. They’ll see him as a weakness, and I can’t have that. I might be angry, but that’s my own shit to work out.

He doesn’t deserve this. If anyone gets to make him or see him weak, it’s me.

Not them. Never them.

Knight observes me with that careful, worried stillness that says he knows there is no clean way through what is coming, and it’s for me to decide.

I drag my gaze back to Legend.

His mouth opens again, a raw and strangled sound pushing free.

“Haide,” he whispers, and it’s like every single barrier in his head just broke.

The Nightkin presses against my spine. “Do it, mate,” he murmurs. “Stop thinking. Take.”

Before I can change my mind, my hand shoots out to grip Legend’s jaw. The second my skin meets his, his head whips back like I struck him.

A violent scream rips from him.

His eyes blow white again, fully, and then the magic surges up from his skin in a brutal spiral that claws at the air. It whips around us in a current of smoke and shadow as the bones of the place crack louder, unable to contain the magic.

Arabella shrieks through the surge of power, her panic and outrage tearing through her fake bond.

Legend chokes back a gasp, struggling with the fight. His eyes glisten with tears that spill down his cheeks, even as he grits his teeth like he would rather bite his tongue off than let anyone see him come undone.