To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 151

ATASHA’S POV

His hand is warm against my jaw, his body a wall in front of me, and I hear myself say, “Nothing,” because that’s safer than everything.

Inside, it’s not nothing. Inside, it’s a mess.

It started when the stone vanished. That’s when my head began to feel wrong in quiet moments, like air moving under a door I can’t find, like I’m standing at the top of stairs in the dark and I know there’s a step missing but I keep walking, anyway.

And after the mating, it got worse. From the pressure behind my eyes. The way sound bends. The way the bond hums too sharply sometimes, like it’s picking up things I’m not trying to hear. I don’t want to say that out loud. I don’t want him looking at me like I’m something he has to solve.

I’m already an oddity. I had no wolf, no awakening, but I can heal without a price. Not a witch, not a real wolf, somewhere between the boxes people like to use when they can’t understand a thing. And then there is the possibility that perhaps… just perhaps I might be a fae.

If I hand him the truth, what does he do with it? Does he tighten his guard around me because I’m fragile? Does he step back because I’m dangerous? Does he look at me and see a problem instead of a person?

A whisper in the back of my head says he won’t. He won’t because of the bond. Because I’m his mate.

And then the rest of me flinches at that. Because that’s the piece I don’t want to lean on. The reason Cassian cares is that I’m his mate. Not because of me. I told him how I felt–stupidly, recklessly–and he didn’t say it back. He’s careful with me. He stands in front of couriers and cups and doors for me. He checks the sunlight for temperature, for all I know.

Is that devotion or duty? Instinct or choice? If I tell him how wrong I feel inside, does he double down out of obligation? I don’t want to be an obligation. I don’t want him to feel responsible for the strange thing he’s tied

1. to.

Another thought slams into the others. What if he decides the safest thing is to put distance between us? Not physically, he’d never leave me alone with this test coming, but here, in the space that matters. What if he starts treating me like a relic to be handled with gloves? Or a weapon to be locked away?

My mouth says, “There’s nothing,” again, quieter this time, because I’m trying to dam a river with my hands.

And yet,

this didn’t change the fact that he’s too close. The wall is cool at my back, he’s heat and gravity and steady breath in front of me. I can taste the argument he hasn’t spoken and feel the question he already asked. What are you hiding from me?

Everything within me twisted. I didn’t want him to know that I have fear of being seen, fear of not being seen, and fear of being seen and misunderstood.

I don’t want him to think I’m a freak of nature. I don’t want him to think I’m breaking. I don’t want him to carry me because the bond says he should.

But I also don’t want to do this alone.

My thoughts stack and crash, one on top of the other, the stone disappearing in my palm, the Red Moon, the way my power snagged, just once, on something cold inside Violet, the voice that said I found you when I hadn’t even touched her, the way the bond snapped and then smoothed like a rope pulled too hard, the way he looked at me in the pool, the way he’s looking at me now.

I realize I’m holding my breath. I let it go. My hands want to push him away and pull him closer at the same time. I do neither. I keep my shoulders against the wall and my chin lifted because if I drop either, I’ll fold.

“It’s nothing,” I say again, and I hear the lie stick to my tongue.

I’m not afraid of the test. I’m afraid of what I am becoming, and of him seeing it before I do. I’m afraid that if I turn this over in my hands and show him the edges, he’ll decide it’s too sharp to keep close.

Another part of me, the tired, honest part, whispered that he’s not the type to run, and that even if he only cares because I’m his mate, he still cares. That should be enough. It should be. But I want it to be more. I want it to be him choosing me, not just protecting what the bond marked as his.

So I meet his eyes and hold them like that can keep me from unraveling. My heart is loud. The room feels small. His thumb is still a quiet question at my jaw. And I am split right down the middle between the girl who lied to keep herself safe and the woman who is tired of being afraid of her own truth.

“Atasha, I– “

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“It was just because of the stone,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “And what Agape told me. I- ” I turned my head away. “That I might be a fae. That I- I don’t even know how possible is that.”

Cassian’s fingers slid from my jaw to my chin and tipped it up, firm enough that I couldn’t look away. His eyes held mine.

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