Moth to Her Flame (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

C helsea

He’s slumped against me, leaning almost all of his weight against me, as we walk to his room. All the guys offered to help, but I’m managing. I feel as though this is my fault and it’s my responsibility to make it better.

“Let me get you to bed, Riven. Let me fix this.”

“Yes, Chelsea, more kisses, more hugs.” He’s so tired he has to take a deep breath before he can add, “I’ll be good as new in no time.”

There are so many things I like and admire about this male, but this rigid nobility that puts his health at risk is not one of them.

“You need more than kisses and hugs, Riven. That’s obvious.”

He doesn’t complain when I pull off his soft leather boots. He’s so compliant, that I wonder if he’s lost consciousness. It’s only when I move to release the button on his jeans that he grips my wrist and murmurs, “No.”

I should be subtle, should convince him, perhaps use my wily womanly ways. Instead, I can’t control my urge to blurt, “You’re pissing me off, Mothman. Admit it. Things can’t go on like this.”

Somehow, he digs deep enough to find the strength to pull me into his arms as I tumble onto the bed beside him.

“I’m not noble, Chelsea. I’m selfish. It would kill me to wake up a day or week or month from now and catch you looking at me with hatred because I roped you into something you weren’t ready for, something you didn’t fully want— forever.”

As I consider my response, he adds, “I’m just protecting myself from heartache. See? Selfish as hell.”

Then it hits me like a thunderbolt that I love this man. I’ve known him for such a short time, but damn, I love him. He’s kind, and smart, and brave as hell. He slept in that damn car in the cold mountain air because I didn’t like his face, yet he never complained, never said a word. Just kept fixing things around my cabin, offering his support, braiding my hair, and cooking me pancakes.

He’s brought me to safety, offered me shelter, handed me this new family of cryptids who have all accepted me like a sister because he wanted me here. And now he’s willing to die because he wants something so simple. He just wants me to love him back. Because there’s no doubt this male loves me.

“I love you, Riven. I want to do this.”

His eyes darken to molten gold, but he catches my hands gently. “You’re choosing this because I’m dying.”

“I’m choosing this because I want to. Because watching you fade is killing me, too.”

“Exactly.” Though his wings vibrate with need, he pulls back slightly. “I won’t bind you to me forever out of desperation. You deserve better than that.”

"My choices are my own," she whispers fiercely. "And I choose this. I choose you."

“The bond is permanent.” His voice roughens as I stroke his antennae again. “Irreversible. I won’t take that choice from you, not until you’re absolutely certain. Not until it comes from…” He swallows hard. “From something deeper than fear of losing me.”

The righteous idiot is going to kill us both with his integrity. “Then let me help you another way.”

As I assess the best way to rid him of his jeans, I glance at his face only to see he’s sleeping—or perhaps passed out.

Pressing my palm to his face, I wonder why it took me so long to see how handsome he is. Yes, handsome. I guess his alien features confused my brain—the tiny feathers on his forehead and around his eyes, the furred ruff around his neck and chest, those foreign wings.

But now that they’re no longer frightening, I find them… beautiful. Who wants common when one can have extraordinary? I need to explain this to him, tell him he’s not a monster to me, that he’s the dearest person in the world. But first, I need to rouse him. This isn’t ordinary sleep.