Chapter 6
Cameron
Tiny explosions crackle under the skin of my arm as I stare at the man across the table from me.
Wait, wait… no.
Correction—the monster across from me. The more I think of him as a man, the quicker I humanize him in my mind, and that’s the worst possible thing I could do.
He isn’t human… not even close.
He’s a predator, through and through, and right now, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I’m his prey.
No one has said a word since he dragged me into this room and shoved me into a chair. An unreadable blankness makes his face appear plastic, a mask of self-control, but his heavy, runaway breathing tells me it’s a front. He’s far from calm. And sure, maybe I was a little sarcastic, but honestly, I deserve a break. Double kidnappings are a great way to put me in a bad mood, as it turns out.
That’s something we have in common.
I’m angry.
He’s angry, although I have no idea why .
And the blue one in the corner keeps glancing between us with a goofy grin on his face, which contradicts everything I’ve ever known about monsters and confuses me more.
The silence gets too heavy, and my patience reaches its limit. “Why am I here?” I finally ask, and the monster tilts his head, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his arms. His right hand fidgets against his armor in a manner that shows his nerves, and in the dim space, it’s hard to tell he isn’t human.
The light was brighter in the hallway, and I could see his skin is a muted purple tone. Here in the shadows, it almost turns brown, and thick, raven hair hangs past his shoulders. His eyes appear black in the dark room and are strangely expressive, seeming too big for his face. Gray circles, smudged like watercolor washes, ring the bottoms. What should make him appear exhausted somehow only makes him look broody , and not in a bad way. Despite his constant scowl and imposing build, those eyes are almost innocent.
I don’t trust it for a fucking second.
It’s a ruse, I’m sure—another trick to lure his prey before he slices their head clean off their body. Leather creaks as he leans forward with a gaze that’s razor-sharp and just as assessing as mine. The urge to make a face at him is strong, but I resist, if barely.
I prefer to keep my head firmly on my shoulders today, thanks.
His continued silence makes me heave a sigh, slumping into the chair. “Listen, buddy, I’m exhausted. I don’t know how your past few days have been, but mine haven’t been great. Two blows to the head, double kidnappings, and now I have to sit here and stare at your ugly mug while you refuse to talk to me.” His lip tears up in a snarl, but apparently my self-preservation isn’t as strong as I thought it was, because I’m not done. “If you’re too stupid to string two words together, perhaps I should chat with Blue over there in the corner to get some answers.”
His hand slams onto the table so hard it makes me jump straight out of my chair, and I attempt to hide it by crossing my ankle over my knee. Truth be told, I probably just look fidgety as I try my best to be cool and collected.
“You will talk to me .” His voice somehow comes out in a chesty growl, every single syllable annunciated with purpose. I glance towards Blue to find him still grinning. He’s the friendlier of the two by far, and something tells me he’d make the more entertaining conversationalist. “ Only me. Do not look at him!”
My eyes slam back into his, taking in the anger that dances inside them. He wants me to talk to him, then?
Alright, I’ll talk. My mouth always has been my greatest weapon. “Fine.”
“Fine?” he repeats, his brows lifting.
“I thought parrots were more colorful,” I muse, and his nostrils flare as I try to hide my smirk. “I don’t know how things worked on the other side, but typically, when two people have a conversation, it involves more than repeating what I say and working on your smolder… although you get an A plus for effort, emo boy.” A choked laugh comes from the corner, but I don’t divert my eyes. “The only thing you’re accomplishing right now is getting on my nerves. ”
The press of his lip between his teeth is an almost imperceptible sign of his annoyance, and it gives me infinite pleasure. “You said you are not with the rebels?”
“Finally! Someone gets it! Give this man a prize!” The otherwise silent room echoes with the thud of my palms as I slow clap for some added pizzazz.
Other than the flex of his narrowed eyes, he ignores me. “Surely, you can understand how we’ve come to that conclusion, seeing as you were in their camp.”
“Yep,” I say, popping the P at the end of the word. My mom always told me it drove people crazy, and sure enough, his right eye twitches. Something about getting under his skin gives me immense satisfaction.
“Explain.”
Absentmindedly, I rub the tender, swollen skin of my forehead wound, taking a deep breath. “You’re actually going to listen?”
His gaze moves up to the bandage on my head, and a range of emotions crosses his face, starting with pity and ending somewhere in the realm of anger. The full weight of his attention is a physical drag over my skin, an awareness I can’t shake. “I’m listening.”
“What’s your name?” His head tilts the other direction, a tiny crease forming between his eyes. “It’s a simple question,” I say, not bothering to cover my condescension, and a vein bulges on his forehead as a muscle in his jaw flexes. “But if it’s beyond your ability to answer, I struggle to see the point of sharing my story.”
His eyes close and his chest rises on a slow, deep inhale, and a smug smile remains on my face as he pushes the air from his nose and opens his eyes again. Not a single ounce of his irritation is gone, but it was a solid effort, and I flash him a quick thumbs up to show I approve.
From the corner, Blue’s snort of laughter is covered by a cough that isn’t fooling anyone. Across from me, the monster leans forward, drumming his fingers on the table as he attempts to force calm into his voice. Instead, he sounds like a pressure cooker about to combust, each word strained. “My name is Ronan.”
“Cameron,” I offer, and he quirks a brow at me. “My name. I figure it’s only polite since I asked for yours.” A quiet, nervous laugh blows from my nose as his head tilts again, and I realize where I’ve seen the motion before. Wildcats move in the same predatorial way, right before they ambush their prey.
“Oh, we’re being polite now, are we… Cameron the non-rebel? Alright, then, Cameron…” An involuntary thrill travels up my spine at the low drawl of my name rolling from his lips, goosebumps rising on my arms as I shiver. Dark eyes drift from my face to my neck, then lower, stopping on my upper arm before traveling back up. “Tell me your story.”
So, I do.
My childhood and the village I lived in are summarized in a few brief sentences before I move on to the more recent part of the story. I explain my adult life has been nomadic, rarely staying in one place for longer than a few days at a time—weeks, if I find a safe spot.
“Wait,” Ronan interjects, drumming his fingers again. “If the community you were raised in was so great, why did you leave?”
My eyes drop to the table, fixating on the rhythm of those fingertips as they tap against the wood. “I’d rather not discuss that right now,” I say, voice soft, before glancing up at him. He furrows those dark brows but seems to pick up on my distress, and gestures for me to continue. Fast forwarding to current events, I replay my attempt to slip past the rebel camp when I was captured. I tell him about the room I was locked in, and how I was trying to convince the colony’s leader to release me when his people attacked.
“The raid gave me a window to sneak out, and I almost made it when I got bashed in the head a second time.” Ronan stares at me, unseeing, and I frown as that vein pops again.
“The rebel man who hit you in the forehead…”
Heat creeps into my cheeks as I clear my throat. “It was a, uh, woman,” I mutter, not mentioning the fact that she was very petite, much smaller than me. “A giant warrior woman, actually… so, so big. And in my defense, there was a gun pointed at my face, so I was a little distracted.”
Muscles in his jaw tense, and his breathing speeds up, huffs of irritation pushing from his nostrils. “Give me their names.”
I shake my head, confused at the shift in his demeanor. “Wha—”
“Their names !” he bellows, slamming his palm onto the table as my eyes get wide. “They think it’s okay to attack an unarmed man and pull a gun on him? I’ll show them how it feels to get smashed in the face with a bat. I’ll—”
“Whoa, hey… easy, big guy,” I soothe, and I have no idea what’s come over me as I reach out and cover his hand with mine. A burst of pure thrilling energy arcs between us at the contact, and I gasp as I rip my hand away. Those crackles under my skin explode into a full-blown electrical storm, lightning charging down my forearm to the ti ps of my fingers. I fixate on the table, his gaze a palpable weight as it bores into me.
“It’s fine,” I finally mutter, trying to fill the ear-splitting silence.
“It is not fine . They took you against your will and held you captive.” My indignation shoves the confusion aside, and my eyebrows lift as I stare at him again, waiting for the irony of his words to sink in. For a few seconds, he’s confused, but I catch the exact moment realization dawns on him. “No,” he scoffs with a dismissive shake of his head. “This is different.”
“Different how?”
“What do you mean, how ?”
“Both of you bashed me in the head so you could take me, both of you threw me in a cell… hell, at least they gave me a bed! How are you any better than them?”
The cadence of Ronan’s fingers speeds up as they drum faster on the table, growing more and more agitated. “Those people that you’re with inside that cell? A few weeks ago, they attacked a supply convoy headed to our base. The drivers of those vehicles were civilian contractors who’ve probably never hurt another person in their lives. They were men and women with families, children and lovers that now have to live without a parent or partner, and why? Because those rebels decided the supplies were worth more than the lives of the people transporting them.”
He leans forward, and the intensity of his stare makes the hairs on the back of my neck raise. “But they didn’t stop there, Cameron. It wasn’t enough to steal the supplies and slaughter the drivers. They strapped their mutilated bodies on top of those vans and drove them to our doorstep… left them in the open, where the vultures could peck at their decaying corpses.”
His gaze is heavy, and even though it takes every ounce of my self-control, I don’t avert my eyes. “They call us the monsters, but look at what they do.”
“You took over our entire world,” I say, enunciating each syllable with a slow, deliberate precision. “Apologies for my sympathy meter running a little low.”
“You agree with what they did?”
“Of course not,” I argue, “but that doesn’t make you innocent, and it certainly doesn’t put me on your side.”
“So, you side with them?” he snarls.
“I side with me … and for the last time, I’m not with them.” He stares at me for a long time, searching with those intelligent eyes that slice right through me. Up close, I realize they aren’t black, but a rich brown, swirling with deep emotion that contradicts his tough-guy exterior.
The spell is broken when his gaze suddenly drops lower. “What do you know about that mark on your arm?”
“What?” I jerk back, covering my biceps with my palm. Smooth move, Cameron.
“We’ve already determined you aren’t dumb, so don’t play that card.”
Unsure if that was a compliment or insult, I narrow my eyes at him. My cheeks push out as I heave a loud sigh, deciding there’s no point in lying. “It came up after I arrived here. I’ve kept it covered.”
“And you don’t know what it is?” I shake my head, and my gnawing worry about the strange light on my arm must show on my face, because his eyes soften. “Were you ever taught the tale of the mate’s mark? ”
“The do- what -now?” I ask in a rushed breath, and Blue chuckles from the corner. I glance over at him, having almost forgotten he was in the room.
Ronan’s patience is more collected now, and he turns to the other monster. “Elas, could you get a bottle of water for Cameron? Maybe some bread?” The blue man—Elas, apparently—stands and gives him a lazy salute before walking out the door.
“Why doesn’t that bode well?” I try to hide my rising panic in a joke, but my attempt fails spectacularly and my voice turns breathy. There’s no way I’m fooling him, so I drop the pretense. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“No,” he answers slowly, his eyes darting to the table as he starts tapping those fingers again. “Nothing is wrong with you, but you might not like what I’m about to tell you.”
Drum, drum, drum.
My head pounds in time with his fingers, and my temper reaches its limit. “Would you stop that?!” I snap, smacking his hand flat on the table, and my arm burns with another wild flare the second I touch him. He flips his hand and catches mine as I try to pull away, holding me in place as his eyes lock on mine again.
A low ache forms in my stomach as my heart races, and I’m so wrapped up in the sensations that I don’t even hear the footsteps approaching. The door swings open and Elas stands there, a few bottles of water and a small loaf of bread on a tray. His brows arch high as he notices our hands, and Ronan releases me as though my palm is on fire.
The two of them meet eyes, Elas with a very pointed look on his face as Ronan clears his throat and leans back in his chair. Elas places the tray on the table and takes a bottle for himself, returning to his spot in the corner. Ronan follows suit and cracks one open, taking a long sip before he speaks.
“When the veil between our worlds first came down, it was… bloody.”
“Oh, this story I know!” Steam rises from the bread as I tear off a piece, my eyes rolling back into my head as I take a bite. Carbs have always been my weakness, and I’m not dumb enough to waste fresh food when it’s in front of me. A thought hits me, and I freeze, glancing at Ronan. “This isn’t poisoned, right?”
He huffs a breath, but the sound is amused this time. “Do you think I’d tell you if it was?”
“Hmm, good point.” I take another bite with a shrug. It might not be a cyanide steak, but it’s worth the risk. “So, back to the whole monster apocalypse… everyone knows this story. The barrier between the worlds disappeared, the monsters came through and massacred half of humanity, then took over every major city until they ruled the planet.”
He shifts uncomfortably before nodding. “While I was planning on phrasing it a touch more tactfully than that…”
“Sugarcoat the lie, you mean.” I flash him a snarky smile as I take another bite of bread, and his glare returns in a heartbeat.
“It’s more complicated than that, but yes, that’s the basic summary of it. There’s a second part to the story that most humans have never heard, though. Why the veil closed again.” Despite myself, I lean forward, curious. “The Fates were furious with the way our kind handled the merging of the worlds… ”
“The merging of the worlds, classic,” I snort. “Someone give this guy a job in PR.”
He glares harder, but continues without comment. “The gateways were sealed permanently, and our world on the other side was destroyed.”
I’m shocked into stunned silence, my jaw slack as I find myself momentarily speechless. Despite the monsters’ devastation to our realm, I can’t imagine the crushing weight of that loss.
But the loss of everything you’ve ever known? That I can relate to.
That much I understand perfectly.
Ronan tries to maintain a stoic expression, but he betrays himself with the heavy grief in his eyes.
“I didn’t know that.” My tone is gentle as I fight the urge to reach over and touch him again. “So, your home is…”
“Gone,” he confirms quietly, and the sorrow in his voice causes the tug of sympathy to tighten in my chest. After a moment, his eyes refocus and he clears his throat, mask sliding back into place. “But that wasn’t enough to please the Fates, and a prophecy was foretold to fix what had been broken.”
“A prophecy… like a spell? Magic?”
He tilts his head back and forth as he considers that and finally nods. “That would be the best way to explain it in human terms, yes. This prophecy stated that every being from our side was to be matched with a mortal.”
“When you say matched…” I trail off, letting my silence ask the question.
“A fated mate… one destined to be the other half of their soul. Their connection is said to be so profound th at nothing could come between them once they found each other—not distance or time, not even fate itself. It was meant to unite the sides, begin to heal the void between our kinds.”
“A soulmate?” I ask, full of skepticism, and he thinks for a moment before shaking his head.
“Beyond that. Fated mates are not compatible souls, but two halves of the same soul. It would be like a missing piece of yourself was finally found… a sense of total completeness. Love and devotion greater than any human has ever experienced.”
My palm lands over my chest and rubs, a small frown forming on my mouth. “Wouldn’t you know if part of your soul was missing?”
Ronan stares at my hand for a moment before meeting my eyes once more. “Do you ever miss what you’ve never had?”
I dip my head in a slow nod as I consider that. “Alright, I’ll bite. How’s that been helping the relationships between your kind and mine?”
One of Ronan’s shoulders lifts in a slight shrug and he starts to drum his fingers again. When he realizes what he’s doing, his hand settles flat against the table, twitching in a way that almost makes me crack a smile. “There’s never been a reported case of fated mates finding each other.”
“Well, that’s ineffective,” I mutter, but he shakes his head and meets my eyes.
“Until now.” I raise my brow at him again, and he gestures at my arm. “That mark you’re hiding under your jacket? It tingles under the skin, doesn’t it? Gets warm sometimes and you can’t figure out why? It’s probably more active right now than it has ever been.” My heart speeds up in my chest at the truth in his words, and as much as I want to deny them, I can’t. “There’s a tug in your gut trying to lead you somewhere, but you don’t understand where it wants you to go.”
“How do you—”
“Where does it pull you now?” I stare at him for a long time, desperate to ignore that magnetism that wants me to close the distance between us. “Where is it leading you, Cameron?”
“Forward,” I finally answer, and he becomes completely still as he watches me slide my denim jacket off, his gaze glued to the swirling light under my skin. “Why is it pulling me forward, Ronan? Why does it want me near you?”
His eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his face visibly tightening as though he’s fighting some grand internal battle. When he opens them again, he tugs at the worn leather of his glove. “Because,” he finally says, and another light adds to the glow in the room as his palm is revealed. “I have one, too.”