As he snuggled in next to her, he wondered if she was feeling even a fraction of what he was. Monster wasn’t sappy and clingy, quit the opposite most would argue, but with Carys in that moment, he felt like the biggest stage-five clinger on the planet.
Pulling her into the little spoon position, he slid his hand up between her breasts to her throat. He didn’t grip, just rested it there. It was a comfort thing that calmed his soul. He kissed her cheek, and his lips came back wet.
He pulled back as if burned. “Pixie?”
When she didn’t answer, he shifted her body so he could peer down into her eyes.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Do you regret it? The last he couldn’t bear to voice aloud.
She shook her head but didn’t speak.
“I need words, babe. I don’t take hints well, you know that.”
She laughed despite her tears.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” she said between sniffles before her laughter died down completely.
He couldn’t help the smile that crept across his lips.
Brushing her short locks from her face, he asked again, “So, tell me, why the tears?”
She reached up and cupped his cheek.
“I guess it’s a little of everything hitting me all at once. I feel like I boarded an emotional roller coaster, and the attendant clocked out. So, I just keep going up and down, up and down.”
Monster could relate. Boy, could he relate.
TEN
CARYS
“That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Monster was just staring down at her with his intense gaze and letting her ramble. “I just mean, today was a lot.”
“I’m sorry I added to that, Pixie,” Monster apologized, and she hated it. “I should’ve waited to claim you. Given you more time to deal with everything and more time to … decide.” He dragged his index finger along her claiming mark, and a shudder coursed down her body. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you …” Whatever he was going to say was lost as his voice trailed off.
A wave of lust shot through her body at his gentle caress of her claiming mark, but then the meaning of his words sank in.
“No.” She wound her hands up around his neck. “That was the only part of the day that made the rest worth getting through.”
His shy smile bottomed out her stomach. He was all hard edges and sharp angles with everyone else, but lying in bed like they were, Monster was a different person. He was Arden.
“It’s just … I can’t stop thinking about how I should’ve done things differently. Maybe if I had, Kansas would still be alive.”
“No,” Monster cut her off. “His death isn’t your fault.” A look crossed his face, and she realized something.
“If it’s not mine, then it’s not yours either.” His eyebrows rose at her in question. “Don’t look at me like that. I know that look.”
“But I …” He cut himself off and looked at her.
“Let me guess, you’re the one who brought me here in the first place.” He broke eye contact.
“If that’s what you’re thinking, then it is my fault.”
“No, Pixie. That’s not … I mean …”
He ran his hand through his hair and plopped back on the bed with a curse.
“You can’t have it both ways, Monster. If it’s not my fault, then by logic, it can’t be yours either.” She could hear the sadness and defeat in her voice. Maybe she should go. Let him sit with his grief and process it. Hell, she had some processing of her own to do.
