I recorded for the longest I could, making sure I got the best video. Who knows when I would get an opportunity like this, during the day, no doubt and while I was awake.
I had never slept so much in my life as I had that past week, especially with all the biting and claiming going on. After I bit Atlas, it felt like something inside me had shifted, like my body had officially accepted him as mine, even though he had been the one to bite me first.
Elowyn came by and told me that, based on their limited knowledge of monsters finding their matches, it had something to do with our life spans aligning more closely. Monsters didn’t age the same way humans did, and vice versa, and there was no real way of knowing how long either of us would live. If we were going by the only example in town, the wolf shifter and their mate, who had been together the longest, they had been bonded for over fifty years, with no one aging yet.
“It was too soon to tell what would happen with a moth matching,” she had said.
Not that I had any problem with that. I had never been one to worry too much about the future. I mean, look at my current job in gaming.
But if I were going to keep doing gaming and we were going to live longer, I probably should have thought about saving for retirement. Or maybe I would never retire.
I made a face and stopped recording. Atlas could always chop down trees and make furniture. Wood furniture never went out of style. And if we had to, we could make videos of him in his magical human form, chopping down trees without a shirt on.
I felt a warm trickle of drool slide down my chin. He would be magnificent—all rippling muscles and honey-gold skin, glistening under the summer sun, each bead of sweat catching the light like tiny prisms. I could picture him answering questions with that crooked half-smile, running his fingers through his tousled hair while the comment section exploded with heart emojis. Then, when the cameras stopped rolling, those same powerful hands would find their way to my waist, and he'd whisper "your turn" against my neck, before carrying me to bed, where we'd tangle together until dawn painted the windows pink.
Is this my life?
This is my real life!
I can have his human version and moth version.
I hummed and ran my fingers through the tuft on his head.
While Atlas still had his clumsy moments, he had really grown more confident. I didn’t know if it was because he knew I would never leave or if he had truly found himself on his own.
I felt like it was probably both.
Atlas rubbed his head against my stomach, his hands wrapping tighter around my body like I might slip away. “Kassie?” his gravelly voice murmured as he began to wake. “What time is it?”
I lifted my phone from the ground where I had placed it and checked the time. “A little after lunch. You didn’t even eat any of the food I brought.”
Atlas hummed and rubbed his face into my stomach. “I ate a meal,” he hummed. “I ate the best-tasting flower ever imaginable.”
I gasped. “Please don’t say that.”
“What? That I drank nectar from your petals.”
I groaned and tried to wiggle away. “That is the cringiest thing you can call my junk, don’t call it that.”
“And what? You had a great summer sausage as well today. We both got in our favorite foods.”
I have created a monster. I sex monster, a terrible, horrible-mouthy, cringy monster.
“Do not refer to my lady parts as flower materials, but just know I can talk about your dick as a sausage,” I warned him.
Atlas lifted his head and tilted it from side to side. “But why? Why can I not give pretty names to such a delicate, delectable part of your body?”
I made a face of disgust. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I’ve never heard guys call it that.”
Atlas huffed and crawled over me, causing me to fall back onto the bed. “I should call it whatever I see fit. Not anything vulgar, but something worthy of worship.”
My lips parted in shock.
His voice dropped to a reverent whisper that sent electricity racing down my spine. "Because when I touch you, when I taste you," his claws trembled against my skin, "it's like worshipping at an altar built only for me. Like I've been wandering lost in darkness my whole life until I found the sacred temple of your body, and now I'll spend eternity on my knees before it, grateful for every moment you let me inside. If you'd prefer, I find another way to speak of your most intimate places; I will.But understand this…" his voice softened as his gaze held mine, unwavering, "every inch of you is sacred to me."
“Atlas,” I whispered to him. “That was beautiful, I…”
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to mine. “You do not need to say anything. I know you might find my words uncomfortable, but I have wanted to speak my mind, and Lucien has helped me with these romance books you often read.”
