Chapter 136 Tender Monsters

Chapter 136 Tender Monsters
[Cedric]

After her hunger was sated, Lana sat across from me, her posture relaxed but her eyes alert—like a predator at rest. The devastation she'd caused seemed to have left no mark on her conscience.

"Why?" I finally asked, breaking the silence between us. "Why destroy an entire city block? Why hurt innocent people?"

Her eyes met mine, cold and distant. "I was born to destroy," she said flatly. "Destruction is my nature. It's what I am."

Something flickered through our bond—a dissonance, like a false note in music. I leaned forward, studying her face.

"You're lying," I said quietly. "I can feel it through our bond."

A flash of surprise crossed her features before she masked it. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know when you're not telling the truth," I insisted. "The bond between us—it doesn't just connect our bodies. It connects everything. I feel what you feel."

She turned away, staring out the window at the distant glow of fires still burning downtown. "What I feel shouldn't matter to you."

"But it does." I moved closer, not touching her but close enough that she couldn't ignore my presence. "What happened to you, Lana? What made you into this?"

Her jaw tightened. "Nothing 'made me' into anything. This is who I am. Who I've always been."

Another ripple through the bond—stronger this time. Her words said one thing, but her emotions told a different story. Pain. Grief. Rage that masked something deeper, more vulnerable.

"No," I said firmly. "Something happened. Something turned that rage loose. Tell me."

She whirled on me, eyes flashing dangerously. "Why? So you can fix me? Save me from myself?" Her laugh was cold and hollow. "I've lived centuries longer than you, little wolf. I don't need saving."

"Maybe not," I acknowledged. "But maybe you need someone who sees the truth. Someone who won't run from the darkness in you."

Something shifted in her expression—the barest crack in her perfect mask. For a moment, I glimpsed the weight she carried, the centuries of isolation.

"You think you can handle the truth?" she asked, her voice low. "You barely know what I am."

"I know enough," I replied. "I know you're my mate. I know there's more to you than destruction."

She studied me for a long moment, then her eyes dropped to my shoulder, visible through my torn shirt. "What about you? Those burn scars on your back—where did they come from?"

I stiffened, caught off guard by her question. The memory of flames, of screams, flashed through my mind.

"Not all stories are meant to be shared," I said quietly.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but there was no warmth in it. "And now you understand. We all have our demons, Cedric. Mine just happen to be more... destructive than most."

[Lana]

After the shower, I felt exhaustion creeping in. I moved toward the bed, ready to collapse despite my damp hair still clinging to my neck and shoulders.

"You'll get sick if you sleep with wet hair," Cedric said, his voice gentle.

I almost laughed. "I'm a two-hundred-year-old tribrid. I don't get sick from wet hair."

He stood anyway, disappearing into the bathroom. I heard him rummaging around before he returned with a hairdryer in hand. "Humor me," he said, plugging it in beside the bed.

I rolled my eyes but didn't stop him as he sat behind me and began carefully drying my dark strands. His fingers moved through my hair with unexpected tenderness, separating sections and working methodically. No one had dried my hair in so long—such simple intimacy felt more invasive than our earlier closeness.

"You don't need to do this," I said stiffly.

"I know." His voice was soft behind me, breath warm against my neck. "I want to."

I remained silent, allowing this small act of care despite my better judgment. When he finished, I felt oddly vulnerable, as if he'd performed some ritual that reached deeper than I'd permitted.

I stood abruptly, needing space, and walked to the balcony. The night air was heavy with smoke and destruction. I stood at the railing, gazing down at the city I'd torn apart with my own hands. Black smoke still snaked through the streets, crawling between broken buildings that stood like tombstones of a once-living metropolis. Night had fallen, but parts of the city continued to burn, flames flickering in the distance like dying stars.

"I'm leaving," I announced, my voice devoid of emotion. "Continuing my journey, continuing to ruin everything in my path."

I heard movement behind me, knowing Cedric was watching my silhouette against the night sky. He'd been quiet, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back.

"I'm coming with you," he said, his voice steady and calm, without a hint of hesitation.

I turned, annoyance flashing in my eyes. Why was this man so stubborn? But when I truly looked at him standing in the doorway—chestnut curls still damp from his shower, deep eyes nearly black in their intensity fixed on me, broad shoulders and solid muscle making him look both powerful and oddly reminiscent of an oversized teddy bear—something warm seeped into my guarded heart, unwelcome and unsettling.

"Whatever," I responded coolly, though the mate bond betrayed the ripple of emotion beneath my indifference.

Our eyes met in the darkness, and something unspoken charged the air between us. I walked toward him, my fingers lightly tracing his cheek, feeling the heat beneath his skin.

He pulled me closer, and I didn't resist. His lips brushed mine, gentle and questioning at first, so unlike the roughness I'd imagined from him.

The first touch of his mouth against mine sent unexpected heat through my body. I'd expected to be in control, to orchestrate this encounter as I had countless others over the years. Instead, I found myself responding to his initial gentleness with surprising hunger.

I grew impatient with his careful touch, letting out a frustrated moan against his lips. I pulled back slightly, my eyes meeting his, a playful pout on my lips.

"Don't be so soft with me," I teased, my voice light but edged with need, sounding younger, almost girlish, despite myself. "I’m not some fragile little thing. I wanna feel more." I giggled softly, dragging my nails down his chest, just hard enough to leave faint marks. "Come on, don’t make me beg for it."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, then a slow smile spread across his face, understanding my little game. "Alright, sweetheart," he murmured, his tone indulgent, matching my playful vibe. "Let’s see how much you can take."