Page 1 of Monster Queen Rising

Chapter one

Jen

I can't stop shaking. Harek's chest is warm against my cheek, but my body hasn't figured out we're safe yet.

Harek has me in his lap. He pulled me there the second Dean put the truck in gear. He didn't ask. One minute I was beside him. The next I was against his chest with his arm around my back. I've been here ever since.

The bench seat is not made for it. He doesn’t care. He is six foot three of muscle wedged sideways against the door so I fit. His thumb is moving slow on my cheekbone. His other hand is flat between my shoulder blades. He runs warm and I love that he chases the cold away.

I press my face harder into his chest. He bends his head. His mouth is against my hair. He breathes against the top of my headand the patch on my sternum burns with the same heat it has carried since the cold-storage room.

An hour ago my body sprouted horns.

Horns. Actual obsidian horns. I've worked animal control for six and a half years. I've been bitten by a feral cat, and a Chihuahua–the littlest ones are always the meanest.

I've never had horns.

Just a few weeks ago I knew exactly what safe looked like. A one-bedroom apartment. A city truck. Eight-hour shifts.

Now I'm in the back of a truck driving away from a burning building with six mates in the convoy, and somewhere ahead of us a woman named Madison Hollens has a child growing inside her.

All I can feel is cold.

Harek's hand on my back presses down.

"Drink," he says. His mouth is still against my hair.

When he speaks the small tusks at the corners of his mouth catch the dashboard light. Ivory. Curved. Smaller than Crull's. I lean into him.

He has a water bottle where I can reach it without sitting up. I drink. The water is cold. My stomach decides it is going to keep it. I drink the whole thing. He takes the empty and tucks it in the door pocket.

"Thanks."

He nods against the top of my head.

In the front, Dean is driving and Thaw is in the passenger seat with the earpiece in. Dean has the lights off and the highway in front of us is empty at this hour. Thaw is listening to the Syndicate band, has been since we hit the on-ramp. He has not said a word.

Fen is still holding my hand.

He hasn't let go since Site Theresa. He hasn't spoken either. He is sitting against the door with his back to the metal and the dark eyes on my face.

Ever since he dropped to his knees on the white tile and I lifted his chin with two still-clawed fingers and told him to stay, the thread has never gone quiet.

"He is loud," Harek says.

"I know. He’s loud inside me too."

I burrow deeper into Harek. His arm tightens.

I close my eyes against his chest.

In the front seat the earpiece against Thaw's ear chatters.

He lifts a hand. Dean's grip on the wheel changes. Harek's thumb stops on my cheek.

Thaw listens.

He does not speak. He does not move. Ten seconds. Twenty. The patterning at the line of his throat is bright.