Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

His eyes shone too brightly now, brimming with tears of his own. Still he grinned. “You’ve been to a pub?” When I nodded, smiling so hard it hurt, my chest aching and aching and aching, he shook his head in horror. “But you’re a woman.”

“There’s a whole world outside this church, you know. I could show you, if you wanted.”

His grin faded slowly, and he touched my cheek, bending to brush a kiss across my forehead. “Thank you, Lou. For everything.”

I clutched his wrist desperately as the last of the house darkened, as the tug in my stomach deepened to a burn. The pressure at my shoulders increased, and my ears popped. Shouts penetrated the thick haze of my consciousness, echoing all around as if from underwater. “Where will you go?”

He glanced back to where Coco had sat at our table, shuffling cards and laughing. The wistfulness in his expression returned. “I have one more goodbye to make.”

The burn in my chest became near unbearable. Icy needles pierced my skin. “I love you, Ansel.”

My vision clouded as the waves truly descended, shocking and brutal. Though they pulled me away from him, I’d remember his smile until the day I died. Until the day I saw it again. His fingers slipped from mine, and he drifted backward, a beacon of light in the darkness. “I love you too.”

With a powerful kick of my legs, I surged upward.

Toward fear.

Toward pain.

Toward life.





Another Pattern


Reid

We broke the surface together. Water sluiced from her face, golden and freckled, and her hair, long and brown. She clutched my shirt as she gasped, spluttered, before tipping her face to the sky and grinning. Those clear blue-green eyes met mine, and she finally spoke. “Do you have something in your pocket, Chass, or are you just happy to see me?”

I couldn’t help it. I threw back my own head and laughed.

When I’d found her drifting beneath the surface—her body limp and cold, her white hair floating eerily around her—I’d feared the worst. I’d seized her. Shaken her. Kicked to the surface and shouted her name. Nothing had worked. In a fit of rage, I’d even dived back down to find the white dog, but it’d vanished.

As we’d risen the second time, however, something had changed: her legs had started to move. Slowly at first, then swifter. Stronger. They’d worked in synchrony with mine, and I’d watched, amazed, as her hair had grown longer with each kick, as the color had returned to each strand. To her skin.

She’d healed before my very eyes.

Crushing her to me now, I spun us in the water. It didn’t ripple with the movement. I didn’t care.

“Lou.” I said her name desperately, pushing the long locks from her face. “Lou.” I kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. I kissed every inch of her I could reach. Still laughing. Hardly able to breathe. She laughed with me, and the sound sparked in my bones. Light. Bright. If I stopped swimming now, I would’ve floated. I would’ve flown. I kissed her again. I’d never stop kissing her. “Lou, are you—?”

“I’m all right. I’m me.” Her arms wove around my neck, and she tugged me closer. I buried my nose in the crook of her shoulder. “I feel—I feel better than I have in ages, honestly. Like I could fly or wield an axe or—or erect a statue in my honor.” She wrenched my head up to kiss me once more. When we broke apart, gasping for breath, she added, “It’d be made of sticky buns, of course, because I’m starving.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling. My head pounded in rhythm with my heart. I never wanted it to stop. “I have one in my—”

Coco’s shout at the shore caught us both unaware, and we turned as the world rushed back into focus. She’d sunk to her knees, staring into the waters like she’d seen a ghost. “Ansel,” Lou whispered, loosening her grip to better tread water.

I frowned. “What?”

“He wanted to say goodbye.” Smiling softer now, she kissed me again. “I love you, Reid. I don’t say it often enough.”

I blinked at her. Warmth cracked open in my chest at her words, spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. “I love you too, Lou. I’ve always loved you.”

She scoffed playfully. “No, you haven’t.”

“I have.”

“You didn’t love me when I plowed into you at Pan’s—”

“I absolutely did,” I protested, brows shooting upward. “I loved your god-awful suit and your ugly mustache and—”

“Excuse you.” She leaned back in mock outrage. “My mustache was magnificent.”

“I agree. You should wear it more often.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

I leaned closer, brushing my nose against hers. Whispering against her lips. “Why not?”

Her eyes gleamed wickedly in response, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, nearly drowning us both. I couldn’t bring myself to care. “You’ve corrupted me terribly, Chass.” With one last maddening kiss—slow and deep—she disentangled herself and flicked my nose. “I’ll wear my mustache for you later. For now, we should—”

Then Coco screamed again.

I knew immediately this scream wasn’t like the last—knew it before a man’s body thudded to the beach, knew it before Lou released me abruptly. I reached for her again, drawing her into a protective embrace.