Page 12 of Enticing Monsters

Perhaps Tristan isn’t the only mate I need to check up on.

“Tristan didn’t eat today,” Xander rasps. “I was hoping?—”

I’m already standing before he can even finish speaking.

“I’ll head to your place right now.” It’s something I’ve been finding myself doing every day after school—heading to Xander’s apartment and coaxing Tristan to eat, sleep, and wash. Tristan will probably say he’s fine…but I’ll see the truth in his eyes. “Is he still not sleeping?”

Xander nods tiredly. “Every damn night. Most of the time, he’ll wake up screaming your name, though sometimes he’ll cry out for Kian.”

That fissure in my heart widens at the news. I know Tristan blames himself for what happened to Kian in the past, but I thought the two of them were working through it. I think seeing what Kian had to deal with firsthand has fractured something in Tristan’s mind.

God, what more can I do to help him?

I once suggested calling the local wolf pack and having them visit Tristan. Wolf shifters thrive when they’re around pack members, and I hoped that being around other wolves would help pull Tristan out of his funk.

However, when I suggested this, Tristan just waved away my words and then proceeded to rewash all of the dishes until his fingers were shriveled prunes. I knew then that being around virtual strangers was not what Tristan needed.

They’re not his pack.

We are.

I don’t know if we need to perform a wolfy ceremony or something to make it official, but we’re his family. He knows, and we know it.

So day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, I’ve been coaxing Tristan to take care of himself. I’m not sure if he’ll ever return to the jovial, exuberant boy from before, but I’m praying he’ll begin to heal.

“Ms. Jenkins…” Xander’s tone turns reprimanding. “You have a quiz this afternoon.”

“Tristan’s more important,” I say firmly.

“You only have a couple more classes,” Xander reminds me, his eyes softening. “But I promise after school ends, I’ll drive you to my apartment. Kian, Gage, Foster, and Devyn are coming too.”

I’m not surprised. The four of them show up every day and attempt to coax Tristan to hang out with them. One time, Foster even offered to cook for Tristan, and I swear my wolf shifter just about took his head off. Tristanneedsto take care of us, even when it risks his own health and safety.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “I hate this,” I whisper hoarsely. “I fucking hate this. I wish I could revive Ms. Summers just so I can kill her all over again. But I’ll make her suffer before I allow her to pass into the afterlife this time around.” I angrily scrub at my cheeks, my fingernails embedding into the skin there. “It’s because of me he was tortured to begin with. This fucker—whoever he or she is—is obsessed with me. If I hadn’t come into your life?—”

A shadow presses to my mouth, cutting me off in mid-rant.

“If you hadn’t come into our lives, Kian and Tristan would still hate each other,” Xander says firmly, his eyes fierce, his expression grim. “Foster would’ve lost himself to his rage by now and probably ended up in trouble with the FIB. Gage would’ve isolated himself from everyone—including his best friends—because of what he is. Devyn would’ve become so consumed by his job that he forgot about everything and everyone, including me and Tristan. And me? I would’ve been a soulless politician with questionable morals.”

A timid smile touches the corners of my lips. “You can’t know that. You haven’t even known me that long.”

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve changed all of our lives for the better,” Xander says decisively.

His eyes ensnare my own, stapling my feet to the ground, rooting me in place, siphoning the breath from my lungs. There’s a promise in his gaze—a warning for me to heed. He won’t allow me to talk badly about myself, not on his watch.

Warmth suffuses me, flooding my veins like magma.

I can’t help but think he’s wrong, but…it feels good to be wanted. Cherished.

Loved.

“What about V?” I jest softly. “You never said what he would be like if I weren’t here.”

Xander smirks. “He would probably be the exact same—a damn psychopath who likes killing a little too much to be healthy.”

From the air vent above, an echoing voice calls down, “I heard that!”

Both Xander and I whip our heads up.

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