Page 13 of Enticing Monsters

“Is he…?” Xander’s brows furrow.

I shake my head minutely. “Don’t ask. Seriously…just don’t ask.”

CHAPTER FOUR

SERAFINA

The rest of the school day passes in a blur.

I’m practically trembling with restless energy by the time I throw myself into Xander’s car.

But it isn’t my sexy teacher waiting for me in the driver’s seat.

It’s Foster.

The fire elemental has changed out of the borrowed clothes and into his gym clothes—basketball pants and a loose T-shirt, so unlike his normal attire of nerdy shirts and tight jeans. His red hair sticks up in all directions, and it becomes even more disheveled as he runs his fingers through it.

“Where’s Xander?” I query, surprised but not unhappy to see my fire mate.

“He got called into a meeting and asked me to take you back to his apartment. Devyn’s going to pick him up in an hour.” Foster refuses to meet my eyes as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space. “Kian and Gage are taking Gage’s car.”

I have the distinct impression that there’s something else Foster wants to say, something bothering him. And I also have a feeling it has to do with his…ahem…literal explosion in the forest today.

No doubt, he wants to apologize, but he doesn’t need to be sorry. We all have demons that haunt us and pasts we wish to eradicate from history. I once punched a doctor in the face after he claimed my seizures were a product of my overactive imagination and that my pain stemmed from lack of exercise.

Yeah.

We all have tempers.

Foster’s just so happens to be elemental. Literally.

So before Foster can apologize, I say, “Do you know if Devyn has heard anything more about the fae deaths?”

At Tristan’s birthday party, we stumbled upon a mass grave of dead fae, all seeming to have died by a mysterious virus. During the chaos of the last few days, I haven’t been able to be as active in the investigation as I want to. My parents and brothers assured me that they’re working closely with the FIB to handle it, but I can’t help but worry. After all, this is the second crazy murderer who seems to have targeted me because of my powers as a skinwalker.

The question is…why?

My mind drifts back to Xander’s board.

What am I missing?

Foster takes my change of topic with ease.

“Nothing that he hasn’t told you, but to be honest, I haven’t done as much digging as I probably should’ve. I’ve just been worried about?—”

“Kian and Tristan?”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches, drawing attention to the scatter of freckles on his face. “Tristan’s continuing to deteriorate right before my eyes, and Kian… He’s still struggling. I’m not sure if I can help him, Lost. Either of them.”

His voice holds a note of near pleading. When he flicks his gaze in my direction, I see tears hanging suspended in his mossy eyes.

I immediately reach across the center console and take his hand in mine.

“They’re both survivors,” I promise him, feeling the truth of that statement down to the hollow of my bones. “What Ms. Summers did…”

That familiar buzz of anger has me tightening my grip on Foster’s hand, but if I’m hurting him, he doesn’t let it show.

“Do we have any idea who hired Summers to take him in the first place?” Foster asks, his tone deceptively soft.

---