Page 65 of Enticing Monsters

But no. That would imply fae still live on this planet or that a human ventured here to study these ancient texts.

I drag a finger down the spine of a red book as a lead weight takes up residence in my chest.

I wish my other mates were here. Gage would be sulking in a corner, a perpetual scowl on his face as he pores over each book, his frustration growing at the lack of answers. Xander would be flipping through the pages with an efficiency that leaves me baffled, already knowingexactlywhat to look for. Devyn would patrol the perimeter, searching for threats, while V…

Who the fuck knows what my psychotic prince would do? Probably slap one of the ancient books with his penis and say something like, “This book has been blessed by the prince.”

Fuck, I miss them.

“Um…Sera? Guys?” Tristan’s voice sounds choked, echoing down to me, and I dart from the stacks. He’s apparently found a ladder to the second floor as he stands on a balcony above my head, his back to me. “You should probably see this.”

Foster’s quicker than I am, already halfway up the ladder, but I immediately follow behind him, Kian on my heels. Foster’s breath catches as he reaches the landing, and when I join him, mine does the same.

The painting in front of us is of a woman, her long, deep-pink hair in stunning ringlets. Her eyes are a brilliant, sparkling blue, setting off her fair skin. The portrait looksold. Very old. The corners are yellowed with age and have begun to curl in on themselves.

“Who is that?” I don’t know if I whisper or yell, my sole focus on the woman who could be my sister in the painting.

We aren’t identical, the differences in our faces clear, but there are enough similarities there that I find myself fingering my own pink locks in shock.

Hell, now that I’m looking closer, I doubt we’re even related. Her skin is darker than mine, and her features are rounder. Still, that pink hair…

“No idea,” Foster admits, gently touching the golden frame. “Grab some books,” he orders, reaching for the shelves nearest the painting.

Kian, Tristan, and I do the same before carefully descending the ladder and settling onto the benches beside a few candles.

The tower of books beside us grows as we flip through, but nothing stands out. I’m no closer to saving V than I was before I arrived here.

I grunt as I settle the last onto the stack and then move back towards the ladder.

Boom! The loud noise echoes around the room, and I freeze.

We are not alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SERFINA

“What the hell was that?” Tristan immediately inches closer to me, while Kian rushes towards the window, peering out.

Flames erupt in both of Foster’s palms as he casts quick glances in all directions, searching for the threat. Tension finds home between his brows.

“Someone’s here,” I hiss out, removing one of my blades and holding it at the ready.

I lower into a defensive crouch and prepare myself for an attack.

For a long moment, all I can hear is my own shallow breathing and the unsteady rhythm of my heart. The silence stretches—as taut as a string on a violin—and Foster slowly lowers his hands back to his sides, the flames stuttering out.

He scratches distractedly at the nape of his neck. “I don’t think?—”

The wall behind us explodes in a torrential rainfall of glass and wood.

Tristan lunges at me and Kian and forces us both to the ground, protecting us with his body. Foster releases a grunt of pain from somewhere in the distance.

“What the hell?” Kian wheezes as he attempts to stand, but Tristan remains where he is, protecting the two of us from the worst of the falling debris.

“Are you okay?” I ask desperately, speaking to all three of them at once.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What the hell was that?” Foster asks. His voice sounds pained, but he’s alive.

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