Page 67 of Enticing Monsters

“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, applying just enough pressure for blood to well, a startling shade of red against…blue skin.

Wait a minute.

I gape at the woman in disbelief.

She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen before. Her luminescent skin seems to shimmer in the waning sunlight, the light blue interspersed here and there with dark gills. Yes,gills. Actual fucking gills, like you would see on a fish or the Little Mermaid. When she snarls at me, the fins on both of her cheeks move and dilate.

“Get off of me.” She bucks her hips, attempting to force me off of her, but I simply apply a little more pressure to the knife against her throat.

She freezes instantly.

“Not without answers.”

“I believe it’syouwho should be givingusanswers,” a deep, angry voice says from directly behind me.

Oh…fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Not taking my knife off of the strange woman’s throat, I glance over my shoulder and feel all of the blood drain from my face.

Kian, Tristan, and Foster are on their knees, with a horde of over a dozen fae surrounding them. Each of my mates has a sword pointed at his throat.

Fuckity fuck.

I swallow as I debate my next option.

Can I take on twelve-plus men and women?

I scan the crowd, and my unease only grows, corroding away my stomach lining like acid.

It’s hard to see all of the attackers in the fading light, but the ones Icansee make me cold to the core. They’re large—larger than an average fae—and wear clothes that seem to have been made out of animal furs and bones. They’re rugged, barbaric, almost savage in appearance, and a pang of fear cascades through me.

One of them—the largest of the bunch—has a face that resembles that of a bear, with tiny ears protruding from the top of his head and fur growing on his face and arms. Another has spiderwebs between all of her fingers and a nest of insects in her pitch-black hair. A third blinks at me—with all three of his eyes.

What the hell is happening?

Who are these people?

Why do they look like this?

The man who spoke steps forward, his gait confident, a predator sure he can make the kill if necessary. A scowl manifests on a face that most would find attractive, at least until you get a closer look.

Scales cover both of his cheeks and forehead, the green blending in seamlessly with his tawny-brown complexion. His dark hair is long, coming to nearly his shoulders, and is pulled away from his face in a collection of elaborate braids. Yellow, slitted eyes peer back at me on a face that is just a little too small to be proportionate.

Snake eyes.

He hisses, showing me a glimpse of a long, forked tongue, and a cold chill skates down my spine.

“Tell me, little fighter.” He lowers himself to a crouch in front of me and places one finger beneath my chin, forcing my head up.

His skin is icy to the touch. Goose bumps explode on both of my arms as if I stepped outside in a snowstorm without a winter coat.

“What are you doing atmylibrary?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SERAFINA

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