Page 71 of Enticing Monsters

I snort at his phrasing. “What’s more meet-cute than a vicious battle?”

“Not being in a vicious battle, for one,” Kian interjects. He forks his fingers through his tousled gold hair. “But if you think we should trust him, I’ll follow your lead.” His lips curve downwards into a sharp, cutting frown. “But I don’t trust that succubus farther than I can throw her.”

“You could probably throw her pretty far,” Tristan teases. “She’s tiny. You're big.”

Kian rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t trust her.” Darkness briefly flits across his expression, and his gaze cuts to me, hardening. “I don’t like how she attempted to seduce my mate.”

A strange mixture of possessiveness, protectiveness, and jealousy permeates his tone. It sends a shooting thrill through me.

“Your mate was able to fight off her seduction.” I give him a tiny grin. “Pretty badass, right?”

His eyes soften, and he reaches for one of my pink curls and pulls it between his fingers like it’s a piece of silk he yearns to purchase. “How about we just stay clear of evil succubi from now on, okay?”

I know he’s thinking of Ms. Summers and all she put him through.

An irrational burst of anger shoots through me, and I’m pretty sure I would stab Rachelle if she were still here. I shouldn’t judge all succubi based on the actions of one, but it’s hard. Really, really hard, especially when I see the trauma my mates endured painted across every line of their faces.

“Agree.” Tristan’s voice is darker than I’ve ever heard it before.

I have to wonder if seeing Rachelle—a succubus in her element—conjured up any demons for him. He’s been doing so much better the last couple of days. I would hate for him to relapse because of the errant actions of a bitchy woman.

I should’ve stabbed her when I had the chance.

“Are you four coming?” Cadmus leans against the front pillar of the tent with his arms folded over his chest. “I know it’s mighty difficult to understand how entryways work, but usually, you step through them.”

I exchange a glance with first Kian, then Tristan, and finally Foster, resolve reflected on all of our faces.

Whatever it takes.

I pivot on my heel to face Cadmus and offer him a sugary-sweet smile.

“I was just waiting for my formal invitation.” I step forward with my mates directly behind me.

Cadmus watches us with an amused, slightly curious smirk on his face. The tent, like the camp itself, is barren, with only a single cot against the far wall and a large table near the other. On the table rests maps, ledgers, notebooks, and ancient tomes that look seconds from falling apart, the paper brittle and yellow. This isn’t just the tent of some random fae, but that of a warrior. A leader.

I remain standing as I cross my arms over my chest. Flickering candlelight creates eerie, ominous shadows on the billowy tent walls.

“I’m here. Let’s talk,” I say firmly.

Cadmus smiles.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SERAFINA

For a long moment, the two of us just stare at each other, assessing.

His brows slash low over striking yellow eyes. His sharp gaze assesses me from head to toe, likely taking in the mild tremble that's running through my muscles.

I doubt much passes him by. But, like most, he will likely attribute that fine tremble, the clenching and releasing of my muscles, as a sign of nerves, fear, restlessness, or even being out of shape rather than the illness-oriented muscle weakness or micro-seizures they really are.

I can’t help but wonder what Cadmus would look like if he didn’t have scales and slitted eyes. Handsome, I assume. Yet I think I prefer him like this. There’s something…chaotic about his appearance. Dangerous. Beastly. What others may deem as imperfections actually make him more alluring in a strange, unusual way.

He cants his head to the side, and his long, braided hair catches in the light of the flames. They don’t have any electricity that I can see, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. I thought I saw a television mounted to one of the stalls, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? How would a television wind up in Faerie, a world that looks as if it’s plucked out of the fourteen hundreds?

“Are you going to tell me who you are and why you’re here?” His voice is deep. Sibilant. Balancing that edge between a hiss and a growl.

“Serafina.” I turn towards my three mates fanned out behind me. “Kian, Tristan, and Foster.”

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