Page 21 of Enticing Monsters

I shudder at the memory, inhaling deeply to take in the mouth-watering scents around us. Xander chops up a caesar salad, Foster cooks garlic bread in the oven, and Devyn raids the pantry for dessert, despite Xander repeatedly telling his twin that we can’t think about chocolate before we eat dinner.

There’s never a bad time for chocolate. Or cupcakes. Or ice cream.

Maybe trying to eat healthy for so many years in a fruitless attempt to control my symptoms has increased my sweet tooth, but watching the guys' food intake, and my brothers’ as well, I figure this is just normal or at least my version of it.

I just wish Gage were still here.

But I know that he would tell me if something was wrong. I trust him, even if I believe he struggles with trusting himself. For now, I just need to let him know that I’m there for him, even if I can’t be physically with him.

“You know you’re supposed to eat dinner before dessert, right?” I playfully nudge Devyn with my elbow as he begins to slice up what appears to be an apple pie.

“Or…we can break every rule in the book and have dessert then dinner,” Devyn counters, a wicked gleam in his eyes that I’m not used to seeing.

He’s been so serious as of late, but I can’t blame him. The stress of the last few months has taken its toll on him. Dark circles underscore his eyes, and the scruff on his face is beginning to morph into a full-blown beard. Even his hair is a little shaggier than normal, setting him further apart from his twin.

I like seeing him smile, even if it’s just for a second.

“Why do I get the feeling that Xander will spank us both if he catches us eating dessert?” I inconspicuously peer over my shoulder at my more…meticulous, straightlaced mate. He’s the type of man who likes to color in the lines, so to speak, and abide by every rule. Eating dessert before dinner would be blasphemy in his eyes.

I suppose it’s fitting he’s the Seelie representative.

All fae are separated into one of two groups—Seelie or Unseelie—during their Revelation. Seelie fae are notorious for being compassionate, empathetic, studious, and stringent rule followers. Unseelie, on the other hand, are a little more mischievous and wicked, often finding their limits and breaking through them. One subspecies of fae isn’t necessarily better than the other. They’re just…different. Not good or bad.

Which is why Xander is a Seelie fae and Devyn is an Unseelie one. They’re both amazing men, but their personalities are as different as night and day. One loves politics and enjoys being in the limelight; the other prefers investigating from the shadows.

Devyn’s shudder of disgust pulls me back into the conversation. “Please do not mention my brother and spankings in the same sentence, thank you very much.”

“You are very much welcome,” I quip, watching as Devyn methodically finishes cutting the pie into ten tiny pieces.

He then glances behind him, ensuring no one is paying attention, and scoops two slices onto a single plate. When I catch his eye, he winks at me, and the butterflies in my stomach riot, the way they always do around him and the others.

I tentatively take the offered fork, spear a tiny chunk of pie, and bring it to my mouth. Flavors explode instantly—a combination of apple, cinnamon, and something I can’t quite define. Vanilla, perhaps?

I wait to swallow before blurting, “Who made this masterpiece?”

“It’s good?” Devyn arches a brow.

“Amazing.” I turn toward my piece of pie. “I think I’m in love with you, my sweet pie. Yes, I accept your proposal and will marry you. We’ll have gorgeous pie babies and be happy until the end of time.”

Devyn snorts—the sound distinctly un-Devyn-like—and begins to chew his own piece. “You’re a strange girl, Bunny.”

“That may be, but admit it—I keep you entertained.” I scoop up another bite of the pie, moaning slightly to myself as it melts on my tongue.

I suck on the fork, trying to get every scrap of sugary goodness off. The sugar spreads through my system like a drug, igniting my blood and helping to remove a bit of the dizziness that’s been plaguing me.

Devyn’s gaze is hot and glued to my lips when I finally manage to pry my eyes open. He heaves a deep breath as I slip the fork from between my lips, my tongue flicking out to get the crumb I can feel remaining on the edge of my mouth.

The corners of his lips twitch up microscopically. “There certainly hasn’t been a dull day around here since you’ve arrived. And to answer your first question, Tristan made it. Maybe he’s the one you should be proposing to. And if you promise to eat it like that, I’ll get him to make it for you every day.”

Heat engulfs my cheeks.

Nope. Not gonna think about marriage just yet, thank you very much, even if it is figurative.

But damn. I’m sorely tempted to marry Tristan if it means eating this pie every day.

A companionable silence settles between us as we both devour the rest of our slices. Once only crumbs remain, Devyn washes the plate in the sink to hide the evidence of our activity.

I prop my hip against the counter and watch him work, admiring the way his leather jacket clings to his muscular physique and bunches whenever he moves. I find myself biting my lip as I envision peeling the jacket off of him, then removing that skin-tight white shirt, then running the pads of my fingers over his abs…

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