Page 39 of Enticing Monsters

His need to feed and care for his pack mates wars with his desire to please me. The latter wins out, and he quickly fills his own plate before sitting beside me.

Silence ensues almost instantly, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. For years after the truth came out about what I am, Tristan barely talked to me. Every time we were in a room together, it became so awkward and unbearable that I wanted to scream and cry and curl into a tiny ball. Now, we’re merely quiet because we don’t have anything to say, not because we’re actively trying to avoid each other.

Tristan offers me a timid smile over his plate, and I quickly return it.

That smile instantly fades, though, when the doorbell to Xander’s apartment rings.

Who the fuck could that be?

Anyone else in our little ragtag mate group would just walk right on in—even Serafina.

Does Xander have plans we don’t know about?

Tristan immediately tenses, his shoulders hunching until they meet his ears, and before I can stop him, he’s launching himself at the door. I just barely catch his plate of food and place it back on the counter.

Tristan’s nostrils flare as he sniffs out the identity of the intruder, and unbridled rage manifests in his eyes.

“Trist—” I begin, but he’s already throwing the door open with a scowl.

My stomach plummets to my feet at the sight of the man and woman standing in the doorway. A strange roaring sensation echoes between my ears, rising in pitch with each consecutive second until it sounds like the shrill ring of a whistle.

I’d recognize the immaculately composed woman with dark blonde hair and the scowling man anywhere.

My parents.

Bile scorches my throat, and I fear I’m going to be sick. The wonderful food Tristan just made for me threatens to come back up and become intimately familiar with the floor.

What the fuck are they doing here?

I haven’t technically moved out of their house yet, despite everything that transpired between the three of us, but I’ve been finding excuses more often than not to stay elsewhere. Just last night, I slept on Xander’s sofa, and the night before that I stayed with Devyn.

My parents have never been the warmest individuals, but I thought they at least cared about me. However, when the truth came out about what Ms. Summers did to me, my parents didn’t care. They acted like it was my duty as an incubus to sleep with every warm-blooded body who wanted a taste of me.

I probably would’ve been under Ms. Summers’s malicious thumb forever if Serafina hadn’t discovered the truth and saved me.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan hisses with more rage than I ever remember hearing from him before—and that’s saying something, considering the fact he hated me for years.

I’m sure my face is as white as parchment as I stare at the two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally but instead threw me away like trash.

My father lifts his chin haughtily in the air. “Is that any way to speak to your uncle, boy?”

Tristan bares his teeth. “You’re no uncle of mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Father waves a hand dismissively in the air before turning towards me. “Kian, we need to talk to you.”

My mother takes a single step forward, her entire body trembling and unshed tears in her eyes. “You need to come home, baby boy.”

Every organ in my body rebels at her words. I swear my heart momentarily stops beating, and my lungs refuse to take in any more air.

“Everything we’ve ever done is to keep you safe,” my father continues, choosing to ignore Tristan entirely. “You needed to learn how to control your abilities, and at the time, Ms. Summers was the best option we had?—”

“We found a new tutor for you,” my mother continues enigmatically, offering me a wobbly smile, one frayed at the edges. “She agreed to train you on the art of being an incubus. You’ll have classes twice a week?—”

“Do you fucking hear yourself?” Tristan roars.

The hand gripping the doorframe has turned so white, I can see each individual vein. Tension thrums through him like an electrical current, and I swear all of that unfettered energy coalesces in his eyes, which have begun to glow.

My father’s upper lip curls away from his teeth. “He’s anincubus. He needs to learn how to?—”

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