Page 98 of Enticing Monsters

“And that’s the only reason I was able to heal him,” Cadmus admits, then he frowns. “If it was the Faerie virus without any modifications, I doubt my gifts would’ve worked. They certainly didn’t before when I tried.”

Despite my suspicions over Cadmus’s loyalty, I find myself stepping forward. “So you think that V was injected with a modified version of a Faerie virus?”

That’s what we all suspected, but to have it confirmed…

“If it were the actual virus, you would all be dead,” Cadmus tells us gravely. “Whoever made this wanted a way to control who got sick. Think of it as a cross between a poison and a virus.” He grimaces, as if he can still taste it on his tongue. “If it were simply a virus, then whoever created this would have no control over how it’s spread.” He licks his lips and frowns. “It tastes the way poison would.”

“I don’t understand.” Exasperation causes my right eye to twitch. If there’s one thing I hate more than anything, it’s not being in control. Right now, I feel as if I’m the passenger in my own car and have no choice but to let the driver lead us straight off a cliff. “Something can’t be both a poison and a virus. That’s impossible.”

“When this substance enters the fae’s bloodstream, it acts the way the virus would,” Cadmus attempts to explain. “But it’s not the actual virus.”

“It’s a poison with the same effects as the virus,” Tristan surmises, even as I struggle to wrap my head around this onslaught of information.

What he’s saying is scientifically impossible.

Yet…

I can listen to dead people.

Science went out the window a long time ago.

“I think—” Cadmus breaks off when a hulking figure tackles him to the ground.

Before any of us have time to react, V wraps his hands around Cadmus’s throat and squeezes. His wings expand out behind him, knocking over an expensive vase and my discarded glass of chardonnay.

“Where. Is. My. Kitten?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SERAFINA

“Charise? How are you here? What happened? Are the other council members okay?” I fire off question after question as I regard V’s younger sister.

I may not like Charise that much—okay, I’ll be honest, I hate her guts—but I don’t wish to see herdead. Maybe stabbed or maimed, but not dead. And even though V would never admit it, I know he’ll be happy to see her walking about.

A twisted smile warps Charise’s pretty face, and my stomach tumbles, twisting with unease.

Every alarm bell in my head begins to ring simultaneously.

I grip both of my mates’ hands and whisper, “Run.”

But before we can take more than a step, Charise lifts a hand, and both of my mates fly in opposite directions. Kian ricochets off the wall and lands in a heap on his side. Foster slides across the floor, hitting the door on the opposite side of the room headfirst. Blood pools around him.

“No!” I scream, fear for my mates threatening to eclipse common sense and rationality. But that fear quickly morphs into anger. No one—not even a goddamn princess—is allowed to hurt my mates. The only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit is the steady rise and fall of their chests. They’re alive.

But Charise won’t be.

Fortunately, I changed back into my own clothing before I left the cottage earlier. Small miracles. I grab my bracelet off my wrist, and it instantly extends into a throwing knife.

Without preamble, I toss it at the evil she-bitch, watching it flip through the air. I don’t know if she just isn’t expecting the attack or if she can’t move away fast enough. Either way, it embeds itself into her shoulder.

She scowls. “You bitch!”

I bend down and grab a second knife I keep in a sheath around my ankle. This one is longer and thicker, the handle bedazzled with pink and purple gems. It was a gift from Maddox for my birthday a year ago.

“Why are you doing this, Charise?”

But even as I ask the question, I think I know.

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