Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
SERAFINA
T ristan makes spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and much to my relief, actually allows us to help him in the kitchen.
It reminds me of the family meals I have at my own house, though the food here is actually edible rather than my mother’s insane concoctions. The last time we had spaghetti at home, my mother made the pasta with some kind of seaweed gel that was like trying to eat my own moisturizer.
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…
“Keep looking at me that way, and we’ll be having a different kind of dessert,” Devyn warns as he places the plate in the dishwasher.
I snort. Devyn is usually so serious that it’s almost strange to see him let loose and joke around. I can’t remember the last time he lowered his inhibitions around me or anyone else. I like this side of him and can’t help but wonder if this is how he’ll behave every day as soon as the murderer is caught. I hope so. I really, really do.
“Oh my god. That’s so cheesy,” I say.
“Is it? Because I can’t think of anything more appetizing than your sweet pussy.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and I swear I die a thousand deaths.
Is it hot in here?
Good lord.
My cheeks feel as if they’re on fire, and I suddenly can’t think of a single word to say. Because holy fuck. I desperately want to take Devyn up on that offer.
“You have such a dirty mouth,” I finally manage to stutter out, twisting slightly to hide the pink in my cheeks.
“I can show you exactly how dirty my mouth is,” Devyn promises.
I make a strangled noise and grip the countertop so tightly my knuckles bleach white.
Do not jump the handsome cop, Sera. Now isn’t the time.
Devyn’s fingers lightly trail across the inside of my wrist, eliciting a fresh round of goose bumps. I twist slightly to see him staring at me intently, all teasing gone from his eyes.
“One day, things won’t be as chaotic and crazy as they are now,” he promises. “One day, I’ll be able to care for you the way a mate should. We’ll go on dates. Have fun. Enjoy life.” The corners of his lips begin to twitch. “Then, at night, just before bed, you’ll ride my face until you’re screaming for more. And me, being a good mate, will give in and slam my cock into your tight pussy. I’ll fuck you for hours, relishing your screams and the way you drag your fingernails down my back. You’ll forget all of this bad shit. Hell, you’ll even forget your own name. All you’ll know is how good I’m capable of making you feel.”
Oh. My. God.
Every inch of my body is on fire—both because of his heartfelt words and the dirty image he so expertly painted.
I want that too.
So damn much.
But in my fantasy, Devyn isn’t the only man in my bed.
Longing for that life nearly takes my breath away. I can feel a strange misting sensation in my eyes.
Is “normal” even possible for us?
What would I give up to ensure it is?
Everything, a voice whispers in the back of my head. You’ll give up everything.
Devyn is staring at me intently, but before I can even think of what to say or how to respond, Xander materializes behind him, one brow raised. The Seelie’s gaze dips to the pie and the two missing pieces.
“What’s this?” Suspicion laces his tone.
“Nothing,” I say at the same moment Devyn blurts, “We didn’t have pie. It was already missing two pieces.”
I stare at Devyn incredulously. “Remind me again how you’re the top investigator for the FIB? Because you suck at this whole ‘evade suspicion’ thing.”
“Xander scares me,” Devyn says in a mock-whisper, his gaze never leaving his brother’s face.
Xander rolls his eyes. “If you two heathens are done not eating pie …” He gives us a pointed look. “Then come to the table. Dinner is ready, and there’s a lot we need to discuss.”
“Like how long we can all hold our breaths while you sit on our faces, one after the other,” Devyn mutters, just low enough that I’m the only one who can hear.
I slap his shoulder. “Shut up. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” The smug bastard smirks at me.
He’s right.
I really, really don’t.
We’re in the middle of eating when Xander clears his throat, garnering all of our attention.
“The last person who interrupted me in the middle of my meal got stabbed,” V points out lazily, swirling a strand of bright-red spaghetti around his fork.
I swear the psycho only eats the pasta because it reminds him of blood and intestines. His words, not mine.
Xander ignores the fae prince and focuses his intense stare on me. “I think it’s time we addressed what happened today.”
Devyn pauses with a bite of salad halfway to his lips. His brows furrow. “What happened today?”
Foster’s hand immediately clamps down on my thigh, squeezing tight, and I place my hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. No doubt, he thinks Xander wants to confront him about his…episode, but I know that’s not the issue.
I take a sip of my water and slide a glance towards Kian, who sits on the opposite side of me. The two of us exchange a long look before Kian nods once and focuses on the others.
“It seems as if Sera is able to use my powers.”
His words permeate the air—heavy and full of a weight I can’t even begin to understand.
Tristan chokes on his bite of spaghetti. “Huh?”
I stare at Kian in alarm. “No, I didn’t. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I helped you use your powers by amplifying them like I did with Gage…”
I’m rambling. I know I am, but I can’t wrap my head around what he’s implying.
“Yes and no.” Kian runs a hand through his tousled hair. “It was almost like…” He struggles to find the right words. “It was almost like we were both using my powers at the same time. So yes, everything felt amplified, but I don’t think it’s because you were channeling your magic into me. I think we were channeling our magic into each other.”
I remember the strange feeling I felt in the clearing—the warmth blossoming in the pit of my stomach and spreading to my fingers and toes.
Could this be true?
Is it possible for me to use my mates’ powers?
My stomach dips, the way it does when you’re descending in an airplane, and the food suddenly tastes like ash on my tongue.
“I don’t know what happened,” I confess. “I just know I needed to help Kian with Hudson?—”
“Who the fuck is Hudson?” Devyn growls.
Quickly, Xander fills him in on everything that happened, with V throwing in his “helpful” commentary from time to time. And yes, I’m being completely sarcastic. I swear V gains powers from stirring the metaphorical pot.
“Her eyes… They glowed like Kian’s do when he uses his incubus gifts,” Foster murmurs, his tone filled with awe and wonderment.
No fear, thank fuck. I think if I were to see terror in his eyes, I would have to stab him, mate or not. We’ve been over this time and time again—an incubus isn’t inherently evil, just as a human isn’t. There are facets to every aspect of nature, and human nature is no different. Or fae nature, as the case may be.
“We suspected Sera would be able to amplify our powers,” Devyn points out. “Is it completely out of the realm of possibilities that she can use our powers as well?”
Xander steeples his fingers together beneath his chin and studies me. “How do you feel, Ms. Jenkins?”
Trust Xander to check on my wellbeing with everything going on.
Affection for him unfurls inside of me, even as I do a mental inventory of my body. I am absolutely not going to mention the lingering headache or the fact that my muscles feel weak and wobbly. Nope. Not happening.
I shrug. “Normal, I guess. I don’t feel any different.”
“Can you still use Kian’s powers?” Foster questions.
Kian answers before I can. “I don’t sense any pheromones emanating from her,” he confesses. “I usually do when I’m around another incubus or succubus.”
“And it’s not like we’d even know if Sera was seducing us,” V mumbles, digging into his food with gusto. “She can walk around wearing a burlap sack and a clown mask, and I’d still be hard as hell.”
Xander scratches at the scruff adorning his jaw. Usually, the hair there is nothing more than a light shadow, but over the past week, it has begun to grow, turning into something that some may consider a beard. It looks sexy as hell on him and serves to emphasize his sharp, chiseled features.
“I wonder if, as our connections to each other grow, Sera will be able to utilize our powers as well.”
I know Xander is merely contemplating, but Foster tenses beside me. His grip on my thigh is almost bruising.
When I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, his face is pale, drained of color, and his freckles stand out starkly.
I remember the rage distorting his features as he attacked Hudson. The fire he wielded seemed to have a life of its own, rippling down his arms and swirling in his palms.
Is he afraid of what I’d do if I had access to his power? Is he afraid that my own temper will cause me to go berserk? No, I don’t think that’s it, but Foster’s tight expression remains impossible to read.
Devyn frowns, the way he always does when he’s contemplating something. “I wonder if that’s what happened with Gage back at the hospital. We assumed you were somehow amplifying his powers, but what if you were both using healing magic at the same time?”
“Does that mean she needs to be near one of us to use our gifts?” Kian’s brows furrow. “And what causes it to happen? Stress? High emotions? Proximity to us?”
“We can theorize until we’re red in the face, but frankly, we don’t know enough about mating bonds and skinwalkers to say for certain,” I say, changing the subject. I give Foster’s hand another squeeze, which he returns with a grateful smile. Turning towards Devyn, I ask, “Any updates on the case?”
I know it’s probably against protocol for Devyn to discuss his findings with me, but he’ll never keep it a secret, not when it impacts me and his brothers.
“Death and decay. Exactly the riveting dinner-time conversations I enjoy,” Xander mumbles dryly as he dabs at his lips with a napkin.
He drops it back to the table and takes a sip from his wineglass, frowning when he discovers it’s empty. Before he can stand to refill it, Tristan leaps out of his chair and races for the wine bottle, eager to refill Xander’s cup.
Xander frowns at his younger brother but doesn’t protest, knowing he needs this.
“This is just a normal Friday night for me,” V says in response to Xander’s quip. “Well, I don’t usually talk about death and decay. I just do it. Kill, I mean. God, I miss killing. I swear you fuckers are making me soft. It’s been a solid five hours since I stabbed anyone.”
He shakes his head with a forlorn pout.
Fortunately, Devyn has gotten used to zoning V out. My detective mate pinches the bridge of his nose—something I notice his twin does a lot as well when irritated—and heaves out a breath before answering my question.
“Unfortunately, we reached another dead end. We already know that the victims have been chosen randomly so as to not draw suspicion to anyone in particular, but other than that, we have nothing.”
“Is it possible there is more than one person involved?” I ask, a shiver rippling through me as I think of the dead bodies in Tristan’s backyard.
God, there were so many of them…
“That’s the general consensus,” Devyn agrees. “It would explain how fae from different regions of the country were kidnapped around the same time.”
He swirls his glass of bourbon and downs it in a single go. Tristan immediately jumps up from his chair to refill it for him, but Devyn holds up a hand, stopping his brother.
He keeps his eyes on me as he continues. “We looked into every lab in the area and talked to some of our best scientists to see if they know anything. I thought I had a lead with a money trail for new equipment, but…”
He forks his fingers through his hair.
“It led to another dead end?” Xander supplies, frowning.
“Yup.”
“Why would someone want to release a virus that can kill fae?” Tristan demands. It’s the first time he’s contributed to the conversation this evening, and my heart leaps in my chest. Baby steps. “Is it some type of supernatural hunter?”
“It could be,” Devyn agrees. “Perhaps a hunter somehow found their way into Faerie and was able to extract some of the virus…or however the virus works. Fuck, I don’t know. The FIB scientists are still trying to understand it.”
“I just can’t see another fae wanting to kill off…fae,” Tristan continues with a shrug. “If the virus gets loose, then the entire fae world as we know it will be at risk.”
“But what does the virus have to do with the man who sacrificed young girls?” I point out, and we all fall into silence as we think things through.
So many questions…and so few answers. My head actually begins to spin with the intensity of it all.
Yet again, I can’t help but feel that everything leads back to Faerie, the mythical world my parents found me in.
Which means that if I want answers, I may have to ask the two people who visited it.
Or maybe…
Maybe I’ll just need to find a way to visit myself.