Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SERAFINA
“ O h…fuck,” I murmur as I tentatively venture a single step backwards.
I feel like a little kid who got caught sticking her hand in the cookie jar before dinner—and in my family, that usually leads to two additional hours of training before bed and extra helpings of broccoli. Sometimes, my parents would even put traps inside the jar that would cause our hands to get stuck in there for hours.
But hey, you took the risk, so now it’s time to face the punishment.
Let’s just say I didn’t have a lot of cookies when I was younger.
All of that flits through my mind now as I watch Xander skirt around one of the diminutive homes. He storms towards me like an avenging angel, all dark violence and cold perfection. And yes, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me, considering a real angel stands just behind me, his shoulder against the wall of the tiny house closest to us as he spins his blade around and around.
But anyway… Xander’s the goddamn trap in the cookie jar, and I’m the idiot who decided she needed dessert.
Foster remains at my side, providing silent comfort, and I appreciate that more than I care to admit. Most people would run in the opposite direction rather than face Xander’s wrath, but not Foster. Sure, he may be pissing himself right about now, but who isn’t?
Xander’s freaking terrifying when he’s angry.
And sexy.
Though now is not the time to be thinking about that .
Xander continues to move towards me with a lethal grace I’m not sure any of my other guys could replicate. Not even Devyn or V. He doesn’t lumber or fumble or anything like that.
He stalks , like a predator hunting his prey.
Anger radiates from him in palpable waves, and I can practically sense it permeating the air and coiling around my throat like a noose.
“Teacher’s pissed,” V says in a singsong voice.
Xander’s close enough he can probably hear V, but he doesn’t respond. He keeps his gaze locked on me.
Foster audibly swallows from my other side, and I reach down to intertwine our fingers together…only to immediately pull away when my palm begins to burn.
“Motherfucker!” I curse, cradling my now red hand against my chest.
Foster’s face turns ashen, causing his freckles to stand out starkly. “Lost, I’m so sorry!”
He stares down at his hand as if he doesn’t even recognize it.
But before I can respond and assure him I’m okay, Xander’s right there, bearing down on me, a glower on his painfully handsome face, and I realize he’s not the trap in the cookie jar. He’s the disapproving parent who makes you feel like shit for your choices and then forces you to accept your punishment like a good girl.
“Ms. Jenkins.” His low, husky voice caresses my skin like fingertips.
A shudder of pleasure works its way through me.
“Did you follow me?” My hand has already stopped burning, so I drop it to my side, flexing out my fingers to get my blood flowing once more.
Xander’s lips tighten, compressing into a thin line. “Believe it or not, Serafina, I don’t stalk your every waking movement.”
“Too bad,” I deadpan. “That would’ve been hot.”
And I swear—I freaking swear— I see his lips twitch upwards microscopically in what some may consider a smile. It only lasts a second, though, before he’s utterly impassive once more.
“I actually got a text from V, of all people.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me.
Belatedly, I wonder if the land of fae receives cell service before scoffing at how ridiculous that thought is. I blame it on my lack of sleep.
Xander has his phone pulled up to his most recent text chain, which is just one message from an unknown number.
Unknown
Party in Faerie. Be there or die. Bring snacks.
I spin towards V with a brow arched. Because yeah, it may not have his name attached to the number, but he’s the only psycho I know who would text this to one of my guys, let alone Xander.
V simply shrugs unrepentantly. “What? Isn’t he supposed to be your smart mate or something? I just assumed that he should be involved in this whole ‘quest to save the world’ thing.”
It takes considerable effort not to pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for patience. But honestly, I don’t even know who I would pray to here. Does Faerie even have a religion?
I make a mental note to ask Xander about it—when he’s not glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“So you thought it would be a good idea to travel to Faerie with only Foster and V as company?” Xander speaks slowly and succinctly, enunciating each word as if he’s searching for a new meaning in them.
Or maybe he just thinks I’m hard of hearing. Either way, my hackles rise.
I don’t bother to mention that V wasn’t technically invited but showed up anyway like an unwanted houseguest.
“I can look after Serafina just as well as any of you can,” Foster snaps abruptly, and the raw, unfettered rage in his voice takes me by surprise.
He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving Xander’s, and growls. Fire skirts up his arms and hugs his skin like multicolored sleeves of deepest red and orange.
“Settle down, Fire Boy.” V chuckles good-naturedly and slaps a hand down on Foster’s shoulder, seemingly unconcerned that his palm immediately begins to smoke. “We all know you’re more than capable of taking care of our girl. And all of us know that our girl is capable of taking care of herself.”
“Damn right,” I murmur, but he ignores me and continues speaking to Foster.
“But Xander here is just a worrywart.” V rolls his eyes as if the mere prospect of worrying is absolutely ridiculous.
Yet V is the one who initially followed us here and texted Xander our location. He can feign nonchalance all he wants, but he wouldn’t do those things for no reason.
My psychotic angel prince was…and probably still is…worried.
Is it just because of the shade creature?
From what I gathered, all of the fae evacuated this world when the land began to fail, and they haven’t been back since. The air is supposed to be heady with the virus, hence why we could only return with our powers dampened, tricking the world into believing we’re magicless humans.
“I could’ve handled the shade,” I insist.
And that’s not even a lie. I most definitely could’ve handled the shade…if I knew it was a shade in the first place. Obliviousness will be my greatest weakness in this strange new world.
Xander’s lips thin even farther, a feat I didn’t think was possible. “I’m not talking about the shade.”
“Are there more creatures here?” My curiosity is suddenly piqued.
Obviously, I know the virus wiped out the majority of the fae who remained on this planet. But what about the other animals? The other creatures? I haven’t seen anything besides the shade and a few birds, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
What exactly is Xander so afraid of? Is it just the unknown in general or something more…malicious?
Either way, I instantly feel like shit for making Xander worry about me in the first place.
I push up on my tiptoes and poke at the crease between his eyebrows. His eyes practically cross in his attempt to keep my finger in sight.
“Are you…poking me?” He sounds dumbfounded.
I just continue to stab at that adorable furrow. “I’m trying to distract you. Is it working?”
“Not even the slightest bit.”
V laughs out loud at that, and even Foster—who still looks shaken from when he accidentally burned me—cracks a tentative smile.
Xander abruptly grabs my finger and then begins to pull me towards the house I just exited.
I dig my heels into the dirt as I mount a half-hearted protest. “Xander, stop!”
“Ooohhh. Someone’s in trouble.” V snickers like a damn child, and surprisingly, it’s Foster who whacks him in the chest.
“Stop it or you’re going to get in trouble too,” he scolds.
“Does the punishment involve spankings?” V asks seriously.
I don’t get to hear Foster’s response because Xander nudges me into the house and then closes the door with a soft click.
And I find myself staring up at my very angry, very sexy mate. His shadows caress my body like the whiskers of a paintbrush before grabbing hold of both my wrists. Abruptly, they force my hands behind my back, the movement pushing my breasts out, and Xander takes a step closer. The sunlight streaming through the dusty blinds behind him highlights his broad shoulders and gives his dark hair a golden sheen.
“Ms. Jenkins.” Xander’s voice can best be described as a purr as he looms over me. “I think it’s time we had a chat about… appropriate mate behavior. Don’t you agree?”