by Leeah Taylor
Blood roared between his ears. Heart thudded hard in his chest, threatening to break through his rib cage. He needed a minute to compose himself and overcome the euphoria clouding his judgment.
When his phone went off, he huffed, and he eyed the device sitting on the seat next to him. Only one person it could be. If he didn’t answer, she’d either do something out of haste or keep calling. Not bothering to pick it up, he answered and put it on speaker.
“Is it done?” she purred. “Did you make it painful? Tell me she begged for her life.”
Fury burned through him. Boiling in his veins. Her vengeance knew no limit. He blew out a breath, resisting the need to give into the high of her blood. Fall to his knees, becoming its victim.
“Sweetheart.”
“She’s dead, right?” Her tone switched from delight to vehemence, the disdain bleeding through the phone. “Answer me!”
He swallowed the lie on the tip of his tongue. Almost willing to risk the fallout later if he did. Either now or later she posed a risk when she learned the truth.
“Fuck me, you couldn’t do it,” Rebecca hissed. “The little bitch got to you too.”
Not like you think, sweetheart.
“You don’t understand, Becca.”
“I don’t need to understand.”
“Yeah, you really fucking do. Now get off my back,” he snapped while his hands trembled. “Did you get what I need?”
Silence, and it meant only one thing. She still hadn’t gotten it.
“Damn it. Did you accomplish anything?” He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
“No more than you apparently.”
“Hey,” he growled. “I got the fucking blood. Means nothing if I don’t have the other book.”
“You broke your promise.”
“Well, all things considered, and all I’ve put up with over the last five years, I’m allowed one little fuck up.”
She didn’t say anything, and he hoped he had driven the point home. Rebecca had pushed the limits beyond any sense or reason over the years, and he allowed her a lot of leeway. He broke one promise. Made one mistake. He earned that much.
“If she poses an issue, I will deal with her when the time comes,” he said.
“We’ll see.”
“Hey, lose that attitude, princess. Get me that other book. All of this is for nothing if you don’t.”
“Fine.”
He pinched the space between his eyes. The euphoria was overshadowed by his irritation. With himself for not killing Juliette. Incapable of doing it for no other reason than she meant something to him. With Rebecca for acting like she always did. Needy and envious. Taking her hatred out on him.
“I’ll try again with Damien,” she said, her tone softening.
“You’ll try?”
“I’ll get the book no matter what. Just need a little more time.”
He swallowed. “Fine, you have ‘til tomorrow night. Come hell or high water, by sunset I will be at Val Valena, and that barrier is coming down. Don’t be the reason it’s all for nothing.”
“I’ll get the book. I promise.”
“That’s my good girl.”
“Just get here already.”
“I’ll be there soon, sweetheart. Stay out of trouble. Love you.”
He hung up, not giving her a chance to return the endearment. Not risking the rejection when she didn’t. Too many times he’d been met with silence when he told her, and tonight, he didn’t need the ache of dismissal.
Juliette Marquis, a weakness he wasn’t anticipating, dominated his thoughts as he closed his eyes. He needed to sleep off the haze her blood had created. The familiarity ran too deep in his core. Down in his soul. Not making any sense to him at all. He needed to know more about her. Dig into her history deeper than he already had to figure out why she meant something. Why, without ever knowing her, his own heart and soul knew better than him.
He eyed the mug again. The urge to swallow every drop rooting deep. There was still work to be done, and his thirst to taste her wasn’t going to be the thing that ruined it all.
One way or the other, the barrier was coming down tomorrow night, and he could finally give the Frosts all they deserved. All he deserved.
Once and for all.
Lucien|8
“Lucien…” Chelsea nudged him gently. He pulled her flush to his chest. Arms wrapped tightly to her body with no chance of letting her go. “Your phone.”
“Voicemail,” he grumbled.
“It’s five in the morning. Answer it.”
Reaching for the device on the nightstand, he growled and dragged it to his ear. It was too early for any grumbling. Sure as hell better not be the vampires bitching about the witches, or he’d have heads rolling before the sun was up. Not that it stopped them from calling.
I should roll heads down Riverfront. Maybe then they’d get the message. Don’t call me before the sun.
He had no idea how Chelsea had dealt with it for all those years by herself. But now she didn’t have to anymore. Which was why, at five in the morning, he was answering the phone. He proudly carried the load of Regency with her. It’s what made this work. Trust, dedication, and a partnership.
He skipped pleasantries. “Somebody better be dead.”
Chelsea smiled into his chest and hugged closer. Pressing her bare body against his and doing nothing for the hard ache she was provoking.
“Is this Lucien Frost?” a girl’s voice cracked into the phone.
Something unfamiliar prickled at the back of his neck. “Who is this?”
“Riley O’Hare. Tell me this is Lucien.”
He sat up in the bed, sleep vanishing as he switched ears. “The Alpha Princess Riley O’Hare?”
“Yeah—"
“How did you get this number?”
Chelsea sat up in the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“How did you get this number?”
“She gave it to me and told me if anything ever happened to her to call…” With each word, she grew more upset, voice straining against the hysterics he could hear trying to take over. “She never came home. She always comes home… God, if something…”
“Who gave you the number?”
He knew who gave her the number.
“Juliette.”
The air seized in his chest as it pulled tight and hurt to breathe. Heart pounded so hard he heard it between his ears.
“What happened?”
“She left work early to go feed and never came home. She always comes home. Won’t answer her phone. Or messages. She always calls or answers or…” Her voice trailed off, and her words left a sickness behind.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t—"
“Text me the address. I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and stumbled out of bed. If something happened to her. To Juliette. He didn’t want to think about it. It had the power to destroy Damien in every possible way. Eat away at the tiny piece of his brother that was left. Fester into guilt and shame until it killed him. She had to be okay.
“What’s going on?” Chelsea asked.
She pulled the sheets around her and scrambled to the edge of the bed. He went into the closet and pulled out a suit because right now he needed shit to make sense. He needed every ounce of control he could muster to go out there and look for her. Hoping like hell he didn’t find her dead.
“Lucien, talk to me.”
He thought about it before answering. If he told her the truth, she’d want to go with him. Until he knew more, he couldn’t tell her. If just to protect her. He had no idea what he was walking into or why someone might target Juliette. She had plenty of natural enemies just being what she was, but this could just as easily be a move against them. Using her as leverage to target him and his brothers. It was always a possibility.
Who finally found her?
“Someone might be in trou
ble, and I have to go. I can’t give you more than that, Gorgeous.”
He fastened the last button on his shirt, stopping to lock stares with Chelsea. She had her arms crossed with a no bullshit sneer on her pretty lips.
“Chel, please.”
“Who?”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“Only one person you’d be this worked up about.”
He froze then dropped to the edge of the bed, pushing his fingers through his hair.
“Gorgeous—"
“Is it Jules?” she whispered, and he looked over at her half expecting to find jealousy swimming in her beautiful eyes, but it was worry. Even a small sliver of hope.
“It is, isn’t it? Is she okay? What happened?”
“When I know more, you’ll know more.”
She nodded. “Bring her home, Lucien.”
Grabbing the black tie from the bed, he kissed her forehead and leveled a stare on her. If I can, I will.
“Get out of the house before Damien gets up. Go back to your place and stay there for me today.”
“You’re worried this is a move against you?”
He nodded. “Will you take the day off? Stay home?”
“Of course. Just call me.”
“I’ll try.” He paused at the door. “Love you, Gorgeous.”
She smiled. “Nope, love you more.”
He hated leaving her. He hated running off to take care of the other girl that he had once loved. But he had to remind himself that Juliette was also family. And family always mattered.
He hurried down the steps to the front door and hoped Damien didn’t break routine. Let him stay holed up in his bedroom, per usual, to give Chelsea enough time to sneak out.
“Where are you running off to at the ass crack of dawn?” Ollie’s voice, in the darkness of the house, nearly made him jump out of his skin.
Lucien went to the door of the study and found his baby brother curled up on the bench seat by the window. Under the old ugly blanket Lucien hated. Ollie set down the book he was reading in his lap and took his glasses off, regarding his brother at the door.
“Just have some business to take care of.” He needed to act natural.
If Ollie found out what was going on, there was no chance he was getting out of there without him insisting on going. Lucien gestured to where he was sitting.
“Missing her a little this morning?”
It was Juliette’s spot. Lucien had lost count of how many times he found her in that same spot under that same blanket with her nose buried in a book.
Ollie shrugged, putting his glasses back on. “I miss her every fucking day.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t, and Damien never understood.”
He was right. Neither of them ever understood the relationship Juliette and Ollie had. It went beyond simply best friends. Perfectly in tune with each other. Sometimes without a word between them. She was Ollie’s lifeline. Which was why she couldn’t be dead.
“You’re right, I don’t.”
Lucien left before his brother could ask too many questions. When he got into his truck, tossing his suit jacket to the passenger seat, he pulled his phone out and checked for the address. She was a forty-five-minute drive away, and somehow that didn’t surprise him. He imagined she never strayed far from home. He started the truck, a sick feeling like a rock in the pit of his stomach, praying he didn’t show up and Juliette be dead.
By the time he made it to Canonpeke the sky was bathed in pinks and oranges, and his nerves were a wreck. He just wanted to believe she met someone and went home with them. Maybe she got distracted, in all the good ways, to keep her from calling. Then the sound of Riley’s panicked, distraught voice slammed into him, and, somehow, he knew that wasn’t the case. They had a routine, and Juliette broke it.
When he pulled up to apartment six and parked, a man in his late forties was pinning something to their door, and Lucien didn’t need to look to know what it was. He shook his head, a heavier weight settling in his stomach, and waited until the man disappeared upstairs.
Why didn’t she call?
Getting out of the truck and going up to the door, he knocked before pulling the paper off it. An eviction notice. Juliette and her pride.
The door jerked open, and the same dark cobalt eyes he’d seen before were wide, looking up at him. She looked older now. Her dark hair longer too.
“Lucien.” Her eyes wandered to the notice in his hand. “What’s that?”
He held it up for her. “An eviction notice.”
Defeat flashed in her eyes with tears as she ripped it out of his hand. “I knew it was bad. Just not this bad.”
“Has she called?”
She shook her head with more tears. “I haven’t heard a thing from her. It’s not like her.”
“May I?”
Riley nodded, moving out of the doorway. “Why didn’t she tell me how bad it was?”
The apartment was small. Functional. He eyed the ugly brown couch in the middle of the living room, and it reminded him of the ugly blanket.
It was clear they were just barely scraping by, and again, he didn’t understand why she hadn’t just called. Damien didn’t need to know. He would have had a bank account set up discreetly.
“Is it possible a bounty hunter finally tracked you down and took her?”
Her head whipped up. “You know about that?”
Fear etched into the corner of her eyes, and he picked up on the increase of her heart rate. The beginnings of razor-sharp claws extended from her fingertips.
“Relax, Riley. I am the last person you ever have to worry about.”
She retracted the claws. “Sorry, habit.”
He looked over the apartment again. “Tell me about last night. Did she seem off? Something amiss? Anything?”
Riley shrugged as she went over to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. “She seemed… I don’t know stressed.”
“Stressed how?”
“She got sick. Like hurling sick. She played it off as nothing more than a stomach bug, but,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “I don’t think I have to tell you she doesn’t get sick.”
He shook his head. Being a third vampire gave her a built-in immunity, but that didn’t mean much either. Juliette was also a witch and werewolf which meant she was just human enough.
“Where’s her room?”
Riley pointed to a small hallway. “Hers is on the right.”
The room was as he expected it. Small but not bare. Her scent lingered everywhere. A mix of strawberries and vanilla. Pictures were pinned to the wall above the dresser. He scanned over them, nostalgia hitting him hard in the center of his chest as he recalled the memories. Most of them were from the last New Year’s Eve they spent together.
The last happy memory he had of her. The last time he saw her smile.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Anything to give him an idea of where she might have gone. Or the threat she might have been facing. Alone. It was all very Juliette. His eyes stopped on a gold chain lying on the nightstand beside the bed. A flat coral stone pendant at the end. Frustration flushed through him as he went to it and lifted it up.
“Never should have taken it off,” he mumbled under his breath.
“She made up a new one five years ago.” Riley leaned into the door frame, hugging the coffee mug. “When we met, she was a wreck, Lucien. I told her she needed to move on with a fresh slate. She started with that pendant. Said it was probably for the better because her spell was more powerful. That—”
“Nobody could track her. Not even other witches.” Lucien shook his head but smirked. “That’s why Damien couldn’t find her.”
But somebody did.
“He’s been looking for her?”
He huffed. “For five years, and now I know that’s because of you.”
Riley half shrugged. “We’re a match made.
Running and hiding from our past.”
He closed his eyes, guilt and regret flashing through him. “Okay, where would she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, where does she go to feed?”
“Uh, local blood bank. ‘Bout three times a week.”
“Show me.”
The blood bank was across town right at the cusp of Gary near the hospital. After talking to the staff, charming his way to answers, they had nothing to offer him. They had no discrepancy in their supply, which meant someone didn’t know how to take inventory, or Juliette wasn’t feeding on blood bags. Or at all, and Lucien was pretty sure that was the more logical answer. She always fought the thirst.
Did she go on a bender and lose control?
The thought made him more tense. She had never lost control before, but she also always had him or his brothers to keep her on the rails. Twenty years was a long time to go at it alone.
“She ever seem irritable? Agitated?” he asked.
Riley kept her attention out the window of his truck, looking for any sign of Juliette’s car. “Not really. Why?”
“Just wondering if she’s actually feeding or not.”
“She leaves three nights a week like clockwork, and every morning, I find her flushed and sated.” Riley shrugged. “Never given me a reason to think otherwise.”
“I had to ask.”
“Worried she went off the rails or something?”
“Kind of. She never has, but a lot can change in twenty years.”
So much had changed in twenty years.
“Do you think she’d try to go home?” Riley asked.
He pulled his attention from the road with his brow pinched.
“To Sterling?” She nodded. “Not if she knows what’s good for her.”
By the time he parked back in front of the apartment, he was out of options.
Lucien pulled out his phone. “Give me her number.”
Riley rattled off the numbers as he dialed and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang several times before going to voicemail.
“Jules, it’s Lucien. If you don’t call soon, I’ll get Oliver involved. And if that doesn’t work then I’m going to Damien. Don’t force my hand, Darling.”