by Leeah Taylor
“Oliver!”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she swooned. “Tell me more about him.”
“No, Riley,” she insisted, pointing at the TV. “Oliver.”
He was talking to a reporter in the middle of Riverfront. Grabbing the remote from the cushion beside her, she turned it up.
“And is there any official word on when the power or water will be restored?” the reporter asked.
Nostalgia swept through her with the clear view of Juleps behind Ollie and the reporter. They were standing at the corner of Riverfront Avenue and Main Street.
“Shit, what happened?” Riley straightened up.
Juliette turned it up louder.
“Not officially but the power and water crews are working diligently to get both restored as quickly as possible. In the meantime, Juleps and the local church are prepared to remain open to anyone and everyone affected by the earthquake today. With food, water, shelter, and anything else the citizens of Sterling need to feel safe.”
The hair on the back of her neck raised. Shit.
“That’s very generous of you.” The reporter, a cute blonde, batted her eyes up at him, and Juliette rolled hers hard.
“Please. Not even his type…" she mumbled.
He hadn’t changed a bit. Those dark blue eyes that used to make her break stared back at her like he could see her through the camera.
He was still lean and athletic, lacking in the dripping dominance his brothers exuded and making up for it with confident charm. The gentle smile on his lips was proof of his pride for Sterling. He was still as handsome as the day he’d walked into that attic and into her life. But now his arms were more colorful. Vibrant ink covered both wrists, going up his arms and disappearing under his sleeves.
I miss him so much. Her heart squeezed in her chest until it hurt to breathe.
“Well, this city has never shown my family anything but love and affection, and we’re dedicated to making sure we return that same love and affection tenfold,” he said.
“Oh, my god.” She pushed up from the couch, a sick feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, this is so bad.”
Riley cocked her head up at her. “What’s bad?”
“This is the mistake I was worried about.”
She dropped to the couch, covering her mouth with a trembling hand and shaking her head. Her heart slammed so hard in her chest she was sure it would spill out on the carpet.
“Damien will kill me.”
“Talk to me,” Riley pleaded.
She forced the air into her lungs. Damien would kill her for this. Could she run from him? Stay one step ahead?
“To reverse the spell, to bring down the barrier, all someone would need is my blood, and the spell, and I thought me, but I guess not.”
Could there be someone as powerful as her out there? She remembered the werewolf at the motel. Something had felt off, but at the time, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Magic dripped from him, but she ignored the red flags. She thought it was her own magic rearing up in anticipation.
Riley closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Oh, Jules. What were you thinking?”
So many precautions she’d taken to protect herself. To keep something like this from happening.
“I didn’t have to worry about vampires,” Juliette said.
“But it wasn’t a vampire.”
Shit, I know.
“I really thought I could chalk it up to a wolf with a blood fetish.”
Why would a witch work with a wolf? Sure, the wolf got what they wanted by letting the wolves back into Sterling, but what did the witch get out of it? Nothing.
“They have a traitor witch in Sterling. It has to be someone with intimate knowledge about the barrier and Sterling history.”
That son of a bitch.
The blood boiled in her veins with betrayal and rage. How could he have been so careless with something so powerful and intimately hers? She pounded her fists into the couch cushions and jumped up.
“I’ll kill him.”
She saw red. Hot rage surged through her with vehemence. She’d claw his eyes out. Rip his throat out.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
“What?” Riley asked.
Juliette’s phone buzzed across the coffee table. She hesitated to reach for it. One look at the number on the screen and she regretted looking at all.
“It’s Lucien.”
“Answer it.”
She silenced it instead and stalked off towards her bedroom. “I’ll do him one better. I’m coming home.”
“Jules, now just think about this for a minute.” Riley followed behind her to the bedroom. “You’re talking about walking into what could be a trap.”
Don’t care.
“If Lucien is calling, it’s to tell me to run because Damien is coming for me. Well, I’m not running because that son of a bitch has just as much hand in this as I do.”
She slammed a duffle bag down on the bed and went over to the dresser, yanking open a drawer. Scooping up an armful of clothes, Juliette dumped it into the open bag, barely paying attention when her phone started buzzing again.
“I’m going with you,” Riley said.
Juliette froze. “What? Why?”
Riley’s shoulders slumped. “Jules, it’s all in or not at all. If you’re going to Sterling to face the big bad Damien, then I’m all in.”
“You just want to meet Ollie,” she teased.
Red crept up Riley’s neck into her cheeks, and she gave an innocent shrug. “I mean, a girl can have some fun while she’s there.”
Juliette zipped up her bag. “Just remember, Ollie’s been there and done that with love, and it left a jagged mark on his heart. You might just get a good romp and nothing more.”
Riley shrugged. “I can settle for some good romping.”
“Go pack a bag then.”
If Damien had kept his promise to her, none of this would have happened. He didn’t leave her with many other options.
Her phone buzzed across the bed again, and she snatched it up. Lucien’s number lit up across the screen. If she answered, he’d convince her that coming to Sterling was the worst possible idea. She already knew that. With shaky fingers she turned the phone off.
Her mind was made up. She was going home.
Juliette | 8
Sterling was a forty-minute drive from Canonpeke. Juliette made it in twenty. She gripped to the steering wheel hard enough that her fingers ached when the lights of the city shone ahead.
Her mind raced with all the things she wanted to say to Damien. She’d had twenty years to figure it out. When the tires of her car hit the stone roads of Sterling, she knew she was home and there was no turning back.
“Lucien is calling me again.” Riley held up her phone. “He’s gotta be worried out of his mind. You didn’t see him when he showed up and thought you might be dead.”
“Let it go to voicemail then listen to it.”
She glanced at the busted windows of shop fronts. The streets were dark, and groups of people walked down the sidewalks with flashlights, heading toward Juleps. She stopped at the intersection just up from the old bar, to allow people to cross the road. The aged brick house on the corner caught her attention, and she got lost in the memories. She worked to swallow as her throat closed.
Home.
“You gonna go?” Riley asked.
Juliette forced herself to look away and turned.
“Jules?” The voice washed over her, and she swallowed the disbelief. It was Damien. “Knock it off and answer the phone. I’m not going kill you, okay? But if you make me hunt you down, you bet your ass I will drag you back kicking and screaming. Answer the damn phone so we know you’re safe.”
Juliette lifted her chin. “Oh, don’t you worry, Damien. I’m home.”
“Would you just answer his call?” Riley shoved the screen in her face.
“There’s no need. We’re here.”
Juliette park
ed and turned off the car, pointing up to the building. She stepped out onto the street, salty air coming in from Sterling Bay, and looked out over the water. The Falls were barely an outline in the distant skyline. Another wave of longing gripped to her chest. She stepped up on the curb, looking up at the building. The windows were cracked, or altogether shattered. Many were already boarded up or sealed with thick plastic.
People pushed passed her on the sidewalk, lining up at the door to Juleps to get in. If it weren’t for the wreckage of the city, it’d look like a typical night for the bar. She grabbed Riley’s hand to keep her close and dragged her through the crowd to the door of Juleps, ignoring the cursing behind her.
“Holy shit, Jules?" It was a deep voice that practically punched her in the gut.
She smiled and met with familiar chocolate brown eyes. “Xavier.”
He towered over her, but she didn’t let the beast of a man intimidate her. She’d only ever known him as a big teddy bear.
“Wow." He looked her up and down. “Haven’t changed one bit. What are you doing here?"
“Got a bone to pick with a certain asshole. Think you know the one."
He nodded, stepping out of her way with a broad smile. “Good god, I’ve been waiting for this day. Go give him hell."
“I plan on doing just that."
She sucked in a breath, readied herself, and went inside. Stopping just inside and taking it all in, she gave herself permission to steal one moment and give in to the wave of suffocating nostalgia and memories. She might as well have grown up here.
For one hundred and thirty years, this place was home. I’m not ready, and I don’t have a choice.
People lined up at the bar, filling their plates from the offerings spread over it. The tables were pushed together. Cots and sleeping bags were spread out everywhere with small groups congregating around them. Ollie had gone above and beyond.
It didn’t take long before familiar faces started to recognize her with hushed whispers. Brows went up, and the chatter slowly quieted until every eye was on her. Except the humans. They stood around just trying to figure out was going on.
Yep, that’s right, I finally came home.
Louisa crossed her arms over her chest. Her muddy eyes blazed with questions while demanding answers at the same time. She didn’t have time for the Elder. If she had it her way, she’d fix what she broke and be gone by lunch tomorrow. Somehow, she knew it’d never be that simple. She had made a choice to come home, and now she might not ever get away.
It would be easier if witches lived only as long as humans. It would make it easier to have a story like hers die out with the generations. Witches, just like werewolves, had three, maybe four lifetimes before they finally died. Go figure, the universe has a sense of humor.
She froze on a set of eyes filled to the brim with love from across the room. The same dark blues on her television screen barely an hour ago. A smile pulled up on the corner of his lips.
Juliette gave Ollie a quick nod before shoving away the desire to run to him and fling herself into his arms. She hoped he was ready to make sense of her broken world.
“Jules?” Riley murmured.
She gave her best friend’s hand a squeeze. “It’s fine, come on.”
Nobody breathed. Nobody uttered a word. Silence ruled the usually rowdy Juleps. Witches and vampires watched as the should-be Regent marched up the stairs. With every step, her belly twisted into knots. Sterling was home, and yet it felt like trespassing. Like she didn’t belong.
She approached the office door, and her stomach churned. Sucking in a breath, she reached for the knob. The door flew open, ripping out of her hand, and she froze.
“Damien—” Lucien protested.
“I’m done waiting. I’m going to find her.”
A gaze, blue gray like dark roiling storm clouds, collided with hers, and any fight she possessed drained away.
Damien caught himself with a hand on the door frame. He took her in, and the color rushed from his face. Quiet unease settled between them, and he stared at her. Studied her.
The silence grew thick between them, and she couldn’t break it. Words sat paralyzed on the tip of her tongue. He looked broody like always. Tousled, dark brown hair. Brow pulled together as confliction flashed in his gaze. She knew that look too.
The overwhelming desire to touch him, graze his cheek, twitched in her fingertips. Just once couldn’t hurt, but she balled it into a fist instead.
She swallowed hard. “Damien.”
He cleared his throat. “Juliette.”
“Where’s my grimoire?” she asked, finding more of her voice.
Someone might not need her for the spell, but her grimoire was a necessity. So was her blood, and she’d practically handed it to the enemy.
His storm brewed darker. “I beg your pardon?”
She raised her chin and her voice. “You heard me, where’s my spell book?”
Riley tugged on her arm. “Jules, perhaps this should be more private?”
She glanced behind her at the audience spilling out from the lounge. Confused and curious faces stared back at her. Humans. They were all humans. She searched the bar and found Ollie watching her, calm and gentle as ever. Juliette pointed at him and told Riley to go to the bar. She’d come find her soon.
Riley sized Damien up. “I’ll kill you. Believe that.”
“I look forward to the challenge.” He paused, smirked, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Werecat.”
She flipped him off. “You sure, Jules?”
Juliette never took her eyes from his. “Yeah, he won’t kill me.”
“Seem very confident,” he said. Darkness flickered in his gaze.
She swallowed up the space between them, and he stiffened, eyes wide. “You won’t because you need me.” She shooed Riley away. “Go on, Ollie will take care of you.”
“I only need you until you no longer serve any purpose.”
The yearning in his eyes betrayed the bitterness in his tone. He missed her. A burning ache pulsed under her skin. Damien Frost might want to kill her, may have said as much, but he sure as hell didn’t have the balls to do it, or he’d have put a crossbow bolt in her heart already.
He visibly swallowed and moved out of the doorway. She hesitated before slipping by him. He slammed the door shut, and she flinched. She glared at him, grit her teeth. And, in usual Damien, he offered nothing but a smug grin.
Asshole!
She turned to look at Lucien on the other side of the office. He stood with his arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his hair a mess as if he’d pulled his fingers through it in thought. He said nothing, but the warning in his stare said it all. Juliette shifted her weight. Once again, stuck between the two warring brothers. Some things never changed.
“I will not ask again. Where is my spell book?” She looked from one to the other.
“Safe.” Damien crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door. “You know, like your blood should have been.”
“No, don’t do that.” She shoved a finger in his direction. “Don’t get all self-righteous. It’s not a good look for you.”
He took a step towards her, eyes brewing black. She swallowed hard and shuffled back.
“Which one of us is selling ourselves for a few bucks?”
Heat slid up her throat, into her cheeks. “Do not insinuate that I’m a whore.”
“That would have been exponentially smarter!” he roared.
Hands curled into fists, she stormed towards him. Damien watched her, an amused light dancing in his eyes. He set his jaw, lips twitching in a ghost of a smile. Her hands warmed, burning with power. Violet light sparked across her fingertips, and she gathered it, like a scorching sun, eyes focused on her target.
How far would Damien fly if she tossed him with all her strength and rage? Would the door come off its hinges?
Lucien rushed and wedged himself between them, hands like iron shackles on h
er wrists. He squeezed just hard enough to make her pull back. A firm stare bearing down on her.
“Okay.” Lucien let out a breath, looking between them. “Thirty seconds. You two have been in the same room for thirty seconds, and you’re ready to kill each other.”
If that’s what it took.
Countless times, she’d stood with Lucien between them, the only obstacle that kept her hands from Damien’s throat. Lucien had remained the voice of reason when things came to a head. Over this girl and that girl he flaunted. Or his outright denial of love. Anything that guaranteed he kept her at arm’s length.
It didn’t matter. This time, Lucien wasn’t fixing it.
“Where is my spell book?” she hissed. “Tell me, Damien, or I’ll tear this city apart.”
She clenched her teeth. You’re an asshole. You should have killed me. You fucking broke me. I deserved better. You were supposed to be the better. I still fucking love you, and you don’t deserve it.
“Just tell her where it is,” Lucien demanded. “We don’t have time for your posturing bullshit.”
Damien closed the distance between them, glaring at her as he went to the bookcase. He pulled out a section of books. Behind them, sat a small safe with a keypad set into the wall. He blocked her view to input the code; she rolled her eyes. It’s my birthday, asshole, and I know you haven’t changed it. The door swung open, but he didn’t move out of the way. For a beat, he stood, frozen.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Juliette shoved him aside. Her stomach dropped.
Empty.
Fists balled at her sides, she spun. “You were supposed to keep it safe."
Her fists collided with his chest, and she shoved him away. He stumbled back a step and reached to steady himself on a shelf.
“Asshole."
Within a breath, he had her pressed against the bookcase, wood and thick leather tomes jabbing into her spine, a large hand on her throat. She dragged in a breath. Emotions crashed over her.
Lucien was there in a beat with a firm grip on his brother’s arm. “Let her go. Now, Damien.”