INFLAME: (a gargoyle shifter and witch romance) (Underground Encounters Book 8)

by Lisa Carlisle

  “What would you like?”

  She glanced behind the bar and stared at the drink list. Vamps had a number of drink specials with enigmatic names like Tempting Fate or Anything Goes.

  “A glass of chardonnay would be wonderful.”

  Lucan ordered the drink from Tracy and a draft for himself. Tracy arched her brows as if probing—another conquest?

  That was the plan.

  He handed the French woman her drink and led them to a table at the back of the club where it wasn’t so loud. “This must be your first time here, right?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Evasive again, answering a question with a question. “Because of the way you were moving around, like you were looking for someone.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  He laughed. “I hope I’m that lucky someone.” He arched his brow, searching for a hint of her being receptive. Even if it was a small grin.

  She took a sip of her wine and eyed him over the glass with a ghost of a smile.

  A minor victory. Yes. He could do this. Warm her up to his charms and then take her somewhere so they could be alone. And then he’d bury himself in her sweet, tight flesh.

  After she lowered her glass, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Lucan.”

  Her eyes widened with—what was it? Recognition?

  “Lucan,” she declared. “It turns out you are that lucky someone after all.”

  Ha. The victory was entirely his. Finally, she was coming around. A smirk tugged at his lips, but he kept it down. No need to appear arrogant. “And, what’s your name, ma belle?”

  “Elise.”

  “Elise,” he repeated. He glanced at her body posture. Something was off. She still appeared stiff. One hand rested on the bar while the other rubbed the stem of her wine glass, a motion he interpreted as suggestive, triggering a fantasy of where the night would be headed. He placed his hand on top of hers. “Relax, Elise. No need to be tense.”

  She stared at his hand for a few seconds and then pulled hers away. Playing hard to get. That was fine. Nothing like a good chase to build up the anticipation before the sweet, inevitable capture.

  “Oh, but there is, Lucan.” Her tone turned serious. “Because I came here looking for you in particular.”

  What the hell? A red flag slowly unfurled, raising his wariness. The conversation turned stranger by the moment. “Why?”

  “Because I have some news.” She pursed her lips and put her glass on the table. “Something I’m not exactly sure how to say.”

  The grave note in her voice sent the red flag skyward. He searched the club for his brothers. Danton stood guard at the door. Mattias had left the club.

  He straightened, bracing himself for whatever this mysterious woman would reveal. “Just say it.”

  Her pale blue eyes warmed and her expression softened. “I came to the States to tell you—” She paused and took a deep breath. “Lucan, you have a daughter.”

  Chapter Two

  THE FACADE OF THIS flirtatious, confident shifter appeared to shatter before Elise. Various emotions flickered across his face as she expected. Shock. Surprise. Disbelief.

  Elise hated to be the one to deliver the long overdue news, but he had a right to know. She glanced away to give him a moment to process what she’d revealed.

  It also gave her a chance to adjust to his presence. With his impressive build, he could have been cast as a statue model of an ideal man. He was all hard muscles and a cavernous chest. With his dark hair and clothing, he loomed like a dark god reining over this venue.

  This place was unlike anywhere she’d ever visited. Like a gothic church descended into Dionysus’s den. Gargoyle statues guarded the entrances and interior, making it difficult to note what was real or décor. Men and women dressed mostly in black danced in wild abandon to a pounding, driving, sensual beat that pulsed around the room, seeming to echo off the walls. She’d never heard music like this back home. It was different—somehow smooth and rough, playful and sexy. Some of the women’s outfits were minuscule, barely covering their skin. Although most wore black, colors shined through with bright red lipstick and endless tattoos. Sure, her world back in the French village was rather limited, but this eclipsed even the wildest of the coven’s celebrations with food and dance and drink.

  She turned back to Lucan. He gripped his plastic cup of beer so tightly, she thought it would crack, sending liquid in all directions. After setting the cup on the table, he shuffled from one foot to the other.

  He covered his mouth and rubbed his neck. “No. You must be mistaken. I’m not a father.”

  Denial. That was to be expected. After all, he hadn’t known of Marguerite’s existence.

  “I know this is a surprise considering you never knew she was born.”

  She had to tilt her head to peer up at him. Marguerite had inherited her father’s eyes and dark wavy hair, which was almost black. And most striking was his eye color. Marguerite had her mother’s oval face and eye shape, but her father’s intense dark eyes. On him, they were far more potent—or maybe that was due to the sensuality in them as he’d strode over.

  That expression was gone. His face now twisted with confusion as he stared at her, like somehow the answers might flash on her forehead.

  She couldn’t help but note his attractiveness with the combination of his impressive physique, deep eyes, chiseled nose, and strong jawline. No wonder her sister had a fling with him. But, he’d left her soon after. With the way he’d hit on Elise as well, it was likely his protocol. A tiny part of her enjoyed his attentions. Men in the coven didn’t flatter her that way. Still, his persistence was a bad sign. Did he do that with a different woman every night? She could never get involved with someone like him.

  Wait, why did she consider it? She was here to tell him one thing. He was a father.

  What was important now was how he would react. Would he want to meet Marguerite? Would he accept the fact that she was his child? The situation could go either way. He could flat out refuse, in which case this trip overseas would be an epic disaster. The last thing she wanted was to pile on more pain.

  “We didn’t know who her father was until recently either,” she added.

  “Who? How?” He shook his head.

  “I’m sure you know the ‘how,’ so I’m not going to venture into details there.”

  His eyes widened as he stared at her as if trying to comprehend words she’d spoken in a different language. After spotting his confusion, she regretted her words. She was breaking some epic news to him. Her older sister tended to bring out a strong, defensive reaction, but she shouldn’t take it out on him.

  “Veronique,” she specified.

  His expression contorted with stronger emotions. The one that pierced through them all was fury. “No. Absolutely not.” He waved his arms to the side as if sweeping her words away. “It can’t be true.”

  Quelle horreur. Veronique might have done a number on Elise, but it paled in comparison to how he’d suffered. She raised her hand to comfort him, but lowered it before she touched his muscular shoulder and veered off-track.

  “I’m afraid it’s true.” She softened her tone.

  His eyes flickered with golden rage. He balled one hand into a fist, raised it, and then pointed with his index finger. “Do you have any idea what she did to me? To my brothers?”

  She swallowed and glanced away. Her eyes landed on the gargoyle statues perched at various levels of the club, some high and others closer to eye level. Were they stone or shifters? Had he been locked in one of those statues for all that time?

  “I do,” she replied and brought her gaze back to him. “And for that, I’m truly sorry. We didn’t know about that until recently. She won’t be able to hurt anyone again.”

  “Good riddance.” He shifted from one foot to the other, appearing ready to pace. “Who’s ‘we’?” he spat. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

  “The ‘we’ is our
coven.”

  He peered at her. “You’re a witch?”

  She nodded.

  “And so is my daughter?” He put his hands on his temples. Slowly, he put together the pieces through his shock.

  “And half—well, what you are.”

  “Are you kidding me? I have a daughter who’s half-witch and half-gargoyle shifter?”

  “Yes. Marguerite is almost thirteen. Veronique discovered she was pregnant after—you know—the situation with you and her.”

  He raised his brows and glared. “You mean how she cursed me and my brothers, who were blameless in this situation.”

  “Ah, oui. She was wrong. None of us in the coven agree with what she did.”

  Lucan searched behind her. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “She’s waiting back at the hotel where we’re staying. Would you like to meet her?”

  “Assuming what you’re saying is true. I mean, how do I know that she’s mine? I didn’t know she was alive. This could be a sick joke.” Then he tilted his head with a questioning look. “Who are you? And how did you get involved in all this?”

  “I’m Marguerite’s aunt.”

  He took a gigantic step back. “You’re Veronique’s sister.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck.”

  He crossed his arms across his massive chest. “How did you find me?”

  “I paid someone to track you down.”

  “Who?”

  Once Elise had discovered who Marguerite’s father was, she hired a shifter in London to track him down. He was highly recommended and high priced, but it was worth it. It didn’t take him long to track down Lucan to an underground club in Massachusetts. In fact, he knew of the club and said he’d once tracked a vampire there.

  “It doesn’t matter who. That’s not the issue here. The question is, now that you know you have a daughter, will you come with me to meet her?”

  Lucan rubbed his hands together and pressed them to his temples. “How do I know what you’re saying is true? How do you know I’m her father?” His voice edged up with defensiveness and he pointed to his chest.

  The song changed. Something with a chorus, “I’ll Keep on Rockin’ When I’m Dead.”

  “Considering she’s recently started to shift to stone when she’s feeling stubborn and wants to shut me out, it’s apparent her father is a gargoyle shifter.”

  A small laugh escaped him. “Handy trick.” Then suspicion returned to his face. “There are several gargoyle shifters in the world.”

  “But, only one who had a fling with Veronique thirteen years ago, which resulted in pregnancy.”

  “No. Not her. Anyone but her.” Fury twisted his features.

  Her heart wrenched. She ached for him for all the time spent trapped by Veronique’s curse. It was wrong. Veronique had exploited magic, using it disgracefully. And then, to keep the identity of Marguerite’s father a secret for all those years, all the while knowing he was trapped in a stone prison that she created? Unthinkable.

  Veronique was always so special. Her extraordinary talents with magic were admired by all in the coven, especially their parents. Elise was simply average in comparison. Average in every way, living in the cold, unseen shadows of her glorious older sister.

  “What an evil, vindictive...” He didn’t finish the statement, but curled his lips into a sneer. “There’s no way fate could be so twisted as to curse me by having a child with that monster!”

  Damn, this was turning downhill fast. She felt for him. He’d never had the opportunity to know he had a daughter. Sure, she expected him to react with shock and disbelief, but now what would he do? The most important factor was Marguerite’s welfare. Elise had been caring for her niece for so long and she’d never let anyone hurt her.

  She stepped up to the massive gargoyle as Marguerite’s protector. “That’s the situation exactly.” She pointed at his massive chest. “You had a relationship with Veronique and a child was conceived. Her name is Marguerite. Now the question is, once again, after she’s traveled across the ocean, will you do the right thing and meet her?”

  He paced, appearing to struggle with his emotions. He took a swig of his beer, slammed it on the table with more force than necessary, and said, “Tell me about her.”

  Elise smiled. “She’s wonderful. So smart and courageous. I always thought she looked like Veronique, but now that I see you, I see the resemblance. She has your dark hair and eye color. It’s kind of strange to see them on a stranger.”

  He peered at her. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You looked familiar when I first saw you. Now I see it’s the resemblance between you and Veronique.”

  The way he stared at her was unnerving. She and Veronique were night and day. Veronique had always been the stunning one with dark auburn hair and a luscious figure. Elise—paler. Plainer. Nothing spectacular or memorable.

  She broke the discomfiting eye contact and glanced around. A group of women nearby danced in a circle, appearing to have a wonderful time. That’s what people should be doing here, not having conversations that changed their lives. Perhaps this wasn’t the right venue. But, it was where the shifter Devon had directed her to find Marguerite’s father.

  “Anyway, Marguerite has been having a rough time lately. It’s difficult with hormones going haywire during puberty, but her world has been upended as well. Her mother is gone. She just found out who her father is. And she’s discovered she can shift into stone.”

  When she pulled her gaze back to Lucan, he’d steepled his fingers.

  “She hadn’t done so until recently?”

  “No. And how would she have known it was something she was capable of? She didn’t know she was half gargoyle.”

  “True.”

  “I have to say it’s rather annoying. She’s using this newfound ability to her advantage. When she doesn’t want to talk to any of us, she simply heads off to her room and shifts to stone, shutting us out. All our questions are met with a stony silence.”

  Lucan barked out with a surprised sound of laughter. Then his smile vanished from his face. “I don’t know what to say about all this. An hour ago, I didn’t know she existed. But now, I’m a father?”

  “It’s difficult for everyone. I came here today because I thought it was fair that you finally know the truth. And well, for Marguerite to have a chance to meet her father.”

  Lucan rubbed his mouth again and then dropped his hand. “It’s such a shock. I need some time to let it sink in.”

  “I understand. I’m just the caretaker letting you know each other exist. What you do from this point is your decision. But I hope you’ll make the right one and at least meet with her.”

  She turned and headed back across the club.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Giving you time.”

  “How am I supposed to reach you?”

  “We’re staying at a hotel in Salem.”

  He smiled and his eyes squinted with amusement. “An odd destination for a witch, no?”

  “We might as well visit ‘Witch City while we’re here.”

  “Guess so.”

  “We’ve heard about how they were treated here in the 17th century. Why do you think we stay quiet about our existence today?”

  He nodded with a knowing look. “As a shifter, I can assure you, I know exactly what you mean.”

  “If you decide to come meet your daughter, we’re staying under my name. Elise Desjardin.” She gave the hotel name and her room number. “We’re here for less than a fortnight, so you need to decide soon.”

  Coming here might have been a mistake. She might have pushed it, but she couldn’t let him hurt Marguerite by rejecting her. “My sister was a terrible mother. Now I’m not asking you to give up your life and suddenly become a father. But we’ve come all this way. The least you can do is meet her.”

  Then she strode to the exit, hoping her words wou
ld give him a jolt to do the right thing.

  Chapter Three

  LUCAN STARED AT THE woman sliding past the bar and through the mostly black-clad patrons at Vamps to the exit. Nobody had ever turned his life inside out, upside down, and spinning in circles like that with just a few words.

  Lucan, you have a daughter.

  The words funneled around in his brain as the music pounded around his head. He was a father.

  Even more shocking was who he’d had a child with. Veronique. That vile, reprehensible monster.

  It couldn’t be true. It had to be a vicious joke. The curse was broken, but Veronique had still found a way to fuck with him from beyond the grave. He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he have been the one to destroy her? Years of simmering fury swirled inside like a funneling tornado.

  He straightened his spine. That’s over now. She’s gone. Focus. You have a major decision to make.

  What would he do about the child they’d had together?

  One song faded as another began, a remix of the Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”

  Fuck. He had to talk to his brothers. This was too big, too unexpected, too world-changing for him to consider on his own. With the turmoil churning, he was bound to make the wrong decision.

  Lucan found Danton across the club where he worked as a bouncer that night. He had his arms across his chest. Although he wore black, he could never blend into the crowd as a human the way he could melt into the backdrop in statue form. His large frame towered over those who surrounded him, and his long blond hair contrasted against the black.

  Who knew where Mattias was. Likely somewhere out soaring the night sky

  He communicated with them both. I have some big news.

  What is it? Danton asked.

  A woman was just here.

  I saw you speaking with her, Danton replied.

  Yes, her, Lucan replied. That’s Veronique’s sister.

  Mattias groaned. What is she doing here?

  She said. She said. Damn, he couldn’t say it. It would make this weird abstract notion somehow real. If it were true. He groaned and spat it out. I have—a daughter. With Veronique.