by Shyla Colt
I frown. It’s a grave accusation. Controlling someone with magic is expressly forbidden on this scale. The punishment would be severe if they were caught. “How old is he?”
“Twenty.”
“The stupid age. I’m not judging, mind you. I’m speaking from experience. The only thing running that boy is his hormones.”
“Exactly.” Her lips flatten as she purses them, and she shakes her head.
It’s no secret the two species can’t stand one another.
“I don’t know why the Wolves get so butthurt about Romani. It’s not their fault they can speak to the wolves inside them,” Sacha says.
“No, but they’ve been enemies for so long I’m sure it’s hard to see them as anything else. Their lore is linked for a reason.”
She briefly glances at me before returning her gaze to the long stretch of road before us. “You think it’s true then? That they actually cursed the wolves into creation?”
“I don’t know about that. I think the details are muddled. But there’s a reason why the wolves are the only one of their kind so intimately bound to the moon, and able to control their inner animal. There’s something more human about them than any other shifter I’ve ever come across. It’s why they govern the rest of the shifters. The push-and-pull with the Romani is also mutual. Perhaps, one day we’ll come to understand why.”
“When did you become so philosophical?” Sacha asks.
I huff. “I did a lot of thinking when I was gone.” And studied every magical text, ancient book, and myth I could get my hands on. I wanted to understand what happened between Cristobal and I. What I quickly came to realize was that vampires are closed-lipped bastards, who like to perpetuate false information to lead people astray. They’re the masters of subterfuge and aversion.
When cross the border into Lunar Falls, the subtle shift in energies washes over us. The hairs on the back of my neck threaten to stand on end as my senses go on high-alert. My instincts recognize the sensation of being near predators. Even now, they’re among the trees watching and communicating in that silent, telepathic manner that allows them to act as a pack.
It’s beautiful on this strip of land. Trees reach to the heavens and on, then to one another, bending to connect their branches. The earthy smell of damp soil, moss, and pine drift in through the vents. After a time, the mansion appears in the distance—the two-story renovated plantation with its traditional columns and massive stone porch. The black shutters stand out against the crisp white paint.
The bright fuchsia-colored flower bushes add a splash of color to the landscape. Rocking chairs line the porch. The blankets draped over the back of the chairs make me smile. As big, loud, and masculine as wolves are, they always see to the happiness of their other halves. It’s evident in the feminine touches that the Alpha, Flint, is no different.
“Before we walk up there, I want to make sure I have this right. We’re here to check for spells, and mind tampering, which we know we won’t find because no Romani in their right mind would match their child with the Alpha’s son.”
“Mostly.”
“Why couldn’t you tell him this on the phone?”
“You want me to pay half the bills, right?”
“Sach.”
She laughs. “I told him all this, believe me. He insisted I come in and check in person, and strengthen the wards to keep out undesirables.”
“For the house? I’m pretty sure he’d know if the boy was sneaking someone in and out with his keen senses.”
“Not exactly.”
I turn to face her. “What?”
“He wants them for the property.”
My jaw drops. The home sits on close to thirty-five acres easily.
“How exactly were you planning on casting this spell solo?”
“Very carefully?”
I growl. “You pull a stunt like this again, and I’ll kick your ass myself.”
“I wouldn’t risk overloading my system. I knew you were back when I took the job. I’m poor and eager to make a buck, not suicidal. If I tried to cast a spell of this magnitude over this plot of land solo I’d drop dead from the strain. Split between the two of us, we’ll be fine.”
“You assumed a lot,” I mumble.
“No, you owe me that much.”
“Touché. How much debt am I paying back with this gig?”
“A lot.”
“For a simple casting?” I say skeptically.
“Did I forget to mention we’ll be performing the spell skyclad in the middle of the woods where they hold their meetings?” She slips away before I can comment, her long legs eating up the distance between the car and the house.
I follow closely behind her. Nothing like a little spell work in the buff to re-cement the bonds of friendships.
Chapter Five
“Chin up, back straight. Don’t let all my hard work go to waste, mon ange.” Placing his slender fingers under my chin, Gillet tilts my head up as he peers at me with cornflower blue eyes from across the console of the sleek, black sports car. Chocolate brown hair falls over his forehead. Both features stand out against the porcelain-like skin.
With his heart-shaped face and slim figure, he’s every inch the French artist he was during his life in the 1500s. Under his careful watch, I’ve been scrubbed, buffed, plucked, and polished within an inch of my life. Born in the Renaissance era, Gil has a keen eye for beautiful things, including fashion and a refined etiquette.
“I’m trying.” I place a hand on my belly just below the square patches of skin revealed by the plunging V design of the scarlet red dress. Two thin strips of material connect the fabric that cups my breasts and forms an interesting pattern on the back. Floor length with a train, the bottom of the gown makes up for the hints of cleavage.
“There is no try. You are a queen in waiting now, about to ascend two thrones. You cannot let them see weakness. They will challenge you until you push back. You were a girl when we last knew you. Show them the woman you’ve become.”
“Why are you so nice, Gillet? I also betrayed you when I left,” I say quietly.
“Non. You were true to yourself. I’m glad you left. You were so young and full of the warmth and goodness we’ve all lost to time. It’s why we gravitated toward you. I know if you’d stayed we would have drained the life from you. Vampires steal life in more ways than one. Now I look into your eyes, and I sense you are ready to rule beside my Lord.”
His words give me hope. I latch onto the pinprick of light in the consuming darkness.
“Thank you, Gillet.” I hold onto his wrist, taking strength from the cool touch.
He hums. “You want my advice?”
“Always.”
“At the least, make them respect you. If you can manage it, fear is even better. We’re old, powerful, vain, and bored. It’s an awful combination. Like children, we think we know it all until someone shows us differently. Cristobal rules with a mixture of kindness and power. He’s learned how to play the game and manage us. We pair well. He chose carefully. Still, it’s no easy feat. He would not have been matched with you if you could not do the same.”
“How is it I never picked up on all of this?” It’s like I’m in a different world.
“With more power comes more politics.”
“Gillet, please.”
He sighs. “It always comes out in the wash. I told him this. We only showed you the bare minimum of what we are. Now the fangs will be out.”
They all knew. Like some sick joke I wasn’t in on. At every turn, I uncover more deceit and manipulation. I hold onto the anger that rises, using it as armor for what’s to come. I stand straight, using every one of my six foot-one zero inches. I ran like hell to get perspective, figure out who I was, and who I wanted to become without the influence of bonds, family history, and responsibilities. No on
e would take that hard-earned clarity away from me.
“Good thing I came ready for battle. Let’s get this show on the road, Gil.”
He pats my cheek. “Time for our grand entrance.” In the blink of an eye, he’s on my side of the car, helping me stand on three-inch heels and offering his arm in a gentlemanly manner that would seem fake on anyone else. There have been extensive additions and renovations to the plantation since I’ve been gone. I noticed the smaller homes on the property as well. How many people are living here now?
The front door opens, and I see Luz dressed in a black, form-fitting, sequined mermaid gown with pencil thin stiletto heels.
“You clean up well,” Luz says.
“Likewise.”
She scowls. “I hate these things.”
I smirk. “You always did.”
Her eyes twinkle with mirth before she smothers her amusement with the appearance of indifference and waves us inside.
“No compliments for me?” Gil asks.
“Don’t pout. We both know you’re perfection draped in a thousand dollar suit and handmade Italian leather loafers.”
“I appreciate you noticing.” Gil preens, pleased with her backhanded compliment. Their centuries of living as siblings shows.
Inside, I’m struck by the opulence. Everywhere I look, there’s marble, granite, high-end furniture, and expensive carpets. I’m lead into the formal dining room where a long table is set with a red runner, large black plates on deep red chargers with full sets of silverware, and napkins folded to look like a bird of paradise. A crystal chandelier adds light and drama into the space full of impeccably dressed, and inhumanly beautiful vampires.
“The little, lost sparrow has finally come home.”
“Marcellus, how I haven’t missed your voice.”
“Meow. Witchy came back with claws,” Ruby drawls.
“Witch has an inflated sense of self,” Marcellus retorts.
“You say witch like it’s a bad thing.” I grin as I cast a silencing spell over him and wait for him to try and make a snarky response. When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. Fury blazes in his greenish-blue gaze and I laugh.
“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not a basic witch. I suggest you mind your tongue before I take it from your skull.”
“The witch is back,” Rene beams. His brilliant smile stands out against the light-brown angular-shaped face I adore. The baby of the group, Rene is always ready with a tension-breaking anecdote.
“Now, you I missed,” I say, winking in his direction.
Standing, Marcel mouths, ‘Stop the spell.’
“What was that?” I tap my right ear. “I’m afraid I can’t hear you.”
The table erupts with sniggers and laughter. “Once I’ve said my piece, you can speak.” I turn to face the table, ignoring the man who sits at the head as cool as a cucumber. “I came here thinking I owed you all an apology for leaving the way I did. It wasn’t something I thought through, and there was no consideration for how it might affect anyone other than myself.” I take them all in. The quiet, bookish Miles, Loyal Percival, stern and lean. Ada and her red-haired sister in everything but blood, Ruby.
I linger on Larkin who sits between Marcellus and Luz. The thoughtful expression on his angular face tells me he’s not one hundred percent against me. I’m taking stock of my allies.
“Then I realized, I don’t owe any of you motherfuckers a damn thing. I never had a chance to in hell of understanding what was at stake, because each and every one of you kept vital information from me. If you don’t like the way things have turned out, that’s too fucking bad, because we’re stuck with each other now, at least until I kick the bucket. So, we need to figure out how to make this work.”
Walking over, I take my seat on the opposite side of the table from Cristobal. He placed me at the other end of the table, mirroring his position of power. I snap my fingers and clutch the edges of the oversized chairs.
He stands slowly, eyes trained on me and full of dark intentions. “If you ever cast I spell on me again—”
“You forget yourself, Marcellus,” Cristobal says crisply.
“But she—”
“Proved her point, elegantly. Were you not worried about her being a liability?” Cristobal arches a thick brow.
“As I recall, it was his reason for opposing the match originally,” Miles says.
Marcellus waves his hand. “And now you’ll jump on her bandwagon.”
“Cristobal has never steered us wrong, brother, and she is an Esçhete. I’ve seen the power they wield firsthand. Had you ever done so, you’d be slow to speak so freely,” Percival says. He has a quiet, soft voice, that somehow carries a weight no scream could manage.
“You knew my ancestors?” I whisper.
His lips curve up into a smile. “Very well at times.”
My interest is piqued, but now isn’t the time or place.
“Are you done reminiscing about your—”
“Enough.” Cristobal slaps his hand on the table.
Marcellus halts in mid-sentence.
For a moment, I see a world of hurt in Percival’s face before it smooths over. What had Marcellus been about to say? Here among them there are so many secrets left to learn.
“I brought everyone here tonight to get everything they wanted to say out before we leave this issue in the past. Weakness is not an option, and division among our court is a spot waiting to be exploited by an observant opportunist.”
“You expect us to act like one big, happy family?” Marcellus snaps.
“You will act however I demand you act.” Cristobal’s power swells in the room, flaring up around him, a deadly force ready to strike a blow if necessary. I see Marcellus sink back in his seat. “I only ask that we function. We all have much to gain from this merger.”
“Speak for yourself. If anyone has the right to feel slighted, it’s me,” I say.
“And yet, the only place you belong is at my side.”
His words steal the breath from my lungs. He speaks so plainly about the invisible shackles chaining me to him and this court full of brooding vampires.
“Have you not gained power?” he asks.
“I’d do that all on my own with time. Don’t play coy and pretend you didn’t know I’m in line to be the successor.”
“Your Mémé is ill?” Percival asks, wearing an expression of concern. There’s a waver in his voice I don’t like.
“No.” I narrow my gaze, and for once, it’s a vampire who looks away from me.
“I assumed, yes. The power you exuded, even back then was—”
“Ripe for the taking?” I offer up the words with a smile that shows teeth.
“Potent.”
Clenching my jaw, I dig my nails into my palms. I won’t air our dirty laundry in front of them.
“Can we manage to behave like civilized people for the rest of the evening?” Cristobal glances from Marcellus to me.
“Yes,” I respond blandly.
“Of course, Cristobal,” Marcellus replies with a mocking bow.
I want to lash out with my power, but I keep it on a tight leash. I’m better than that.
“Miles, will you tell the caterer’s we’re ready?”
“Certainly.” He stands and delivers a slight bow before he moves toward the kitchen. It’s like being stuck in the past. All of us dressed to the nines, with a full set of silverware, goblets full of more than wine, and a powerful man at the head of the table.
“You look exquisite tonight,” Cristobal compliments with a gleam of interest in his eyes.
“Likewise.” I can’t fault the man on his impeccable taste. He’s mouthwatering in a light gray suit that lovingly frames his hard angles, and accentuates his coloring.
My stomach growls as the
smell of roasted vegetables and grilled meat float through the air. I’m amused as the catering staff begins to serve us on rolling carts. A full meal like this is rare, so they often play it up. I won’t begrudge them that. I thank the waitress as she delivers a steak, roasted vegetables, and a loaded baked potato without chives.
He remembered. I glance down the table, and he raises his goblet. I nod.
The room falls silent as we all focus on our meals. Their meat is bloody, and mostly ignored in favor of the cabernet I know has more than grapes, sugar, and yeast.
“Tell me, Louella, what did you do while you were away?” Cristobal inquires, his gaze meeting mine.
“I ran an herbal remedy shop and studied.”
“In college?” Miles asks, intrigued.
I can’t help but smile at the eternal scholar who came to us via England. “No, the old ways. There were things I needed to understand and grasp on my own.”
“And you couldn’t do that here?” Luz asks.
“No. There was too much influence and old power at work. This state is a hotbed of paranormal activity for a reason. I wanted to see beyond that and go back to basics organically. The same way any other child leaves the nest and makes their own way to decide if what they’ve been raised to believe is their truth.”
“And was it?” Rene asks.
I nod my head. “Yes. It took me a long time to accept that, but truth is truth.”
“Why come back?” Ada asks.
I turn to the tawny-skinned, caramel-complexioned woman with dreadlocks.
“Economic hardship, fate?” I pause. “Because you can only run from yourself for so long.”
She nods her approval. Ada is older for a vampire. In her mid-thirties with wisdom wizened brown eyes and faint traces of magic I can’t quite put my finger on, she’s a mystery I can’t unravel. Every vampire line has a talent. Descending from Rasputin’s stock, Cristobal’s people have a kind of vampiric magic. What Ada carries is more than that. I squint, almost able to see the outline of her aura outside of the dark one that takes over when people turn.
“And what are you expecting to find here with us?” Larkin asks.