by Leeah Taylor
“I beg your pardon?” Michael glared back.
“Sterling is not your city. It belongs to the Kings of Sterling. Always has. Always will,” she said.
“Witches would have something to say about that,” Michael challenged.
“I am the witches, and I say it belongs to the Kings.” She leaned back.
He ground his teeth, the sound grating over her ears. “So what’s being done to handle Ramsey then?”
Juliette sighed. “I can’t track him.”
Michael shook his head, anger etched in his expression. “Not acceptable.
“I’ve tried, okay? The last time almost set fire to the kitchen.”
“My kitchen?” Lucien growled.
“No, the neighbor’s kitchen, Lucien.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, our kitchen.”
“What are you people good for?” Michael said.
“Stop while you’re ahead, Sheriff,” Ollie warned.
“Maybe we should cancel Fourth of July Gala tomorrow,” Chelsea suggested, and it gained her the entire table’s attention. “It’s just an idea.” She held her hands up.
Juliette considered it. She knew what the event meant to the city. Even more to her. It was her favorite.
“No doubt the preparations have been made. Residents are looking forward to it, and the local businesses are counting on the revenue.” She half-shrugged. “Besides, I need at least one good thing this week.”
“You’re so adorable when you take charge,” Ollie huffed under his breath with his signature smirk. “Little Miss Regent.”
“Oh, so this is just all a big joke to you all,” Michael scoffed. “That’s great. While you people are up here in your royal office, the rest of us are facing very real problems. Like possible wolf attacks and fires and earthquakes.”
Damien pointed at the sheriff. “Watch your tone.”
Juliette leaned forward. “I’ve been blown up, almost died, almost lost people I love, and forced to kill someone. And I don’t take lightly to killing people. I’m sure you have it hard, putting out fires and playing dog catcher, but up here we’re facing a vampire genocide and hostile takeover of Sterling. So, if you have nothing helpful to add, then sit there pretty like the human seat is supposed to.”
No one breathed a word. She caught a glimpse of Damien with a hint of pride in the smirk he failed to hide. Michael looked to want to say something, but nothing came out.
“The gala goes as planned. Chelsea remains on the Council as my Oversight. Riley O’Hare will take a chair at the table for the werecats—"
“Werecats? When the hell did we agree on werecats moving in?” Michael yelled.
He’s going to be a real pain in my ass.
Juliette stood and leaned with her palms flat on the table, staring down at the man. “Do you like your place here on the Council, Sheriff?”
“It’s my right—"
“It’s not your right. It’s a privilege that we allow you to have. Now, if I say Riley takes a seat for the werecats, then she takes a seat. And if I say the barrier doesn’t get restored, then it doesn’t.” She met each of their stares. Daring her to challenge her on it. Not like there was an altar for her to perform the spell on anyway. “I understand the Council hasn’t had an officially blessed Regent in over twenty years. Now you do. Do not challenge me.” She sat back down in her chair. “Is there any other business?”
Michael stomped out of the room.
“Can I challenge you?”
“Shut up, Ollie.” She half laughed.
“This was fun,” Ollie said. “I think I could get used to this.”
“Oh yeah, Damien and Jules bickering back and forth like a not-married old couple. Michael getting his ass handed to him. It’s freaking hilarious,” Lucien teased. “And she’s a damn good Regent.”
Juliette groaned. “You shut up, too.”
“On a serious note, what do we do?” Chelsea asked. “We have dead witches, the District decimated, and only a single Elder left.”
They couldn’t do anything without knowing where Ramsey was.
“We knew he’d go off the deep end about Rebecca,” Damien said.
“And where does he think he’s going to do Ann Marie’s spell? It’s too powerful to do it without an altar,” Chelsea said.
“I can’t figure that out,” Juliette said. “He needs a blessed altar to channel the kind of magic needed to even attempt the spell.”
Lucien pinched between his eyes. “We aren’t going to figure it out today. Best we can do is remain vigilant, double our men out on the streets in Sterling and the Falls, and hope we can get eyes on him before he causes more damage.”
Damien huffed. “Bastard has us right where he wants us.”
Juliette | 31
Chelsea slipped into the booth across from Juliette. “I can’t believe those brothers actually let us out of their sight to have a girls’ night.”
Riley grabbed a menu. “This isn’t a girls’ night; it’s dinner at a diner. Girls’ night would be spent at Juleps, upstairs with all the drinks we want and three men watching every move we make while we flirt with every man but them.”
Juliette smirked, rolling her eyes. She was surprised the same three men hadn’t put up much of a fuss when Chelsea suggested the girls go get dinner together. Then she looked out the window.
Scanning over the menu, her lips quirked up. “Xavier and Jet are outside.”
Chelsea twisted in her seat. “Of course.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t blame them,” Riley said. “Not with a grieving murderous Ramsey out there.”
Chelsea held a menu up to hide her face. “Bet you his grieving will be an afterthought if he got Jules alone again.”
Juliette’s mouth fell open. “Chelsea! You promised.”
“No, I promised I wouldn’t tell Lucien or Damien per girl code. Riley is another story.”
Riley arched a brow. “This sounds scandalous. Spill.”
Juliette groaned. “Ramsey kissed me when he had me cornered in the alley.”
Riley’s eyes grew. “He did not.”
“He so did.” Juliette said, but she regretted saying anything to Chelsea. “You told Lucien, didn’t you?”
“No, I told you girl code,” Chelsea insisted. “My lips are sealed.”
“Until Lucien swoons it out of you,” Juliette teased.
“I mean, you know how persuasive he can be.”
Juliette shook her head. “Nope, I’m not touching that.”
A wicked smile perked up on Riley’s lips. “Oh, I think we should totally touch that conversation.”
Juliette stuck her tongue out. “Should we talk about why Damien thinks you and Ollie consummated your little whatever it is between you this morning?”
Chelsea hid a smile in her glass. “Because she walked through the kitchen this morning in one of Ollie’s tees and panties.”
“Coming from the one wearing her boyfriend’s button-up and boxer briefs at the kitchen counter?” Riley countered.
“His boxer briefs?” Juliette’s brow went up. “Really?”
“What?” Chelsea shrugged. “They were within reach.”
Juliette sat back and watched as the other two talked animatedly about Lucien and Ollie. Even comparing notes on Juliette. Did she still put everyone before herself? Did she still act like she was the only one who could carry the weight of the world on her shoulders? Did she still drone on about Damien?
Riley confirmed, staring Juliette down that yes, yes, and yes, she did.
She was just happy Riley fit in like a perfect piece to the Frost puzzle. Like she had always been a part of the family.
Riley snapped her fingers in Juliette’s face.
“What’s up?” she asked, looking from Chelsea to Riley.
“She’s got Damien on the brain,” Chelsea giggled.
“We want to know, since you’re the common denominator here, who has the bigger dic
k? Lucien or Ollie?” Riley asked.
Fiery heat prickled into her cheeks, mouth agape. They couldn’t be serious. “That’s what you’re talking about? Really?”
Chelsea and Riley burst into giggles when Juliette’s phone vibrated across the table. She could only shake her head, amused by her friends’ gutter minds, and answered the call.
“Hello.”
“Wasn’t very nice, Kitten.” His voice, low and husky, sent a chill down her spine. “Lying to me like that.”
She swallowed. “Ramsey…”
Chelsea straightened in her seat, all the amusement drained from her face, and she grabbed for her phone. Her fingers flew across the screen.
“I have one question, Kitten. Was it the witches or Damien that killed her?” He sounded a like a man conflicted.
She sucked in a breath. “It was me.”
A humorless dark laugh filled the other end of the phone. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Juliette.”
“She had it coming.”
“I’d say you were wrong, but even I knew the things Rebecca has done would catch up to her one day. I always assumed she’d meet her end by Chelsea Greaves’ hand though.”
He sounded oddly relieved. Like Rebecca had been a burden on his shoulders.
“I had just as much reason.”
“Yeah, you did.” He sighed heavily into the phone. “Now I have to do something I really don’t want to do, Kitten.”
“You loved her,” she stated. There was silence. “Ramsey?”
“I loved Rebecca as much as she allowed me to. Which I’m sure you can understand.”
The guilt weighed heavier in her heart. Not just for killing Rebecca but for the grief in his tone. He loved her. Probably the best he knew how.
“What do you think you need to do?”
Fingertips grazed over her shoulder. She glanced up to meet with her favorite raging storm and scooted over in the booth. Damien slid in beside her. Lucien and Ollie stood at the edge of the table.
“Put it on speaker,” he whispered.
She held the phone out between them.
“Nothing I want to, Kitten.”
Damien bristled beside her, and she found a measure of satisfaction in it. His arm slipped behind her, and fingertips touched to the side of her arm. He was marking territory that didn’t belong to him yet.
“Then don’t,” she urged.
“Damien looks positively livid.” Her pulsed quickened as she searched the Riverfront. “What’s wrong, big brother? Don’t like me calling her Kitten?”
A low growl rumbled in Damien’s chest as panic set in.
Ramsey chuckled. “Kitten, did you know that my brothers have been keeping a secret?”
The moment Lucien’s shoulders fell, and he hung his head, she knew Ramsey wasn’t lying. Damien cursed under his breath. Ollie only glared at his brothers.
“Don’t worry, you have one too. Unless you told Damien about our little intimate tryst in the alley?”
She felt Damien’s stare burning into her and imagined the raging hurricane baring down on her.
“Tsk, tsk, naughty kitten keeping secrets—"
Damien made a grab for the phone. “Son of a bitch… give me the phone.”
Juliette snatched it back. “You don’t get to care.”
“Uh oh,” Ramsey mused.
Juliette looked to them, daring them to speak before their long-lost brother had the opportunity to tell this supposed secret for them. Every one of them stared back at her with a quiet apology but didn’t say anything.
“Tell me,” she said.
“Now, Kitten, are you sure you don’t want to give them a chance to come clean?”
“They’ve had their chance. I’m assuming for a long time. Tell me.”
Ramsey chuckled. “Well, you’re not wrong about that, but let me try to give them one more chance. Yeah? Lucien? Damien? What happened the night Ann Marie died?”
Her heart thumped down into the pit of her stomach. What secret could they be keeping about that night? Ollie’s fist slammed down on the table, rattling the drinks, and he stalked away to the counter, shaking his head.
“Ramsey, don’t do this to her,” Lucien pleaded.
“Tell her, one of you, right now or I will.”
“My mother killed herself—"
“Wrong.”
Damien snatched the phone out of her hand. “You have no right, no reason, to hurt her like this.”
“Last chance,” Ramsey warned.
Juliette took the phone back. “Tell me.”
“It’s not her you’re angry with, Ramsey,” Damien gritted out. “Don’t do this.”
“Killed your mommy, Kitten, with that very first rabid thirst. Ripped her throat out, Adrian said. Damien had to snap your neck to stop you. Then he took your mother’s book and carried you out of there like he had any right.”
“I had every right!” Damien roared.
“Go on, Lucien, tell her who wanted to serve her up to the witches.”
Tears erupted in her vision when she looked to him, and he refused to meet her gaze.
“You would have handed me over to the witches? You?”
“Darling, you have to understand things were different—"
“I was nineteen. They would have killed me. You knew that.” She wiped the tears away. “You let me believe it was Damien that wanted to hand me over to the witches. Coward.”
“Jules, please—" Lucien pleaded.
“Just…” Juliette tossed the phone on the table. “Move.”
“Luv, give us a chance to explain,” Damien said.
Heat spread behind her eyes. “Move.”
“I’m a phone call away, Kitten, if you decide you’re done with those brothers of mine.” Ramsey chuckled, and the line went dead.
“So help me, Damien, if you don’t move, I will move you.”
Damien clenched his jaw, and she thought he was going to make her move him when he finally slid out of the booth.
Ollie blocked the path to the door. “Doll—"
“You knew!” It felt like a brick to the face when he said nothing and hung his head. “You’re supposed to be the one person I trust no matter what.”
“Doll, you had already been through so much.”
“I don’t give a damn that I killed my psycho of a mother. Trust me, I was better off with her dead no matter how she died. It was not your place to keep it from me or to manipulate my memories to suit whatever story best supported your agenda.”
“I’m sorry,” Ollie said.
“How could you sit there all those years knowing how much it wrecked me to know my mother had rather kill herself from the shame of what I was. That hurt more than knowing I killed her.”
“I am sorry.”
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“Not this time, Oliver. You can’t make it all better by kissing my fingers and snuggling me into your chest without words.”
She walked out without giving them another look, to the only place she had left to get away from them all.
Damien | 32
“You were supposed to tell her,” Lucien said.
Damien hung his head. “I know. I just haven’t had the chance.”
Lucien clenched his fists at his sides. “Sure had it this morning."
“Lucien…” Damien sighed.
“Is someone going to go talk to her?” Riley asked.
“Pretty sure that’s my job,” Ollie said.
Damien shook his head. “No, it’s mine this time.”
“Dude, you don’t even know where to begin to make this better.”
“Ya know,” Damien went to his baby brother, “just because you’re the one she goes to when she needs her world put back together doesn’t mean you know all there is to know about making things better. She was my best friend too.”
Ollie held his hands up. �
�By all means, go fix it, big bad Damien Frost. I’m sure your track record with her is going to really work in your favor.”
“Screw off,” Damien sneered. “You think you know her so well? Go on, go home and find her. Make it all better.”
Ollie huffed on his way to the door. “Happily.”
Damien watched him walk out and shrugged. “She won’t be there though.” He looked back at Lucien. “Have the city swept from top to bottom. Door to door if you have to. He was right there in the Riverfront watching. Find him.”
He walked out the door, looking up and down the sidewalk. If he were Juliette, the last place he’d go was home. She was angry and likely felt trapped as Sterling Regent, crushed under the weight of it all.
He eyed the door leading upstairs to the loft. The space he’d made just for her. A haven with everything she loved. Her books. His paintings. Her music. It was all there for her.
She’s up there.
Damien pulled the door open, a hint of strawberries and cream hanging in the air. He took the steps slowly to bide his time and figure out what he could possibly say to her to make her understand. They didn’t alter her memories, but they hadn’t corrected them either. Juliette didn’t need one more reason to stay holed up in their attic like a prisoner. Stuck in her own head.
He gripped the door handle and sucked in a breath. He needed to make her listen. That was easy enough. He had one hundred and thirty-years’ experience making her listen for her own good. Especially when she was being ridiculous.
He slid the door open. This time would be no different.
She came out of nowhere. Hands fisted at her side. Eyes red with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“For fuck’s sake, can you just leave me alone? For once.”
“Once you’ve heard me out, I will leave you alone.”
“I don’t want to hear you out! You lied to me.” She stalked away with her fingers flying through her hair like she was ready to pull it out.
Damien closed the door. “We did not lie to you.”
She twisted around with her eyes in fit of purple swirling rage. “You let me believe—"
“Exactly, we let you believe the memory your mind cobbled together from that night. To protect you.”
“No, that’s bullshit. You owed me the truth—"