Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Present day
Evie didn’t take time to knock before entering the brick house in desperate need of repair on the outskirts of Paris. The door had been unlocked. No alarm system seemed to be in place. Odd for a lycan to be so careless. Even in modern times werewolf hunters could find them.
She pushed aside two muddy boots discarded near the door.
A right turn led her into a kitchen that reeked of weed and old Indian food.
Dishes sat unwashed in and around the sink.
Numerous empty bottles of tequila, vodka, and sangria sat on the counter.
Discarded takeout containers littered the countertops.
Two ashtrays filled with cigarette butts sat on the counter.
Most lycans didn’t smoke. It didn’t affect them.
A woman’s giggle filtered from the back of the house.
She marched toward the bedrooms and entered the only occupied one without knocking. “Leave us.”
The human woman sucking off Ian under the covers popped upright and threw the comforter back. “Who the hell are you?”
“It’s in your best interest to leave now,” Evie warned.
“Now, love…” Ian purred. “Perhaps we can have a little fun? All three of us?”
Eww. Evie focused on the human and let her glamour drop to half strength.
Revealing her full inner strength might give the woman a heart attack.
“Last warning. If you’re not gone in ten seconds, I’ll slash your throat and burn your body in the backyard.
Or perhaps I’ll dissolve you in the washing machine with acid. ”
The woman screamed, grabbed her clothes, and ran for the front door.
“Morbid, Evie.” Ian rolled his eyes as he stood from the bed and pulled on a discarded pair of slacks.
In looks, Ian reminded her too much of Willem—angular, muscular, dark-blond hair with a hint of auburn.
Like Willem, Ian preferred using debauchery, bribery, and occasionally killing to get his way in the world.
“Now that you’ve chased away my toy, are you going to take her place?” He gave her a lascivious once-over that had nothing to do with appreciation, or even the offer of decent sex. It had everything to do with I guess you’ll do.
She frowned in confusion. Ian Lanzo had never shown an ounce of attraction toward her in the many times they’d met before Willem left her life.
He also seemed to have become more coherent and less confused than she remembered.
There had been an incident a century ago that left him with memory loss.
At first, it annoyed and angered him. Then he seemed to devolve to the point he often had episodes where he didn’t seem to have both oars in the water.
He's dead. Dom’s words echoed inside her head. If Ian was “dead,” then who was this look alike?
“I don’t have the patience for you in the bedroom. Put on a shirt. Where’s your staff? This place is in abominable condition.” She returned to the kitchen.
“I had an unfortunate and fatal disagreement with the housekeeper. The others I got rid of a few days ago. They kept annoying me.” He followed her into the kitchen.
He killed the housekeeper? Maybe Ian’s brain had taken a sharp dive from what had been relatively harmless confusion into psychosis.
“Are you here to accept the inevitable with me heading your family?” He smirked.
She slammed her palm onto the counter. “You are not welcome in my life.”
He gave her a bored expression, lit a cigarette, and puffed. “I’ve given our union some thought.”
“Our union? In what fantasy world are you living that you think I’d ever consider you as a mate?” Her eyebrows rose into her hairline as her blood pressure skyrocketed. She would kill him without a second thought regardless of their loose family connection.
“It’s beyond time I took my proper role as head of the family.” His words lacked conviction, but his eyes seemed curious about her reaction.
She narrowed her eyes. “What qualifications do you have to lead my family?”
“It’s my rightful place.”
“According to who? The laws of seventeenth-century lycan society? Hello? It’s the twenty-first century.”
“It’s my birthright.”
“Birthright? Interesting choice of words. What exactly do you plan to do as head of the family? Do you think you’re going to sit on a throne and get catered to?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think there’s money to be had?”
“It’s my rightful inheritance that should’ve come to me as the logical male heir when Willem died.”
“First, the rules of male succession make Roman the heir. Not you. Willem has been dead for almost fifty years. Where have you been? You disappeared. What money do you think Willem had?” With a head shake, she laughed.
“Your brother left me five sons locked into servitude to the king of England and a broken promise to free them. He killed Jonas and almost killed Flynn. All I inherited was regret.”
“They got themselves free. Who knows what those loafers will do now.”
Ian knew nothing of what any of her sons did or the price they’d all paid to be free of the curse that had bound them to the Crown. Some secrets stayed in the family.
Well, family that didn’t include Ian.
“Those shoes alone cost three thousand dollars.” He pointed to her black heels.
“They do.” This most definitely wasn’t the Ian she remembered.
He would never have known, or cared to know, the cost of shoes.
He would’ve said they were high heels. She hit the alarm on her watch that would tell Efrem to come and get her, although she expected him to already be lurking in the shadows.
“What money I have I acquired on my own, long after Willem left us.”
“You mean after you kicked him out of his household.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette and smirked in a way that sent a chill through her shoulders. “I took it to the Council. They agreed it all belongs to me. You, the money, the estates.”
“They’d never agree to that. I’m older than half the sanctimonious shits on that board, most of whom think I’m dead, or at least think the world better off if everyone thinks I’m dead. I’m older than you.”
“They would agree if I had Willem’s last testament, which gives me the right to assume head of the family.”
“He never gave you that.”
“Seems he did.”
“You faked it?”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged.
“I don’t care what your brother might’ve wanted.
I don’t answer to your or the Council. I’d like to see them enforce anything on me after your asshole brother threw me to werewolf hunters to die.
He tried to murder his newborn son and unborn child.
Later, he did murder one of his own children.
I’ve got witnesses to every one of those facts. ”
Ian seem surprised, which confirmed this wasn’t him. Even with memory loss, she had no doubt Willem told his older brother everything back then. He’d not forget all of her history.
She said, “You’ve never been a part of my family. If you wanted to participate, you would’ve been with us through the past century.”
“It’s my family.”
Nausea squeezed her stomach at the concept of debasing herself before a male like him again. What was this thing pretending to be Ian? A sniff didn’t pick up the usual werewolf hormonal scents. She detected something sweet, but not vampire-sweet. “Are you ill?”
In a superspeed move, Ian gripped her chin in his hand, tight and bruising. “We’ll make a vicious team. You, the assassin who never misses, and me, the harbinger of darkness.”
What exactly did that mean?
His hold tightened. “You’ll be happy to take me any way I want. You’ll be mine, finally. You never should’ve been given to Willem or the other one who wasted you. I’ll show you what it’s like to belong to someone who can show you power.”
“Hard pass.” The other? Who was he talking about? There hadn’t been… Maybe this was about the mage from hours ago? “What other one are you talking about?”
“What mage?” He lowered his lips until they almost touched hers. If he kissed her, she might vomit. His eyes communicated a type of possessiveness Ian had never shown before.
Ian could read her mind. That wasn’t a lycan ability. Something about his eyes shimmered.
The mage’s warning slithered through her thoughts.
His teeth parted into a horrifying grin.
“I found a very interesting parchment. A page two, you might say, to the curse that bound your children to the Crown. An addendum, it turns out. The monarch of England was very interested in activating it, but I think I’ll do it for myself.
When you become blood-bound to me, you’ll do everything I want. ”
Her head went so light she worried she might pass out.
The tattoo on her wrist moved, the one that protected her. None in her family knew of this secret pact between her and this entity. The agreement bestowed angelic protection to her children. It squeezed, warning her of danger.
“Release me.” She sensed Efrem nearby.
“Or you’ll what?”
The tattoo spread across her chest. She detected its heat but didn’t like the thought of anyone knowing this secret about her. A spear of heat spread up her neck to her chin.
With a cry he released her and massaged his hand. “What did that?”
She jerked away from him, shocked as much as him. Had the tattoo struck out at him? It had never done that before.
He backed into the wall. Something about Ian flickered as if he wasn’t what he appeared. Was he a ghost or a reincarnated being of some type? Shaking off his surprise, he moved toward her again.
Efrem cracked Ian in the face with the muzzle of the shotgun. “We’re leaving.”
Ian spun into a nearby wall, cradling his jaw and nose.
She drummed up every inch of the hardcore bitch she’d learned to be.
“Whatever the hell you are, you’re not welcome near my family.
If you bring some parchment with a curse, you better find a powerful witch to back you up.
I have the two most powerful witches in the world related to me now.
I will have them incinerate you. Or maybe they’ll bounce that curse right back at you. ”
As she left, he called out, “You’ll be mine soon. All of it will be mine. You shouldn’t have escaped being blood-cursed into servitude to the Crown along with your kids that day in the desert. The curse was meant for you.”
How did he know she’d been there the day the curse was cast?