by Leeah Taylor
“Ha, yes, you will.” She laughed.
He bobbed his head. “You’re probably right. Jules, please, I’m looking for that kind of fun tonight with you.” He motioned with his head towards Riley. “She into watching?”
Riley nearly choked on the food in her mouth.
“Oh my god, absolutely not. I don’t want any part of your together with each other but not with each other, too weird shenanigans.”
“She’d totally want to be part of it,” Juliette teased.
“No, stop it,” Riley squealed, and pink painted up her throat to her cheeks.
Ollie leaned across the counter, invading Riley’s space. “Aw, come on, Riley. I bet under all that pretty pink you’re a kinky hot mess.”
Her mouth fell open, and Juliette held back the laugh trying to bust out.
“Jules,” Riley whined, “make him stop.”
“Yeah, you know what, let’s go out tonight,” Juliette said.
What did she have to lose? Not a whole lot. Anything to distract her from the hell going on and all things Damien.
Ollie’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”
I deserve to have fun too.
“Sure, what the hell?” Juliette turned to Riley. “And you’re going.”
“Um, no.” Riley shook her head with indecision written all over her face. “Nope, not going.”
“Oh, you’re going, little alpha princes,” Ollie said. His phone screen lit up and vibrated across the counter next to him. He picked it up. “It’s from Lucien.”
“Aw, you’re being relieved from the babysitting order,” Juliette said.
He shook his head, reading the text. “Tell Jules we know who took her mother’s book, we got her grimoire back, and Damien is…” Ollie chuckled. “Lucien says interrogating, but we’ll go with torturing Re— oh.” He shut the screen off and wolfed down his pizza.
“Oh?” Juliette’s brow pulled together. “Who is Damien interrogating?”
“Nobody,” he mumbled with a full mouth.
“Oliver Frost! Who?”
“Jules, it’s not important. What’s important is they know who took your mother’s grimoire, and they have your spell book. Yay.”
Oh no. It mattered. “Tell me.”
“Jules, please don’t make me.”
“Fine.” She snatched her phone up from the counter. “I’ll call Lucien.”
“Okay, okay,” Ollie sighed, and Juliette lowered the phone. “It’s Rebecca Law.”
The name ignited a red-hot rage to boil under her skin. A steady pulse reared up between her ears.
“Rebecca Law?”
“Now, Jules…” Ollie stood, hands up in front of him. “Just… breathe.”
“Who’s Rebecca Law?” Riley asked.
“I just want to make sure I’m not confusing her with someone. You know, the one that used to be best friends with Chelsea and me. The one who turned out to be a backstabbing slut. Is that the one?”
“Who is she talking about?” Riley asked.
“Jules…” Ollie tried to soothe her.
“Do I need to be more specific?” She leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. “The one that tried to seduce Lucien when she found out Chelsea had it bad for him. The one that Damien used to break me the night that ruined my life?”
The only solace she had was Damien hadn’t slept with Rebecca. Even he had a line. Or so he said.
“Or,” she went on. “And this is my favorite part. After Lucien rejected her, to get back at Chelsea because that was her fault, she spilled to Louisa that Chelsea’s mother was married to a vampire for decades. Getting her killed. We are talking about the same Rebecca Law, right?”
Ollie buried his face in his palms. “I really regret opening my mouth.”
Juliette snatched her phone back up and started for the door. Rebecca was going to wish she’d never laid eyes on her or Chelsea when she was done with her.
“Who are you calling?” Ollie followed her to the door.
“Rebecca Law, Juleps, Now.” Juliette shoved the phone in her back pocket and hurried down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. She set her sights on Juleps.
Ollie tried to keep up with her. “Who was that? Chelsea?”
“That bitch has had it coming.”
“Talk some sense into her, Riley,” Ollie pleaded.
“Sorry, cutie, I’m all in. No questions asked, I will always have her back.”
“You know this is a bad idea,” he pleaded.
“Don’t care.”
“Doll, please let Damien handle it. He’s good at this. It’s his thing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not his thing to deal with this time. It’s mine. She came after me. Not him.”
“You’re going to do something you’ll regret.”
She whirled on him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Rebecca Law spent years making mine and Chelsea’s lives miserable. Why? She was jealous of what we had. The coveted Kings of Sterling. You all gave us everything she wanted. Love. Adoration. Respect. You made us family. And she couldn’t stand that she wasn’t given the same. She’s earned this.”
“Doll, the only difference between you and Rebecca Law is you got a second chance with a family where she got stuck with Louisa Bellows as guardian. We were loving, while Louisa was cold.”
“I don’t care, Oliver. She played a hand in everything that got Chelsea and me to this point.”
Ollie tilted his head to the side, and his stare softened. “Exactly. Chelsea has Lucien and all the love she always wanted from him. You’re back home and, if you want, have a second chance to have all you want with my stubborn brother. A chance to finally break him. You don’t have to torture or hurt Rebecca.”
She clenched her jaw. Damn him for trying to be rational and logical. He wasn’t Lucien. It wasn’t his job to find a way to fix things.
“You’re the brother I need to be there when my world falls to pieces and shatters. So just stop while you’re ahead.”
He sighed. “Please don’t do this, Doll.”
“Too late.”
Juliette stopped listening to him. Things were going to get a lot worse if they didn’t get her mother’s book back. It should have been more obvious. Of course, Rebecca would be involved. If it gave her a reason to go after Juliette, an opportunity to take away something she cared about, she’d do just about anything.
Like helping a wolf hybrid bring down the barrier wall and taking her mother’s spell book. Juliette turned the corner at Juleps, and Chelsea was already standing there. Eyes blazing, dripping, with the need for vengeance.
What the hell is that slut doing in my city?” Chelsea looked passed Juliette. “Should have called me, Oliver.”
“I really don’t want to get in the middle of this cat fight.”
“She stole Ann Marie’s grimoire,” Juliette said. “And mine.”
Chelsea scowled. “And Val Valena?”
“I’m sure she was involved,” Juliette said. “Shall we?”
“She doesn’t leave here alive, Jules. We let her live once before, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Juliette nodded. “Neither am I.”
Juliette caught Lucien in her peripheral coming down the steps. She didn’t let it stop her from going straight for the door under the stairs.
“Jules, wait,” he pleaded. “I texted you for a reason.”
“I’m sorry,” Ollie said.
Juliette didn’t stop until she stood in front of the door. A familiar face blocked her path.
“Move, Dash.”
The man crossed his arms, muscles pulled taut against the fabric, and he stood a bit taller. “He said nobody down.”
She reached up, gathered the man’s shirt in her fist, and jerked him down to her level. “Does it look like I give a damn what Damien wants?”
Dash sighed. “Jules…”
Lucien tugged on her arm. “Darling…”
“If you want to keep that arm, you will
let me go,” she growled, staring down the guard. “And you either move or I will go through you. Want to find out if I can?”
Heart racing, body trembling, she’d literally go through the man if he didn’t get out of her way. A warmth spread behind her eyes, and a deep purple reflected in his stare. He would move. The man glanced over at Lucien.
He sighed, letting her go. “Let her in, Dash.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll deal with Damien. Just go.”
Dash gave her one last look before stepping out of the way. She yanked the door open, cool, damp air rushing past her as she stormed down the stairs. Chelsea followed closely behind. Rebecca Law wouldn’t leave that room alive. Or even in one piece if Juliette had her way.
Damien turned as she came of the last step. Eyes wide with a mixture of surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“You should have called,” she gritted out. “Well, why am I not surprised to see you, Rebecca.”
Rebecca leaned back in the chair, hands tied tight to the arms to keep her from using any magic and feet bound to the legs. She had a smile that Juliette wasn’t expecting, but it was the way she looked up at Damien as if she already won.
“Juliette and Chelsea. Look, it’s the Sterling trio back together again,” she purred.
Sure, if it was thirty years ago. “Where’s my mother’s book?”
“Oh, it’s in good hands.” She paused, blinking up at Juliette and smiling wide. “Kitten.”
Juliette surged across the room, ready to rip her heart out. She would have if Damien didn’t catch her at the waist and hold her back. Another foot and she’d hold the bitch’s heart in her hand. That would be too easy and quick. Rebecca deserved a long and slow death. With mountains of pain.
“You’re a despicable excuse for a Sterling witch, Rebecca. When this is done, you’ll still be miserable and dead because you never had what Chelsea and I do.”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh, Juliette. I’ve already had more than you.”
Damien took a step towards Rebecca. “Shut your mouth.”
She licked her lips. “Sure liked my mouth last night. Kept it good and full, didn’t you?”
“Oh, fucking hell,” Lucien groaned.
“You didn’t tell me?” Chelsea scolded. She stomped up the stairs.
Lucien went after her. “Chelsea…”
Juliette’s eyes lifted to Damien’s, heart exploding in her chest for the last time. She swallowed the tears back. Of course, she was the whore in his bedroom; how else could Rebecca have gotten an invitation into the house?
Why am I so stupid?
“Of all the people, all you could choose from, you fucked her?”
“No.” Damien held a finger up. “I didn’t fuck her.”
“No, your almighty Damien didn’t want his sweet Juliette like that while he was good and sloshed.” Rebecca twisted the dagger deeper. “He sure did let you take his cock down your throat though before stopping it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rebecca,” Damien growled.
Juliette’s mouth fell open. “You thought she was me!”
“Jules…”
“Just…oh my god, Damien.” She shuddered. “Nice to know you think nothing more of me than a whore.”
“Hey!” He got in her face. “I do not think you are a whore, so knock that shit off. I was drunk. Cut me some slack.”
Rebecca laughed. “So drunk you handed Momma Marquis’ book over only after you stuck your tongue down my throat like…”
Any more and she was going to vomit.
Juliette outmaneuvered Damien and had her hand around Rebecca’s throat. “You will scream for mercy until I’m done with you, but you will not leave this room alive.”
“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” Rebecca challenged.
Like a switch, Juliette released her and turned to the table next to her. She eyed her grimoire sitting on the corner before pulling back the small square cloth to reveal a variety of blades and sharp-edged toys. She felt Damien move behind her, and she grabbed a butcher’s knife. Twisting around just as he closed in, she pressed the blade into his chest. Not to puncture the skin but to make sure he understood how serious she was.
“You defend her now, after that disgusting display, and I will cut your heart out myself only after your balls,” she warned. “Try me because I am already inclined to do it anyway.”
He eyed the blade pressed into his chest and raised his hands. “You’re not a killer, Luv.”
“You can’t do it,” Rebecca goaded.
I’ll cut out her tongue.
“It is not the same thing as a wolf. You cross this line, and you can’t go back,” Damien warned. He didn’t get to care anymore. He’d lost that right.
“Leave or move.”
Damien backed up with his hands still up. “Just remember, I warned you.”
She turned back to the table, tossed the knife down, and scanned what was available. Damien had added a few new toys. A slew of vivid images played through her mind. The adrenaline and excitement of the hunt. The blood and satisfaction of hurting the wolves that had tried to kill her. Damien right by her side, teaching her.
“You aren’t going to let her do this?” Ollie protested.
“She’s a grown-ass woman, Oliver. If you can’t handle it, leave.”
“Doll, don’t do this,” he pleaded.
She picked up a cigar cutter and turned it over between her fingers, remembering the feel of it.
“Go, Ollie, and take Riley with you.” A callousness crept into her tone. The last thing she wanted was either of them watching.
“We made a promise, Jules. All in or not at all,” Riley reminded her.
Swallowing, she turned, the cutter between her fingers, scowling down at Rebecca. “Not this time. Get her out of here, Ollie.”
She waited, listening as Ollie forced her friend up the stairs until the door at the top shut. “Last chance, Damien.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not going anywhere.”
She found it comforting even though she wished it was him in that chair. She even wished, for just a moment, he’d stop her. But he wouldn’t and she knew that. This was his way of making it up to her. If he stopped her then he was defending Rebecca.
She lowered down in front of Rebecca and flashed the cutter in her sight. “Where’s my mother’s spell book?”
“You don’t scare me, Juliette.”
The fear dripping off her said otherwise.
A darkness washed over Juliette, and she embraced it. The vampire she denied edged into her psyche, craving power and violence.
“You know Damien had this made for me? Had it fitted with an exceptionally sharp blade.” She slipped the cutter over the tip of Rebecca’s pinkie, and the woman visibly swallowed.
“And?”
“And even then, bone is a bitch to get through.” Juliette squeezed it until she felt resistance. “Where’s Ramsey?”
Rebecca’s breath quickened as her eyes widened with the fear she’d tried so hard to suppress.
“Doesn’t matter, he already has the spell. He’ll have the flaws worked out before you find him.”
Her heart started racing in her chest. Juliette’s stomach clenched. She never looked away and slammed the cutter closed. It sliced through the little bit of flesh and bone with ease, taking the finger clean off above the knuckle. Rebecca went white, a scream scraping its way out. The sound echoed against the stone walls, and a jolt of exhilaration coursed her veins. Her heart fluttered.
Ignoring the warm spray that covered over her trembling hand, she moved the cutter over to the next finger. She made herself meet Rebecca’s eyes.
“Ramsey and my mother’s book?” she demanded.
Rebecca shook her head, mascara running down her cheeks, sweat covering her brow. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“Wrong answer.” Juliette squeezed the cutter, the blade as sharp as the day Damien had given it to her,
taking the ring finger clean off.
Rebecca writhed and screamed. Her agony and pain thick in the air. Sickness replaced the exhilaration. Juliette forced back any urge to be sick and began wishing Damien had stopped her. He was right; she wouldn’t come back from this.
Rebecca let out another agonizing shriek. “You fucking bitch. He’s going to kill his brothers, starting with Damien, and make you watch. Then he’ll kill you too, like he was supposed to.”
Her mouth fell open and stomach dropped. Holy shit.
Damien stormed across the room, yanking Juliette out of the way. “What did you just say?”
“Go to hell,” Rebecca spit out.
The familiarity she’d felt the moment Ramsey opened the door at the motel room. The dark hair swept back out of his face reminding her of Lucien. The swirling snowstorm in his eyes reminding her of Damien. And that charming smile the spitting image of Oliver.
It made sense.
He was a perfect mix of the Frost brothers. His brothers.
“Oh my god,” Juliette gasped. “Damien…Adrian Night was your father.”
Vampires had courted and married witches, and sometimes werewolves, for centuries before the witches decided to get celibate about their laws and the wolves became hostile and greedy. Vampire spouses handpicked either powerful witches or alpha werewolves to act as surrogates or donors, turning the product of those unions at 18. Like Damien, Lucien, and Oliver.
As far as she knew they’d never asked who the donor was, and their vampire father, Julian, never said.
Damien glanced back at her. If he was surprised, she couldn’t tell.
“Damien, did you hear me?” She softened. “Adrian Night is your father.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, visibly swallowing. “I heard you.”
“And when he cleans up the mess of a spell, he’ll become the thing vampires fear. Unlike you, a useless mistake that even Damien can’t stand.”
Ice flashed in Juliette’s veins as the words washed over her.
“Luv, don’t.”
Damien lunged and grabbed for her hand.
He missed the flick of her wrist, and Rebecca’s head whipped to the right with a sickening crack. Instead of relief, hot sickness shot up the back of her throat. She covered her mouth, trying to hold it down, refusing to give Damien the satisfaction of being right.
