by Eva Chase
I tried to imagine what it’d be like if she woke up right now and gazed into my eyes. What expression would she make? What would she say to me? My mind stalled trying to generate a plausible answer.
What I knew of her was a big mess of contradictions. The woman who’d lovingly cradled my infant self in her bed; the woman who’d chummed up with Baron Nightwood. The woman whose fury I’d tasted across thousands of miles; the woman who slept so peacefully in front of me. She could be all of those things. I wouldn’t know which elements guided her the most until she was conscious again.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, even though I didn’t see how there could be. I’d asked the same question when we’d made it back to New York last night, and the blacksuits hadn’t suggested anything then either. I had to check all the same.
As expected, Lillian only grimaced. “You’ve already done so much to bring her back. Catch up on your schoolwork, reconnect with your friends, and I’ll let you know as soon as the doctors have settled on an awakening time. I know she’ll want to see you as soon as she’s up.”
“Of course,” I said. The thought sent a quiver through me that was equal parts excitement and nerves.
I was her daughter, her only heir. That would count for something. And if she wanted things from me I wasn’t willing to give, I didn’t have to answer to her. A week ago, I’d been nearly baron myself. I had to remember that.
The inner pep talk didn’t stop the anxiety from chasing me through the drive back to campus. The niggling sensation took up residence in my chest next to the dulling but still unshakeable ache of Deborah’s death.
Before I’d left to visit my mother, I’d already gone around to check with my professors about the classes I’d missed while I was in California. I didn’t have any classes today until later in the afternoon. After I’d parked the family Lexus—which maybe would go back to being my mother’s once she was up to driving again?—I wandered over to the scion lounge.
The guys had been waiting for me. Well, most of them, anyway. They were standing around the pool table, Malcolm waving his cue as he talked like a king with his scepter, Jude jumping in with an elaborate flourish and a joking remark that set the other two laughing, Declan shaking his head at the two of them with a small but fond smile.
When I’d talked to them briefly after we’d gotten in from California, Declan had said something about Connar leaving on a short trip for some magic-related event. The Stormhurst scion hadn’t replied to my text this morning, so I guessed it was keeping him pretty busy. I wasn’t going to let myself add that to my expansive list of worries just yet.
The guys all looked up when I came in. Jude tossed his pool cue on the table and leapt to my side with a flash of a grin, tucking his arm around my waist as if to remind the other guys—or maybe himself—that he could. I leaned into him as Declan and Malcolm ambled over. Declan appeared unfazed by the show of affection. Malcolm’s jaw tightened slightly, but if he was struggling with any possessive urges, he mastered them before they got ahold of his tongue.
The Ashgrave scion grasped my other hand briefly with a reassuring squeeze. “How is she?” he asked.
“They still have her sedated,” I said. “I think she looks better, but it’s hard to tell when she’s unconscious. Lillian said they’d be waking her up in a day or two.”
“And then we find out what the joymancers put Baron Bloodstone through all this time,” Malcolm said grimly.
We didn’t need much more than what we’d already seen to confirm they’d treated her awfully. I made a face in answer.
“We’ll find out what kind of a baron she’s going to be from here on, too,” Declan put in. From his grave expression as he considered me, I suspected he could guess what sort of worries might be plaguing me.
“If she’s ready to be baron again after all,” Jude said, and kissed my cheek. “Maybe she’ll save us all a lot of trouble and pass the title on to Rory right now.”
Malcolm guffawed. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that. When in the history of the pentacle has any baron capable of making the choice decided to hand over their power early?”
“Not in any instance the records I’ve looked at covered,” Declan admitted.
Jude shrugged. “No harm in having hopes. But hey, we’ve taken on three barons and come out on top. One more shouldn’t be so bad.”
“She is my mother,” I said. “She might be on our—my—side.”
Even I couldn’t say that with total confidence. A solemn silence filled the room for a few seconds with the knowledge of how little parentage had benefitted the heirs of the other three older barons.
“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” Malcolm said. “Jude’s right. Even if she becomes part of the problem rather than solving it, we can handle it. This pentacle couldn’t be more solid.”
He smiled at me with a quiet warmth that felt like a secret between us. Something in my chest fluttered. Was it possible I could find myself loving him too—loving all of the guys I was meant to rule beside?
All the guys I’d have to give up before we got to that point, except for Jude. Who still wasn’t ready to tell the others that.
Malcolm’s phone buzzed with a notification. He pulled it out, and his expression warmed in a different way. “Connar’s finally back. He can tell us how the hell he let himself get roped into whatever exactly he’s been off doing.” He lowered the phone. “He’s just coming over from the parking lot. Let’s give him a break and meet him halfway. If he actually did let himself get caught up in some tournament, he’s probably in a shitty mood.”
Maybe I could help with that. I followed the guys up the stairs from the Ashgrave Hall basement with a spring in my step at the thought of seeing the last of my lovers again. It might have been selfish, but something was missing without him—just as it would have been without Jude or Declan… or even Malcolm now, if I was being honest.
Whatever my mother’s return might mean for us, I prayed with every ounce of my being that we were ready for it.
* * *
Will Rory’s birth mother prove to be an ally or an enemy—and how will Rory protect the guys she loves when the other barons make them the target of their schemes? Find out in Foul Conjuring, the sixth book in the Royals of Villain Academy series. Get Foul Conjuring now!
If you’re a fan of reverse harem paranormal romance, why not check out one of Eva’s complete series, The Witch’s Consorts? You can grab the prequel story FREE here!
Next in the Royals of Villain Academy series
Foul Conjuring (Royals of Villain Academy #6)
Rory thought her birth mother’s return would make her life complicated enough. Too bad her enemies don’t intend to cut her a break while she adjusts to having an unexpected new parental figure. With her fellow scions—and newfound lovers—becoming targets of the barons’ machinations and an unsettling plan unfolding that threatens every student on campus, the heir of Bloodstone has her work cut out for her if she’s going to protect everyone she cares about.
Get it now!
Dragon’s Guard excerpt
Did you know I have a reverse harem paranormal romance series full of shifters and steam and mystery? Here’s a sneak peek inside the first book, Dragon’s Guard.
The last dragon shifter meets her four hot alpha mates—and life is about to get dangerous.
DRAGON’S GUARD
1
Ren
“Are you waiting for someone, honey?” the bartender asked.
It was a reasonable question, considering that I’d been perched on one of the leather-cushioned seats at the bar for ten minutes without ordering anything. If the place had been any busier, he’d probably have pushed me a lot sooner. But there was only one other patron down the counter from me, a grizzled dude who was glued to his beer and the burble of the football game, and a handful of people scattered around the wooden tables in the rest of the room.
I’d picked this
bar for exactly that reason. If she came, it’d be somewhere low key, not too noisy or crowded. At least, that had felt like the right idea. It wasn’t as if she’d shown up anyway.
“Not exactly,” I said to the bartender, leaning my elbows on the counter. The smell of wood varnish and booze tickled my nose. “And if you’re going to call me anything, call me Ren.” Most of the times I’d heard “honey” in the last seven years, it’d been followed by a leer and a grope.
The bartender didn’t take offense, just grinned. “No problem, Ren. Can I get you anything, while you’re ‘not exactly’ waiting?”
I was feeling too restless to want a drink for pleasure, but maybe that was why I should have one. It’d take the edge off my nerves. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary.”
“That I can do.” His grin turned apologetic. “I do have to ask for ID. Take it as a compliment?”
I shrugged and pulled out my wallet. When I flashed the card at him, he chuckled. “Birthday girl, huh? It’s an honor to serve your first drink.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or at least your first legal drink.”
Yeah, we wouldn’t get into the amounts of cheap vodka and rum I’d gulped for a buzz over the last several years. When you were crashing on the streets, there was always someone passing around a bottle in a paper bag. But I was done with that part of my life now.
There was only one thing still missing.
“Make it extra bloody,” I told the bartender. He saluted me and grabbed a glass. As he mixed the cocktail, I looked toward the door. Beyond the window, the headlights of Brooklyn traffic streaked by through the darkening evening. No one walked in.
My hand rose to the locket that dangled just below my collarbone. I traced the delicate vine pattern etched in the warm gold. My chest still tightened a little when I flicked the locket open, even though I’d done it already a dozen times today.
The necklace was the last thing my mother had given to me. Seven years ago, but I could remember so vividly the way her dark eyes had shimmered with a hint of tears as she’d pressed the locket into my hands. She’d clasped her fingers over mine and leaned close. The perfume she wore, like smoky roses, had filled my lungs.
“I have to go,” she’d said. “If what I’m about to do works out the way I hope, I’ll be back before you know it. But if I’m not... You hold onto this locket. Don’t take it off for an instant. And keep it closed until your twenty-first birthday. Then, if I’m not here, you open it.”
At the time, turning twenty-one had felt so distant I’d hardly processed what she was saying. She’d left before on her little trips, but she’d never been gone more than a week or two. When she’d pulled me into her arms, I’d hugged her back a little harder than usual, but I hadn’t really believed she wouldn’t come back. She was the one sure thing I’d always had.
But she hadn’t come back. And here I was, twenty-one. I snapped the locket closed, nudged it open, snapped it closed again. There was nothing inside but another etching, this one a symbol like an upside-down flame at the heart of a spiraling line. It didn’t mean anything to me. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I’d had the idea that the second I’d open the locket, Mom would know. She’d know, and she’d come find me. Whatever had been stopping her before, it’d be over.
I’d braced myself and popped it open for the first time twelve hours ago. And here I was, still twenty-one, sitting alone in a half-empty bar on a Thursday night.
Not alone for long. The bartender set my Bloody Mary down in front of me, and a guy who’d been sitting at one of the tables ambled over. He plopped onto the stool next to mine, called to the bartender for a gin and tonic, and looked me up and down.
“You seem to be a little lonely tonight, sweetheart,” he said. His voice sounded as greasy as his hair looked. The armpits of his dress shirt were ringed with sweat stains. “Maybe I can help with that.”
Hard pass on that one. “I’m good, actually,” I said. “No assistance required.”
He shuffled a little closer. He smelled like sweat too—sweat and the three to four drinks he’d already downed. Ugh. “Aw, come on. No harm in a little conversation.”
I wouldn’t be so sure about that, I thought. The truth was, even if he’d been remotely appealing, I’d have steered clear. Me and guys didn’t seem to mix well. I’d had a few hook-ups over the years, but nothing that had gone past second base. As soon as things took a hot and heavy turn, a strange sensation rose up inside me. Like claws digging into my innards. And I’d suddenly feel as if I could rip the guy apart.
As if maybe I wanted to.
There’s nothing like visions of gruesome murder to put a damper on your libido.
That wasn’t the only time I felt the stirring of those claws inside me. The greasy guy tapped me on the shoulder with a smirk, and a prickle crept up over my ribs. The picture he was presenting snapped together into sudden focus. I could almost taste his bruised ego in its sauce of desperation.
“I’m not any more interested than your ex is,” I said, and took a sip of my Bloody Mary. “So how about you leave both of us alone?”
The guy’s face turned sallow. “Bitch,” he muttered. He snatched his drink off the counter and stalked away.
I swallowed another mouthful of the spicy, tomatoey cocktail. The bartender had made sure it packed a good wallop, exactly the way I wanted. Enough to wash away most of the discomfort of that encounter.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and smiled when I saw the name on the screen. “Hey, Kylie!” I said. “Are you really supposed to be making calls in the middle of your shift?”
“I made a deal with my supervisor that I’d cut out early tonight in exchange for an extra long shift tomorrow,” my best friend said in her chirpy voice. “Birthday surprise! Where are you, Ren? We need to rock tonight, hard.”
I laughed. Maybe this was what I really needed. Mom was long gone, doing whatever had been more important than sticking with her only kid, and of course no piece of jewelry was going to bring her back. But I didn’t need her anymore. I’d gotten through the last seven years alive if not completely unscathed, and now Kylie and I had finally scrounged together enough money to put a down payment on an apartment.
It was a crappy apartment, on a street so seedy there were more weeds than concrete on the sidewalks, but it had four walls and a ceiling with no holes. It had a door with a lock, and only we had the keys. These days, that was heaven.
Kylie normally worked the evening and early night shift cashiering and stocking shelves at a rundown grocery store in the ‘hood. I’d be back hauling boxes at my warehouse job tomorrow morning. No fun, but whatever paid the bills. And I could sleepwalk through the job, so I didn’t need to worry about a hangover.
I turned around one of the coasters sitting on the counter to check the bar’s name. “I’m at a place called Carmello’s,” I said. “It’s on 5th Ave a few blocks from the park. But I can meet you wherever.”
“No, no,” Kylie said. “I’m coming to get you. And then I’m taking you on one epic adventure, little girl.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise,” I said. Not that I had any doubt Kylie would deliver. She was only a couple years older than me, but when I’d first run into her a few years back, that had seemed like a much bigger gap than it did now. She’d looked out for me as much a big sister as a friend.
Carmello’s would definitely be too much of a snore for her to want to stick around here. I gulped some more of my Bloody Mary so I’d be finished before she showed up.
The door sighed open, too early for it to be Kylie already. My heart leapt despite the talking-to I’d given myself. But it definitely wasn’t my mom walking in.
The guy looked young, maybe mid-twenties, but there was a confidence in the way he prowled into the bar that seemed to carry the weight of a lot more experience. His round face was broken by the jut of sharp cheekbones—not exactly handsome, but definitely memorable. His hazel e
yes swept the room and came to rest on me.
I jerked my gaze away, realizing I’d been staring. And he wasn’t at all the kind of person I wanted to be staring at. Living on the streets had given me a keen instinct for danger. This guy? He was not someone to mess with. A sense of purpose radiated off of him too. I figured it was better not to get in the way of whatever he was up to.
Just my luck, he sauntered up to the bar right beside me. “Give me the best thing you have on tap,” he said to the bartender, and turned toward me. “Nice night to be out on the town.”
“I suppose,” I said noncommittally. How long was it going to take Kylie to get here and give me an easy exit?
Cheekbones cocked his head. “All the early summer energy in the air, it really brings the beast out.”
What was that supposed to mean? I shrugged and acted fascinated by my Bloody Mary. He didn’t take the hint.
“Maybe we could take a walk, get to know each other a little better.”
I cut my eyes toward him. He was confident, wasn’t he? My quick tongue got a little ahead of my better judgment. “Who says I’m looking to get to know you?”
Cheekbones grinned at me, looking unfazed. “I’m just saying, we clearly have a lot in common. This isn’t our kind of place, is it? Why not come back to the fold, at least for a visit?”
A lot in common? The fold? Was this guy on something? No dilated pupils, no jerky movements, but you never knew what drugs were making the rounds these days.
I drained as much of my drink as I could in one swallow and set down the glass. The hit of spice and alcohol sharpened my inner claws. “I’m pretty sure we have exactly nothing in common,” I said. “For one thing, I know how to take a ‘No.’”
