SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lucien bit into his fourth cookie and let his gaze scan the kitchen.

“Looks like you redecorated. Again.” The cabinets were new and glazed a soft cream color. The hardwood floors were the same, but the granite countertops had been replaced with white and gray quartz. New colorful window treatments decorated every window and gave the room a cozy French vibe.

“Yes. Well. With no children at home anymore, I get bored.” She held the crystal glass at the stem and took a sip of her expensive wine. “It’s either drink all day or decorate. So I decided to do both.”

He laughed. His mother had always had a dry sense of humor, but now he realized how much he had missed her.

“It looks good on you.” She nodded.

“What?” He glanced down at himself.

“The smile. I’m guessing she’s the reason for your happiness.” She looked at him from under her lashes.

He fidgeted. “Would that be so hard to imagine? A female wanting to be with me?”

She sucked in a breath at his words. Setting her wine glass down, she went over to him and put her hands on either side of his face. “Lucien, that’s not what I meant. Any female would be lucky to have your love.”

Guilt stung his gut. He dropped the cookie on the platter and met her gaze.

“Forget about it. It’s not important.”

“It is important.” Her voice cracked with unshed tears. “You’re my son and I love you. I never wanted to make you feel unloved.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Mother. Lucien is being whiny, aren’t you, brother?”

Lucien’s blood ran cold and every muscle in his body tensed at the sound of his brother’s voice. His heart rate sped up as he eased off the barstool and stood.

He’d known this moment would one day come. He’d expected to be better prepared to have a showdown with one of the three Assassins of Louisiana.

“Lorcan.” He turned and faced his brother. He wore black leathers over his black jeans. His biker boots and his black leather jacket both were covered in studs.

“Lucien. I’m surprised to see you here.” Lorcan narrowed his eyes and curled his hands into fists. He had the same dark hair and blue eyes as Lucien. But that was where the similarities ended.

“Just dropping by for a visit,” he lied.

“You never have before.” He cocked his head. “Why start now?” Lorcan took a step forward.

“I asked him to come visit.” His mother spoke up.

Lucien blinked but said nothing at the blatant lie.

She stepped between them and placed a palm on both their chests. “Stop it, you two. This is the first time in years you’re both home at the same time, and I won’t allow any fighting in this house, do you hear me?”

“You shouldn’t have come back, Lucien.” Lorcan curled his fingers into fists and lasered his gaze on Lucien. The hatred in his eyes matched the tone of his voice.

“Why?” Lucien’s heart pounded and his hands ached to punch Lorcan in his pretty face before sinking his teeth into his flesh. The pain he intended for his brother would be slow and long.

“You forget, brother, who I am.” Lorcan lifted his chin.

“You are a hired killer. No one has forgotten.” Lucien sneered.

“You think what you do is more honorable?” Lorcan walked toward him. “Working for a Pack Master who tells you what to do and where to go? How’s being a servant working out for you?”

“I serve and protect the Pack of Arkansas.”

“And here you are, back in Louisiana, in a state no longer your home.” Lorcan picked up a cookie and popped it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before he spoke. “Tell me, brother, what is it exactly you do for Barrett Middleton? You can’t be a Guardian, because I saw to that years ago.”

White-hot rage shot through Lucien’s body at volcanic speed. He lunged and grabbed Lorcan around the neck. He pinned him against the wall as he felt his body began to shift into wolf.

“Stop it!” His mother shouted.

Lorcan grinned and lifted his feet. He kicked Lucien in the chest. Lucien fell back onto the ground, his head smacking into the hardwood floor.

Lorcan landed on top of him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He twisted his body and grabbed Lucien in a choke hold.

Years of combat training, natural instinct, and long-awaited revenge kicked in.

Lucien slammed his elbow into Lorcan’s nose. The sick sound of cartilage and bone breaking echoed in the room. His mother screamed. Their butler, James, ran into the kitchen.

“Master Lucien, Master Lorcan. Stop this right now,” the butler demanded.

Lucien growled and readied for another blow to his brother’s face.

“Stop it!” their mother called out. “You’re brothers. You need to remember that.”

They both froze. Lorcan’s grip loosened around his neck and he rolled off.

Lucien stood.

Lorcan got to his feet and glared at him. A stream of blood dripped from his now broken nose. He wiped at the wetness with the back of his hand but didn’t take his eyes off Lucien.

“Not changed a bit, I see.” James shook his gray head and looked at the floor in disappointment. He still had his black and white butler attire on from the party.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Lucien admitted.

“You should have better control over your emotions by now, brother.” Lorcan taunted.

“You shouldn’t aggravate him, Lorcan,” James said as he handed him some paper towels for his nose.

Lorcan scowled at the old man.

“Lorcan, what are you doing here, anyway? It’s been months since you last visited.” His mother wet a dishtowel and dabbed at Lorcan’s face in an attempt to wash the blood away.

He ducked his head. “I got back from an assignment and thought I’d spend the night here.”

Lucien’s heart sped up. If Lorcan stayed, he’d find Catty. No way in hell was he letting his brother get near her. He’d kill him first.

“You mean you killed someone,” Lucien shot back.

Lorcan smiled and met his gaze. “I prefer ‘assassinated.’ Since I am an Assassin.”

“Oh, Lorcan.” His mother’s tone dripped with disappointment.

“It’s an honor to be the mother of an Assassin, Mother.” Lorcan cut his gaze up at her.

“It’s an honor to be the mother of a Guardian,” Lucien added.

Lorcan’s face clouded with rage. “And tell me, Lucien, how is it you’re a Guardian and yet you don’t hold the Guardian tattoo?” Lorcan grinned evilly. “Did Barrett make you a Guardian out of pity?”

Lucien growled and lunged, but his mother stepped in between them.

“Enough. I won’t have this in my house.” She glared at both of them.

“I think I’ve changed my mind about spending the night.” Lorcan stalked toward the back door. He stopped and leaned into Lucien’s personal space.

“I don’t know what your business is in Louisiana, but you need to make sure you don’t come back. You might find yourself in more danger than you can handle. Leave and don’t ever come back.”

“Is that a threat, brother?” Lucien growled.

“No. It’s a fact.” Lorcan passed him and went out the back door. He slammed the door behind him, rattling the windows.

Lucien turned his attention to his mother. “You should have told me he was coming tonight.”

“I had no idea. Lorcan usually arrives late at night and leaves early, before I get up. The only way I know he’s been here is finding his unmade bed.” She shook her head. “I don’t like that he’s an Assassin. That’s not him. It’s turning him into a monster.”

Bitterness seeped into his soul. Once again, she was making excuses for her son. He should have known better than to think she’d take his side for once.

Lucien took a long, hard look at his mother. “Mother, Lorcan was a monster long before he joined the Assassins.”

***

Catty couldn’t tear her gaze away from Lucien as he slept. It was becoming a hard habit to break.

The pain in her chest had woken her up early in the morning. She found Lucien sleeping next to her, still fully clothed. His dark lashes rested on his cheek and his lips were slightly parted. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, mesmerized by his handsome features.

Her heart melted. He’d not left her side since they’d arrived.

She looked around the elaborate room. The crown molding and ceiling height hinted that the house had been built years ago. But the décor suggested it had been updated recently.

The light blue walls and crisp molding complemented the earthy color of the comforter and drapes. The floors were original hardwood and the furniture was large and ornate and expensive. A small sitting area near the window was complete with a chair and tufted ottoman.

“Good morning.”

His deep voice melted her heart. She turned her head in his direction. He pushed up on his elbow and edged closer to her, his eyes studying her face for any signs of pain.

“Good morning.” She smiled.

“How are you feeling?” His brows creased and his fingers found the top of the sheet and he tugged it down. He ran his fingertips across the bandage and looked up at her.

“Better. Still hurts but not anywhere as bad as last night.” Her heart pounded against his fingertips and her body heated.

“I’m going to take this off and get a better look, okay?”

She nodded, and he went to work removing the tape around the bandage. Slowly he pulled back the gauze. She looked down. The wound was beginning to close up. Soon there would be no sign of an injury.

“You don’t need this anymore.” He placed the bandage on the bedside table.

“Is this your home?” She cleared her throat and looked around. It was hard to imagine a badass biker growing up in opulence.

“It was my grandparents’ home. My father inherited it after they died. I spent the better part of my youth here.” The corners of his lips tugged upward as he brushed a strand of blonde hair off her forehead.

“Whose room is this?”

“Mine.”

“How did you know it was empty?” Her stomach warmed at the way he was staring at her.

“I didn’t. And it wasn’t.”

She pushed up on her elbows and cringed.

“Wait, let me help.” Cradling her in his arms, he helped her up in a sitting position. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under her back to support her.

“I’ll go get you something to eat.” He turned to get off the bed, but she placed her hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” she said softly. God, he was beautiful. Not just in appearance, but he had a beautiful soul. “For taking care of me.”

“I didn’t do much.” He shrugged. “My mom bandaged your wound.”

His mother. Holy shit.

Lucien’s mother was here. Her heart sped up as her eyes widened. She wasn’t ready to meet his mother.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll have to thank her then.” Maybe he would say his mother had already left, or maybe they could leave before she woke up.

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Catty froze at the sound of the feminine voice. Holding her breath, she turned her head.

A beautiful older woman with dark hair and familiar blue eyes stood in the doorway, dressed in a white silk robe. Her hair was pulled up in a messy but chic bun, and she had an air of natural elegance, like she rolled out of bed looking beautiful without trying.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She mother held up the tray. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a little of everything.”

“You made, Mother?” Lucien arched his brow and took the tray out of her hands.

She narrowed her eyes at her son. “James made it.” She looked back at Catty. “James is the butler. But I told him what to prepare.”

Lucien grinned and set the tray in front of her. It was full and held blueberries, bacon, eggs, and yogurt and pancakes. She almost sighed with delight when she spotted the silver coffeepot with wisps of steam coming out of the spout.

She laughed. “If I eat all this, I won’t be able to fit into any of my clothes.” She looked up at his mother. “Thank you. For this, for everything.”

His mother pursed her lips and gave a brief nod.

“Lucien, there’s more for you in the kitchen. Go on down and fix yourself something to eat.”

“I’ll wait until after Catty’s finished.”

“No, go.” Catty nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with her.” His mother smiled.

Lucien stilled.

She didn’t want to be left alone with his mother, but she didn’t want Lucien waiting for her to finish before getting something to eat. Besides, she could handle herself.

“Yes, Lucien. Go. I’m fine.” She shooed him away with her hand. She picked up the tiny silver pitcher of creamer and poured a generous amount into her black coffee. Picking up a spoon, she stirred until the liquid turned a pretty caramel color.

“I’ll hurry.” He bent and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead.

She blushed at the show of intimacy in front of his mother. Her stomach clutched. His mother must think she was some Jezebel trying to steal her son.