“I’m glad that fucking son of a bitch is dead.”
That made two of them.
Kragos’s expression turned suspicious. “If you came here hoping I’d take you under my tentacle, think again. I have no desire for a damn useless errand boy.”
It took every ounce of Harrison’s control not to let his animosity show. Kragos could look down on him all he wanted. The day would soon come when the arrogant bastard would be the one to bow before Harrison. “Very well. I confess my disappointment, however. Surely there would have been no greater honor than learning the trade from such a skilled soul collector.” Somehow he managed not to retch. Keeping up this pretense of being a fawning pupil gave him severe indigestion. But at least with Kragos, their association would be short-lived.
“This is true,” Kragos offered with a nod. “I am the best.”
“Then come, let us drink to your greater glory.”
Kragos’s eyes lit up at the nauseating toast. Stupid dipshit. The elder reached for two glasses and topped each off with the whiskey. He passed one to Harrison before slamming his own shot. His beady eyes pinned Harrison in place, an unspoken challenge riding his features. Masking his displeasure at the nasty beverage resting before him, Harrison lifted the glass and choked down the amber liquid with a sputter. The older leviathan chuffed a mocking laugh and pivoted to return the bottle to the glass shelf. His motions swift, Harrison swiped Kragos’s glass and licked the rim, absorbing the other leviathan’s DNA. The bonded link would last less than an hour. Plenty of time though to break into Kragos’s library—and the sealed directory.
He returned the glass to its rightful place just as Kragos turned back around. Abandoning his perch on the stool, Harrison smoothed the lapels of his butler’s uniform. Soon he’d be able to permanently ditch the atrocious outfit. Maybe he’d light a ceremonial bonfire to send the suit up in ashes. “If you change your mind about taking on a protégée, let me know.” After offering a deferential bow that made him seethe inside, Harrison stepped away from the bar.
A loud and grating voice carried from a nearby table. He glanced toward the offender, his mouth twisting in revulsion as he took in the eel shifter’s tacky wardrobe. Where did the cretin shop? Douchebags “R” Us? Snorting, Harrison started to return his attention to the exit, but the next words out of the eel’s mouth stalled him short.
“I tell you one thing—that goddamn shark ever lays a hand on me again, I’m electrocuting him for dinner.” A laugh that resembled the braying of a donkey pelted from the shifter. “Fuck yeah. Seared shark. Ain’t nothing I’d like better to snack on.”
Harrison’s gaze panned between the eel and its companion. Satisfied triumph unfurled within him. What were the odds he’d walked in here with one objective and end up with the answers to two?
A slow smile sliding in place, he strode toward the obnoxious eel.
Chapter Eleven
Willa gave herself a cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, a groan springing to her lips. If it was possible for someone to look like they’d just indulged in a sex marathon with a shark, she definitely fit the bill. So much for her resolution to keep her hands off Max.
Smoothing a palm over her sweat-dampened hair, she twisted the doorknob and walked into the bedroom. Max stood next to the dresser, gripping the photo of her and Aunt Aurele, his face a canvas of shock. She didn’t know what to make of his expression.
His focus skipped from the picture and locked on her. “What the hell is going on here?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He stalked forward. If not for his thunderous look, she might have become extremely distracted by his naked, mouthwatering bod again. He held up the frame, his forefinger jabbing at her aunt’s smiling countenance. “This is Aurele Telluride, damn it.”
“No, it’s Aurele Jameson. My aunt.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Your aunt? Not goddamn likely.”
His adamancy left her baffled. “I think of the two of us, I have the better insight into who I’m related to.”
“You honestly expect me to believe your aunt is the former advisor to the King of Atlantis? A woman who’s been dead for more than two decades?”
Atlantis? Did that place even exist? She’d always assumed it was just a myth. “Contrary to your theory, my aunt is very much alive, and she happens to be a retired librarian.”
Max pointed to the photograph again. “I’m telling you, this woman is Aurele Telluride. My father has a picture in his den that shows him standing next to Aurele while she and the king swore him in as sheriff. Other than looking a little older here—” he tapped the frame, “—the woman is identical.”
“Okay, so they look alike. Coincidences happen.”
“Just like it’s a coincidence their first name is the same? A name that’s pretty damn unusual, in case you didn’t notice.”
Yeah, that was a little weird. But not completely impossible. She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I want to meet her. Now.”
She gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“But…it’s almost six o’clock at night.”
“Not exactly late.”
She plunked her hands on her hips. “It is if it requires driving into Atlanta.”
“Then I guess we better hit the road immediately.”
A growl leapt from her throat. “Look, I let you have your beastly way with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start letting you boss me around.”
“Beastly, my ass. You loved it. And the sooner we get this mystery solved, the sooner we can return to bed and you can love it a dozen more times tonight.”
Right about then, she wished she possessed the ability to shoot fire missiles from her eyes. He would be such toast. “If I agree to this, I fully expect your groveling apology when it’s proved you’re wrong.”
“Deal.”
Roughly three hours later, Willa screeched into the driveway of her aunt’s small bungalow. Lamplight silhouetted the bay window. She’d phoned earlier, making sure it was okay to stop by for an impromptu visit. Despite her aunt’s enthusiasm at receiving company, Willa still wanted to club Max. She jumped out of the Taurus and hurried to catch up with him before he reached the house’s porch. “Let’s get something clear. Under no circumstances are you to start with your insane ramblings about my aunt resembling a dead woman. Capiche?”
“Fine.”
She didn’t quite trust his easy compliance. For now, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he so much as peeped a word that might upset her aunt, he was so getting the toe of her sandal up his ass. They climbed the steps together and she rang the bell. A moment later her aunt flung open the door and scooped Willa into her arms. Aurele’s beloved gardenia perfume embraced Willa as surely as her aunt’s fierce hug, causing Willa’s eyes to mist.
“Good Lord, look how skinny you are. We’ll fix that right up. I’ll defrost some lasagna.”
Carbohydrates were her aunt’s solution to pretty much everything. Scrubbing away her tears, Willa untangled herself from Aurele’s hold and scooted sideways. Aurele’s focus immediately drifted to Max, and Willa cleared her throat, sending him a subtle warning to behave. “This is…” Oh jeez, what did she call him? Rescuer? Guy I had amazing monkey sex with twice?
“Max Truitt,” he offered, extending his hand.