Page 19

They were lights I didn’t need. My heart ached as I yearned to tell her everything.

That my brothers were evil, that I was the same Lorcan who knew her ancestor, and that it was my sireling with a wooden knife in his chest. It didn’t take long for Briar’s soft breathing to fill the space, and for a fleeting moment, I was glad for the normalcy of her settling into bed, angry or not.

A hollowness spread through my chest as I realized a human could not hear her breathing, see her movement, or smell the irresistible bouquet of her blood.

Nothing was normal about this. My gums burned, and my cock begged for release.

I could hear her heart, the blood coursing through her arteries with every beat. But I wouldn’t be like him. I wouldn’t make the same mistake Ashdowne had. I would remain in control.

“Good night, Briar,” I whispered, wishing I could shield her from my brother’s game, but more so, protect her from myself.

For the first time since the early 1900s, I pushed open the door to our town house on St. James’s Square in London.

As the scent of the citrus polish and aged wood enveloped me, my heart calmed.

A sense of belonging settled over me; my years as the Marquess of Dún Na Farraige running through my mind, joined by my years of traveling, returning home to Ireland frequently.

I was closer to the manor than I had been in a lifetime.

A lump rose in my throat. I would never go back there.

Doing so was rejoining my family. Even being in London was not about that. It was about helping Briar.

The door closed behind me, shutting the urban elegance of London outside.

I made my way into the grand entryway, the glass ceiling soaring two stories above me, the hallway filled with light.

Briar, Cormac, and Rory followed. I heard a sharp gasp from Briar.

Had Lady Isobel been acquitted, Briar could have had a home like this, passed down over generations.

Would she have inherited the title Baroness of Blackcairn as well, instead of it being forfeit to the Crown?

The staircase rose beneath the glass, the polished banister gleaming, the ornate carvings restored, yet the floorboards of the entry creaked underfoot.

I glanced through the open doorways. The dining room was still just to my left.

In front of me, I could see the dark wood shelves of the library and the pocket door resting snug in the wall.

The leather chairs we would occupy after dinners sat in an empty circle, a shrine to the times before Aiden lost his mind.

I bristled as nostalgia from the familiarity of the house caused my breath to catch in my throat. I needed to figure out how to help Briar and get out of here. To do that, I had to speak to Cormac alone.

We both knew nothing existed in the public archives.

Not only was Lady Isobel tried in the House of Lords as a peeress in her own right, but I had done everything I could to bury the information.

I had even compelled the Lord High Steward to have her incarcerated in the Tower of London to keep the details from the guards at Newgate.

My hand clenched into a fist at my side, my nails digging into my palm in a futile attempt to steady myself.

Finding a path forward with this deception felt impossible when the only possible records were in our own archives.

Cormac placed a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome home, brother.”

I glanced at him, my jaw twitching. “You know this isn’t home. And I’m not setting foot there.”

Briar tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as she glanced between us, clearly intrigued by our exchange. Her brown eyes lingered on me. I wanted to reach out and take her hand, run from this place, and keep her away from the madness. Why had I let this happen?

Rory stepped forward, her eyes narrowed and focused on her mate. “I thought you two had settled this on the plane, Cormac? Briar, let me show you upstairs while they finish this… conversation.”

Briar tore her eyes from me. “Show me the way.”

“Here.” Rory mounted the stairs, followed by Briar. I watched as she disappeared from view.

“Looks like some things never change.” I gestured at the room around me, refusing any further acknowledgment of my brother’s statement about home.

The cords in Cormac’s neck tightened and twitched once before he nodded.

He pointed toward the library, the conversation about Ireland delayed.

“Most of the layout is the same, just modernized. No one from Dún Na Farraige Estates can access the second floor or above in the house. They still use the ballroom and reception halls on the first floor, and the music room remains the boardroom. On this floor, the small drawing room, library, and dining rooms are used for formality when needed. But we’ve expanded the offices into the Hendersons’ place next door.

The corporate employees are now housed there. ”

“And the Marquess’s office?” My heart clenched as I mentioned our father’s office, the room that was supposed to be dedicated to the sitting Marquess, even though he never relinquished it.

Cormac paused, biting his lips together. “Father’s office remains empty.”

We stood in stony silence for a minute before Cormac drew in a sharp breath. “Security and IT are both in the basement, and the kitchen has been expanded to host functions. That also raises the question: Would you prefer eating in the drawing room upstairs or the dining room here?”

I peered through the door beside me. The dining room, a stately space with tall windows draped in heavy crimson curtains, looked like no one had used it since the last century.

The fireplace gleamed, not a speck of ash showing a fire had warmed the room in years, but I knew it could have been lit just yesterday with the staff employed.

Still, I couldn’t see the four of us sitting down to a meal at the long wooden table in mock formality. “The drawing room is fine.”

“Wonderful. I’ll let the kitchen know. We’ll need to get you access cards so you can come and go as you please. I’ll have Dani bring them to you.”

A smile played on my lips. “I was surprised to see Dani’s still around.”

“She’s been with me for almost three hundred years. Why would I get rid of her? She and Aurora get along quite well, and I trust her to liaise with my office.” Cormac hesitated. “You know you have your own office as well?”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning on the doorframe and crossing my arms over my chest. “How do I have an office?”

His voice softened as his brows knitted together.

“As the company grew, I created offices for each of us. I couldn’t leave anyone out—even if I couldn’t find them.

” He stopped for a minute and twisted the cuff link in his shirt.

My brother never knew how to dress casually.

Of course, he was as far from a casual person as I knew, but this moment of hesitation was very unlike him.

“Everything here has changed. Mother and Father still haven’t returned.

I heard from them about twenty-five years ago.

” He stopped again as though testing how much he could tell me.

“Declan has a mate now. Her name is Isla.”

I smiled. “What is it with everyone finding a mate?” And how could they trust those feelings when they did?

Cormac raised one side of his lips. “Well, maybe you and Briar…”

I clenched my jaw and shook my head. My words were sharp—too sharp. “Don’t even go there. I’m helping Briar with her ancestors’ story and taking her back to Australia so she can live in peace. She doesn’t need to be around us.”

A harsh silence engulfed us even though Cormac’s eyes glittered with disbelief. “Keep telling yourself that. There is a lot you don’t know, so if you have any feelings for her at all—”

“Like what?”

Cormac swallowed as his eyes darkened. “Runa kidnapped Isla last year.” His words fell from his mouth without a hint of him trying to soften them.

I gasped. “But the truce?” I couldn’t imagine what would come next if Runa attacked the mate of a family member, even an adopted family member. A chill settled at the base of my spine.

Cormac bit the inside of his cheek. “The truce still stands. I fear I may have been the one who put Isla in harm’s way, but Declan rescued her. Shall we get a drink?”

I gritted my teeth. It didn’t matter if I wanted one or not.

That was his way of telling me I needed a drink to go with this story.

He led the way into the library, the shelves rising around us.

Untold numbers of tomes gave off the sweet fragrance of ancient leather and paper, a forest in its own right. I found it comforting in a way.

I sank into the leather chair that had always been mine.

Cormac prepared two whiskeys before joining me.

A wisp of laughter echoed in my head, my mind seeing translucent images of our father and two other brothers joining us, discussing our next transition for the title of Marquess.

I jammed my eyes closed and sipped the liquid.

It burned as it went down my throat, and I found myself with a desire for it to burn away the memories.

Cormac’s words forced me to push the past aside and focus on him. “Runa never expected Isla to escape. As a result, she told Isla more than we ever knew. For instance, our father had an older brother.”

“What?” My eyebrows shot up. We had always believed our father was the eldest of his siblings.

Of course, I was aware of his younger siblings.

Our three aunts—the witches who became the Coven of the Blood—and our four uncles, who became vampire hunters, were always around until we departed for England.

But our youngest uncle had disappeared into the night, chased away by our grandfather, yet no one knew why.

“Runa turned Father as an act of revenge. Her husband was our uncle.” Cormac looked over the rim of his glass at me.

“That abusive bastard was our family?” I sputtered.

Cormac nodded and took in a breath. “But that isn’t all. That means Father’s youngest brother was the seventh son, not the sixth. And he had seven sons.”

My mind spun, and my mouth dropped open.

“My God, a Cure.” Would it be possible? My heart pounded in my chest at what this could mean.

In our homeland, the seventh son of the seventh son could know a cure for anything.

It could be as mundane as a cure for a sprained ankle.

But a Cure descended from our grandfather, with magic touching every other child? Surely, he knew something more.

Cormac pressed his lips together into a thin line. “We keep trying to find him, but we haven’t been able to. Some kind of magic is at play.”

The pieces snapped into place, and I clenched my jaw. Magic—the one thing my brothers had ignored, but I had studied. “And that’s why you wanted to find me?”

Cormac swirled his glass, watching the whiskey coat the sides. “You spent the time learning the magic behind our existence—or at least what Mother would tell you. Aurora hasn’t successfully located the Cure yet, and we need help.”

I smirked. “Why would she be able to find him?”

A small smile played on Cormac’s lips, the same one he had when hiding something of profound importance. He lifted his glass to his lips, his words muffled into the amber liquid as he spoke. “She is the High Priestess of the Coven of the Blood.” He took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.

I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a nervous laugh. This story just kept getting better. What had this brother of mine done while I was away? “Your mate is the High Priestess of the coven that set out to kill us?”

He shrugged and grinned, his eyes crinkling. “A little ironic, isn’t it?” Typical Cormac. “There’s so much I need to catch you up on, Lorcan. We need your help. Aiden—”

“Yes, I’ve heard about the Council of Charleston, but I’m not getting involved.

” My words sounded much firmer than I felt.

“There’s a reason I walked away from all of it.

I could have lived in any of our properties and stayed part of all this—the homes, the jets, the money—but I chose a small, anonymous spot.

I don’t want to deal with Aiden and don’t want Briar involved. ”

Cormac crossed his arms. “It seems Briar’s already involved. She’s here, isn’t she?”