his forearms, allowing his tentacles to take shape, and quickly stabbed through the unconscious guards’ chests. The energy required to manifest his tentacles drained him slightly, making him woozy, but the thrill of utilizing his true form made up for the unpleasant side effects. Curling his tentacles around their hearts, he basked in the final pump of blood through the constricting chambers before they beat no more. He shoved the dead shifters aside and gave his bloodied tentacles a disgusted glance. How unpleasant, being soiled by the lowly creatures.
Wiping himself clean on the guards’ uniforms, he once again adopted the form of human arms. Much as he despised their ugly gangliness, they did provide better dexterity for opening doors and such. At least while he was on land. In truth, being locked into this despised human suit weakened him significantly. His venomous bite and the ability of his species to mutate their tentacles into talons while out of the water were the few things that kept him from being dangerously open to attack. As with all leviathans, his strength resided in his natural form and his preferred domain—the sea. If not for the importance of this mission, he would spend as little time on terra firma as possible.
He grasped the knob and let himself past the door. He made it halfway down the steps before the last two guards at the bottom roused from their slumber. They had little time to do anything more than rub the grogginess from their eyes before Harrison sprang on top of them, crushing their skulls into the adjacent wall as he’d wished to do the other night. He tossed their limp bodies aside and wrenched the metal bar from its housing.
The padded door swung inward with a rusty whine, revealing Reva Bellemuir standing on the other side, impatiently tapping her foot. “Took you long enough.”
Chapter Fourteen
Willa rolled over in bed, automatically reaching for Max. Instead of his nice warm body, she ended up hugging his pillow instead. Frowning, she lifted onto her elbow. The rich aroma of chicory made her nose twitch. Okay, either Max had snuck off to use the bathroom, or he was out in the kitchen, enjoying Aurele’s world-class coffee.
She threw the covers off and hurried to the closet, where she found one of Aurele’s old fuzzy robes. She slipped on the garment and belted it while she padded into the hallway. A peek inside the guest bath confirmed no Max, although the water beading on the shower stall confirmed that he’d been in there recently.
Aurele glanced up from her mug as Willa entered the kitchen. “Morning.”
Crossing to Aurele, she kissed her on the cheek. Aurele sniffled. “Does this mean you forgive me for lying to you about everything?”
“You did it to protect me. It’d be pretty damn petty to hold it against you.” She walked to the cupboard and fetched her favorite coffee cup, the one with the caption I don’t do mornings suspended over a purple alligator. “Have you seen Max? I thought he’d be out here with you.”
“He left a few minutes ago.”
Willa’s eyebrows slashed low at Aurele’s calm pronouncement. “Where did he go?”
“He decided a visit to the Duke of Atlanta would be more productive and persuasive than a phone call.”
“Oh really.” She filled her cup, splashing a small amount of coffee onto the counter. Grumbling, she grabbed a dishtowel and wiped up the mess. “How convenient that he came to that epiphany while I was still sleeping.” Another thought occurred to her and she banged her fist on the Formica. “Damn it, he took my car, didn’t he? Now I’m really ticked.”
“Dear, it wouldn’t have been a good idea for you to go with him.”
“Why? It’s not like the duke would even know who I was.”
“No, but he might become curious. Particularly considering the reason for Max’s visit.”
Begrudgingly admitting that Aurele had a point, Willa sat in the opposite seat and sipped her coffee. Inhaling the fragrant steam, she eyed the other woman. “Max told me that my mother forfeited her crown when she married my father. Did…did she ever regret making that choice?” She’d spent a better part of the night with the ghost of Max’s conversation tormenting her brain, making her wonder about the sacrifices her mother had made. Estelle Jameson had seemed blissfully happy. But then again, maybe what she was remembering was merely an implant. Maybe the truth would remain forever submerged within the murky recesses of her subconscious, never to surface.