Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
When Daphne sees my expression, she looks even more disgusted. “No surprise that you are enjoying this crude behavior. You’re clearly the one who taught it to him. Turned my beautiful, innocent son into a filthy, blasphemous deviant.”
“Especially in bed,” I agree.
Everett turns bright red at exactly the same time his mother does. His father begins coughing in a fit, avoiding eye contact. In another situation, their discomfort would make me laugh out loud. If his family weren’t doomed for everything they put him through, they would be just as much fun to tease as he is.
The ghost behind the couch is gripping its stomach, laughing without sound. A few more ghosts have wandered into this room to watch this exchange.
“I—I cannot—Alaric, surely we are not going to offer this sick, atrocious little pervert a way out of what she so clearly deserves!” Daphne finally rages, so flustered and furious that when she tries to primp her hair, she accidentally pulls it partially out of the updo.
Sick, atrocious little pervert only makes me grin more.
Alaric clears his throat, moving on quickly as he finally faces me seriously. “Maven Oakley, we’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time. We always knew you would be an incomparable force of nature. In fact, we’ve wanted you as an ally ever since the telum was mentioned in our son’s prophecy years ago?—“
“The one you had falsely translated to manipulate him,” I point out, my amusement long gone.
He brushes it off. “The prophet said the true translation was too complex to be completed, anyway. What good is an incomplete prophecy? We only wanted to temper his expectations appropriately. It was for his own good.”
“You are such a fucking—” Everett begins angrily, but Alaric cuts him off.
“The real reason you’re in this room is because we would like to offer you a deal, telum. As you can see from the lack of color here, this elite safe haven is located well behind the borders of the ever-expanding regions conquered by your creator.”
If he thinks Amadeus is my creator, he’s pathetically unaware of the facts. Unsurprising, since he’s been sitting on his ass eating off silver spoons from the safety of his affluent little bubble, pleased with his own imagined position of authority.
“What we want from you is?—“
“I know what you want,” I cut in.
“Oh, please,” Daphne huffs, admiring her perfect nails. “You can’t possibly understand the complexity of our unique situation in the short time you’ve?—“
“Amadeus knows you’re here,” I surmise smoothly. “You use a stolen shielding spell to keep out the worst of the fiends, but in order to ensure better safety for the so-called elite—who I’m sure practically worship you for giving them a luxurious safe place to laze around in—you must also be working with someone highly ranked in Amadeus’s court. A lich, or a necromancer, or even a well-trusted monster.”
They exchange glances before Alaric frowns at me. “A vampire, in fact.”
“For my ‘
creator’ to allow you to live here, he would require something in return from you,” I go on. “Wealth and fine things are useless to him, but despite his inhuman nature, Amadeus still owns a barbaric sense of humor. He enjoys tormenting the living as much as he can enjoy anything. My guess is that in exchange for being left alone, you’ve stooped down to sending him tributes—probably from the very people who show up asking to stay in this safe haven. Legacies. Humans. Animals. Anything he would enjoy torturing and pitting to the death in his arena for his court to mock.”
Everett glares at his parents, incredulous. “Seriously? You’re paying a blood tribute to the fucking Entity himself?”
The blue-haired young woman ghost with clearer features nods and flips off the Frosts, furious. Other ghosts shake their fists or appear to be silently cursing out the couple sitting on the couch.
Interesting. Are they ghosts of those tributes, come back to haunt the people who sentenced them to that fate?
Daphne lifts her chin, sniffing as if this topic is unpleasant. “As if it’s something to clutch your pearls over. We’ve heard the rumors about your barbaric methods on the front lines. This is no different! It has always been the way of legacies to cull the weak. Of course, we took advantage of this chance, but?—“
“But you don’t like living under his sadistic thumb,” I finish for her. I get it. I’ve been there, but that doesn’t excuse the Frosts for this. “So when you caught me, you considered your new options. Whether it’s possible or not, you decided maybe the telum could fix your problems. Meaning, you’re offering to spare my life if I agree to end Amadeus and get you out of your rotten deal unscathed. Anything I’m missing?”
Alaric looks almost impressed by how much I’ve read between the lines, but Daphne glowers at me for calling them out.
Everett shakes his head, muttering, “This is disgusting. You seriously expect Maven to take out the Entity? No one even knows how he came to exist. He’s been shrouded in mystery for thousands of years—and that is who you decided to barter with? You’ve been making shady deals for way too fucking long. You caught it in the ass this time, so deal with the consequences and leave my keeper the hell out of it.”
Daphne starts to scold his language again, but Alaric holds up a hand as he examines me. “Is it possible? Ending the Entity?”
If there’s anything I’ve learned in this brutal world, it’s that every monster, legacy, human, god, and immortal has a weak spot.
My quintet has become mine.
Amadeus must have something I can use to bring him down. Whether it’s a true death or just a steep fall from power, I’ll do whatever it takes to find a way to defeat him. No one will endanger my future with my men ever again, but least of all him.
But the Frosts don’t need to know that we have a mutual interest.
“Even if it was,” I say, fixing them with my most deranged death glare and enunciating well so they won’t miss this. “I will watch Amadeus’s power consume this world and everything in it before I lift a single fucking finger to help megalomaniacal cowards as morally repugnant and soulless as you two.”
For a moment, they stare at me in wide-eyed, fearful disbelief. A few of the ghosts applaud my string of insults. The redhead girl tries to punch through Daphne’s face, but of course only passes harmlessly through the unwitting socialite.
Everett beams at me.
Godsdamn, that one dimple is just so fucking kissable.
Finally, Daphne sputters, “Surely, you don’t mean that.”
“Every fucking word.”
“But this is your one chance to avoid public humiliation and a death sentence at the trial,” she protests. “You must suffer from insanity!”
“Not really. Most of the time, I enjoy it.” I tip my head. “Speaking of insanity, where is my fae? If he’s been harmed at all, you’ll need to arrange for your funerals before the fake trial begins.”
“You dare threaten me in my own safe haven?” Alaric barks.
“You laid a hand on what’s mine.
Safe no longer exists for you,” I darkly inform him.
Someone knocks on the door, interrupting whatever the Frosts would have sputtered next. When the very irritated Alaric calls for them to come in, the door opens and?—
Oh, my fucking gods. No way.
Bertram.
MAVEN
With his spray of freckles, handsome features, and that shock of red hair, the vampire who caused my failure six months ago is unmistakable as he dashes into the room with vampiric speed, dressed in a sharp suit. He whispers something in Alaric’s ear, unaware of the nearby ghosts who lean close to hear whatever he’s saying.
This is the vampire they’re using to contact Amadeus?
Obviously, he’s one hell of a bargainer if he outlived his usefulness to the Entity long enough to set all of this up, prove his value, and therefore be kept alive. He has the survival skills of a bright red, unbelievably fucking annoying cockroach.
I stare down the bloodsucker who killed his immortal lover to save his skin until he finishes speaking quietly with Alaric and straightens. He makes direct eye contact with me and has the nerve to fucking smile.
To everyone else, it looks pleasant.
To me, it’s pure mocking.
“You must be the telum,” he says in a light accent.
I smile back, conveying that I’ll rip his head off once I’m out of this contraption. “Bertram.”
Daphne’s brows go up as she looks between us. “I see no introductions are in order. Have you met the telum before, Bertram?”
“Not at all, madame.
Pardonne-moi,
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.