A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

The gargoyle gave a nervous flap of his wings. “I am not quite certain.”


A low growl rumbled in Damon’s chest, and his hand reached toward the creature. “You little bastard—”

“Hey, it was the wand. I swear,” Levet squeaked, dancing out of reach. His snout wrinkled as he took in the room that was not only shabby, but was palpably barren of the small touches that made a house a home. There were no pictures. No hand-knitted rugs. No freshly baked cookies on the counter. “Where are we?”

A sick combination of hate and regret made Damon clench his teeth. “My mother’s lair.”

“Oh.” The gargoyle seemed to brighten at the confession. Which only proved just how stupid the pest truly was. “Then that is not so bad.”

“Bad?” Damon gave a sharp bark of humorless laughter. “It’s impossible.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was destroyed thirty years ago.”

The gargoyle frowned in confusion. “Who destroyed it?”

Damon fought back the memories of finding the charred remnants of his mother in the middle of the room, a dented crown beside the ashes, before he had set the place on fire and walked out the door forever.

“I did.”

Levet widened his eyes, but before he could push Damon over the edge with obnoxious questions there was a strange blurring of their surroundings. Damon felt light-headed, disoriented.

A sensation that was only intensified as the blurring cleared to reveal Damon’s mother seated in a chair next to the fireplace, her dark gaze never wavering from the door.

“Shit,” Damon breathed in shock, taking in the sight of the too-slender female with gray hair pulled into a stern knot on the back of her head and a face lined with bitterness.

Rosina had once been a great beauty. A queen among her people. But the disappointments in her life had stolen her looks, her crown, and eventually her very sanity.

Desperately trying to convince himself this was no more than an illusion created by the gargoyle, Damon barely noticed when the door to the cabin was thrust open. Not until Levet gave a startled gasp.

“Is that you?”

Damon’s gaze jerked to the young, dark-haired male entering the cabin, his body just beginning to fill out with muscles and his face caught between boy and man.

“My God,” Damon growled, thoroughly unnerved. “What have you done?”

The words had barely left his lips when Damon felt an odd tug deep inside him, as if something was compelling him forward. He grunted, trying to resist the bizarre sensation, but it was hopeless.

One second he was standing next to the gargoyle, and the next he was yanked out of his body and thrust into the mind of the young man closing the door of the cabin.

Damon fought against the black magic that the gargoyle had cast, but he was helpless to do more than relive the unwelcome memory as his mother rose to her feet and moved forward with a furious expression.

“Where have you been?” the female wolf demanded, her dark eyes filled with a hectic fire.

Damon’s younger self came to a halt near the table, his heart thundering as he tried to prepare for the inevitable confrontation.

His mother had grown increasingly unstable over the past few years, her violent outbursts isolating her from the nearby pack.

“Out running,” he murmured.

“Liar,” Rosina growled. “You were with that bitch.”

Damon’s younger body stiffened in outrage. His loyalty to his mother never wavered, but he wouldn’t tolerate any insult to his beloved Gia.

The slender, dark-eyed female was the only saving grace in Damon’s dark, brutal existence.

Without her . . .

He shuddered. It was too unbearable to even imagine.

“Gia is not a bitch,” he warned, his wolf snarling inside him. “Someday she will be my mate.”

The blow to his head came without warning. “Listen to me well, Damon,” his mother hissed. “You have one destiny, and that is to claim the throne. I will destroy anything that threatens to divert you from your fate.”

These were the same words that had been repeated to him since he’d been in the cradle. His mother had been convinced he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps to become the leader of the Weres, despite the fact that his father had already chosen his eldest son, Briggs, for the privilege. Her belief had become a downright obsession when Damon’s father had cast Damon and Rosina out of his life and retreated into his own insanity.

Damon had blindly accepted his mother’s demand that he devote his life to claiming a throne. Even if he had never wanted it.

Until Gia . . .

“Have you ever considered the possibility that I want something different for my fate?”

“You are the son of a king.”

Damon battled to keep the revulsion from showing. Mackenzie had been a vicious wolf who was crazed with the paranoid belief that he was surrounded by enemies. Even his own family had been suspected of being traitors.