The Sovereign straightens and pushes his shoulders back as he holds out a hand. “Evie, come away from him. Come to me. We’re your family.”
I hold her tighter, some small part of me fearing she’ll accept his invitation.
“Family?” she asks. “Does family leave bruises?” She jerks her chin at Charles. “Does family threaten and intimidate and harass?”
Beau turns to Charles. “Have you hurt her?”
Charles glowers at us, his gaze never leaving Evie. “She’s mine to hurt.”
“I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours.” The venom in her voice turns me on, but I have to remind my cock I’m currently in a life-or-death situation.
“Charles, what have you done?” Beau scolds.
“I’ve done what is my right to do,” Charles barks. “You promised her to me.”
“I did, but these things need finesse.” Beau holds up his hands.
The rest of the guests have receded, backing away from the scene, but still watching as they whisper amongst themselves.
“Lovely family spat and all, but I think it’s time we were going. Have to leave fashionably early, you know?” I back up until Evie is against the rear doors. I can hear her trying the handles to no avail.
“Evie, I’m sorry Charles has overstepped his place when it comes to you, but we can make this right.” Beau, like an idiot, is still trying to win over a woman who wants no part of this fucking farce.
“So I can be your broodmare?” She bangs on the doors. “No, thanks!”
“You’re going to be my wife, the mother of my children.”
“Charles, stand down!” Beau yells.
That’s when I see the crazy click into place—the same crazy he had in his eyes at Evie’s place. He’s so off kilter I’m beginning to suspect he’s got dueling banjos in his family tree.
“You can’t take her away from me. She’s mine.” Charles grips the hilt tighter.
“She isn’t yours until I say so. I’m the interim Sovereign!” Beau sputters, his face turning red. “The laws of this—”
“Enough of this bullshit! Fuck your stupid rules, and fuck you!” Charles whirls on Beau and slices out with my blade.
Beau reaches for his neck as Charles turns back to me and charges.
I shove Evie to the side and dodge his blade. It embeds in the wood doors at my back, and Charles tries to yank it free.
Screams erupt all around as people start running.
“Lucius!” Evie pulls me back, following the flow of the crowd.
Beau falls to his knees, his hands at his throat as blood gushes between his fingers. He’s a goner.
Charles is a straight-up psycho. Damn.
“Come on!” Evie screams.
I give Charles one more look as he wrenches the blade free from the door. He charges me again, but a woman gets in his way, and he slices her face open with a wild swing. Her scream cuts through the din, then fades behind me.
Evie’s still limping, but she’s hurrying through the room and toward the doors that lead to an outer courtyard. The guests are all running for the same exit.
“Go!” I push her into the mass of bodies, then turn right as Charles plunges his knife straight into my chest.
Evie’s scream is loud in my ears as I fall back and get carried in the stampede for the courtyard doors.
Charles shoves people out of his way to get to me, but I gain my feet right when I reach the doors. Evie is there waiting for me, her face wan and pale as I wrench the knife from my chest, then scoop her into my arms.
I run. I run like I’m a fucking Olympic star looking to three-peat. Evie clings to me, her arms around my neck.
Through a side yard, around another godforsaken fountain, and then crashing through a stand of banana trees, I finally see the road up ahead. With a final burst of energy, I jump the low wrought iron fence, almost fall, then catch myself thanks to a bank of ivy that leads down to the street.
My driver is still out front, and I barrel toward the car. He sees me and opens the back door as I run up. I put Evie inside as terrified partygoers rush through the Garden District yards.
“Drive. Now!” I jump in beside Evie, and when I close the door, I see Charles standing just inside the gate to Beau’s home.
“Jesus, just look at that pasty-faced terminator.”
He stares as we drive away, his face a stone mask of utter hatred.
Once we’re jetting onto a main thoroughfare, free from anyone following us, I turn back to Evie. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
She’s pale, so pale I can see the veins along her throat.
“Evie.”
“You’re alive. How? He stabbed you. I thought …” Her voice breaks. “I thought he’d killed you. I thought I’d never see you again.”
For so long, I thought I didn’t have a heart. I mean, obviously I have one in my chest, the literal one. But I thought there was something missing, like I couldn’t feel the way everyone else did. But now I know that’s not true. Because the way she says those words, the anguish in her voice at the thought of me dying—fuck, I’m in love. I’m in love with this woman, and I don’t know what to do with that.