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Lord Lucius Malfoy was in his study, swirling the Firewhisky in his glass, when a house-elf interrupted his musings. He didn’t turn to face the interruption as he said, “I distinctly remember informing Dobby that I was to remain undisturbed this evening.”
“Dobby is being most sorry, Master. But Master is having a guest.”
A quick glance proved his theory that the infernal creature was wringing its ears. Why the little pest took to punishing itself physically, Lucius had no idea; even his other house-elves thought that something was wrong with Dobby. Perhaps he should just set Dobby free and get rid of his oddities.
The ornate clock on the mantle over the fireplace in his office chimed the hour. It was 11:00 p.m. Who in the world would be so rude as to bother him at this time, well past accepted visiting hours—unless a ball or gala was being hosted? Seeing as he hadn’t sent out invitations or planned any such thing, no one had an appropriate excuse to be pestering him at this time of night.
“Tell him to come back tomorrow,” Lucius ordered with a careless wave of his hand.
He relished in others seeking him out for counsel, but he wasn’t in the mood for business at this time. The interloper would be lucky if Lucius bothered to assist him at all, given that he had come calling so late in the evening. It was quite rude.
“Master’s guest is being a lady.”
Lucius straightened in his armchair, as opposed to the comfortable lounging of before. He turned his full attention to Dobby. “You’re claiming a pureblood lady came to my manor without invitation at 11:00 p.m.”
The fool of a house-elf had to be misinformed. Unlike Muggles, purebloods did not have affairs with one another. Bonding was sacred, tying two souls and magical cores together.
“Yes, Master. The lady is most definitely being a pureblood lady. Dobby knows.”
Unbidden, Lucius’s left eyebrow winged upward. Interesting. Had some brave chit accepted a dare to attempt to seduce him into bonding? It wouldn’t be the first time a pureblood witch had attempted to capture his heart and attention. Lucius, the Lord of the Vigilant and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, was the most eligible bachelor in Avalon, after all.
He had been tempted a time or two, but had never given in.
When he was a young man, infatuated with Lady Narcissa Black, Mother Magic had spoken directly to him. He would never forget her words. “For your faithfulness, I will weave you a soulmate. She’ll make you happier than you ever thought it was possible to be. Yet, her time will not come for many years. Be patient, dear son, and the loneliness will be worth it. When the time comes, you’ll know. Use your magical inheritance to find her; her safety is why I gave you the inheritance I did.”
Over twenty years later, Lucius was still waiting.
He sighed tiredly and dragged a hand down his face. It seemed that his plans for a nice, quiet evening were destroyed. “Who is she?”
“Master’s guest is being Lady Gaunt.”
“Show her in immediately, you fool!” Lucius hissed.
He leaped to his feet and straightened out his robes as Dobby fled to obey his order. As soon as she left, he would free Dobby and banish him from all the Malfoy properties. None of the other house-elves would have dared to delay announcing that his guest was so important. He had kept her waiting almost fifteen minutes.
No one kept Lord or Lady Gaunt waiting and escaped unfortunate consequences.
Lucius sat behind his desk and closed his eyes while taking a calming breath. Whatever her reason was for intruding this late, it had to be serious.
Lady Jamie Gaunt née Potter was, undoubtedly, the most politically powerful witch in Avalon. She hadn’t always been, though. Lucius remembered when she was nothing more than Heiress Jamie Potter, a pureblood witch who excelled at Quidditch, Transfiguration, Dueling, and little else.
That all changed when she bonded with Lord Tom Marvolo Gaunt, the last living descendant of High Lord Salazar Slytherin. It didn’t surprise anyone when the Just and Most Olde House of Slytherin began to waken upon the birth of their first child. Neither was it a surprise when the same thing occurred in regard to the Hallowed and Most Olde House of Peverell following their second child’s birth.
Everyone in pureblood society expected the two Oligarchy Houses to be raised again after the children reached their majority and chose to claim the titles.
The door to his study opened. Dobby announced, “Her Grace, Lady Jamie Gaunt.” Then he vanished.
Lucius rose at her entrance and bowed. “Lady Gaunt, I’m honored by your presence.”
She was taller than most pureblood witches, just a few inches short of six feet. Her dark hair was swept up, of course. Yet, she still had the curious affectation of wearing spectacles; considering her perfect eyesight, he didn’t understand why she bothered. They were a frivolous fashion accessory, at best.
Jamie didn’t return his greeting. She didn’t incline her head or offer even the merest hint of a curtsy, even though she had never snubbed him before. Given how much her hands were trembling, Lucius wondered if she thought she might fall while attempting to curtsy.
“I need your help,” Jamie said, her voice shaking. She walked over to his desk and collapsed in the visitor’s chair without a hint of grace.
Lucius had never seen her so discomposed in his entire life. Even as students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when she had never been anything but the Potter Heiress, she had always exuded grace.
“Lady Gaunt—”
“I don’t have time for niceties, Lucius.”
He froze when she addressed him by his given name; that was reserved for trusted intimates and family members alone.
“Call me Jamie.” It was an order, nothing less.
The Gaunts didn’t have intimates—excluding, perhaps, Heir Sirius Black and Lucius’s own late father.
“Lord Gaunt—”
“Help us, Lucius, and you can call us whatever you want.” Jamie stared him right in the eyes. “Help us, and you can have anything that is in our power to give.”
It took more self-control than Lucius would like to stop himself from gaping like a filthy Mudblood. Purebloods, especially members of the Most Ancient Houses, did not grant open-ended favors to anyone. Suppose he asked for the entire Gaunt fortune in exchange for his help? With how Jamie had just worded her statement, they would be magically compelled to give it to him.
“What do you need, Jamie?” Lucius was unable to stop his eyes from darting around his study after he addressed her by name. Her husband didn’t step from the shadows and kill him for it.
Her rigid posture collapsed once he implied his assistance. Jamie folded in on herself. “Hyacinth’s been k-kidnapped. Tom’s tried countless spells to locate her, and none of them have worked.” She fisted her hands. “Everyone knows your magical inheritance was magical tracking. If the price is right, your services are for sale. Lucius, if you f-find my d-daughter, I’ll pay any price.”
When the time comes, you’ll know. Use your magical inheritance to find her; her safety is why I gave you the inheritance I did.
The breath rushed from his lungs as all the clues slotted into place. The soulmate that Mother Magic promised him was Maude Hyacinth Gaunt, the prospective High Heiress Slytherin.
A smiling face with emerald green eyes and night-sky hair haunted him. Not three weeks ago, he had held her in his arms as they danced the supper dance at a Ministry Gala.
Lucius felt the manor’s wards awaken. The centuries of magic that had been imbued into them by the Malfoy family hung thick and vicious in the air. He had never felt so homicidal and grieved before, not even when he found out his father was dying from Dragon Pox.
“Someone dared to abduct my soulmate?”
“Your—” Jamie paused as she tilted her head to the side, as if listening to something. “I see.” She focused on him again, with tears in her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. “In exchange for finding and rescuing Hyacinth, you may have her hand in bonding. Will that be acceptable, Lucius?”
“Yes.”
Failure wasn’t a possibility; he had never failed to find anything he tracked with his inheritance, and he wouldn’t start tonight. Lucius had been alone for decades now. It was time for that to change. Someone had kidnapped his lady; they wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
Jamie rose from her chair then, emitting an aura of calmness. She curtsied to him almost as deeply as she curtsied to her husband on the dance floor. “I’ll return home and inform my family that we can expect good news shortly.” She reached into her valise and withdrew a hairbrush that was crafted from Blood Magic. “Speed and success to you, Lucius,” Jamie said before handing it to him.
Then, she turned and swept out of his office.
Lucius would’ve been able to locate Hyacinth without her hairbrush, but he wasn’t going to tell Jamie that. The depths of his inheritance were no one’s business but his own. Besides, he would need Hyacinth’s hairbrush for practical purposes—such as brushing his fiancées hair—a right that he now possessed.
“Dobby.” When the house-elf appeared, Lucius threw his cravat at the house-elf.
Dobby’s large eyes widened. “Master has given Dobby clothes.”
“Yes. Now, get out. You’re banished from all the Malfoy properties.” He couldn’t have Dobby interfering, or messing up his courtship, or ruining his relationship with Hyacinth. Lucius didn’t even want to imagine what would make sense to the cretin.
After Dobby vanished, Lucius called for another house-elf. “Dobik!”
“What can Dobik be doing for the Master?”
With great reluctance, Lucius handed the head house-elf Hyacinth’s hairbrush. “Take this to the Lady of the Manor’s chambers. I’ll return shortly. Her rooms are to be impeccable by the time I return. Failure in this endeavor will not be tolerated.”
“Dobik understands, Master.”
Lucius cast his magical senses wide, reaching farther and farther across Magical Britain.
Hyacinth had started the day in Gaunt Manor; no surprise there, given it was her home and she had graduated from Hogwarts two summers past. Late in the morning, Miss Hermione Granger and Lady Lycoris Lestrange joined up with her. The three witches spent some time in Diagon Alley and Leisure Alley. In the early afternoon, the witches parted ways.
Hyacinth spent a short time speaking with Heir Theodore Nott, joined Misters Fred and George Weasley for ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s, and then left with someone whose magical trail was twisted and muddy.
“Polyjuice,” Lucius snapped. It was a controlled potion for a reason; all it brought was harm in the hands of nefarious villains. Identity theft was abominable. “Using the face of someone she trusts to betray her. Unforgivable!”
Lucius narrowed his focus to a razor-sharp point and followed the trail. It took him a minute to jump from one Disapparation point to the next. There were several across the British Isles, but they weren’t very far apart. Whoever had abducted Hyacinth wasn’t particularly powerful. The culprit must’ve assumed the guise of a very trusted person to fool and overpower Hyacinth. The training regimens and extra lessons Lord Tom Gaunt forced his children to participate in were legendary.
Finally, the points of Apparition stopped.
Lucius’s lips curved in a wicked smirk as he said, “Found you.”
His eyes snapped open as he spun on his heel and Disapparated. He reappeared outside a Muggle hovel. Whatever was keeping Lord Gaunt from finding his daughter, it wasn’t the wards. The wards were a joke. Lucius shredded them and entered the building.
His wand preceded him into each room—a run-down entryway, and then an unused parlor with dust coating the furniture. The hovel had obviously been abandoned for years.
Floorboards creaked and he glanced up to see Hyacinth sneaking toward him down the corridor. Her eyes were wide with fright.“Thank Morgana! Lord Malfoy, I’ve been—”
Lucius snapped his elm wand up and barked a curse he hadn’t used in years, “Stupefy!”
The impostor crashed to the floor, unconscious. He cast a revealing charm on her to force the Polyjuice from her system. Her night-sky hair faded, turning a plain brown. Her ivory skin darkened to a deep tan. Freckles dotted her complexion, and she grew in both height and weight.
He recognized the witch; she was Miss Tracey Davis, the result of a pureblood witch who lowered herself to marry a Muggle.
“If you thought you could take Hyacinth’s place,” Lucius snarled as he stalked toward her, “and that no one would notice, you’re even stupider than your mother.”
He had no need to fear punishment for what he had planned next. If his own political power, family name, and wealth weren’t enough to sweep it under the rug—he knew it would be—then Lord Gaunt would no doubt make all charges disappear with a careless wave of his hand.
Lucius uttered a transportation spell that sent her directly to a cell in Azkaban. It was the least of what she deserved.
“Where are you, Hyacinth?”
He gritted his teeth and continued searching the building. After the first Apparition point, the only magical trail had been the twisted one left by the Polyjuiced Davis. Whatever she had done to Hyacinth was blocking her now from even his senses.
A thump upstairs caught Lucius’s attention, and he hurried up the staircase. He was rushing into potential danger like a reckless Gryffindor. He didn’t care. Hyacinth’s safety was all that mattered to him. Mother Magic had given him his inheritance for this day—so that he could find and save his soulmate. Failure would not be tolerated.
Lucius swerved into a bedroom and felt homicidal rage burn through him at what he saw.
Hyacinth was bound to the bed and gagged like a Muggle. The thumping sound was the headboard hitting the wall as she struggled to get free of her bonds. Her wrists were stripped raw, blood running down her arms as she fought the ropes. Her hair, her gorgeous, riveting hair, had been shorn. The remnants stuck up in short tufts, where Davis had cruelly harvested her hair for the potion, destroying the magical reservoir Hyacinth had spent years building.
Yet, even that violation wasn’t the worst of it.
Enclosed around her left ankle was a magical suppression cuff. Miss Tracey Davis had blocked Hyacinth’s connection to her magic. Suddenly, Lord Gaunt’s inability to locate his daughter made a horrific amount of sense.
As Lucius approached her, Hyacinth began to struggle more fervently against her bonds. He Banished the gag in her mouth.
Her lips were swollen and torn; blood dribbled from between them. “It doesn’t matter whose form you steal,” Hyacinth spat with more hatred in her voice than Lucius had ever heard in his life. “I’ll never tell you what you want to know!”
Had Hyacinth been tortured, too? Lucius’s chest ached at the thought of such a travesty befalling his lady. “You’re safe now—”
“How stupid do you think I am?” Hyacinth glared at him as if she could Cruciate him with her gaze. “I’m not falling for—”
“Syren Queen,” Lucius said, before sweeping into a gallant bow. It was agonizing to force the familiar teasing into his voice, but he managed it.
Hyacinth shook, tears spilling down her face. “It’s you. You found me. Veela King.”
That was where Davis had erred downstairs. She had addressed him as “Lord Malfoy.” Hyacinth never called him that. Since the day she tugged on his robes when she was six and asked him if he was the Veela King, because he looked like one, she had always called him that. Just as he had smirked, patted her head, and asked if she was the Syren Queen, since she resembled one.
Lucius Banished the ropes that bound her, now that she was calm and unlikely to attack him. He never wanted to fight against her, and, in defending himself, he might have accidentally harmed her in some way. Harming his lady was the greatest sin a Malfoy could commit. Lucius would never shame her, himself, or his family in such a way.
Hyacinth lifted her arms toward him, and Lucius swept her up against his chest.
“Get me out of here. Please.” The final word rang with blatant begging, a tone no pureblood witch should ever be forced to use.
“At once, my lady.”
Lucius held her fast, focused on his destination, and Disapparated. He left a storm of Fiendfyre in his wake. No one could be allowed access to the hair that had been stolen from her.
Dobik, who was waiting for him in the Lady of the Manor’s chambers, asked upon their arrival, “What can Dobik be doing for the Master?”
“I require a hair-growth potion immediately. Then inform Lord and Lady Gaunt that Hyacinth is safe in Malfoy Manor.”
He set her on a settee and proceeded to heal her injuries one after the other. Thankfully, they were mostly superficial. He saw no need to call in a Healer from St. Mungo’s Hospital and expose her to public speculation on what had happened.
“Master’s potion.” Dobik set it on the table next to them and then vanished again.
“Drink it,” Lucius said gently after pulling out the stopper. “It would break your mother’s heart to see you like this.” It broke his own heart to see her shorn and shamed.
Hyacinth buried her face in her hands and whispered, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Hyacinth didn’t think he was lying, did she? It was only a hair-growth potion, nothing more.
“Because I can’t l-let you s-see my h-hair down,” Hyacinth stuttered through her tears. “We’re n-not engaged.” She dropped her hands and stared at him with a pained, desolate expression. “And if you l-leave the r-room my mind might snap.”
No words could adequately describe the strangled noise that escaped his throat when she finished speaking.
Lucius thrust out his hand and Summoned her hairbrush. Once it slapped against his palm, he showed it to her. “Your mother entrusted me with this when she asked me to find you.”
Hyacinth fingered the stubble on her head and gazed at her hairbrush with desperate longing. “Swear that’s the truth, Veela King. Swear it on your family magic.”
“I swear on the Malfoy family magic that we’re engaged.” Lucius reached forward and cupped her cheek in his hand; her skin was so soft. “You’re my soulmate, Syren Queen. Your own mother acknowledged it.”
“I knew it! I always knew it was supposed to be you!”
Hyacinth snatched the potion vial from him and downed it. She grimaced and flinched as hair sprouted from her scalp. The potion’s purpose was to return the drinker’s hair to its longest length, which could then be shortened according to the drinker’s will.
Lucius had always passively wondered how long her hair was—the styles he had seen it in were incredibly intricate. It grew down her back and kept going. Soon, it spilled off the settee and onto the floor.
“It’s never been cu—had never been cut,” Hyacinth corrected herself with a catch in her breath. “What do you think?”
“It’s a completely impractical length,” Lucius stated factually. He lifted a lock and inhaled its scent; it smelled like raw, magical power.
Hyacinth ducked her head. “I could c-c-cut—”
Lucius nudged her chin up and shook his head. “It’s also one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life, Hyacinth. Don’t ever cut it.”
“Will you brush it for me?” she asked boldly.
“Whenever you want me to, it will be my pleasure,” Lucius said.
How many years had he fantasized about brushing his bride’s hair? A great many. Of course, he hadn’t known what it would look like. In his imagination it had been blood-red, aureate, chestnut, mocha, snowy, strawberry-blonde, copper, raven’s wing, and more.
Reality was better than imagination.
Hyacinth walked over to the dressing table and sat on the stool, her back ramrod straight. Her smile was shaky, but teasing, as she said, “Attend to your duties, Veela King.”
He swept another deep bow and said, “I’m ever your servant, Syren Queen.” Lucius meant every word, and the blush painting her cheeks let him know she understood that.
Lucius was in the process of brushing her hair when Dobik opened the door to the suite, banged a staff against the floor, and announced, “Their Graces, Lord and Lady Gaunt.”
He was quite surprised that Hyacinth’s three brothers and sister hadn’t also come. The Gaunt family was notorious for how protective of one another they were.
Magic clung to Lord Tom Marvolo Gaunt like a cloak.
Lucius wouldn’t be at all shocked to learn Tom had been dabbling in all the rituals he could find in an attempt to locate his missing daughter.
Tom stared at Hyacinth with fierce intensity. His skin was paler than normal, as if he had almost given up hope of getting her back alive. Her name from his lips was little more than a whisper. “Maude.”
It was the only time Lucius had ever heard anyone call her by her first name. Even her own mother called her Hyacinth.
Hyacinth lifted the hem of her robes and raised her left foot, so that the cursed magical suppression cuff was starkly visible against her ivory skin. Then she begged, shoulders shaking, “Daddy, get it off. Get it off. Please, please, please, get it off.”
Magic rippling with violence, Tom knelt before his daughter.
Lucius was stunned. Who would ever even dare to imagine such a powerful Lord on his knees before anyone? Men like Lord Tom Marvolo Gaunt did not kneel before others; he was the type of man before which others groveled.
Tom kissed the top of Hyacinth’s foot, and then wrapped his hand around the magical suppression cuff. The large stone of the Slytherin family ring rested against it. The cuff dissolved from the force of magic that he brought to bear on it—little ashes drifting down, only to then vanish in mid-air.
Shuddering, Hyacinth’s magic leaked from her skin in a visible aura. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A pale wand grew from the palm of her right hand, seeming to sprout out of her body.
Now, that was interesting. How had she hidden her wand inside herself? The wand was long and distinct, and the only one that Lucius had ever seen made of elder wood, come to think of it.
Hyacinth threw herself into Tom’s arms and clung to him. “Thank you, Daddy!” she sobbed as he kissed her newly-regrown hair.
The grip Tom had on his daughter looked painfully tight; if it was, she didn’t once complain.
They engaged in a conversation in Parseltongue, much to Lucius’s consternation. He wanted to know what they were discussing. He hated being excluded from a conversation, but doubly so in his own home.
“Thank you, Lucius. You have our undying gratitude,” Jamie said as she stroked Hyacinth’s hair.
“How could I do anything else? What wizard worth his magic wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect the soulmate Mother Magic gave him?”
“Never again!” Tom hissed, switching back to English.
“Never again,” Hyacinth agreed. She pushed the left sleeve of her robes up and offered her arm to her father.
Tom encircled the entire girth of her forearm with one hand and began speaking in Parseltongue. His magic built with each hissing syllable that left his tongue. It rose to a fever pitch, and then ebbed like the tide being drawn out to sea. When Tom removed his hand, he revealed the Brand he had placed on Hyacinth’s arm; it was the Gaunt family coat of arms.
“You’ll never be beyond my reach ever again, Maude,” Tom said. He kissed her forehead.
Hyacinth hugged him desperately and mumbled, “I never want to be beyond your reach, Daddy. What would I ever do without you?”
The chuckle that escaped Tom’s lips was deliciously dark. “The question is irrelevant. Your mother, siblings, and I aren’t going anywhere.” Tom glanced over her head at Lucius and pouted, as if someone were ordering him to share his favorite toy with a clumsy, inept child who was prone to breaking things. “I suppose you’ll want to keep Abraxas’s brat.”
“Darling, don’t be so rude or selfish,” Jamie said.
“Maude’s only nineteen. That’s much too young to—”
“Says the wizard who bonded with me just weeks before my seventeenth birthday,” Jamie said, rolling her eyes and glaring at her husband.
“That’s completely different!” Tom protested.
“My father would disagree,” Jamie countered. “He still hasn’t forgiven you for convincing me to elope.”
“Charlus Potter is—”
“As fascinating as this is,” Lucius interrupted, “Hyacinth has had a trying day. I think it’s time we let her rest.”
Lucius didn’t want to be the voice of reason. He wanted to do whatever was necessary to keep her at his side. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight—not after it had taken him so long to finally find her. Once she left the protection of his ancestral family manor, he imagined that the loneliness would return at least twice as potent as before.
“Of course, I want to keep him, Daddy. What witch wouldn’t want to keep the wizard that defeated her enemies?” Hyacinth said as she smiled at Lucius.
“What happened?” Tom demanded, his voice deadly as a Basilisk’s venom.
“I took care of it,” Lucius replied.
He didn’t know if Hyacinth had been aware enough to know that Miss Tracey Davis had Polyjuiced as her. The last thing he wanted to do was make the entire experience worse for her by leaving her to imagine what the witch could’ve done with her body.
Tom stood, with Hyacinth in his arms, and then set her on her feet. He tilted his head and met Lucius’s gaze, seeming to peer into his very soul. “I can see now, Maude, why you want to keep him.”
“He’s my soulmate,” Hyacinth said, cheeks flushed.
“Yes, I know.” Tom’s smile was brutal. “But Mother Magic owes me, and I’m not above petitioning Her to request She change that if I think She’s mistaken.”
Lucius’s brain stalled at the implications. Mother Magic owed Tom? How, in all of Avalon, could he make such a declaration and not have his magic ripped from him? Mother Magic didn’t owe anyone anything! Every living thing that possessed magic owed Mother Magic for Her generous gift of power.
“Lady Astoria Greengrass, Miss Rose Zeller, and Lady Eva Selwyn will be acceptable soulmates for your brothers. I’ve even decided that Master Rigel Black will be a tolerable lord-husband for your sister Merope,” Tom said.
“Yet, you doubted me,” Lucius said, enraged. Why were callow youths and silly chits worthy of Tom’s children, but a Lord of a Most Ancient House was not?
Tom sneered, “You don’t think I’d give possession of the Elder Wand to just anyone, do you? Maude’s accidental demise would leave you in possession of quite a powerful weapon.”
That Hyacinth’s elder wand was the actual Elder Wand was still processing as he snarled, “I would never—”
“Yes, I know,” Tom stated.
He pressed the stone of his ring against Lucius’s face and hissed something in Parseltongue. The most intense agony Lucius had ever felt in his life consumed him. It felt like part of his essence was being ripped from him. He tried to jerk away, but Tom’s magic locked him in place.
“What are you doing?” Lucius rasped.
Hyacinth hugged him, her grip tight and possessive as she answered, “Daddy’s making sure I can keep you, Lucius. The pain will pass soon. Then nothing can come between us.”
Assuming, of course, Tom didn’t change his mind and sever the soul-bond Lucius felt forming between himself and Hyacinth. If this was a bonding ceremony, it was the most painful one he had ever heard of in his entire life.
“What are you doing?” he repeated.
Tom rubbed his thumb across the Gaunt ring and said, “Removing part of your soul for safe-keeping. I can’t have you dying and breaking Maude’s heart, can I?”
He was what? Lucius didn’t understand. Was such a thing even possible?
“It’ll be fine, Veela King,” Hyacinth insisted. “Daddy keeps parts of all our souls safe. He loves us. He’s never going to let anyone take us away from him.”
Lucius didn’t know how to respond to that. It sounded like Tom had found a way to make his family immortal. And while Lucius wanted to scoff at the thought, he didn’t. If such a thing were possible, if he could keep Hyacinth at his side as his bride and lady forever, wasn’t a piece of his soul the least Tom could take from him?
As if she could read his mind, Jamie grinned at him, wild and dark. “Welcome to the family, Lucius. Your magic is as protective as a nesting dragon. You’ll fit right in.”