Free Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) by Carmen Caine

the windows with bunches of lavender flowers. Trudging tiredly up the marble steps leading from the canal, I followed the others to the front door.
    Lucian entered first, and the rest of us fell into step behind him.
    An old woman with spidery-veined hands and a permanent scowl etched into her massively wrinkled face greeted us. She didn’t speak; she merely waved us down a corridor behind a sweeping staircase.
    Lucian apparently knew where he was going.
    With long strides, he led us down the hallway, skipping several rooms before coming upon the one he wanted. Opulently decorated, the old room we entered was loaded with antiques. A table with intricately carved legs and laden with food stood in the corner. Large ancient paintings with gilt frames hung on the walls. Plush Persian carpets covered the cool, tiled floor. And French doors opened out into an inner courtyard filled with big clay-potted trees.
    “Hungry?” Heath asked with a cheerful smile.
    His voice sounded unnaturally loud, making me realize that no one had spoken since getting off the plane. Not waiting for a response from me, the werewolf made a beeline for the table of food.
    I was ravenous. But not for human food. Food tasted like sawdust to me, but over the years, I’d learned to eat for social situations. As I expect any werewolf would, Heath began wolfing down all the parmesan cheese and prosciutto. Joining him at the table, I picked up a slice of bread, doused it with olive oil, and went through the motions of eating. Yep, termite food.
    Tabitha waited until we were properly seated before hovering over the selection of snacks herself. I wondered what firedrakes liked to eat.
    Lucian, on the other hand, displayed no interest in food. Stalking to the open French doors, he lounged against the doorjamb and accepted only a goblet that the old woman delivered to him. As she hobbled away, he raised his glass, and locking his gaze with mine, drank deeply.
    There was no denying that he was wickedly hot.
    I enjoyed him for a moment before turning away. I didn’t have enough solid information to play his game back—yet.
    A blur caught the corner of my eye then. It was Ricky, sneaking out from under the table to dash down the corridor on his tiptoes—like that made any difference. Who would hear him anyway? He was made of smoke.
    I suppressed a snort. Excusing myself from the table, I half stood up with the intention of catching the little beast when the old woman returned and handed Lucian an envelope.
    Heath and Tabitha straightened, and judging by the light in Lucian’s eyes, I figured that the envelope had been what we’d all been waiting for.
    He confirmed it with a curt, “Our mission.”
    Thanking the old woman with a gracious dip of his chin, he accepted the missive and tore it open. He read it where he stood, his shrewd eyes scanning the contents quickly, and then he went still. Very still. When he was done, he averted his gaze out the window, and his eyes took on a faraway look as he apparently digested the information.
    Silence descended on the room. It became so quiet that I was certain that this time we’d hear even Ricky’s footsteps.
    With a sudden violent expletive, Lucian crushed the paper in his fist. He faced us, his jaw set and his eyes glittering with cold calculation.
    “It’s a Chosen One,” he announced tightly. “With great haste, we must contain him before he’s unbricked. It’s imperative that  this  Chosen One does  not  awaken.”
    A Chosen One? I perked up instantly. The more vampires I met, the better.
    Tabitha suddenly drew her hood back. “Which one?” she asked sharply.
    Lucian crooked his lip in a lordly twist. “Unknown,” he answered her. “But he’s one of the Old Ones. Humans found him yesterday while unearthing the mass graves of plague victims. Still freshly fascinated with their discovery, they haven’t disturbed him yet. But they’ve taken photos and informed the media. As of this morning, the