Inevitable: Shifters Forever Worlds (Only After Dark Book 5) by Elle Thorne Page A

room was used for when they weren’t in it. Was it for private assignations? Her mind liked to wander to all sorts of subterfuge, political or amorous. She knew her grandmother would chastise her for her thoughts, but Leandra couldn’t help her vivid imagination.
    Mémé snapped her fingers, indicating for Leandra to sit up. “You’re growing into a young lady, stop acting like a street urchin that’s never been taught manners, chère .”
    “Yes ma’am,” Leandra uttered reluctantly and pulled her spine straight.
    She felt her mother enter the building. She felt her every time. Was it because of their bond? Was it because of the witch blood they shared, even though Rochelle refused to lay claim to the craft of witchery? Or was it something else, some strange preternatural sense that Mémé hadn’t explained to her yet? Mémé had begun some of Leandra’s sorcery training, but they’d not gotten very far yet. Mémé said next year would be the year they’d start in earnest.
    Sure enough, Leandra’s senses were spot on. A figure appeared in the doorway, pushing aside the curtains that afforded some privacy.
    Tall, willowy, with cream colored skin, attired in the latest fashion, with nails buffed to a high gloss, and hair gleaming, Rochelle Mathieu, mother to Leandra, stood in the doorway.
    “Mère.” Rochelle used the French word for mother.
    Leandra fought the sneer that wanted to appear on her face at the airs Rochelle put on.
    “Rocky.” Mémé used the childhood nickname for Rochelle. She took Rochelle’s fingers between her own weathered hands. “You look wonderful, chère . Like life is agreeing with you.”
    Rochelle’s caustic gaze traveled up and down Leandra. “I wish we could say the same for Leandra. She looks like a field hand.”
    “Those days are long gone,” Leandra reminded the woman who’d given birth to her.
    “I’m older than you think.” Rochelle’s tone was haughty, her brow arched high in an unlined, creamy forehead. “So those days are still fresh in my mind.”
    Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Leandra, taking in her hair—which Leandra was sure had become disheveled in the New Orleans humidity, taking in the scuff marks on the shoes that were borrowed—because Leandra would rather be barefooted on any given day.
    Rochelle held up a bag made of satin material, and fished a tiny jar out. “Here.” She handed the jar to Mémé. “Apply this to her skin every night. The smell isn’t great, but she’ll lose that horrible shading. It will lighten her skin to a beautiful cream color.” Rochelle ran the back of her hand along her own cheek, as if this would be the result.
    Leandra cocked her head, studied the woman who’d given birth to her, but couldn’t seem to like her the way she was. “I’m not—”
    Mémé’s hand fell heavily on Leandra’s shoulder. “Hush, chère .”
    “But—”
    “Shall we have sweets?” Mémé interrupted Leandra, giving her a look of warning.
    “I have early dinner plans. Unforeseen.” Rochelle’s countenance wasn’t apologetic.

Chapter 2
    I sland of Syros , Greece.

    T heodoros jumped from rock to rock on the jetty on Syros, the Greek island he lived on with his mother. His agility was something she’d urged him to hide.
    As were his other shifter skills.
    “Don’t let them ever see you as a lion, agape mou. ” My love. These were the words of caution his mother had preached at him every day since he could remember. Well, every day since the day he’d shifted in front of a stranger when they’d gone to the mainland.
    His mother had taken him to Athens, and when a man had stepped too close to her, Theo’s protective instincts had stepped in and he’d begun to morph into his lion.
    His mother had thrown her shawl over him and carried little Theo far away from the horrified, stuttering man before he could bring any attention to the little boy who’d grown whiskers and fangs.
    Later, she’d held him on a park bench, fed