As had the last Sephiroth. Brothers and sisters in arms.
All the forces of good and light had aligned themselves against Cyprian’s demonic army. The primal sources of evil and night-shadow were ready and more than willing to finally take them all to their graves.
“Remember,” Cyprian’s mother had whispered in his ear as she prepared herself for war, “your father isn’t as strong as he appears. Your mere presence here weakens him with every breath you draw while it strengthens you so that you can defeat him. Not to mention, half his army still thinks that he’s betrayed them. It will take nothing for them to turn against him now.”
Because they had no idea that Cyprian had been born. Or that he and his mother had been playing havoc with all of their lives by masquerading as his father. He’d been having quite the time playing Ambrose at all their expenses. None of the poor fools had been the wiser.
Not even his father.
Unable to tell the two of them apart, the sheep had followed after him and done his bidding. They’d been duped without knowing. He made fools of them all, and he’d laughed at them the entire time.
Because they didn’t know better.
For all his powers, the Ambrose Malachai wasn’t impervious to everything. He had a great blind spot whenever it came to those he trusted and called friend and family. And Cyprian’s mother was an ancient goddess of supreme power and vengeance. She’d promised Cyprian long ago that this day of reckoning would come.
And here they were.
Here they were …
Facing off so that he could rise to power and his father could die by his hand and exact revenge for her.
That was the way of the Malachai curse. The father perished whenever the son came of age and killed his father to take his place.
Only one Malachai could live at a time.
Today Ambrose would die and Cyprian would rise.
Embrace your fate.
And Cyprian had gleefully seized it that day on the field when he’d killed Ambrose.
Now he was in the past to make sure that day in the future came.
One way or another. And there was nothing Nicholas Gautier could do to stop him.
CHAPTER 1
This was a stupid idea. But then stupid ideas were Nick Gautier’s specialty. In fact, when God had been giving them out, Nick had gone back not only for seconds, but thirds and fourths. Probably fifths, too.
Just ask anyone.
They’d all agree.
Especially his mother and friends. And none more so than his girlfriend, who was currently staring at him as if he’d lost his last three remaining brain cells.
He probably had.
Not that they’d ever worked particularly well whenever Kody was around. What with her tight jeans that hugged a very nice posterior, and those soft shirts she fancied that drained every last bit of blood from his teenaged Cajun mind and left it quite unable to function at full capacity. So even if he’d been a NASA rocket scientist, he’d have been rendered a blubbering idiot around her anyway.
He took comfort with that knowledge. Little bit though it was.
“Oh, Nick! You can’t be serious.” Nekoda Kennedy crossed her arms over her ample chest and blinked those gorgeous green eyes at him as if to say—Son, you’re a flaming moron.
Yeah, of course he was. And dang it anyway. How could she be so attractive while calling his meager intelligence into question?
Yet there was no getting around it.
He loved her. Every inch of that tanned, delectable caramel skin that tempted him a lot more than he ever wanted to admit. Every bit of those cupid’s bow lips he could spend the rest of his life kissing. Provided his mama didn’t catch him, that was. No boy needed a lecturethatstern.
