Page 2 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

Yes, I had better manners, but I was a little pissed. And really, who could blame me?

I had every right to be upset. After all, she, or rather, her grandmother, was the reason I, and most of my kin, shared our souls with thisthinginside of me.

“Thatthingyou so callously refer to in your very loud thoughts, Grandson of mine, isyou,” she snapped.

“Oh no! I ammorethan instincts and need,” I replied angrily.

Okay, fine. I was being a dick. Whatever,

But I was mad. At her. At myself. At the whole fucking world. Mostly, at that side of me that was making impossible demands.

“Youare your Devil, Maximillian. It’s not like with typical Shifters. The beast inside you doesn’t exist separately from you. It’s a symbiotic relationship, and it’s about time you understood that,” she barked angrily.

Ugh.

Grandmother was loud at the best of times. And at the worst, like now when I was on the receiving end of a rather excruciating headache as a result of the magicked whiskey I drank last night, she sounded even louder.

“Fine. I will endeavor to understand.”

“Maximillian, I had hoped for more than that from you by now!”

“Okay, but can you tone it down?” I asked, wincing as soon as the words left my lips.

“Tone it down? I should think you would be grateful I came in person to tell you about the state of your inheritance, dear boy.”

I stomped through the garden with Grandmother Leeds hot on my tail—metaphorical not literal since that part of me was safely tucked away.

The old woman was spry for a two hundred and seventy year old. He’d give her that.

Of course, she claimed to be a hundred and eighty, but that was bullshit. The Leeds family had been in these parts since before the War.

Revolutionary, not Civil, though we were here for that, too.

Grandmother was not the first Mother Leeds, but her reign certainly was long. Just like her reach. And the thought made my balls shrivel.

“What are you talking about? My inheritance?”

“I do not believe I stuttered, Grandson.”

“You’re saying if I don’t clean up my act the money is gone? Is that it?”

“That is precisely it. Do better, Maximillian.”

Well, fuck.

I frowned as she went on and on about some property of ours. Apparently, she wanted me to oversee its reconstruction.

What?

“No thank you, Grandmother. I am perfectly fine here.”

“Perfectly fine here? Young man, you are completely miserable and doing nothing worthwhile, I might add!”

“I said no, Grandmother?—”

“Sorry, old boy, but this is not a request,” a deep, masculine voice joined in the discussion.

“Ugh, what are you doing here?” I spat the question.

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