See No Evil (Alpha Guardians Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Vivian Wood
Guardian now. A mere worker bee in Mere Marie’s little hive, protecting New Orleans. It’s not like you’re the only one who she’s brought forward a couple hundred years in time to play soldier.”
Rhys’s jaw tensed at Gabriel’s casual tone. It was true enough that Rhys had given up his clan, traded his right to rule for Mere Marie’s assurances that his people would survive and thrive despite a number of looming threats. That didn’t mean that Rhys should forget his whole former life, though, or pretend that he didn’t mourn his choices. Rhys and Gabriel had played out this exact argument a number of times over the past year, learning each other’s quirks and soft spots as they worked to form a cohesive fighting unit.
The third Guardian on their team… well, he was a great fighter, but he was considerably less friendly. Rhys still regarded Aeric, the Viking warrior who’d somehow ended up in their group, as something of a mystery.
“I’m starved,” Gabriel announced, cutting into Rhys’s thoughts. Rhys thought that Gabriel was likely changing the subject in order to stem the flow of Rhys’s morbid thoughts. Rhys knew that Gabriel did so because of their new-found friendship. The two men had found a quiet sort of contentment over the past year, at least more so than they had with Aeric. Aeric was still standoffish and mostly kept to himself.
“All right, all right,” Rhys said, wiping his brow. “I saw Duverjay putting together some sandwiches and we were on our way out here.”
Gabriel and Rhys left the gymnasium and walked outside across the broad green space that made up the Manor’s ill used backyard. They entered the main house and bypassed the living room in favor of the kitchen, where the Manor’s butler Duverjay was setting out several Gatorades atop a bowl of ice. The short Creole man had shown up the first day Rhys arrived at the Manor, ready to serve their needs, but Rhys was pretty sure that Duverjay also reported their every movement back to Mere Marie.
“Ah, Duverjay, you always know what I like,” Gabriel teased. Duverjay raised a brow, but otherwise did not respond. The man was from the classical school of butlers, and he would no more likely rise to Gabriel’s bait then he would begin a day of work in flip-flops.
The Guardians tormented Duverjay mercilessly about the pristine black suit and white dress shirt he wore every day. The butler never deviated from his self-imposed uniform, but that didn’t stop him from shooting disapproving glances at the Guardians any time they lounged around the house in gym shorts and sneakers after a long day of sparring.
Formed by Mere Marie with the specific intention to protect the city of New Orleans from a rising tide of evil power, specifically a slippery, shadowed figure known as Pere Mal, the Guardians spent most of their time patrolling the city streets. They generally monitored all the goings-on of the Kith, or paranormal community, but could be called upon to help humans if the need was great enough. When they weren’t patrolling, the Guardians were sparring or working on their weapon-handling skills, usually in the form of target practice with a handgun or crossbow.
The butler made a point to keep a fresh suit and tie pressed and ready in the bedroom of each of the Guardians. As if it any moment, Rhys might ditch his jeans and shit kicking boots for what amounted to dinner wear. Of all the modern conveniences, Rhys loved fitted jeans and fast cars the most.
Though he’d left behind a great deal in his old life, Rhys had come to appreciate certain parts of his new one. 2015 boasted a wealth of fine wines and whiskeys, for instance. The variation of clothing styles was astonishingly broad, though Duverjay did most of the actual purchasing for the Guardians; the man had an eye for the fit of a garment.
There was also something to be said for the food, an eye-opening array of choices from every type of game or fowl Rhys had ever
Rhys’s jaw tensed at Gabriel’s casual tone. It was true enough that Rhys had given up his clan, traded his right to rule for Mere Marie’s assurances that his people would survive and thrive despite a number of looming threats. That didn’t mean that Rhys should forget his whole former life, though, or pretend that he didn’t mourn his choices. Rhys and Gabriel had played out this exact argument a number of times over the past year, learning each other’s quirks and soft spots as they worked to form a cohesive fighting unit.
The third Guardian on their team… well, he was a great fighter, but he was considerably less friendly. Rhys still regarded Aeric, the Viking warrior who’d somehow ended up in their group, as something of a mystery.
“I’m starved,” Gabriel announced, cutting into Rhys’s thoughts. Rhys thought that Gabriel was likely changing the subject in order to stem the flow of Rhys’s morbid thoughts. Rhys knew that Gabriel did so because of their new-found friendship. The two men had found a quiet sort of contentment over the past year, at least more so than they had with Aeric. Aeric was still standoffish and mostly kept to himself.
“All right, all right,” Rhys said, wiping his brow. “I saw Duverjay putting together some sandwiches and we were on our way out here.”
Gabriel and Rhys left the gymnasium and walked outside across the broad green space that made up the Manor’s ill used backyard. They entered the main house and bypassed the living room in favor of the kitchen, where the Manor’s butler Duverjay was setting out several Gatorades atop a bowl of ice. The short Creole man had shown up the first day Rhys arrived at the Manor, ready to serve their needs, but Rhys was pretty sure that Duverjay also reported their every movement back to Mere Marie.
“Ah, Duverjay, you always know what I like,” Gabriel teased. Duverjay raised a brow, but otherwise did not respond. The man was from the classical school of butlers, and he would no more likely rise to Gabriel’s bait then he would begin a day of work in flip-flops.
The Guardians tormented Duverjay mercilessly about the pristine black suit and white dress shirt he wore every day. The butler never deviated from his self-imposed uniform, but that didn’t stop him from shooting disapproving glances at the Guardians any time they lounged around the house in gym shorts and sneakers after a long day of sparring.
Formed by Mere Marie with the specific intention to protect the city of New Orleans from a rising tide of evil power, specifically a slippery, shadowed figure known as Pere Mal, the Guardians spent most of their time patrolling the city streets. They generally monitored all the goings-on of the Kith, or paranormal community, but could be called upon to help humans if the need was great enough. When they weren’t patrolling, the Guardians were sparring or working on their weapon-handling skills, usually in the form of target practice with a handgun or crossbow.
The butler made a point to keep a fresh suit and tie pressed and ready in the bedroom of each of the Guardians. As if it any moment, Rhys might ditch his jeans and shit kicking boots for what amounted to dinner wear. Of all the modern conveniences, Rhys loved fitted jeans and fast cars the most.
Though he’d left behind a great deal in his old life, Rhys had come to appreciate certain parts of his new one. 2015 boasted a wealth of fine wines and whiskeys, for instance. The variation of clothing styles was astonishingly broad, though Duverjay did most of the actual purchasing for the Guardians; the man had an eye for the fit of a garment.
There was also something to be said for the food, an eye-opening array of choices from every type of game or fowl Rhys had ever
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