Merlin cupped me through the fabric of my dress and I gasped. Romulus growled, the sound vibrating through me, as he hauled me upwards. Brom picked me up entirely, my legs wrapping around his narrow waist, Merlin’s fingers never leaving me. I met the vampire’s eyes, panting with arousal and knowing that I would let him fuck me right there, the other two men pressed up against me, their hands teasing me, if he wanted it.
From the look in his eyes, he knew it too—and dammit, it just made me want them more.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against me, and I clutched at his shoulders as I bared my neck to him.
I was so close, with the lycan’s hands teasing my breasts and nipples through my dress, the warlock stroking me, seeking out my clit, and the vampire’s cock grinding up against my entrance. I’d never experienced this level of arousal and I felt every nerve crying out to be broken, to reach completion.
I felt the small prick of Brom’s fangs against my neck just as Merlin circled my clit and I was sent into bliss, shuddering in their arms as they ground their hips against me. A small part of me was thrilled to feel their cocks, thick and insistent, pressed against me—desiring me.
Romulus leaned forward, his mouth trailing over my ear as his hand came up to my neck, Brom having pulled away but still grinding up against my sensitive pussy.
“You’re intoxicating.” His voice was rough, the arousal deepening his Irish accent. “I wanna see you come all over my cock, lass, even though I fear it might kill me.”
I felt his hand leave my back and then his hand buried in my hair; the ribbon which tied the mask to my face was tugged and panic cut through everything else.
I ripped away from him, startling them, and shoved my hands against Brom’s chest.
“What?” Brom asked, though I read his lips more than heard him over the music, and I shook my head and struggled against him. He dropped my legs back to the floor, steadying me, but I pulled away.
Too close, I yelled at myself, I let them get inside me and I had almost ruined any hope because of being fucking turned on. Merlin reached for me and I whirled around, bringing my hands to my chest, unable to trust myself. His eyes were confused as he watched me and I couldn’t bear their scrutiny.
I turned and pressed into the crowd, running away from them.
The crowd didn’t care for me, not as they did for the three men I had left behind. I had to shove myself between the dancers, half of them blissed out of their minds with alcohol or blood bite highs. Hands tugged at my arms, my hips, my waist, trying to get me to stop and dance, to drag me back into the mindless beast around me.
I struggled for so long, not knowing what direction would let me escape, so lost in the wilderness of bodies that I could feel panic welling up inside me.
But finally, I burst out of the crowd in an unfamiliar area, but at least near a wall. I could find my way from there.
“Hey,” I heard a voice yell and I looked up in a panic. It was the fox spirit who’d served us drinks. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” I lied and it was clear she didn’t believe me. She looked over my shoulder into the crowd.
“You want to go back to them?”
I stared at her but couldn’t answer.
“What time is it?” I asked instead.
“Almost midnight,” she answered. “Party upstairs is almost finished if you need to get back up there.”
“Shit.” I had to get back to the mansion before my stepmother and stepsisters. “I need to get out of here. Now.”
“Okay,” she held up her hands, like she was scared of me. “I can show you a way out.”
“Thank you, seriously,” I said, relief flooding through me like the drink had earlier.
“No prob,” she said, and I followed her along the wall, away from the dancers. She led me to a black door and shoved it open. Fresh icy air blasted us and stole my breath away. “It’ll lead you up to the street. Take a left and you’ll see the front of the building.”
“Thanks,” I said again, unsure of what else I could say.
She watched me for a moment, hesitant. “Do you know who they are?” she asked.
My shoulders dropped and I looked away, shame creeping in at what I’d let them do to me—even as practically strangers.
“Just be careful,” Hei-Sook said, and I looked back at her, apprehension filling me. “They’re basically Syndicate royalty. The future of our worlds. Your star can rise with them, faster than with anyone else. But just make sure the inevitable crash and fall are worth it to you.”
I couldn’t say anything; my voice was caught in my throat. I nodded and she closed the door, leaving me alone in the cold stairwell. I had to get home though, because Madam Jupiter was more dangerous to me that night than they could ever be.
Chapter 5
Eleanora
I threw myself out of the cab after shoving a hundred-dollar bill at the driver, not caring that it was twice the fare. People had already been leaving in their town cars from the event and I could only hope that my stepmother had decided to stay as long as socially acceptable. If she or Titania had set their hooks in someone and prolonged the goodbyes, I might make it back before them.
I rushed around to the staff entrance and burst into the corridor, frantic.
“There you are, Ella,” Bonnie’s familiar voice rang out, and the matronly woman bustled down the hallway. “You were supposed to be back an hour ago.”
“I know, I know,” I apologized as she guided me into the small bathroom off the hall. She started unzipping my dress as I reached back and untied my mask. “I got distracted and got back as fast as I could. Has stepmother returned?”
“No, else you’d be facing the lady’s wrath,” Bonnie chided me. She turned to reach for a folded gray dress as I pulled my mask off.
I used to hate looking at myself in mirrors, but when I realized that my stepmother hated my scarred face, I made myself look every day. I did not love my face—and I doubted I ever would—but I could accept it and not let myself loathe it as she wanted me to. The scars marred my cheeks, large ridges streaked across my face and forehead, sparing my eyes and most of my lips fortunately. The scars were angry and red, like the cinders that had fallen onto me so many years ago. They wrote pain and grief on my skin, but the pain had faded many years ago. The grief never fully left. If I had only run into the building moments early, I could have joined my father in death and my stepmother would have been thwarted in her goals.
For months, I had hated Bonnie for holding me back as we watched the flames overtake my father’s workshop. Looking at the scars, I remembered the heat from the flames, even across the courtyard. I was nine years old when my father’s workshop erupted into unnatural flames. He had promised to continue our chess match that evening; he had been teaching me in the library. I had lashed out when, after I had healed enough to leave my bed, I saw that my stepmother had put away the chess table, the game only half finished. Our staff had to drag me back to my rooms, my burns bleeding through the bandages.
When the surgeons had told my stepmother there was no way to restore my skin, that I would bear the scars of the fire forever, she had ordered Bonnie to craft veils for me. She declared she could not handle the constant reminder of the loss of her husband. I lived through my anger, and only years later realized what a mistake that was. She used my acting out as evidence of my simple mind and her lawyers were able to declare her the estate manager of my father’s fortune.
And soon after, when I was given medical clearance, I was officially moved out of my large room and into a smaller one with the staff, for my own good—she claimed. Next, it was light chores to keep me occupied, my tutors being dismissed and my schooling given over to the housekeeper and butler, until I turned eighteen. Then when she couldn’t access my father’s legacy, that only I could—though I had no idea how to get it, and the staff, being fully human, didn’t either, she gave up all pretense of my ever becoming independent and I was added to
the household staff without a care.
Or, perhaps, with the utmost care. She hid my identity by ordering all female staff members to wear the same veil if they were to be seen in the family areas. I had hoped that my father’s friends would ask after me, but it seemed they were loyal to his power and not to the family. Soon, no one asked after me, and I faded from their minds as Madam Jupiter began using my family name to gain more power in the Warlock Syndicate while she consulted with her legal counsel to access my legacy.
I still didn’t know why she wanted it, other than pure magical power. I just knew that her best chances for it meant she had to keep me alive.
Bonnie coughed politely, and I hurried out of my dress and into the plain gray linen dress we all wore. She placed my matching veil and hood on the sink next to the mask I had worn moments ago. I hurried to pull out the pins in my hair and my fingers slowed as I traced the area on my neck where I had felt the point of Brom’s fangs. He’d not broken the skin, but even just the tease made me understand the people who were deemed blood-sluts.
Someone ran past the bathroom and I shoved the hood over my head as Bonnie buttoned up the back of my dress.
“That’ll be them,” she said as she gathered up my dress and mask and shoved it into an empty drawer in the bathroom vanity. “We’ll deal with your dress later. Hurry with the veil, you know she’ll be displeased if you aren’t there.”
She was right and left me in the bathroom, her own duties to attend to. I splashed water onto my face quickly, hoping that the scent from the revelers didn’t cling to me. I wished I had been more cautious and could have afforded the time for a shower but this would have to do. I snapped the veil into place and ran out of the bathroom, hurrying to the front foyer, where they’d be waiting shortly.
I fell in line next to three other maids, across from the footmen, in the marbled halls that I once played in as a child. I held my hands demurely in front of me, identical to the women beside me. Every guest in the mansion would see me and believe I was a hired staff member, identical to everyone else. But somehow, my stepmother always knew which one I was. It was as if she could see through the veils we all wore and pinpoint me with lethal accuracy.
The butler opened the door and Madam Jupiter glided in, pulling off her long black opera gloves and placing them on the platter that Bonnie held just for that purpose. Titania and Beatrice followed close behind, removing their own gloves and stoles. They must have removed their masks on their ride.
My stepmother was elegance personified. She had never sought to disguise her silvering hair with dyes and wore it proudly, as if it were a molten silver veil. Her face was unlined from age, though I knew it was one of her few vanities she allowed herself to enhance with her magic. She still wore the black of mourning, but her couture gowns declared her wealth and standing within society. Titania was her twin in looks, and truthfully, half of the men who visited courted both of them—even though my stepmother would never marry again.
We, the staff, bowed at the waist as they walked by and I hoped that she would pass by me without comment or orders. But as we straightened, in perfect sync as she demanded no less, she came to stop before me.
“Eleanora,” she said stiffly, and I was suddenly terrified that she knew of my attendance. “We will be entertaining guests late tomorrow morning before the second night of the masquerade. I want you to ensure the dining hall is spotless. It is vital that everything be perfect, and if there is even one thing out of place, you shall not be allowed an afternoon meal for a month, do you understand?”
“Of course, Stepmother,” I said, forcing my tone into one of pleasantness. I was exhausted from the evening, and now I was certain to be spending the entire night away cleaning.
But I couldn’t give any sign of weakness to her, otherwise I would risk my chance of escape the next evening. I held my breath as she watched me, searching my face though I was certain she couldn’t see through the veil.
“You know I care for you, Eleanora,” she said with pity. “It would bring me joy for you to take a place at your sisters’ side, but it would only bring you pain.”
“I understand,” I said, bowing my head. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, forcing back the anger her words inspired.
“I shall find you a suitable husband at some point,” she continued, as if it were a blessing on me. “One that will understand your feebleness, of course. It is my hope this event will allow me to make that arrangement for you. Then you could be taken care of, since your body is still healthy enough to bear children.”
“Yes, your face may be hideous but your husband could just fuck you from behind,” Titania said before laughing at me. “Maybe she’d be best off as an heir surrogate—no man will want her at his side in society with that face of hers.”
Tears burned my eyes even as a piece of me agreed with her. Was that not why I fled earlier, fearing to see the inevitable repulsion in their eyes? I wouldn’t have been able to handle that, not after how desired I had felt, crushed between their bodies.
I said nothing, though, unable to offer any retort even had I not agreed with her.
“Come, Titania, you must rest well. I require you to be at perfection when I introduce you to Moitessier’s son in the morning.”
“Yes, Mama,” Titania agreed cheerfully, and I already pitied the man who would be visiting tomorrow.
Mother and daughter climbed the staircase to the upper levels, two of the maids at my side breaking away to follow them. Only Beatrice stayed behind, watching her sister and mother disappear before approaching me.
She reached for my hand, briefly squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Ella,” she said quietly.
I nodded once, hoping she’d understand why I couldn’t respond. She squeezed my hand again before following her mother and sister upstairs, the remaining maid following her.
I sucked in a breath and shuddered. I had returned, my attendance to the Syndicate ball unknown. I had a long night ahead of me, but it would give me time to plan my escape tomorrow night.
And if my thoughts strayed to Brom, Romulus, and Merlin, at least I was alone as I scrubbed the marble floors of the dining room. I wondered if they’d be in the same room I had first discovered them, and I wondered if I was brave enough to seek them out.
Chapter 6
Merlin
The taste of sweet organic cloves mixed with the bitter, earthy tobacco wasn’t my favorite, but it was a fuckton better than the shit filled with chemicals and fiberglass that the nonmagical companies shoveled at the terrestris, the humans with no idea about the magical world around them. I couldn’t believe they filled their lungs with the shit of the earth, barely covered by the tobacco in those death rolls.
No, if I was going to indulge in a rare smoke—that was becoming less rare by the fucking week—I’d get my supply from someone I knew wouldn’t put fucking fiberglass into the mix, for fuck’s sake.
I flicked the lighter, the brown roll held between my lips, and protected the feeble flame from the wind. I inhaled, pulling the smoke in deep, holding it for a count of five as I shoved the lighter back into my pocket. I imagined I looked like a dragon of old as I forced my exhale, and thus the smoke, out through my nose before taking another drag.
Fuck, I hated politics, and I was about to deal with a family who loved them. Madam Jupiter Bediver had apparently arranged a brunch with my father and me—no doubt hoping she could shove her daughter onto my cock in hopes of giving her some attachment to me. I glared at the tall door dominating the center of the mansion, hating that I had to be there. But if I didn’t show, I’d find myself married to some chit that I didn’t give a fuck about, nor wanted to fuck about with.
My father, Magnus, wanted me married and I was here to make sure that didn’t happen. My sabotage began early, when I was up and out of the house before he’d broken his fast. He would have had to arrive without me, which meant I could present myself the way I chose.
And why not present myself the way I
preferred to be?
I took one last drag on the cigarette before pinching the flame out, and pulled my thick coat around me. It looked older than I was and had no designer label attached to it. The russet color coat was meant for utility, not fashion, and the inside was lined with the best Irish fleece money could buy. Thrown on top of my dark Henley and jeans, my father scoffed at me while my mother frowned. Then again, I didn’t recall my mother ever smiling, so maybe it was just how she looked.
I took the few steps to the door, pocketing the half-smoked bit, and knocked next to the ornate knocker. Who the fuck actually used those pretentious things? The Bediver’s door knocker was a beast of a thing, the face of an elk—antlers and all—with the crest hanging below the neck like some collar. I pitied the creature, shackled to responsibility and never allowed freedom.
The door swung open as soon as I stopped, a portly fellow in a perfect suit bowing as I walked in.
“Master Moitessier, welcome.” He righted. “Your father and Madam Bediver are awaiting your company in the parlor. May I take your coat?”
“Naw, I’m good, mate,” I answered, shoving my hands into my pockets. The butler arched an eyebrow at me skeptically, as if he were considering insisting. I jerked my head towards the inside of the house and took a step. “This way then? Should I just poke my head in rooms till I find them?”
“Right this way, sir.” The man barely kept himself from sighing and I bit back a grin. Brom would have slapped me upside the head, but the vampire wasn’t here to chide me.
I followed the man, whistling low at the extravagant display of wealth on the walls. I had known the Bediver fortune was extensive, but this was something else. I mentally congratulated Madam Jupiter for sweeping in after Thaddius’s wife disappeared. A maid stepped out of a room, dressed in a shapeless gray sack, wearing a hood and veil. She startled when she saw us and the butler cleared his throat, causing her to scurry away. I snorted.
Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy Page 3
