Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy

by Marie Robinson

  “The idea has merit,” I hesitated to gather my thoughts, “but her reaction seemed genuine. I did not get the sense of deception in her words or actions. Indeed, I would even venture to suggest that she truly has no idea who we are.”

  “And if she’s a fox spirit with exceptional charm power?” Romulus pushed back as he rose from his seat to pace. The man was clearly agitated as he strode before the high windows of my penthouse.

  The city, New Londinium, was on beautiful display as the sun set. A veritable metropolis, the terrestris called it New York. The city truly never slept, but the night offered a wakefulness most of the nonmagical population believed only existed in books. The streets buzzed with life, and I knew if I concentrated, I could pinpoint the source of every blood I’d tasted in my life, so long as they were still alive, that is. A stab of regret shot through my gut as I thought of her. If I had tasted her, fed off of her, I could find her this very moment. I could call her to me, arouse her so greatly that she would beg me to fuck her as I fed from her. I shifted, crossing my leg over the other, as I saw no need to let the others see my clear arousal.

  “If she is a fox spirit, she hides her magic well,” Merlin said, his voice serious. It was not often that Merlin spoke with such deep consideration, and when he did—I had found it best to listen. “She has warlock potential, I felt that much last night. I used that latent power to fix the mask on her face, so I wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining it. She’s most certainly not a terrestris.”

  “So, she could be our very own Helen,” I mused, tapping my fingers against the armrest. I cared little for the political maneuvers of our families, though I knew that one day we each would be forced to take up the responsibilities of our own Syndicate. Our friendship alone would not be enough to settle a millennia worth of feuds. “How should our play change, then? Do either of you suggest we shun her as we have others?” By their jerking movements, I knew they felt the same as I with that plan. “Or do we move forward, accepting she may be a beautiful and powerful tool meant to divide us?”

  “Is a tool still useful when its purpose is impossible?” Romulus asked, and I smiled, staying quiet. As brutal as the man could be, especially in the fighting arena, he was ever the optimist.

  “All relationships can be broken, Romulus,” I said, and set my drink down on the low table before me. “But I must agree, our friendship would be difficult to castrate.”

  “So, we go on as we mean?” Merlin said, propping his booted foot up on the table. I sent him a glare and he smirked at me before bouncing his knee.

  “And how’s that?”

  We looked to the lycan, whose shoulders were taut and his jaw clinched so tightly I was surprised his teeth had not shattered. I stepped over to him, clamping my hand around the back of his neck and resting his forehead against mine.

  “We enjoy her company, if we wish it, but not over the sake of the rest of us,” I said, my voice low. Romulus shuddered against me, his eyes closed as he dragged in deep breaths. “If you desire our little bird so much, you shall have her—so long as she consents. And if she doesn’t want you, none of us will have her.”

  “You make us sound like the fucking three musketeers,” Merlin said with a snort. “No pun intended.”

  I released the lycan and walked towards my bedroom, undoing the cufflinks of my sleeves. I glared over my shoulder at the warlock, his knee still bouncing as he watched me leave.

  “Come raid my wardrobe, warlock,” I ordered. “I cannot allow you in my presence tonight if you can’t look halfway presentable. And while women may appreciate your ass in those jeans, I have a reputation to maintain.”

  --

  After the others were presentable, Merlin having huffed the entire time he inspected my closet, it had been a quick car ride to the Syndicate Council, the vast estate in central New Londinium where the masquerade was being held. We were all curious to see if our nightingale would return and whether or not she would seek us out.

  Romulus’s suggestion from earlier returned to me and I was forced to give it further inspection. If I were attempting to ruin a perceived alliance between three syndicate members known for their appetites, tossing a delicacy for us to fight over would be an intelligent move. And if I were that same tactician, I would not have her arrive that night—or if she did, I would instruct that she were to allow us to know of her presence but not allow us to seek her out. To increase her desirability through denial. They could not know how much we already desired her, even if we had not explicitly stated it to one another. The fact that Romulus and Merlin also considered her our potential Helen was indicative enough for me.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Romulus barked at Merlin as we walked up the steps to the estate.

  “I bloody hate these penguin suits,” Merlin grumbled, and I rolled my eyes at his petulant expression.

  “Had you brought your own suit, you would not be risking the seams in one of mine,” I reminded him. He was of the same height as me, as well as girth of waist, but the warlock was much more muscular and stretched the borrowed clothes to their limits. “We’ll make our rounds then retire downstairs, where you can shed the jacket at least.”

  “Thank bloody fuck for that,” he grumbled and waved us on impatiently. “Let’s hurry the fuck up then, mates.”

  Our entrance was noticed by nearly half the room, though it was something we had grown used to over the years. Our individual powers and strength had manifested at different times, but by the time we were adults, we were considered the most powerful of men in the syndicates—by pure magical ability if not political position yet. We were each the heirs of our families, which was fortunate. If we lacked power or familial position, our friendship would have been forbidden. As it was, our parents disapproved but were unable to act upon their feelings. That is why we had to give serious consideration to our little bird.

  “The lower study in an hour?” Romulus asked quietly as Merlin struggled to stay still.

  “Verily,” I agreed with a nod. We separated into three different directions, each of us forced to make our required appearance.

  Each time I was stopped by some sycophant or other, I would scan the room, looking for any sign of her. I knew Merlin and Romulus would be doing the same. I would not allow myself to be discouraged—looking for a stranger in a crowd full of masked people for someone I had only met the night before was not an easy task.

  The crowd moved in waves around me, and two groups parted, revealing a woman standing alone who was draped in a ruby gown, the back dipping dangerously low around her hips. Her hair was pinned high on her head, and her shoulders were covered in a shawl of raven feathers. She turned, as if surveying the room, a delicate glass of pale champagne held between her fingers. Even before I saw the mask she wore, I knew it was our little bird.

  Her eyes met mine and I began to move towards her, as if she were a siren and I a willing sailor, prepared to throw myself into the depths for the chance to taste her sweet lips.

  A large oaf stumbled into my path and I had to grab him by the shoulders, else risk toppling to the floor with him. He scrambled upright, drunk already this early in the evening, and his eyes went wide when he realized who he’d inconvenienced.

  “Begging your pardon, Master Tepes,” he said as he wiped at my coat futilely with a stolen napkin. I waved off the waitstaff who had rushed to my side to assist me.

  “Enough,” I barked out, interrupting the man who refused to let me pass. “I will forgive your trespass of my person if you get out of my way already.”

  “Of course, Master Tepes,” he groveled, his fat jowls shaking between the bottom of his mask at the collar of his shirt.

  I looked back to where she had been, only to find her gone.

  Chapter 9

  Eleanora

  I had felt Brom’s eyes on me even before I turned towards him. There was something between us, a connection I had never guessed possible. I had heard of such things between vampires and those who fed
them, but I knew he hadn’t broken the skin on my neck last night. This connection felt different. It was as if the center of my entire being, the metaphysical part of me, my soul even, was connected to his already. So when he had started towards me and that man fell into him, I took the opportunity to run.

  And nearly ran literally into my stepsisters.

  “Excuse me,” I said, dropping my voice lower. I had nearly bowed and shied away as I would have done back home, but I stopped myself in time, turning the bow into a respectful head tilt.

  “You are in quite a hurry,” Titania said, her eyes inspecting me closely. “I do not believe we’ve had the opportunity to meet. My name is Titania Coulis-Bediver.” Her tone rankled my nerves. I knew she only claimed my father’s name to connect herself with his position. She seemed to be waiting for a response and I frantically tried to think of something and then . . .

  “Antigone Castellanou.” My mother’s maiden name rolled off my tongue and I felt as if her presence surrounded me. Very few knew of her real name, having adopted the name Cassandra Bediver after she married my father. But my father had always called her Antigone in the privacy of our home, and it is how I remembered her. I doubted Titania had have ever heard the name and I felt safe enough using it.

  “What a lovely dress, Ms. Castellanou,” Beatrice said, smiling behind her damask mask. I panicked, thinking she’d recognize it, even with the tailoring Bonnie had helped with. We’d stripped all embellishments from the gown, leaving an ethereal sheath of ruby satin with a back low enough I was terrified to move too quickly, less I expose my ass. “I adore that color, but it does not agree with my complexion, so I’m told,” she continued, unaware of my panic, and shot a glare off at her sister.

  “Thank you,” I said, breathless. I struggled to think of a reason to excuse myself. Titania stared at me hard and I felt terror building within me, certain that she was about to discover my secret.

  “My darling little bird,” a voice whispered in my ear, even as a warm hand landed lightly on my hip. “I have been searching all evening for you.”

  Brom.

  I turned my face towards him, smiling though I knew he couldn’t see it.

  “Hello,” I answered, my heart fluttering in my throat. I felt his fingers press into my hip even as he turned to greet my stepsisters.

  It was as if I no longer existed to Titania, who smiled demurely at the vampire beside me, even as she offered her hand for him to kiss. She was too dignified to pout when he simply bowed over it, shooting me an assessing glance.

  “Master Tepes, how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance at last,” she cooed. I tried not to roll my eyes, and in doing so, realized that Beatrice had. She startled when she realized I had caught her, but a quick wink seemed to settle her. “I am Titania Coulis-Bediver, eldest daughter of the Bedivers.”

  I tensed at her claim, wanting to shout at her. She was not a true Bediver, let alone the eldest one. Brom’s fingers moved in slight circles on my hip, calming me.

  “And this must be your sister then?” he asked as he reached for Beatrice’s hand. She yelped with clear startlement before offering it quickly. “I believe you are Beatrice?”

  “Indeed, Master Tepes,” my stepsister answered, shocked that he knew her name. Titania looked annoyed.

  “If you would excuse us, ladies,” Brom said as he guided me away, “I must steal your friend away.”

  I couldn’t resist Brom’s touch and, if I were honest with myself, I didn’t want to. Especially when I saw how it irked my stepsister. She was not one to handle usurpation well.

  “My apologies,” Brom said as we stopped just inside the fated hall where I had met them. “I find myself at odds with what is acceptable and what I am drawn to do.” His mask this evening was different than the obsidian mirror he’d worn last night. Only half of his face was covered, his cheeks and mouth fully exposed, the rest of his face obscured by a blood-red mask. It was eerie, seeing such a color on a vampire and I almost wondered if it had been stained by true blood. But there was a wild heat in his eyes and I felt myself stepping closer to him as he stared at me.

  His lips were fuller than I had expected and I wondered if that was a part of his charm. Was he exerting his vampire allure over me or was it something else that made my blood sing for him? I placed my hand over his heart, where it beat strong within him, his shirt incredibly soft under my work-roughened hands.

  “Is this your doing?” I whispered, my voice hardly loud enough to pass through my mask, but I knew his heightened senses would hear me.

  He captured my hand in his, holding me to him while his eyes burned into mine, the rest of the world fading into darkness. All that mattered in that moment was where we touched, where we held to one another, delicately but tightly.

  “I should be asking you the same,” he responded, and his eyes looked down to where my mask held painted lips. “Not even my sweetest supplier has called to me the way you do, and yet I’ve not tasted a single drop of your blood.”

  Brom brought my wrist up to his mouth and I shuddered as he kissed me where my heartbeat pulsed in my veins, his eyes watching me the entire time. I wanted him to taste me, to plunge his fangs into my wrist and send me into the euphoric spiral vampires offered their feeders. There were those society called blood-sluts, addicts to feeding vampires. They would beg vampires to feed from them, to leave them in bliss, even if it meant their eventual death.

  Suddenly I empathized with them, he had not taken a single drop from me, and yet I wanted to beg him to drain me dry—if just his lips produced such arousal.

  A polite cough interrupted us and we both turned to see the towering lycan watching us with amusement in his eyes. He too wore a different mask, in the same half style that Brom did. His eyes looked to where Brom held me, but I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. What spell did they cast over me? I wanted to press my body against Romulus, his hands running over me, as Brom fed from me, certain that they would keep me safe.

  “Merlin?” Brom asked the lycan, who jutted his chin past us, towards the end of the hall.

  “Already in the room,” he said. “I think his father is more upset than he meant. It seems he made a right tit of himself at the Bedivers.”

  “Hmm.” Brom lowered my wrist, interlacing his fingers with mine. He looked to me, and my heart fluttered. “What do you desire, little bird? Shall we part company?”

  “No,” I answered without hesitation. I would never be a blood-slut, I had too much at stake to let myself get lost in him. But . . . neither could I bear the idea of being separated from him or Romulus, knowing they were in the same room. “I would prefer to remain at your side . . . if that’s acceptable?” I asked, looking at the lycan instead of Brom. I wanted to be at his side as well, not just the vampire’s. And Merlin . . .

  I wanted them all and I wondered if that made me a terrible person? The idea of Titania marrying Merlin made me fiercely protective of a man I hardly knew, and yet—how could I expect him to accept my desire of his two companions?

  Romulus stepped closer to us, Brom’s hand squeezing mine as I tilted my head back to meet the eyes of the lycan. He must be glorious when he shifted, his movements hinting at the power rolling inside of him. My eyes fluttered closed as he cupped my neck, his large hand spanning the entire back of my neck, his thumb rubbing teasing circles just behind my ear. The side of his mouth lifted into a decadent grin and I knew he was dangerous for me.

  “If that is what you want,” Romulus’s voice was a low growl that had me breathless, “then it will be so. We prefer . . . enthusiastic consent.”

  I hated my mask and my face in that moment, wanting nothing more than for him to fulfil the promise in his eyes. I wanted him to kiss me with the ferocity I felt harnessed in his grip. He could snap my neck with his hand but the only threat he posed me, I was certain of it, was ruining me with pleasure.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said at last, having to force the words out. My thoughts
were sputtering, my body trying desperately to take over control and throw myself at them.

  Romulus watched me, as if he knew my internal struggle, before releasing me. I was amazed I didn’t stumble, his desire radiating off of him in waves.

  I had come here with the intention of finding someone to help me, but now all I wanted that night was Romulus between my legs, his mouth on me as we lost ourselves to the music.

  “Come, little bird.” Brom’s voice was rough in my ear, and when I looked at him, his eyes were blown wide. Maybe my wanting all of them was acceptable, from the way the vampire was looking at us. “Let us collect our errant warlock and take pleasure in our company below.”

  They were the ones to help me, I was certain of it. But, more so, I was certain that I wanted them. And tonight, I would let myself embrace my desire and worry about Madam Jupiter and the Bediver legacy later.

  Chapter 10

  Romulus

  I didn’t want to go down to the basement. I didn’t care about the dancing or the drinks or the lack of politics in the frantic haze of the pursuit of pleasure. I wanted to throw the woman in front of me over my shoulder and carry her back to my den. But I knew if I touched her again, I’d throw her against the wall, lifting her until her legs were hooked over my shoulders, and I would taste her until she came on my face and begged me to fuck her right there, uncaring of who all would see it.

  I wanted to claim her, to mark her as mine and let her mark me in turn. I would fuck her in front of the entire Syndicate if I needed to. And yet . . . watching her hips sway as she walked hand in hand with Brom, her dress so close to indecent, I felt not a single instinct of jealousy.

  If she was in play by one of our families, intending on driving us apart and forcing us to adhere to the status quo, they were failing. They hated that we were such close friends, but dared not forbid us—else risk the threat of us claiming our legacies before our parents were ready to relinquish their power. Our elders knew their time as leaders would end, that Brom, Merlin, and I would take up the mantles of the syndicates, and they hated us for it.