Masochist

by Nadia Aidan

  “Serena has not been harmed, but I have not been able to discern the magnitude of damage that her establishment has sustained.”

  She glanced at Adonis. “I need to check on my sister.”

  “I do not think that is wise.”

  Selena turned at Ares’ stern voice.

  “Exposing yourself will only put you both in greater danger,” Ares continued. “My brothers are there as well as several guards. They will see to your sister’s safety.”

  “That is all very well that you have her safety well in hand.” She glowered at him. “But I would like to know how my sister fares.”

  “Why?” His eyes narrowed. “You have not spoken to her in over a decade. Why do you care how she fares now when you never have before—?”

  “Ares,” Adonis warned, but Selena barely heard him. Her attention was riveted on the dark god before her.

  His words sliced her like a knife, and she drew in a deep, jagged breath. “No matter our differences, Serena is still my sister and I love her.”

  “Really? My brothers, we have our differences, but we do not abandon one another. You claim you love your sister, but you certainly have an odd way of showing it.”

  “That is enough, Ares.”

  Selena placed a gentle hand against Adonis’ sleeve when he moved as though to cross the room towards his brother.

  “It is fine,” she said to Adonis.

  To Ares, she asked, “What is it to you?” Why did he care that she and Serena shared a strained relationship—a strained relationship for which they both were to blame, not just her.

  “It is everything to me.” Ares left his perch against the mantle above the fireplace and walked towards her, darkness and danger radiating from him. “My brothers will be destroyed by you and your sister. I would see that doesn’t happen.”

  Anger poured through her then. “I refuse to stand here and let you blame me and Serena for what happened to us. We were innocent victims—”

  “Just as Apollo and Adonis were innocent tools of manipulation. Your family has brought nothing but pain to my brothers.” Ares’ black eyes grew harder—darker, if that were even possible—and Selena fought back a gasp at the intensity raging in his gaze. “When will it end?”

  She flinched in shock at the vehemence in his eyes, the conviction in his words. Adonis had destroyed her life, but it would seem that Ares believed she’d destroyed his.

  “That is enough, brother,” Adonis interjected. “We should go.”

  “Leave her here,” Ares snapped, looking straight at Adonis— only at Adonis, as though the very object of his anger did not exist.

  But she would not be ignored as she spoke up. “I go with you or on my own. Either way, I will see that my sister is safe this night.”

  Ares glared at her, his expression one of fury. He hated her. It was there in his eyes. He blamed her. It was all over his face. But he could not be rid of her, because, by some twist of fate, his brother still cared for her. He resented that fact—his eyes said that as well.

  With a sensual elegance that one could only be born with, he twisted around and stalked out of the living room, out of Adonis’ home, leaving them no other choice but to follow him.

  * * * *

  Selena had arrived at the grand opening of Adonis’ hotel nearly five hours ago with the sole purpose of ending his life.

  Now she sat beside him, in the passenger seat of his car, trailing behind Ares’ vehicle to her sister’s bordello. Death had been crowded out by desire, replaced by thoughts of succumbing to his desires, of fulfilling hers.

  Selena had not understood then, as she’d stood before him and he’d told her baldly that to have his death and to have her revenge were not the same. She understood now.

  Yet, what still eluded her was just how important his death was to her. Twenty-four hours ago, it had been the only thing of importance to her. Tonight, as she’d held him in her arms, as she’d touched his soul with a kiss, his death was no longer foremost in her mind.

  So much had changed in the small space of a few hours. More secrets had been followed with little truths. That was why she longed to see Serena—maybe talking with her sister would reveal some of the answers to the questions that now brewed inside her head.

  She glanced over at Adonis. His hands were tense as they gripped the steering wheel, his eyes haunted.

  She wondered then, what if she took her revenge upon his body and made him suffer, then afterwards she did not want his death? What if she let him live? Would either of them be free of the pain that night long ago had wrought? Would either of them be free to love again, to experience happiness and joy?

  “Why does your brother feel such hatred towards me and my sister?”

  The interior of the car, which had been plunged into silence, now reverberated with unspoken accusations and silent guilt.

  Adonis sighed wearily, as if he dreaded answering her. “After what happened, Apollo and I were never the same. Ares is the oldest of us all. He feels responsible for us, which is why he mourns the loss of the men we were, and that he could do nothing to stop it.”

  “But he blames Serena and me, as if we had something to do with it all.” Fury began to vibrate through her at the very thought. “It’s as if he blames us for what we suffered, as if we wanted any of it.”

  “It is not you and your sister, so much, as what you represent.”

  “And what is that?” she asked, though she already suspected, and when he remained silent she knew her suspicions to be true. Her father. Whatever role her father had played in all of this, Ares blamed him, and thusly he blamed her—her and Serena.

  She understood the rationale, even if it all did not make sense. The worst her father had done was to disown her and Serena and send them away to the convent. He’d not been the one to take their innocence, to publicly ridicule them and shame them. Adonis and his brother had done that, and all for what? Money? Prestige? Adonis had promised to marry her, but instead he’d taken her, made it known to all then abandoned her. The skill with which he’d taken her virginity had been heralded. He’d become an even greater legend after that. And she’d been ruined. No man would have her. She’d had no choice but to enter the convent.

  Her sister had disagreed.

  It was as if Serena had been liberated by what had transpired, while she’d been imprisoned by it.

  The path her sister had taken had so diverged from her own that Selena had not even recognised her.

  She’d blamed Adonis and his brother for that, as well. What they’d done had forced a wedge deep and wide between her and Serena until the closeness they’d once shared had become a memory of the past.

  The car slowed then came to a stop outside Serena’s bordello.

  Épicurien— the pursuit of pleasure.

  That is exactly what patrons of Serena’s establishment found when they came to her—pleasure. The fulfilment of every wanton, hidden desire.

  Selena had not visited her sister since she’d opened these doors, but she’d heard rumours of this place, of the decadence that could be found within these walls.

  Located in the eastern district—Apollo’s domain— Épicurien eschewed all the values for which he stood—truth and purity, a virtue of body that was above the temptations of the flesh.

  He’d tried to have her bordello closed, but Serena had stood against him, preying upon his guilt.

  He’d owed her this. Eventually, Apollo had given in.

  Selena stepped out of the car, greeted by black granite columns and a white marble façade. Three storeys, Épicurien was an elaborate building with statues of lovers twisted together in every imaginable position displayed within the lush, green gardens of the entryway.

  With Adonis beside her, and Ares to the right of him, they walked along the cobbled stones, past the fountain in the centre of the garden, and up the steps.

  Tonight, Épicurien was empty of patrons and, as soon as Selena stepped inside, she understood why. Fro
m the exterior, one could not see the damage, but, once inside, she saw the fire that had blackened the walls along with the ceiling and the floor of the greeting room. Charred paint and wallpaper were peeling and the acrid burning smell of smoke still choked the air.

  From the corner of her eye, Selena caught a flash of crimson and her gaze easily found her sister, a beacon of scarlet light among the darkness. Like her own, Serena’s skin glowed a shimmering bronze, her raven hair hanging in wild abandon to her waist, framing her perfectly sculpted face of pure beauty. Serena’s wide topaz eyes registered surprise, then pleasure, even as they hinted at the anxiety the fire had caused. What was not present was pain or suffering. What was not present was anger or even the desperate need for revenge.

  Selena envied her sister. She always had.

  Serena had not blamed Apollo as Selena had blamed Adonis, so her sister did not labour under the weight of bitterness. Freed of her virginity, Serena had felt free to pursue the pleasures of the flesh, to indulge in the carnal desires that had been buried deep inside her.

  Serena had not felt ruined. She’d felt liberated.

  Selena had hated her because of that…and envied her.

  She’d wanted to feel liberated, to be free. She’d tried desperately to feel those things, but she couldn’t.

  “Selena.” The whispery soft voice was as genuine as it was lovely, as pure as it was seductive.

  Her sister moved towards her as if to embrace her, but at the last moment she stopped, as if the years and recriminations that had torn them apart still stood between them, separating them.

  “Where are my brothers?” Ares asked, his brusque tone breaking through the awkward moment.

  “They are outside trying to determine the source of the fire.”

  Ares nodded and started in the direction Serena had pointed.

  “I will go with him,” Adonis said from beside her. Selena looked up at him, her eyes saying what her lips would not— please do not leave me alone with her. She’d all but demanded to come along to see her sister, but, now that she’d seen her, Selena did not want to remain in her presence any longer. It was awkward and strained.

  His eyes replied what his lips would not— you need to speak with her.

  He followed after his brother, taking with him his warmth and the security of his presence. Selena had not realised how much she’d needed it, how comforting his nearness had been, until he was gone.

  She stared at his retreating back until he’d disappeared outside. Once Adonis was gone, she had no choice but to turn her attention upon her sister.

  “Serena.”

  A smile, identical to her own, flashed across her sister’s face. “I am surprised to see you, but I am glad you are here.” Her smile dimmed somewhat. “Why are you here? With Adonis, no less?”

  “I was with him when I learned of the fire,” she said truthfully. “I wanted to be sure you were all right.” Another truth.

  A host of emotions shimmered across her sister’s face—all of them pained Selena. Her sister had always been more sensitive than she. Selena could tell the absence of their closeness had hurt Serena deeply. It had hurt Selena too, but she was more adept at burying pain, hiding it.

  “I’ve missed you,” Serena said finally, quietly.

  Silence.

  Nothing but silence hovered between them until Selena relented. It was not Serena’s fault that she had not been as broken by what had happened. She’d blamed her sister, felt betrayed that Serena had rejected living in a convent to seek out a life so different from her own. It was not Serena’s fault that she still openly experienced passion, while Selena had been torn apart by it, shamed by the very thought of it.

  None of this was Serena’s fault.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  That admission surprised her sister, which was why she probably felt at liberty to be more candid with her.

  “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  “I’ve never sought your forgiveness, because there was nothing to forgive. You’ve never wronged me, Serena.”

  “But I let you down.”

  Selena acknowledged that, but only to herself. Much had happened in the years that separated them. She’d finally understood that her lust for revenge would have eventually strangled Serena. It would have crippled her vibrant and loving sister until she was as hollow and empty as she.

  Yes, she’d felt let down, but Serena had had to remain true to herself and to her needs. It would not have been fair to force her to carry the weight that only Selena seemed to be burdened by.

  She understood that now.

  “You had an obligation to yourself. I cannot find fault with that.”

  Serena’s smile was serene, which was probably why she’d been so named. Though she was the younger twin, her sister had always possessed an intuitiveness that seemed to give her peace, whereas Selena could find none.

  “Does that mean you’ve forgiven Adonis then?”

  Her belly clenched at Serena’s question. Forgiven Adonis? She’d touched him intimately, kissed him and allowed him to do the same to her. And they were not yet done. At some point she would take him inside her body, and take his pleasure, his desire, his essence.

  She wanted him…fiercely.

  But forgiven him? She had not.

  “I do not think I will ever be able to forgive him.”

  “And yet, you’ve allowed him to make love to you.”

  Selena gasped.

  “I am a courtesan,” Serena offered in answer to the question that must have blazed in her eyes. “The moment you walked in I knew. He stood close to you, a gesture of protection, but also one that spoke of possessiveness. And your eyes—they glow with fulfilled desire, as do his. Even had I been blind, the scent of him is all over you, so strong it is, as if you’ve bathed in his essence.”

  Serena—her innocent, naive, guileless sister. That’s how she’d remembered her. The woman before her was none of those things.

  There was a confidence in her words, a knowing that spoke of sophistication and experience.

  Her sister was an infamous madam, a legendary courtesan. Lovemaking was her profession and her passion.

  Serena turned from her and sauntered over to the bar where she poured herself a glass of wine. Selena shook her head when she lifted an empty glass, offering her one as well.

  After taking a sip of the rich, red liquid, Serena turned her attention upon her once again—the gaze of a wizened, mature woman.

  “You still blame Adonis for what happened to you, but you shouldn’t.”

  Selena’s eyes became hard slits. “Just because you’ve forgiven Apollo does not mean I should do the same.”

  Serena took another sip from her glass, the grace with which she drew the wine into her mouth and down her throat giving Selena a brief glimpse of why her sister was the legend that she was. The simple act, thoughtless and casual, had exuded pure seduction.

  “You should do as I’ve done because, like Apollo, Adonis was just as victimised by all of this as we were. That you do not acknowledge this, that you do not accept this, will only continue to prevent you from finding happiness. This bitterness you carry inside you will only destroy you in the end.”

  “Happiness?” She sneered. “Is that what you’ve found in this whorehouse of yours?”

  Serena set her glass down, harder than necessary. That was the only indication of her anger, which she masked well.

  “Hurl names at me all you like, but I’ve found freedom here. I’ve built a place of my own, a life of my own. What have you found, dear sister, locked away in that convent—yielding beneath the dictates of others, nurturing nothing but guilt and shame for something that was never your fault?”

  Serena might as well have struck her, the truth of her words stung so painfully. Growing up, they’d rarely argued. Selena was not prepared for such an exchange. She gathered herself, putting aside the years of resentment and envy she harboured towards her sister f
or being brave enough to forge a life for herself. Selena focused instead on the question that had plagued her on the drive all the way there.

  “What do you know of Father’s involvement in what happened to us?”

  “Father?” Serena’s eyes rounded, her cheeks paled. “What does he have to do with any of this?” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Besides the obvious, like disowning his only daughters and secreting them off to a convent.” Serena shook her head then, her brow creased as if she’d just mulled over the question in greater depth and had come to a resounding conclusion. “Why would you believe he had anything to do with all of this? He was not even in the city at the time.”

  “I know,” was all she said.

  Her sister appeared as ignorant as she, which made her wonder about another question that had plagued her for some time.

  “The brothers seem to believe that Father was involved somehow. I did not believe them—I still don’t. But, on the way over here, I wondered if you knew something that I didn’t.” Selena speared her sister with identical brown eyes. “I wondered if the reason why you were able to forgive Apollo was because you knew someone else was at fault.”

  “That is the very reason why I forgave Apollo.”

  Selena’s eyes rounded. “But you just said—”

  “That I have no knowledge of Father being involved, and I don’t. What I do believe, however, is that Apollo hurt me because he was compelled to do so. Did you not wonder what their motivations were, what had prompted them to go from loving fiancés to cruel and distant strangers?”

  Of course she’d wondered—many nights that was all she’d ever thought about.

  When she shook her head, Serena continued, “Well, Father owed a debt and Dieu forced us to pay it. That is all I know. All I’ve ever known.”

  Selena started at her sister’s revelation. Dieu— the man who’d taken in the four men who would later share his legend, who would later share his namesake. He’d given the four brothers a home and a way of life. And that life had corrupted them, tainted their souls.

  They owed Dieu everything and would have done anything for him, even destroyed the lives of the women they’d loved.