The Temple

by Emily Shore

  One man reaches up, hand eager for my hair.

  “You know the rules, Tristan,” another warns him.

  I pause to glance up at my father, who apparently couldn’t care less about Bliss. His eyes are only for me, and they are keenly aware of the man on my left.

  Twisting my head to Tristan, I turn my eyes into two black predators.

  “Careful,” the man next to him warns, elbowing his arm. “Yang is the fierce one.”

  “I’d take hell itself if I could get her in my bed.”

  “Rumor is he’s welcoming suitors of all levels, but he’s letting her choose her own mate.”

  Tristan grins at me. “Lucky bastard.”

  “Not so lucky. She’ll still retain ownership. Pot of gold still in her name.”

  “Beautiful name.”

  I bite hard on my lower lip, particularly when I feel a chopstick toying with one of the skeleton flowers over my nipple.

  “I think I’ll risk the wrath of hell for one kiss.”

  Too distracted from the other greedy chopsticks, I register Tristan’s words right before the immediate shock of him kissing me, sinking his tongue past my lips in the same moment. It’s not the first time I’ve been kissed against my will, but each time it happens, it’s different. Like having a brush with death. He should’ve been prepared for hell because I draw blood when I bite down on his tongue. He leaps back, releasing a slight yelp, and I turn to the balcony and smile at my father, whose expression is triumphant when Tristan’s chair ends up doubling over from the inertia of his action.

  “You said hell itself,” Tristan’s friend reminds him.

  A dethroned Tristan touches a finger to his mouth and winks at me. “Hell never tasted so sweet.”

  That one moment of power and tiny drop of blood I can still taste in my mouth grants me the power I need to get through this. The men rush too much, all greedy hands and fingers and lusting eyes. One even suggests using the chopsticks to work away at the pasted Skeleton Flowers, but one brazen gaze from me and another reminder to respect the vessel of Yang, not to mention Tristan’s wounded tongue, keeps them at a safe distance. Well, not really safe. Safe would be Antarctica. But safe enough from violence.

  They compensate with Bliss. She takes it all. Sucks down every drop of their lust without moving at all.

  My sister astounds me.

  Bliss

  Yang’s bit of outburst makes it harder for me to concentrate, but I still perform without flinching. I know just how to lie still. Knees bent slightly, legs open and rotated out to the sides at a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle, unlike Yang who keeps her body sealed tighter than a clam shell. What the men do to my body gives me no reason to flinch. Over the years, I’ve learned to drown out the sensations. Fingers, hands, lips… they all land but do not strike. To me, they are invisible. Not to Yang. That is who she is to me in this moment. Serenity does not exist just as Bliss and Mara do not exist—only Yin.

  Overhearing the yelp of the man off to her side, I almost want to turn my head to discover the source, but I listen to their conversation instead for answers. No touching was specified, but I hadn’t believed she’d bite him. I hope she’ll be ready for another round after the intermission is over.

  These men will still manage to fit more into their stomach after gorging themselves on a banquet of sushi. After all, their appetites are impossible to satisfy. For now, they empty the room to enjoy dessert cocktails served on the adjoining terrace. Mechanized blinds are lowered to give the preparers more privacy.

  Queran approaches Serenity first, but she doesn’t give him the chance to begin preparing her for the dessert round. Instead, she rises, slides off the table, her bare feet smacking the floor before turning toward the stairs. Judging from the determination in her eyes, I know she’s about to ascend the stairs to the balcony and confront our father. That would be a mistake.

  Careless of the banana leaves sliding off my body, I leap off the table to catch up to her. Grabbing her arm, I halt her from her pursuit and glance up briefly to see our father nod at me, gesturing his confirmation of my act.

  “Serenity.” I choose to address her by her real name in this instance. “You need to take your place again.”

  “I’m not some damn piece of pleasure meat!” She takes her arm back, then shoves me away.

  “Don’t forget you agreed to this,” I stab at her, reminding her of our bargain.

  “You know what’s worse than having their eyes so close and their breath all over my skin?” She pauses before doing her best to jab me with her own intense gaze. “Seeing their hands all over you but watching the way you stomach it all.”

  The way she scrutinizes me now, so full of disappointment, it’s the way Force has watched me every day since I can remember. Years ago, I gave up trying to change it and accepted what I was. I can only please to a point. They’ll always want more. But Serenity wants more in a different way, but my Yin path was forged at birth. There is no other course.

  She’s making it harder on herself—expecting more where there is less. I can be her guide, her mentor, but I can never be her friend. Nor will I ever be a sister. After tonight, she will understand that. After Father commences her training and she rains down her first scar on my back, she will understand it’s the point of no return for us.

  One never forgets the first time.

  Father never has.

  Neither will I.

  12

  T h E U l t i M a t e P o W e r

  Serenity

  Doesn’t she understand this interaction is gutting me twice over? Whether or not they touch me, I still feel it every time they touch her. Because every curve is the same. When their unknowing fingers slide across our shared birthmark, I sense it on my own thigh. Nothing inside is the same, but our bodies are mirrors pointed at one another. Doesn’t that count for anything? I need something. I want something from her—something I can hold onto for us both because this interaction will never be just about me.

  “Tell me you love her, Bliss. Please. I can get through this if you just tell me you love her.”

  Bliss sighs, black arms placated in front of her, one white eye focused on me. “You said it yourself. Serafina is the easiest person in the world to love.”

  She doesn’t give me exactly what I want, but it’s the closest I’m going to get. It’s enough. I turn back to the table where Queran is waiting. Serene smile, fanned-out hand that is calm, patient. One deep breath before I lie on the table again.

  Every dessert is chilled, and it yanks more gooseflesh onto my skin. While other preparers arrange small frozen scoopfuls of green-tea ice cream onto areas of Bliss, Queran arranges chocolate-covered strawberries and dark truffles on mine. There is no time for any sort of delays. No second wasted due to the risk of melting. The preparers exit the room in record time, and the men file in and resume their seats.

  For the most part, they behave. With me in any case. Despite the difference in dessert as opposed to sushi, they’ve all been instructed to use their chopsticks. I suppose I couldn’t expect them to use just spoons for the ice cream, but the sight of their mouths on my sister’s skin, even the sensual parts, causes me to cringe. Instead, I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing until I hear the appreciative murmur in my ear.

  “Could be my imagination, but I believe your skin sweetens dessert more,” Tristan tells me.

  “So happy to hear.”

  All the men at the table pause as if my sarcastic statement has broken some cardinal rule. I notice Bliss’s body tense, and I glance up to see my father frowning. I guess that means I was not supposed to talk.

  However, he manages to turn my recovery into an opportunity. “What you have just witnessed, gentlemen, is Yang’s forthrightness. An openness not seen in Yin. Yin remains silent and dark. For the first time in the nyotaimori experience, a vessel may choose to speak. Perhaps, you would enjoy the opportunity of asking her a question or two. Simply afford her the courtesy of a
Yang title.”

  “Not a problem with me at all,” Tristan declares, plucking up a strawberry strategically placed beneath the swell of my left breast.

  “Yang,” another man, who sits on the opposite side of the table, addresses me. I don’t turn my head, but I listen. “How did you learn to master the art of underwater dance?”

  Underwater dance? Is that what they call swimming now?

  Force has no one to blame but himself. He’s giving me permission to talk, so he should expect a show.

  “I learned in many of the hotels my family stayed in while we were on the run from my demon father.” I say it all with a smile.

  A few of the men chuckle while the rest remain silent, gazes keenly aware of Force, wondering if he will whip his daughter’s sharp tongue.

  It’s unsurprising Tristan breaks the silence, the sides of his chopsticks purposefully planted on my right nipple’s skeleton flower so he may grip a truffle beside it. “Will there be any more underwater viewings in the future? If so, I will pay to come see.”

  “You’ll have to ask my father.” I put the words to him, training my eye on him as Tristan raises the truffle to his mouth.

  Cunning fingers pinch my thigh. I wince like I’ve been stung. The sensation is like a sting, but it reminds me of a burn. Too much of a spark that hurts.

  My father noticed the movement, too, because next, he bellows, “Guards, remove Mr. Drake from the table and escort him from Temple property.” Force begins to turn aside from the balcony, making for the stairs.

  Drake’s brow creases from the order, but now that he’s been caught, he’s more than eager to try again. Whatever his business connection to my father is unclear, but when he turns to give me a knowing smirk, it’s obvious he’s willing to jeopardize it. His method is completely different than Tristan’s daring spontaneity that was more of a show for the other men. No, Drake is doing this for himself. Far more than just fear engulfs me when he suddenly rips at one of the skeleton flowers, his hand descending.

  It does not land.

  In the same moment the guards haul him backward, I sit up straight, upsetting the few delectable leftovers, which topple to the floor. Doing my best not to whimper, I bring my knees up to my chest and anchor them there. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father stand before Drake, who has succumbed to his knees from the guards’ pressure.

  “You will be banned from the Temple from now on,” Force notifies him. “And consider our merger rescinded.”

  “No.” Drake grits his teeth. “I’ve invested millions in this enterprise. You cannot walk away now.”

  “Watch me.”

  Force doesn’t walk away. Instead, he strides toward me, training his hand on the chair ends of his other clients while the guards yank Drake to his feet and practically drag him from the room. After circling the table until he stands in front of me, Force studies me once as if checking on me before addressing the other men.

  “Please continue to enjoy the remainder of the experience with Yin. You must excuse my other daughter as she takes her leave now. At the end of the night, you will be given a complimentary pass to her next exhibit. Remember to apply on the registrar’s site if you wish to purchase a backstage pass for a meeting.”

  My father leaves me dumbfounded when he removes his suit jacket and drapes it around my quivering shoulders before coaxing me off the table.

  “Serenity, come now.”

  Without looking back at Bliss, I lean into my father, who wraps one arm around my shoulder and urges my head to tilt to his chest. It’s much warmer than I expected it would be. His heartbeat isn’t as quick as I expected either. Much slower. Because he is in control here. This is his kingdom. And I am his long-lost princess.

  Bliss

  I knew this would happen.

  Our father has a way about him. I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to stop resenting the monster she’s always said he is. She doesn’t know how familiar his antics are. The use of a great deed to manipulate. This is a simple trick of the eyes, a conjuror’s mind game. I wouldn’t be surprised if he orchestrated the whole thing, planned this prior with Drake. All for her.

  This is the first stage of the training process.

  This is the breakdown.

  13

  B l i S s’ H e A r t

  Serenity

  As soon as we leave the room and embark into the hallway, the only thing I want to do is put a canyon-filled planet between my father and me, but I stay where I am instead. Force pauses to summon me.

  “Serenity.” He turns me to face him, then cups my chin. “I may allow any man to bask in your presence because the world should be your oyster. It should worship you. But I won’t let any man hurt you in any way.”

  Squeamish when he starts to do up the buttons of his suit jacket to cover me, I change tactics. “You’ve hurt me.”

  Force’s smile is contemplative. Then, he touches my cheek. “It won’t take long for your mother to adopt her old routine. And it won’t be for her daughters this time. It will be for herself. She can’t deny who she is. None of us can.”

  “You left your damage inside of her. And my real father spent years picking it out.”

  “You still don’t see, my pearl.”

  Force goes to touch my hair. I jerk away, but his hand still finds its way there. While winding his fingers around the nape of my neck, he leans over to murmur his breath across my face. “Your mother was born damaged. You and I were born to damage. I’ll teach you how to crush whole worlds, Serenity.”

  It’s the first time I’ve felt afraid of him. Because of the training? No, it’s the fear he’s right. All the feelings from the Shed resurface. No matter how much I want to deny it—that Jade just left some of her Venus Fly Trap claws in me—I know it’s more than that. It’s something that comes from deep inside me. A monster snapping at my butterflies. A monster made of lightning. A hand gripping a whip to strike.

  Except this time, I won’t be using it on the man I love. It will be even worse. I’ll be using it on my own blood. My own reflection staring right back at me.

  Force kisses my forehead, and I close my eyes.

  Sky will need to kiss me raw after this just to get the smell of my father off me. I’ll gladly take the smell of Sky-stuck-in-Temple-rafters-all-day over Force’s cologne any time. Over the past few weeks, Sky’s managed a shower here and there, but we keep them short in case of any emergency visitors. At least we’ve been able to spend more time with each other than we ever had in the Garden or the Aviary. Sometimes, it reminds me of the hotels we grew up in. That’s what I hang onto when my father escorts me back to Bliss’s bedroom where Queran will remove Yang.

  Instead of removing the paint by hand, Queran helps me into an already-prepared bath. Smelling chemicals but also sensing warmth in the water, I slide in. He gestures for me to keep my eyes closed when I submerge. Careful, I press my eyes shut, remain under for about three minutes. When I surface, the water has turned a milky white from all the paint that has magically disappeared from my skin.

  The bath is short, but Queran has a robe ready for me. Not silk, this one is fuller and breathes well. As I settle into it, I consider how it should be odd without Bliss here, but it doesn’t feel like it. Based on my preparation experience with Queran as well as knowing what he is, it’s simple to trust him. I almost reveal how I’d like him to teach me how to paper fold, but I don’t think I could master it like he could—impatient sort that I am. Sky can attest as to how many things I’ve given up on because they didn’t come naturally.

  Not swimming.

  I wonder if Bliss knows how to swim like me.

  “Queran?” I study the young man in the mirror as he brushes my hair. He’ll never get rid of all the glitter. “When you first met me earlier, you gave me a swan.”

  Silently, he reaches over my shoulder to point to the object that sits on a small nook on the vanity. Huh. I guess I didn’t notice it there.

  I purse my li
ps, but then I wonder, “Is that how you see me?”

  Rubbing a hand down my hair, he whispers, “Sweet girl.”

  I give him a small smile. “But not the swan?”

  Queran screws his mouth to one side, lips puckering minutely as he debates on how to tell me something without using words. Then, he raises his brows and holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait before he turns around and hastens to a door attached to the bedroom. I wait for a minute or two while he embarks inside. Is that his room? Attached to Bliss’s? Well, if he’s been her artisan for years, I suppose it’s understandable.

  Hearing the door click open, I turn to see Queran holding a few different origami shapes—one in his fingers that is a branch; attached to it are tiny, thinner-than-threads branches. On each string of wood are white birds. No bigger than my pinky, but they decorate the branch from the root of its stem to its last point. There must be at least a hundred of them. It had to have taken him days. First, he sets that one aside and then motions to the others inside his cupped hand. A swan. A skeleton flower. A yang. They all brush one another. He tucks the skeleton flower into my ear, places the swan in my hand, and then nestles the yang symbol onto my collarbone. What he does next almost takes my breath away because he takes the branch of birds, touches my chest with one finger, motions to all the birds, and flutters his hand, pretending they are all flying.