Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy

by Marie Robinson

  He’d come for me.

  If I burned the world, I would burn him. And Romulus, and Brom.

  The warlock turned towards the ship and stopped as he caught sight of me. I was suddenly terrified that he would attack me, try to stop me like the others had, and I felt new flames erupt out of me.

  He dropped to his knees, his arms splayed wide and his magic dispersing around him. Relief washed over me, cooling the flames. He hadn’t come as an assailant.

  I looked around, the ship too high for me to safely jump to the dock below, and miraculously the loading crane had not warped or been engulfed in flames. It felt like an eternity, picking my way carefully over the deck, intuitively controlling the fire. The steel under my bare feet was hot but not injury-inducing. I began to pull the flames inside me and stumbled, bringing my hand to my chest as the fire raged against me.

  It hadn’t devoured the world; it did not wish to be starved of its glory. I felt the flames building along my arms, fanning out in luminescent wings, wrapping around me and reaching towards the man who waited for me there, his head bowed as he waited as if for my judgment.

  No, I begged the flames, not him. You cannot have Merlin. He is mine. Never for the flames.

  They stretched out, floating through the air, crackling as if in manic laughter.

  Stop, I screamed in my head, clapping my hands to my ears and squatting, my knees pressed against my chest as I fought the flame’s hunger. He is not yours; he is mine. Please, please stop. Don’t hurt him.

  The flames began to drift away, turning to sparks that were carried into the wind before dying out. The fire within me grumbled with confusion as it settled and finally disappeared completely from me. It was still there, but no longer was I the phoenix in that moment. I was just Ella.

  “Merlin?” I croaked, my throat parched. I leaned forward, crawling towards the man, the gravel biting into my palms and scraping my knees. Now that the fire had been contained within me, I was bombarded with the sounds of the inferno I’d set off. The heat was sweltering, and sirens filled the smoke-choked air.

  But none of that mattered as Merlin’s eyes met mine, a desperate hope in them as he flung himself forward and pulled me into his arms.

  “Thank fuck you’re okay,” he murmured as he buried his face against my hair. “We were so fucking terrified that we weren’t going to make it in time. Are you hurt? They’d better not have fucking laid a hand on you or else I’ll bring them back to life and fucking destroy them all over again.”

  His hands ran over me, searching out any injury, gentling as I flinched when he touched my scraped knees. I could only giggle though, as relief and adrenaline flooded me. He looked back up at me, wide-eyed, as my giggle turned hysterical and I began to cry.

  “Oh, Ella,” he whispered, running a hand over my hair and bringing me close. He pressed his lips to mine and I grabbed his shirt, soaked with sweat, in both fists. We were probably a disgusting sight: my dress in near tatters, soot and ash marks along my skin, my hair utterly a mess, and him, drenched with sweat and dirty denim—kissing as if we’d been separated for years.

  He pulled away and guided me gently to my feet before he shrugged off his coat and, holding it up to me, silently asked permission. I nodded and let him help me into it, his familiar scent enveloping me and steadying me. I swayed as I clutched it closed and let out a sigh as I felt him sweep me into his arms and cradle me to him. I let my eyes close as I pressed my face against his neck, breathing him in.

  Merlin had me, it would be okay. He would take me away from the fire and I would be safe with him.

  I think I drifted in and out of consciousness as he carried me, my limbs growing impossibly heavy. I could tell the sirens got louder, and I knew that meant we were getting closer to safety, but I couldn’t look around. Even my eyelids felt full of sand. The ingrained fear of others seeing my face gave me the energy to turn harder into Merlin’s chest, praying no one would see my scars and think I was injured.

  Merlin’s voice rumbled in his chest, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying, his words seemed so far away. He shifted me against him and I moaned, clutching him tighter. He kissed my head, whispering words I couldn’t hear but they settled me nonetheless. Then I heard doors close and we were surrounded by silence.

  “Where are we taking her?”

  That was Romulus, and I shuddered in Merlin’s arms, another wave of relief washing through me.

  “My penthouse,” Brom’s steady voice answered, and my heart grew lighter. I was with them all. The men who, inexplicably, drew me into them, overwhelmed me with their existence and their attention. I had hoped, that first night I’d met them, that one of them would help me rise against Madam Jupiter. Instead, I found more than an ally in them, and I hoped beyond hope my true nature would not burn them from my world.

  I didn’t remember the drive or being taken into Brom’s home. I only stirred when I felt Merlin lay me against a sinfully comfortable bed, the silken sheets snagging on the beads of my dress as I reached out, panic flaring up as I feared he was abandoning me.

  “Shh, Ella.” He held both of my hands as I struggled to open my eyes. I could feel the rough pad of his thumb moving in circles over my hands and his face was gentle when I finally looked at him. “You’re safe. We’re not going anywhere. But we need to get you taken care of. You need rest. Can I help you out of your dress?”

  I blinked, my mind thick with fog, but I nodded anyways, my trust in him complete. Later I would realize I watched him kill men in front of me, but his touch against my skin could be only described as reverent and full of such love I wanted to cry.

  He helped me sit up and I was ashamed to have thought this, but I was relieved I did not see Brom and Romulus in the bedroom. I wasn’t ready to show them my scars, not yet. I was too exhausted, mentally and emotionally, to find the energy to guard myself against their reactions.

  “Can—” I swallowed back my apprehension as I felt him unzip the remains of my dress and slide it down over my arms. I wore no bra underneath, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shy, as I looked away before trying to speak again. “Can you get me a veil?”

  I couldn’t see his reaction, but I felt it all the same. I could feel him freeze where he had crouched before me to slide the dress down under my hips and off of my legs. I could feel the nausea building, my heart racing as I waited for his response. I didn’t know what I wanted more, him to tell me I didn’t need to hide my face or him to help me shield myself.

  “Is . . . is that what you really want, Ella?”

  I pressed a hand against my lips as my chin quivered at the sincerity of his question. He wasn’t doubting me or telling me to hide. I gathered the courage to look at him, and I refused to cry at the open affection on his face. He didn’t flinch away from my scars, nor from the power I apparently held within me.

  “For now, at least,” I answered. “It’s just . . . one less thing to worry about.”

  “Then I’ll find something for you,” Merlin said and rose. He pressed his lips to my forehead, and I let a breath out, as if breathing released the anxiety. He pulled the blankets back and guided me to lie down before pulling them up around my shoulders. “Sleep now, if you can. Or just rest. I’ll leave the door cracked. One of us will be out there; we’re not going to leave you alone.”

  I heard a soft rustle of fabric and looked towards the black nightstand closest to me. He’d placed a cream-colored robe that looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe as Jupiter’s staff. “Here’s this until we can get you something else to wear. Trust the fucking wanker to have a guest robe that’s worth nearly as much as a damned cell phone bill.” Merlin was smiling, though, taking the sting out of the insult.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my eyes growing heavy again.

  “You are so very welcome, Ella.” He kissed me once again and I let out a sigh. He left the room, and I could hear the men speaking softly from the other room. He’d left me alone, but with them
so close—I was never actually alone. Their presence made me feel cherished and protected. These were the men who dragged orgasms out of my body, men with such power that the Syndicates watched their every move, and yet—they only ever treated me with tenderness and respect.

  I burrowed into Brom’s bed, the vampire’s scent clinging softly to the pillowcases, and fell asleep, comfortable in this den of power.

  Chapter 3

  Brom

  I stared into the liquid amber in my glass as if it contained the answers to the entire universe. Righteous indignation and fury coursed through me, and only my ironclad resolve and absolute knowledge of what would happen kept me contained. If I acted on my fury, I would take the lives of Madam Jupiter and all those who aided her in her containment of Eleanora. The revenge would burn as hot as their blood as I tore them apart.

  But it would be a short-lived vengeance, because the Warlock Syndicate would rise up against me, and perhaps even my own family. I was not stupid enough to believe myself immortal and untouchable. The magical world balanced itself precariously on knife-thin decorum and etiquette. If I wanted to have proper justice done for the woman sleeping in my bed, I would have to navigate the dark waters of politics. It was fortunate, then, that I was well versed in such maneuvers.

  “Merlin,” I spoke, interrupting the quiet conversation between him and the lycan. I kept my eyes on the play of light in the whiskey. “You must go to your father and make it known that Eleanora Bediver has claimed her rights to the Bediver legacy. Madam Jupiter and her daughters must be removed from the Bediver estate at once.”

  Silence followed my pronunciation and I looked up, my eyes moving between the two men studying me. I raised an eyebrow. “Do you disagree?”

  “No,” Romulus said. “Even I can feel the power inside her. There is no doubt she’s claimed her legacy. I don’t think it’ll be as easy as telling them to shove off and move out of their home.”

  I smirked and brought the tumbler up to my lips, the liquid wetting my tongue and bursting with flavor. This particular vintage was crafted by a vampire distillery from the old world. Others would drink it, and appreciate the flavor, but only vampires could taste that specific note of metallic copper flowing through the smoke peat. Blood. Not enough to fuel any vampire’s power, but enough to elevate the pleasure on the pallet.

  “But it is,” I replied at last. “The Syndicates run more on tradition and propriety than true democracy. Merlin is a warlock and considered the most powerful warlock in North America, if not the world. He can, in essence, tell Madam Jupiter to . . . shove off, though I believe it will be better received if delivered with more decorum.”

  Romulus snorted and even Merlin rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking about, Brom,” Romulus said with a chortle. “Merlin doesn’t exactly do polite.”

  “Then he’d better learn,” I said, more sharply than intended, as I slammed my tumbler down on the table beside my armchair. Both men jumped at that and I closed my eyes, breathing out slowly, and willing myself to calm. When I felt settled enough to speak without anger, I laced my hands together and looked at them once more.

  “That woman in there is everything they fear,” I said in a careful measured tone. “They sought to destroy her mother. When that failed, they schemed to break Eleanora, to force her to live in the shadows, her power contained, until she believed herself worthless and not worth more than a human staff member. But her spirit was not as broken as Jupiter thought and they were prepared to send her to the worst place on this fucking planet for any of our kind. They wanted her to rot away into obscurity while they continued to have lavish parties, sipping on champagne and eating their ludicrous canapes. But she fought back. Their breaking of her has only broken away any weaknesses she may have had. And when she recovers, she will realize that.”

  Merlin’s eyes had gone dark with a studious anger, much like the one I felt, I was certain. He knew the intricacies of the Warlock Syndicate better than any of us. Romulus had leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listened to me, his head tilted in interest. I licked my lips, a faint hint of the whiskey still lingering there, and continued.

  “I promise you they have already thought of this. They are already planning their moves,” I said quietly. “I do not believe they will strike overtly against her soon, but we must be prepared for that inevitability. She is a threat to them, and they will not sit idle. We must make the first move, and that requires establishing her place in the Syndicates. To do that, Merlin, you must act as her agent as a warlock. Madam Jupiter will leave the estate. She has no other option.”

  Merlin let out a loud breath and he stood, nodding. “I promised her I’d find her a veil anyways. She needs clothing as well, as much as I wouldn’t mind her being naked at all times.”

  “She really wants to go back to wearing a veil?” Romulus asked, surprised. I was reminded that he didn’t know about her scars. I had yet to see them myself, but Merlin’s threat-warning came to mind.

  “I will make a call,” I said, thinking of my sister’s stylist in downtown New York. The fashion of the terrestris often bled into the fashions of New Londinium. “Romulus, we’ll let her explain her reasonings, but it is important we give her this choice. She has had so few choices of her own.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue, but a look to Merlin, who jerked his head in disagreement of the lycan’s unspoken question, had him chewing his lip and nodding. “Make your call,” he said to me, standing and following Merlin out of the living room and towards the entryway. “Text me where I’m going. I’ll pick everything up, plus anything else I can think of. Having a sister gives me some ideas of what she might want or need.”

  I slid my phone out of my pocket, searching for the address and sending it to the man’s phone. As soon as I heard the door close, I made the call.

  What I appreciated about Harrick’s personal stylists was their lack of chitchat. I was certain if I were a client who appreciated inane talk, they’d be happy to oblige. But instead, I listed off Eleanora’s estimated measurements and told them to charge my account for an entire wardrobe. When I asked for a veil along the fashion of a niqab, the stylist didn’t react. She simply asked if there was a religious observance she should consider for the rest of the wardrobe or if it was a fashion preference.

  “The woman in question has scarring on her face and is more comfortable wearing a veil,” I said, my tone belying the pain I felt inside at that statement. I had not even seen the extent of Ella’s injury, and already I wished I could stand between her and any trauma she felt. “My friend Romulus will be there later to retrieve what you’ve put together.”

  I heard a rustle from the bedroom, a quiet exhalation that my sensitive hearing barely caught. I reiterated that everything be charged to my account and hung up as I stood, the stylist already forgotten as I strode to my bedroom.

  I rapped my knuckles gently on the door before slowly pressing it open.

  “Eleanora?” I called out and paused in the doorway, my heart stuttering as I saw her.

  She had her back to me, facing the en suite bathroom, and I watched in captivation as she drew the silken robe around her. She turned her head slightly, as if she wanted to look over her shoulder but hesitated. I could see just the gentle point of her nose, her hair shielding the rest of her face from me.

  “Brom,” she said, and the nervousness I heard in her tone was nearly a physical blow. The thought that this woman could be scared of me was devastating. I swore then that she would never have a reason to doubt my affection and desire for her.

  “Would you care for a bath or shower?” I offered, still in the doorway. I would not press her, not yet. “Romulus and Merlin are out. They will return with your necessities.”

  I watched as she gathered her hair over her shoulder, her hands running over it anxiously. “I don’t want to be an imposition. . .”

  The fragility in her voice had me crossing the room, unable t
o allow her to think she was an inconvenience—unwelcome and uncared for. I rested my hands lightly on her arms, resting my forehead against her hair, the scent of fire still clinging there.

  “You are never an imposition, Eleanora,” I spoke, hoping she believed the conviction in my words. “Were you to ask for all that I could give, I would give to you gladly. Be that gold or silver, lands or empires. If you asked me to deliver you the sun and the stars, or every single drop of my blood, it would be yours and gladly so.”

  She let out a shaky laugh, quiet and filled with emotion. I nuzzled her, trailing my nose along her until I pressed a kiss at the base of her neck. I felt a shudder run through her and my cock responded, thickening as my arousal grew. I craved her body, her skin against my skin. But I wasn’t what she needed right now, even as I trailed my hands down her arms until I was able to wrap my arms around her, the cool silk the only thing between my hands and her skin.

  “So, I will ask again,” I whispered, my lips tracing over her skin. It was torture, and a practice in self-denial, as I longed to taste her. “Would you prefer a bath or shower?”

  She took in a long breath and I knew she could feel my hardening cock against her ass. “I think a shower?”

  I pulled myself away from her, bereft at the loss, and moved past her into the massive bathroom in front of us. I busied myself with starting the shower, a ridiculously luxurious thing with a rainfall showerhead. I only had my preferred shampoo and bodywash, but I was selfishly pleased at the idea of her delicate skin carrying my scent. I placed a lush white towel over the towel heater and leaned against the marble counter, my hands in my pockets as I stared at the floor.

  “Ella?” I called softly, and I heard her step into the room, gasping as she took in the bathroom.

  “I know,” I said with a grin, but I kept my eyes down. “Merlin gave me such shit about it. But I refuse to feel shame over surrounding myself with beauty.” I pointed to the towel heater beside the large shower. “That’ll be warmed for you. If you would prefer, I can find you something of mine to wear?”