Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy

by Marie Robinson

  When I woke up the second time, I pouted as I realized I was alone in the bed. But I didn’t feel lonely, I realized. How could I when I looked around the room I had made my own and saw pieces of each man I loved. Romulus had left a hat hanging on the small knob on a drawer. Merlin had left his favorite coat draped over an armchair, and Brom’s jacket had been hung up properly, barely visible with the closet door being open.

  The Bediver estate, my home, didn’t loom around me as it could have. As it would have, I thought, if they hadn’t been with me. We hadn’t talked about it, but what was there to talk about? They loved me, and I desperately, deliriously was in love with them. Of course we would stay together, wherever that may be.

  I rolled out of bed, feeling relaxed and sore in the best of ways, and headed towards the bathroom. I lingered in the shower, reveling in my freedom. I was certain that, one day, a morning shower would become common and not a revelation. But the memory of my hurried and rushed showers, fearing Madam Jupiter’s wrath if I were late, was still in my head.

  Showered, dressed, and . . . with a moment’s hesitation, veiled, I made my way down to find the men or breakfast. My stomach rumbled, and I realized I had a preference for breakfast over my lovers at the moment. I bypassed the massive dining hall and walked into the kitchen, just as I did for years.

  The chef, Imelda, eyed me as I walked in. She always seemed to disapprove of everyone, but it was never personal. It was just how the woman was.

  “You’ll not be getting your oatmeal,” the woman grumbled as she marched to the huge fridge. I was rather taken aback by her pronouncement. I looked to the two other staff members, unfamiliar faces—Hei-Sook and Bonnie must have hired them to replenish the staff. I looked back to the middle-aged dour woman, who was closing the door, her arm laden with eggs and vegetables. I started to leave and she pinned me to the spot with a glare. She nodded to the kitchen table where the staff ate. “Sit. I cook a proper breakfast for you. Those men keep you up all night. You need more calories than oatmeal.”

  I was so very thankful I’d chosen to wear the face veil as I felt a blush explode across my face. Still, I covered my face in my hands, groaning. I couldn’t handle looking at the new staff members.

  “Tea, ma’am?” One of them asked and I found the courage to look and meet his eyes. There was a very silent but very clear agreement that we were all going to ignore what Imelda had said and continue as if nothing happened.

  “That would be amazing, thanks,” I said. I remembered that I hadn’t known the staff as well as I had wanted. “What’s your name?”

  “Thomas, ma’am,” he said as he filled the kettle. I looked for the other woman, but she was gone. “I go by Tom though. Marjorie is the lady who just left, if you were wondering, ma’am.”

  I groaned. “Ugh, please. No ma’ams. You can call me Eleanora, or even Ella.”

  Imelda huffed her disapproval, and Tom startled, looking with understandable fear towards the intimidating woman. When the kettle whistled and Tom brought over the steeping teapot, I placed my hand on his wrist, stalling him from leaving. I looked pointedly at the busy chef and then leaned in to whisper. “There is a reason why Madam Jupiter never dealt directly with Chef Imelda. So don’t be embarrassed to be afraid of the woman. It just means you’re smart.”

  “Ha!” Imelda laughed as she turned, a frying pan in her hand. She tilted out an omelet onto the plate and used the spatula to point at us. “That woman would not know good food if it were not for me. She and that daughter of hers always wanting less food, less salt, less sugar. No pasta! Who does not like pasta? The only good daughter of hers was that Beatrice. Now, she loved food.” She jerked her head towards the plate and Tom hurried to bring it and silverware to me. Imelda balled her fists on her hips, glaring at me. “You will not be requesting me to make sad food. Those men cannot survive on lettuce.”

  I held up my hands, shaking my head and laughing. “Imelda, I cannot survive on lettuce!” I placed my hand on my heart, as if swearing a vow. “I would never dream of standing between you and your menu. Please, you have total control over the kitchen.”

  The woman glared at me, and I wondered if maybe she’d finally offer a smile—pleased with my declaration. Instead, she snorted and turned back to her work, muttering about the kitchen, me, and my predecessors. It was actually endearing, having her grumble at me as if I were still the same Eleanora to her. Tom hurried out of the kitchen, leaving me to my food, likely heading off to the rest of his duties. Just because three people had left didn’t mean the house suddenly stopped being tended to. I let myself enjoy the food and let my thoughts drift into inconsequential things.

  I felt the attack, magically and physically, even as the house shuddered around Imelda and me. We both yelped as stainless steel bowls and pans crashed from the shelves, clanging against the concrete floor. We could hear shouting from the open doors and my heart launched itself against my ribcage as another blow from above hit the house.

  Chapter 17

  Merlin

  Fucking shitgibbons, I hated spilling coffee. Add in the fact that the cause was an attack with a very familiar magical signature and I was ready to break some skulls. Depriving someone who is very much not a morning person of their coffee was close to killing their puppy. Like John Wick, I was about to go on a murder spree.

  I set down the now mostly empty mug on the closest table as Ella’s staff skittered through the rooms, trying to protect the useless vases and paintings from damage. I had to give them credit; half of them had no magical ability of their own, but they weren’t losing their shit. Or maybe they were clinging to saving the fucking china because they didn’t know what else to do.

  Another attack rocked the wards against the house, sending the oil painting in a gilded frame hanging beside me crashing to the floor. A girl raced towards it and I grabbed her by the shoulder, wrenching her away from it. She looked up at me with terrified eyes. Fucking great.

  “Leave it,” I ordered and pushed her away. “Fuck the decor. Get into the backyard. Don’t go down to your room in case the house comes down. Grab everyone you see and take them with you.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, running before I could even finish speaking.

  I grimaced down at my shirt, where the hot coffee was now cooling and clinging to my skin. “Fucking fuck. Couldn’t he have waited until after fucking noon?” Grabbing one of the cloth napkins, I rubbed at my shirt and made my way towards the front door. “I fucking liked this shirt too.”

  “Pat, don’t rub.” Romulus’s kind advice had me rolling my eyes as he joined me at the front door. The lycan went to one of the side windows, drawing the curtain to the side just enough to peer out. “Huh,” he snorted, and it confirmed my recognition.

  “My idiot father’s actually out there?” I asked but didn’t expect an answer. I walked to the other window, looking out onto the street. “Well, god damn, he actually is. Bastard hates doing the dirty work.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Ella’s voice was concerned, but not frightened. That was our girl.

  “It seems the welcome party is officially over,” I said with disgust, dropping the curtain into place. She frowned, throwing out her hands to steady herself as the foundations shook again.

  “I sent all the staff out,” she said. “Where’s Brom?”

  “Here,” the vampire answered as he descended the staircase. Trust the fucking vampire to take his leisurely time while we were being fucking attacked. He adjusted his cuffs as he idly asked, “Your father, I presume?”

  “Right in one,” I grunted out. “How do we want to play this? You’re the leader of the vampires now, so if you go out there, you start a war.”

  “Isn’t your father declaring a war right now?” Ella snapped, her hands on her hips.

  Romulus looked between us before answering. “Right now, lass, this is an internal warlock scuffle. The moment either I or Brom get involved, it’s war between the Syndicates.”
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  She rolled her eyes and I couldn’t blame her, not really. Politics were fucking stupid.

  “Well...” I pushed up my long sleeves and flexed my fingers, stretching them out. “I should probably answer the door before they move on from politely knocking.” I snagged Ella’s hand, pulling her up against me, my arm going around her waist. I couldn’t kiss her, not with that damned veil in the way, but I could put my forehead against hers. “Give me ten minutes. Also, if they kill me—do me the favor of fucking them up.”

  She rolled her eyes at me, poking me hard in the chest. “How about you just don’t die.”

  I let her go with a wink. I doubted my father would really strike to kill, the man was a coward. But one never knew. I nodded with much more seriousness to the others.

  “When you get back,” Romulus spoke as I reached for the door handle. “We’re going to have to come up with a plan about this city.”

  Too right he was. This attack was just the first of the war that was brewing. A war I intended to survive.

  My father was surprisingly alone, or at least that I could see. I shoved my hand into my pocket, pulling out one of my clove cigarettes and lighting it as I watched the street. My father hated being ignored.

  The sweet tacky taste of the cloves filled my lungs, stinging slightly as I blew the smoke from my nostrils.

  “Yes?” I finally asked, looking down at my father where he stood on the sidewalk.

  He’d come dressed as he always was. An expensive suit that was just a smidge too small for him, his soft jaw quivering with either fear or annoyance. We hadn’t dueled for years. Not since I was a teenager and he went too far.

  “Merlin,” he snapped out, his teeth gnashing together after. “It is preposterous that you have sided with the creature who means to destroy us. You must return home at once.”

  I took another drag on the cigarette, watching my old man as I slowly blew the smoke out from between my lips.

  “Merlin,” he growled, attempting to be intimidating. But the thing was, I’d seen way more shit in the streets than he could ever know. I’d been jumped in back alleys in Seoul, tiger spirits hoping to take down a warlock. I’d seen what drugs and blood highs and fae curses did to people in the streets of London.

  “You know, I never thanked you.” I dropped the cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with the heel of my boot. “Best thing you ever did for me was to kick me out of your house.” I walked slowly down the steps, my thumbs hooked through my belt loops, unconcerned. “Because I got to see what real power is. I didn’t learn how to just fight, dear old man. I learned how to fucking survive. How to always be on edge. Always expect a fight. Because out there on the streets, where you put me, I didn’t have these fancy suits”—I flicked the top button of his jacket— “I didn’t have money to grease the right hands. I didn’t have guards. I only had myself.”

  I patted his fat cheek, grinning at his scowl as he tugged away from me. “But the best thing I learned?”

  I shifted my weight, and that was all the warning he had before I pummeled my fist into his face. He crumbled with a yell as his nose and cheekbone broke under my knuckles. I shook the sting out of my hand and crowed over him as he thrashed in pain.

  “I learned how to throw a damn good right hook.” I rolled him onto his back and yanked his hands from his bloody and swelling face. “Now. I suggest you roll your fat ass back into your town car and crawl back to your mistress of the week. Your day is coming, old man. I have a single shred of care left for you, and that’s the only reason why you can still get up.”

  I patted his chest and stood, looking at my bruised and scraped knuckles. They’d be sore for a while, but damn it had felt good. I nudged him with my boot and he lurched up, his eyes wide with anger and pain.

  “You know, I’ve got to give you credit,” I said as I turned back towards the house. “I’m surprised you came alone.”

  A wet laugh made me pause and look back at the man. He was smiling broadly, his teeth stained red from his blood. “I didn’t, boy.” He kept laughing, as if in disbelief as he struggled to his feet. “You’ve never given me much credit. That’s always been your issue. You think you’re smarter than me.”

  I frowned, about to demand a fucking explanation, when I felt the magical wards crumble around the house.

  “Fuck,” I spat, racing up the stairs two at a time. I wrenched the door open, my father’s sick laughter at my back as I raced through the front room, screaming for Ella.

  The presence of magic assaulted my senses the closer I got to the back courtyard. I threw myself against the back door, nearly wrenching my shoulder as I burst out of it, my magic ready to attack. The heat hit me first as I stepped into what looked like a literal hell, with Ella at the center.

  Flames poured out along her arms as she threw bursts of flames deeper into the yard. It was as if she were throwing napalm. Anything the flames touched, it clung to. There was no screaming over the flames, and a cold part of me knew it was because there was no one left to scream.

  She turned to face me, her eyes filled with flames as well, and I jerked back, shocked at the sight. This was the phoenix that inspired so much fear. She raised her palm towards me.

  Too late, I realized she saw me as a threat.

  Chapter 18

  Romulus

  The scent of charred bodies was harsh under the flames that surrounded the courtyard. I growled, the sound deep in my chest, as I prowled along the edge of the massive yard. Merlin’s father had been a dammed distraction, one we had fallen for. And this was the result.

  I couldn’t smell Brom, not after we’d split up to secure the staff and take down the warlocks. They’d brought the war into Ella’s home. We couldn’t abide that.

  I smelled a combination of magic, fear, and piss—a warlock hiding from us. I began to lope towards him, my claws digging into the broken concrete as I tracked him. He threw himself from his paltry hiding place behind a column, throwing a magical dagger towards me haphazardly. I dropped my shoulder, avoiding it easily, and ran faster towards him.

  A single leap and he was crushed under me with a strangled yell. I grabbed his dying body, my claws burrowing into his weak flesh, and threw him towards the inferno. Let him burn. I wanted them all to burn.

  A familiar scent burst into the courtyard, magic swirling around him. Merlin.

  He was a hundred feet away from me, and only about twenty from Ella. No, not Ella. The phoenix. It had taken over after the first attack. She had screamed in rage and flung her hands forward, fire pouring out from her with the ferocity of a pyroclastic flow.

  She turned towards him and I ran. She could never forgive herself if she harmed Merlin, even when she was no longer truly herself. My senses screamed and my muscles burned as I charged my friend, who looked upon his death with unseeing eyes. I could see her raise her hand towards him and I charged faster, growling in rage as I realized I couldn’t make it to him in time.

  Her flames sprang forth, a fountain of death. I looked with horror and heartache towards Merlin. Who was no longer there.

  Brom.

  I shook with relief as I saw the vampire on top of the warlock, having tackled him to the ground out of range of the flames.

  “This ain’t really the time to fuck around, Brom,” Merlin said, panting heavily under the vampire. I could hear the erratic pulse of the warlock’s heart, and even Brom’s was thready.

  “You just looked too pretty standing there.” Brom rolled off of him, pausing a moment before climbing to his feet. The vampire nodded at me, and we both turned to look towards our phoenix. “This is a problem.”

  “Fuck right it is,” Merlin said, running his hand over his hair. He patted me on the shoulder, even though I towered over him in my lycan form. I looked down at him, huffing. He jerked his head towards Ella. “Why don’t you be a good dog, and fetch us the bird?”

  I snapped my jaws at him, growling to convey my distaste, and he held up his hands in surren
der.

  “Bad joke, got it.”

  “Still, one of us must reach her,” Brom mused, and I snorted, catching his attention.

  Should I return to human form? I thought hard at the vampire. I had no reason to suspect he could actually understand me, and he’d always maintained he couldn’t. But after years of friendship, we learned each other’s signals.

  He shook his head slowly. “No, you as a lycan grants you some immunity that your human skin would not.”

  We all studied the woman in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by flames. She simply stood there, looking at what she’d done, a soft smile on her lips, the fire having burned away her veil.

  I knew what I needed to do. I was her lycan.

  I moved around the men. They both protested but I shrugged off Merlin’s touch as I stepped out into her view. I felt Merlin’s magic wavering around me, surrounding me in a protective shield. It wouldn’t last against her full attack; I doubted anything truly would. But it would give me a chance to run if it came to that.

  She turned to face me, her hair blowing gently from the heat she’d created. Even in this form, she was glorious, and I loved her. Her eyes were piercing, though filled with literal fire, and I walked with my head lowered. I would never be a threat to her.

  Every step I took towards her, the easier it would be for her to kill me. But I refused to leave her to the phoenix, not if I had a chance to draw her back out.

  I stopped when I was close enough she could reach out and press her hand against my chest, my head bowed still to her. Carefully, I knelt on one knee, my arms held out to the side in supplication.

  The mighty wolf bowing before the bird of fire.

  “Romulus.”

  My name sounded strange from her lips. It was her voice, but there was another’s there. One that sent chills down my spine and made me want to growl in challenge. It rasped over her sweet tone, marring it with violence, with the static of the universe as it exploded.