by Nadia Aidan
“Adonis and Apollo were just as manipulated by him as we were.”
“And Apollo told you this?”
The light seemed to dim in Serena’s eyes. “Apollo tells me nothing.”
Then how is it you know these things? Selena wanted to demand, but before she could, they were interrupted by the presence of Ares and Adonis. She let the subject drop, determined to probe deeper elsewhere.
She wondered then what other truths still lingered out there, unknown and unspoken. If there had been a debt owed by her father, what had he taken—from the man everyone called a god because he was so feared—that had been worth the very lives of his only daughters?
“You did not tell us the fire began in your private chambers,” Ares said as soon as he stood before them.
“Because you did not ask.” Serena shrugged. “Besides, you still have not told me why you’re here. This is Apollo’s district. I understand why he came to investigate, but not why the rest of you have joined him.”
Ares’ lips thinned into a firm line, and Selena wondered if he ever smiled, the slash of his mouth was so tight. That mouth did not seem forthcoming with answers, either.
“The fire was started in the sitting room just beyond your bedroom,” Adonis offered even as he shot his brother a quelling glare. “It was made to appear as if one of your candles fell over accidentally, but there are distinct footprints that lead from your bedroom outside, and disappear into tyre tracks. This was no accident, and whoever did this certainly thought you would be inside your bedroom.”
“And usually I would be at this time of night.”
“So why weren’t you?”
They all turned at the deep, masculine voice that was a rich, throaty baritone.
Apollo.
His gaze was riveted on Serena, both accusatory and haunted, as if he wished she’d been in that room, though he knew it was wrong to.
Serena glimpsed the look and acknowledged it by the fire flickering in her eyes in answer to his dark stare.
“As you well know, Apollo, I retire around ten o’clock to entertain guests, but tonight I was to present a new girl so I remained downstairs.” She levelled her gaze at him. “And that is why, when the fire began, I was not in my chambers.”
The look that passed between Apollo and Serena, the veiled meaning beneath their seemingly innocuous words, hinted at deeper animosity, unspoken guilt, and a desperate longing that had never been fulfilled. Selena knew this was so because she felt it…and shared the same feelings with the man who stood beside her.
“Why would someone want to harm Serena?”
“The same reason why someone wants to harm you.” Eros, who’d remained outside to further investigate, drew their attention as he entered the main dining area. “There has been a fire at the Convent of Her Lady Francis.”
“What?” Selena gasped.
“Another fire at your hotel, Adonis.”
Selena’s blood ran hot then cold. Someone was after Adonis, her sister, and apparently now her. No one had even known she was leaving the convent tonight, so everyone would expect her to still be there, tucked away in her bed, fast asleep.
Just as Serena should have been in her bedroom with a guest.
Just as Adonis should have still been in the midst of his grand opening.
A nun and a whore—it was laughable. Selena and her sister were not important enough to harm. Adonis?
Now he was different, but why threaten him now? Why all of them on this night?
It made no sense—none of it. But, to glimpse the faces of the four brothers, one would think it made sense to them.
“What do you know that you’re not telling us?”
“What I’ve been trying to tell you all night,” Adonis said to her, his voice quiet but not so low that the others could not hear him. “That the moment you came to me, you became a target, as did everyone who had anything to do with that night.”
“If that is true then why set fire to the convent, knowing I would not be there?”
“I imagine they thought you would have done what you’d set out to do and returned by now,” Ares replied. “Or there could be someone at that convent who also knows the truth—who knows where you are—which could be why Adonis’ hotel was targeted as well.”
“The truth? What is the truth?” she demanded, her attention settling on each brother. They seemed to know this truth, while she and her sister remained woefully ignorant.
“I thought I knew,” Eros said softly and that was when she noticed he held something in his hand. It reflected the light—pure platinum shimmering with diamonds that formed a single letter— D. “But I found this outside. It must have been dropped when whoever set that fire escaped.”
“That is impossible,” Ares whispered. The steely edge to his voice was like ice creeping down her back.
There was real fear in his voice.
She looked at all of them—the four gods.
There was real fear on their faces.
“What is it?” she asked, but none looked at her—they simply stared at the ring Eros held.
“It cannot be,” Adonis said from beside her. “He’s dead.”
The sheer terror in the eyes of each brother told Selena that whoever they’d thought was dead was probably very much alive—and that their return to the living did not bode well for any of them.
Chapter Five
“Who’s dead?” Serena asked.
The four men looked at her as if she was a ghost they could see through—they did not see her, nor did they answer.
Selena decided to remain silent. Adonis was not given to answering her questions in private, and she surmised he’d not answer them now either, but her curiosity burned through her, making her restless.
“Ares, will you take Selena home? I will join you shortly after I’ve visited my hotel.”
Selena moved to protest, but the look in Adonis’ eyes stilled her. His expression was more telling than anything, even the tension that radiated from his rigid body revealed much. When they were alone, he would willingly submit to her, but not before his brothers, and not when her life was in danger.
She bit her tongue.
“I will go to the convent, then,” said Eros. “Though I imagine the fires were set by the same person—”
“Or several are working together,” Ares added.
There was no doubt of a connection between the three fires, just as there was no doubt that, if there were multiple individuals involved, they were connected as well.
All eyes swung to Apollo, the dark beauty of his face shadowed beneath the faint light in the room. Despite the darkness, his scowl was visible, the tension emanating from him palpable.
“I will remain here with Serena,” he bit out tightly, harshly. It was apparent that he would have preferred any other task but this, and Selena gathered why.
The entire time, his eyes had flickered with longing—and with hate—whenever they had landed upon her sister. He still wanted her, but loathed himself because of his weakness and his desire.
Selena understood the war that raged across his face, the torment that burned through his body. She was an intimate prisoner of the same burning affection held for one man whom she knew it was wrong to still want.
“Do not do me any favours, Apollo.” Serena shot back, her voice cold. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
Without so much as a courteous farewell, Serena gathered her billowing skirts in her hands and swept out of the room with all the beauty and grace of the most sought-after courtesan in the city.
Serena’s lack of decorum was telling. Her sister had always been a stickler for niceties and politeness. That she’d forgone such courtesies revealed to Selena that her sister was furious—the sole object of her anger embodied in the one man she could not seem to stop loving… Apollo.
She started after Serena, the protectiveness she felt instinctive, but, again, Adonis stilled her with the shake of his head, hi
s expression imploring her to let her sister be.
She would be fine, his eyes said, and Selena knew this to be true. Serena was resilient, her inner will even stronger than Selena’s.
“We must go.” Adonis’ voice was quiet, but everyone heard and understood. Whoever was stalking them, setting fire to their homes, had a plan—one they needed to discover, and quickly.
* * * *
Selena did not grasp how weary she was until she entered Adonis’ home half an hour later. The door closed behind her, the sharp thud reminding her that Adonis did not stand beside her. That in his place stood his brother, the oldest of them all, the most dangerous and the most feared.
She turned to face him, meeting his black stare. His obsidian eyes were seductive, fathomless and she imagined any woman who stared too deep or too long would become spellbound by their intensity, enraptured by the desire they invoked.
But there was only one pair of eyes that could do the same to her. They were golden, pure and radiant, and they made her burn with need and longing every time they touched upon her.
“You do not like me very much, do you?” Her voice broke through the tense silence, her question seeking confirmation of what she already knew. She did not need his approval—she only needed to know why she didn’t have it.
“I have not been acquainted with you long enough or even well enough to make such a sweeping statement of you as a person.”
“And, yet, that does not stop you from hating me or blaming me.”
His brow furrowed, his eyes as hard and unyielding as the granite they’d seemingly been carved from. “I don’t hate you.”
What he left unsaid spoke loudly and clearly.
“Your brother used me then ridiculed me before my family and friends.” She shook with barely leashed anger. “And yet you stand there, full of impudence, blaming me. ”
He stalked towards her—there was no other way to describe the feline grace of his predatory movements. When he halted before her she was forced to tilt her head back, meeting the full weight of his glare. “Adonis was forced to do what he did—”
“By whom?”
Her question startled him. “He did not tell you?”
When she shook her head, his reaction stunned her. He smiled. A small furling of the corner of his mouth. “All this time I thought you were playing ignorant but you truly do not know.” Within the blink of an eye, his mocking smile disappeared. In its place was the cold stare she was becoming accustomed to. “If Adonis has not told you, then I shall not. It is not my place.”
“He mentioned my father,” she hedged. “He said he had something to do with this all.”
“And he did, but that is all I will say.”
Something in his voice caused her to study him through narrowed eyes. “I do not believe what your brother and now you have implied about my father. He would never hurt me or my sister.”
Fire flashed in his eyes, but his icy expression did not change. “If that is true, then you have no cause to be concerned, now, do you?”
His tone was mocking, challenging, but she did not rise to his bait. She only had one question for him, one he’d not yet answered.
“Why do you blame me for what happened?”
“I do not blame you for what happened, Selena. I know better than anyone what happened to you was not your fault, nor did you bring it upon yourself. You were innocent. I have always acknowledged that…”
“But?” she offered, when it did not appear as if he would continue.
His expression hardened, then turned cold like a freezing wind whipping across her skin. “But… I blame you for what happened after. I blame you for what you did later.”
“What I did? After that night, I was disowned by my father and forced into a convent. I did nothing after that—”
“Oh, you did a great deal, Selena.” He inched closer, his low voice as seductive as it was dangerous. “You destroyed my brother, ripped out his very soul. With your lies, you slowly tortured him, killed him.”
She gasped at the conviction of his words, the vehemence in his eyes. Lies? What lies?
“What is it that you think I said?”
“Do not pretend ignorance—”
“Does it look as if I am pretending?” she snapped. He’d condemned her and she deserved to know why.
He stood rooted to his spot, studying her closely. She knew the moment he glimpsed the truth buried deep in her gaze. “It would seem that we’ve all been manipulated by him,” he said finally, his eyes flat. “Every single one of us.”
“What is it that you think I said?” Selena repeated.
“It does not matter.”
“It matters to me,” she said quietly. “If it tortured your brother then I want to know.”
He regarded her with wary eyes, measuring the weight of his words. When he spoke again, the statement that tumbled from his lips made her blood run cold until her heart seized in her chest.
“Adonis believes you told your family and your friends that he forced himself upon you—”
“What?”
“You can imagine what that did to him,” he continued past her outburst. “How others looked at him, treated him. He could have denied it, but he didn’t. He believed it to be true. It killed him to know you believed him to be such a monster. He’s hated himself ever since.”
She could not speak. Her throat closed up, her vocal cords raw. Adonis had done many things that night, but forced himself upon her he had not. He’d seduced her, taken her virginity, bragged to others of what he’d done, then ended their engagement. Those were all truths, but that he ever took her by force was a lie.
Bile rose up inside her. It all was painfully clear now. Why he welcomed his death at her hands, why he accepted her revenge, demanded her to make him suffer. She felt sick.
Yes, she wanted his suffering and her revenge—but she wanted those things because with his cruelty he’d destroyed her life, made her body betray her as he’d seduced her, and her weakness still haunted her…still shamed her.
She wanted it for what he’d done, not for what he hadn’t.
“I never said such things.”
“I realise that now, though Adonis does not.”
She closed her eyes then opened them again as if the simple act could somehow blind her to the pain Adonis must have laboured under all this time.
“The rumours say that you are heartless and cold.” Ares’ statement broke through her thoughts. She did not know what prompted it, but she could not help but smile.
“Rumours say the same of you.”
His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile, but the slight flicker in his eyes was the only indication that she’d amused him.
“You care for my brother,” he stated flatly, the tone of his voice daring her to say otherwise.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
What he said was true. She did care for Adonis.
“I wish I didn’t.” That raised one dark eyebrow. “Your brother did not force himself upon me, but he did seduce me, ridicule me then humiliate me. No one would have me after that. I went into the convent because I could not face the world afterwards.”
“He had no other choice but to do what he did—”
“That is what you keep telling me, but yet you tell me nothing else. The more I talk to you and your brother, the more I realise there is a great deal to the events that prompted that night of which I am ignorant—”
The abrupt sound of the front door opening then closing halted her next words.
“The one who should answer your questions is Adonis, not me.”
Heavy footsteps muffled by plush carpet drew closer.
“He refuses to tell me anything.”
Ares’ eyes flashed dark as a pitch-black night. “I imagine you possess the tools to force him to reveal to you anything your heart desires.”
She gasped at the meaning of his words and the provocative glint in his eyes.
&n
bsp; It disappeared when a shadow fell over them.
Adonis had returned.
His eyes were haunted and weary. Tonight had taken its toll upon him. She was surprised by the tingling of her fingers that itched to reach out and smooth the lines of exhaustion from his brow. She longed to kiss him until the intense scowl disappeared from his face. Selena forced herself to clench her hands into fists so that she would not succumb to such foolish impressions.
“Did you find anything?”
Ares claimed Adonis’ attention. The ring in the palm of Adonis’ hand ensnared Ares’ gaze in return.
A single letter encrusted in diamonds was set in sparkling platinum, of such a brilliant radiance that it glowed a silver white. It was identical to the one Eros had discovered earlier.
“I found this in the rubble. The damage was minimal. The fire began in my penthouse. My guards put it out soon after it started.”
“And where did it start?”
“In my bedroom.” Adonis looked at her, his eyes full of accusation. His expression puzzled her until he held out his other hand. “I also found this.” He handed the object over to Ares who studied it for maybe a second before his gaze joined Adonis’, both pinning her down.
“You think I put that there?” she cried, pointing to the small explosive device in their hands.
Their shared silence said that was exactly what they thought.
“I’ve lived in a convent for sixteen years with peaceful nuns. You cannot think that—”
“That you what? Don’t know how to make a bomb?” Ares’ brow arched. “The Order of Her Lady Francis is known to study the Eastern fighting arts, as many monks and sisters of the holy order do. Rumours abound that you’ve mastered these fighting arts, that you are adept at wielding a number of weapons, that you are equally capable of disarming others of a number of weapons.” His expression hardened. “While you were locked in that convent, it is obvious you did more than remain on your knees in fervent prayer.
“It is interesting that the one connection between these fires is that you seemed to have been at each and every one of the places where they all began. You could have planted those devices and set them to go off long after you would be gone so that no one would ever suspect you.”