I reach out and pick up the envelope, noting that it’s different from Amabel’s last. The paper is thicker, the quality much finer than the previous one. Swirling my fingers over the letters pressed into the envelope, I can’t help but wonder if it says something about my sister’s station.
Is the paper finer because she is now the princess of (which country is Henrick from??)? Or am I just reading too much into the situation? After all, the envelope is still unopened, clutched in my shaky hand.
I’m overwhelmed with my fear. Trembling, I carry the letter upstairs to the bedroom I’ve claimed as my own. Laying the envelope on the bed as carefully as if it were a bomb, I pace the small space. I can’t help but keep glancing at the letter. What news could it contain?
At worst, it will be more of Ama’s insistence that she doesn’t want anything more to do with me. I frown. It doesn’t make much sense, seeing how she was clear enough that her previous letter would be her last.
Chewing my lower lip, I know that there is one way to allay my fears. I sit down on the bed and tear the pretty envelope open, my whole body shaking.
At that moment, I realize that news from the convent is toxic to me. It poisons me, poisons all my thoughts. What I’m supposed to do with that newfound knowledge I have no idea.
Taking a deep breath, I fish the letter out of the envelope. When I open it, I find a typewritten page. Odd, I don’t think Ama has ever used a typewriter.
When I start to read, I realize that Amabel had nothing to do with the drafting of this letter.
My Most Ungrateful Penitent,
As you know, your dutiful sister has taken your place in the marriage ceremony that you ran away from. She wept the happiest tears… She knows that she is serving the Church and her Heavenly Father to the best of her abilities.
You, on the other hand, have been quite a disappointment to me. First you have the audacity to run away from the Church — to run away from me. Then you manage to evade every man I send to retrieve you. I imagine you are relieved about that.
But your tactics of evasion can only take you so far… or didn’t you think I was going to have my way eventually?
You should have known better, my pet.
Now you have forced my hand. In order to bring you back to the righteous path, I will do whatever is necessary. If that means killing Dryas — yes, I am aware of your weakness for him — then so be it.
If that means finding a way to get certain information — information about what you tricked me into doing with your seductive ways — then so be it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back in the Church, to get you back to your rightful place, my little slut.
Come back to Liechtenstein of your own volition… or face the consequences. His death, or his eternal scorn. Which will it be?
The choice is up to you.
— Your Benevolent Father
I drop the letter as if it had burned me. Tears are already running down my face, though I don’t remember beginning to cry.
He’s going to do it.
Father Derrik means to ruin my life, the life I’ve found with Dryas. This new, fragile peace that we have found will be shattered forever if I don’t turn myself in.
Sobbing, I fall to my knees, unable to see a way out of this mess.
21
Dryas
I finish packing the last of my things and then amble down the hall, hoping to catch Rue bent over a box. Or maybe she’ll be taking advantage of the shower before we depart for the massive apartments over the Interlaken bakery. Either way, I will get to fondle her sweet ass. Maybe stretch her out across her bed and fuck her from behind.
She likes that position. To be fair, so do I. I love pulling her hair and ramming her from behind while she screams my name.
Grinning, I think that she should be extra pliable right now, given where we are headed.
Interlaken is my treat for her, staying in the quaint Swiss village for ten days. It’ll be like a vacation of sorts. We’ll explore during the day, maybe hike a bit in the mountains… and then we’ll eat chocolate off each other’s naked bodies and fuck until the sun comes up.
Her door is cracked open, just asking for my intrusion. Using one hand, I stealthily open the door all the way, intending to surprise her.
Instead, she surprises me. She’s sitting on the end of her bed, sobbing silently.
Did I do something? I wrack my brain, but can find nothing that has changed since we arrived at this house. She has to be upset about something from before. But what?
My heartbeat picks up as I clear my throat. Rue looks up at me, startled. Her red hair is thrown in a messy bun, her tears making her eyes red. She scrubs at her face, embarrassed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hoping like hell she isn’t still angry with me.
She sucks in a breath and shakes her head, standing up. I like that she doesn’t even come up to my shoulder when she stands. She is miniature, my little bird.
Reaching out, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. She fits in my embrace like we were meant for each other, as if we were two puzzle pieces cut from wood. I am her only match, as she is mine.
“You’re not going to tell me?” I ask, feeling out of sorts. Using a finger beneath her chin, I tip her face up to mine. All the while, hoping.
Don’t let her tears be because of something I’ve done. I’ve only just found a fragile truce with her.
She buries her head against my chest, her breath hitching. I swear, we’ve been so connected for the last week. We’ve fucked in every position, in every place in the house.
One night, I even told her stories of growing up on the streets of Nicosia. In return, she told me of raising her little sister on her own. Nothing too heavy, but it felt right, giving her some aspects of my history.
I kept the worst back from her, every bloody detail and all the names I can’t even begin to remember. The dead that haunt me are still very much here, where they will stay until I take them down to the grave.
Rue shifts in my arms, pressing her damp face against my chest. She shakes her head. When she speaks, her words are watery and quiet, less spoken and more confessed. “You don’t want to know.”
I tense up at that. What don’t I want to know? That she’s still mad at me for being a drunken idiot? That she remembers everything all the sudden, every moment of her feverish captivity?
“Hello?” a man calls, his voice distant. “Monsieur? I am here to take you to the airport, yes?”
“Fuck.” I pull back from Rue, looking down at her face. I cup it gently with one hand, sweeping the tears from her cheek with my thumb. “That is the man I hired to drive us. Can we save this conversation for later?”
She smiles up at me, dashing away her tears with her hands. “Let’s go. I’m excited.”
I put both hands on her ass and drag her up my body, kissing her thoroughly. By the time I set her down again, we are both breathing hard. As she walks toward the door, I slap her ass.
Unf. That walk of hers, gently swaying those hips…
If we weren’t about to leave, I would toss Rue down on the floor and fuck her right now. She rolls her eyes back to me, her perfect pink lips twisting. I can see the sparkle of mischief in those ice blue depths, though.
I chuckle as I follow her out into the hallway.
22
Dryas
The next handful of hours go by as if on hyper speed. Two airports, two cars, and of course two completely phony sets of identification for us. We are Mr. and Mrs. Black, residing in Los Angeles, California. It pleases me, for some reason.
When we drive into Interlaken, even I’m a little stunned by just how scenic it is. All around, black-blue mountains with perfect snowy caps border the greenest hills I’ve ever seen. I press my hand against the windowpane as the driver weaves his way around the twists and turns of the tiny road. I’m lost in just how astonishingly green it all is, each valley dotted with a few houses and whole forests of pine t
rees.
When we descend into the valley that houses Interlaken, it’s all spears before us. In the center are all the buildings, their walls white and their roofs a brownish-red. Flung out on the far left and right are two lakes, as startlingly blue as the grass is eerily green.
We drive right into the middle of it all. Soon the white buildings and their distinctive roofs tower over us; apparently it is common here for things to be two or three individual stories, like it is in the more crowded parts of old cities in Europe.
Our driver takes us to a building that is a bakery on the ground floor and apartments on the top; I’ve rented out the middle floor for our stay after being assured that it is both luxurious and soundproofed. The air is heavy with the smell of baking bread when I open Rue’s car door.
She hops out, wearing a yellow sundress and a blown away look on her face. Her smile is so wide and her eyes are so glacially blue. The sun catches her coppery hair and sets it ablaze in the bright light.
“I love it!” she declares, looking up at our retained apartment. “Are we up those stairs?”
“We are,” I nod. She takes off, heading up the stairs. I follow her up the sturdy rustic stairs, emerging onto the second floor just as she flings open the door and steps inside.
She’s out of view for only a second when I heard her shriek. Worse, her utterance is cut off, which makes me rush headlong into the rented apartment.
There is fragile little Rue, being held by none other than Damen Aétos himself, as tall and well-dressed as ever. They are in the rental’s open concept living area, silhouetted against a line of sun-filled windows. He has his hand over her mouth, muffling her. He looks mirthful as she screams again. Grabbing her arm, he twists it violently, making her scream turn agonized.
My fists bunch. Did he forget that the last time he saw me, I stabbed our other brother? I take a step toward him and he makes a chiding sound.
He waits until Rue sucks in a breath. “Brother,” he says, as coolly as you please. I try to keep my head. Pushing the red on the edges of my vision back, I try words first.
“Release her,” I command. The words come out as a snarl. “This should be between the two of us, aderfós.”
His lips turn up at the corners, his eyes twinkle. Calling him brother in Greek amuses him, apparently.
“All right,” he says, smoothly thrusting Rue at me. “Aderfós.”
He says the word mockingly, knowing that now that he’s hurt Rue, it won’t take much to set me off. Rue stumbles into me, tears already staining her cheeks.
“Are you alright?” I ask her, concerned. She shakes her wrist out, glancing fearfully at Damen.
“I’m fine,” she says. She winces as she says it though. I can’t help the red tinge that the whole world takes on as I think of the fact that he came to my place. He touched my woman, hurt her.
He needs to be punished.
I wipe her tear stained cheeks, kissing the top of her head. It’s as comforting as I know how to be. “Go into one of the bedrooms. I’ll come back when I’m done here.”
My no-nonsense tone apparently has the desired effect, because she just shoots a final look at Damen and heads into the hallway to our left. Turning to my brother with a deadly glare, I fold my arms across my chest. Less temptation to reach out and physically rip him limb from limb, is how I see it.
Damen does what he always does, which is feign a carefree attitude. He launches himself backward onto one of the dark brown leather couches, putting his hands behind his head.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, grinning. He kicks a pillow off the couch, getting comfortable.
In a flash, I’m crossing the room and grabbing him by the shirt. I get so close to his face that I can smell the sourness of liquor on his breath, maybe a day old from the smell of it.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Damen? Hmm? Did you not already get your ass kicked for laying hands on Arsen’s woman?”
His grin widens even more. The fucking prick is enjoying this.
“No, actually… Arsen didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when I came onto that little girl of his,” he says. I narrow my eyes at him; I can’t even tell if he is lying or not.
It doesn’t matter, either way. I pull him up by his shirt a few inches, glaring right into his blue-gray eyes.
“If you even think about touching Rue again, I’ll fucking slit your throat and drink your blood while it leaks from your body. That’s not a threat, it’s a fucking promise. And then I’ll hunt down that wife of yours…”
I see a flicker of fear enter his eyes as I say the last, but he quickly blinks it away.
“Alright, alright,” he sighs, writhing against my grip. “Let go. I promise I’ll play nice.”
I turn him loose, straightening up. He shakes off my touch, dusting off his shirt. Damen still has a smile on his lips, looking at me mischievously.
“What?” I ask flatly, folding my arms across my chest again. Damen always had the skill to make others uncomfortable and guarded, and I am no exception right now.
He stands up, wandering over to the window and casting his gaze downward. When he doesn’t answer, I clench my teeth.
“Where is your wife, Damen?”
He stares out the window. “Oh, you know. Here and there.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Before I can ask again, he whirls. I’m surprised to see the pain in his eyes, especially because he has never dropped his caustic little smile. “She has run away. I think she might be here in Europe.”
That catches me by surprise. “She fled you?”
He merely shrugs. “She has her ways. I’ll find her eventually, without a doubt. But you shouldn’t be worried about my bride, aderfós. It is your girl who is the subject of the most fascinating gossip.”
I swallow, not quite knowing what he means. “What are you talking about, Damen?”
He looks completely delighted. “I will make you a deal. You and I will go to get a beer together. Then I will be out of your domicile, and you can learn all the sordid details about your girl. I cannot wait to see your face when I tell you about the rumors I have heard…”
I want to sneer at him. I want to kick him out of the apartment. But there is a little part of me that wants to hear him out regardless.
Glancing back to the hallway where Rue vanished, I wave toward the door.
“Lead the way, Damen.”
23
Dryas
After a little bit of wandering the cobblestone streets of Interlaken, glaring at my brother’s broad back as he speaks in halting German, we sit down for drinks at a beer bar. The barkeep sullenly sets two foamy pints of dark beer down and vanishes, leaving us sitting alone at the polished wood bar.
Damen sighs as he takes a sip of his beer. I look at my own glass, pushing it away from me a few inches. It is tempting, but I can’t self-destruct right now. There are too many things that depend on me being alert and focused, things like Rue’s safety and my revenge against that bastard Derrik.
Damen eyes me pushing away my glass and looks surprised. “What? You are going to make me drink alone?”
He speaks in Greek, our shared native tongue. It’s been so long since I heard it, and yet the language spills out of me, my words angrier than I really am.
“I am not making you do anything,” I sneer, feeling on edge. “You are the one who sought me out. And you lured me from my apartment with the promise of telling me what you heard, so…” I gesture, sweeping my hand out. “Start talking.”
He looks amused. “Fine, fine. But I think you’ll be glad to have a drink at hand when I tell you the rumors.”
I lean close to him, scowling. “You are about to drive me out of here with your yammering on, Damen.”
He raises his hands, laughing. “Okay, okay! I heard this rumor from a young man who was once an acolyte to Derrik Blanc.”
I raise my eyebrows at his use of Derrik’s full name. In all the time I’v
e been pursuing Derrik, I don’t think I’ve ever learned his surname. I tuck that bit of information away for later digestion.
Crossing my arms, I lean back in my high-backed chair. “I’m waiting for your revelation.”
“According to Jaime — that’s the young man’s name — Father Derrik had some very interesting habits concerning very young women. Twelve or thirteen years old seems to be the age he finds these girls. Then he grooms them, tells them that they will go to hell if they don’t do exactly what he says. Threatens the lives of their families, or to tell the entire congregation that they are sinners.”
My fists bunch. I can just imagine that blond freak leaning down and whispering vile things into the ears of a pretty young girl. The power he has as a priest, especially to those too young to know any better… it’s unimaginable.
“That’s… unfortunate,” I grit out. “But what does that have to do with Rue? He just found her a few years ago.”
Damen looks perplexed. “Rue has been with the Church since she was twelve, brother. Imagine it, if you will. At the perfect age for grooming, little Rue turns up at the Liechtenstein compound, looking pretty as a picture—”
Grabbing Damen by the shirt, I snarl in his face. “You shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you are talking about.”
Damen laughs in my face, taunting me. The red haze is creeping in now, threatening to take over my vision. I don’t even try to stop it as it barrels down on me.
“According to Jaime, Derrik spent hours with her every week, privately hearing her confessions. Jaime said that she was a favorite of Derrik’s. He said that Derrik would get drunk every now and again and spill all the dirty little secrets. He’d tell everyone listening about how good she was when she was on her knees before him—”
Possess: Protect Book 3 Page 11