Chapter 3

ChapterThree

Ella

Tears cascade, drenching the pillow beneath my face. But the sad part of my current predicament is that I don’t know if I’m crying from the loss of my father or Alaric’s cruelty. Maybe it’s both, or perhaps it’s self-pity that my world has been turned upside down.

Things were so clear before, and now everything is a murky gray, causing confusion, frustration, and dread. When it was my father and me, the simplicity of life was a lulling comfort. There was no disturbance in my life, just a silent river of boredom that shielded us from the outside world.

At first, my new stepbrothers were unnerving. When my father announced that he’d married and his new wife had children, I expected three little boys, not three attractive, vital men.

My interactions with them were charged with a strange energy, and I didn’t understand why. Their brazen good looks and golden tongues ignited my senses and lit fires inside me. I didn’t even realize that fire was simmering under the surface. I was a cliché, a good girl dipping her toes in a world much darker than she was used to.

Each man offered something new and exciting. Alaric was charming, a vision of every girl’s fairytale, a handsome prince who perceived me as the pinnacle of perfection. I realized how special these three men were within a week of them moving in.

“What are you doing, Princess?”

I jumped at the deep baritone. Alaric Tate, my new stepbrother, walked around like a sleet ghost, unsure of his place or what he wanted. I’d been watching the three men who’d invaded my space carefully as they claimed what used to belong to me. They’d built a place in my lonely world.

I gazed up at him. “I hate that word. Princess. What does it mean? People throw it around as a compliment and an insult. I’m curious, Alaric. What’s your intention for using the word?”

Alaric’s expression was contemplative. He didn’t speak right away, processing my question. I liked that.

He tilted his head, and the corners of his lips lifted in a slow smile, revealing two dimples. “Depends on what you consider a virtue and a vice. Does the word ‘princess’ unleash images of a bratty, entitled little girl, or does it make you an exquisite beauty whose radiance and grace should be revered and relished?”

Alaric slid onto the bench beside me. His hand grazed mine as he dug into the clear bag he was holding and ripped off a piece of bread, tossing it to the ducks in the clear water beneath a blue sky.

“You have a wicked tongue, Alaric Tate, and I don’t know what to think about it.”

Alaric placed his other hand on his heart and gave me a mischievous wink. “I solemnly swear every word I utter is the truth and nothing but the truth.”

My face grew hot, no doubt painting my cheeks red. I tried to swallow, but my dry throat made it difficult. “Would you admit to being a liar?”

My heart sped up as his tattooed hand moved to my face. It paused in mid-air as if he were contemplating his next move. He chuckled as his fingers grazed my face and tucked my hair behind my ears. “I have no reason to lie, Princess. Lying is the weapon of the weak, and I’m not weak.”

“So you’ve never lied in your entire life?”

Alaric pulled his hand away abruptly, leaving me cold. He pushed his hand into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Nope.”

I stared in wonder as he pinched the filter before gliding a cigarette from the disheveled pack with broken edges. He placed the cigarette between his full lips, lit it, and took a drag—a simple action that transfixed me. We sat silently as I watched the smoke curl from his mouth and dissipate in the crisp air.

He turned to me, and his eyes were so intent that I wouldn’t be shocked if he could see right through me. The unease forced me to shift away, needing a barrier against the fire igniting in the steel of his eyes.

Alaric stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed his ankles. He smirked. “Oh, the irony.”

I frowned. “Irony?”

“For the first time in my life, I want to be vulnerable, and the person I want to bestow my vulnerability upon wants to shuffle away.”

Alaric’s words were so thick with emotion that they hung above my head like a bomb. My heart accelerated with fear, knowing that once it detonated, it would decimate the world around me, leaving shrapnel in its wake and replacing the life I knew.

With the inch of space between us, I grasped for a reply. I held his brilliant blue gaze, swallowing the jagged lump in my throat. “Excuse me if I’m a little suspicious of a grown man I don’t know.”

Alaric laughed, a boisterous sound that echoed beyond the trees surrounding us. “Fair enough. To be honest, you should be wary of me.” He rose from the bench and dropped his cigarette on the ground, pulverizing it with the toe of his black leather loafers. He bent, picking up the demolished filter before placing it in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, befuddled by his action.

“Just because I’ve decided to kill myself by smoking doesn’t mean I want to kill the planet in the process.”

“Well, that was unexpected,” I whispered.

Alaric leaned down, his face directly in front of mine. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“I can’t judge anything. I barely know you.” I leaned back, needing the space between us before I became intoxicated with the liquid pools of his eyes and the scent of tobacco, peppermint, and musk.

Alaric smiled, pushing past my boundaries, something I should despise, but I found the invasion welcoming. I visibly shivered. My skin bloomed with goosebumps as his warm breath hit the shell of my ear, and he whispered, “Well, then, I think you should get to know me.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond; he just smiled and walked away.

I wipe the remnants of tears off my face. I’m sick of crying about things I can’t change. This sense of helplessness is a noose that restricts my ability to breathe. I’m frightened that it will eventually snap and pull me under, leaving me hopeless, surrounded by darkness.

My heart jumps at the knock on my bedroom door before it slowly opens. A flash of shame hits me at the hope that it’s Alaric to tell me how sorry he is. Maybe fall on his knees and beg for my forgiveness. But it’s not Alaric. It’s the person I least expect.

Asher.

The bed shifts as he flops onto the mattress, making me bounce. I’m unsure if he’s trying to lighten the mood or make me perversely aware of his sheer size.

Asher is a large man. My friend, Isari, would call him thicker than a snicker. He leans back on my bed and smiles as he takes in the princess motif decor. I realize how girly it is, with the pink comforter, frilly white curtains with lace applique, and the bench covered in stuffed animals.

“Your room is deceitful, you know that? It gives a man the illusion that you’re a little girl living in a fantasy world of fairytales and happily ever after.” Asher turns to me with a snide smirk. “Based on those puffy eyes, the illusion is laced with reality.”

Where Alaric makes me sweat, Asher makes me mad. His gaze is electrifying and dangerous, revealing the twist of a small boy and a deranged serial killer. He’s arrogant, with no filter, and no care that his words are bullets that decimate as they leave his lips. But under the sharp tongue is a soft soul strangled in darkness.