Rise of the Phoenix Read online

  A spark of disappointment glimmers in her different-coloured eyes, as if I had failed her and not the other way around. My foot slides forward, and my mouth opens, ready to voice the accusation reflected in her gaze. But before I can react, a thick cloud obscures my vision, and the cave morphs into a lavish bedroom.

  Sunlight filters through the window, illuminating the chaos of Icarus’s chamber. Our clothes litter the floor, a path of passion and need, leading to the place of our union. My dress—a gift from him—lies on the ground, my corset thrown over the excessive layers of green silk, and my stockings and chemise rest by the bed. The satin sheets cling to the edge of the mattress, the heat of our bodies enough to warm the chill of the room.

  His lips press against my stomach, a trail of tenderness I relish.

  “You’re so beautiful. I can never get enough of you.”

  The words send a flutter in my stomach. I’ve heard them before from other clients, but none of them have ever truly meant them. Until now. And even though I want to fall into his arms, caution tells me otherwise. I push his shoulders in a playful gesture and scowl. Before I can speak, he presses his lips to mine. Along with his tongue, his desire, a sweet elixir, enters my mouth and pours down my throat. Months ago, I had accepted the influence he possesses over me, the way my barriers crumble in his presence, the way his touch melts my body and mind into a puddle of need. At first, I had ignored the sensations and even tried to resist them.

  But, from the moment I had met him, I had known danger lay in his arms. The threat that he would shatter my defences and that I’d become someone else, someone who adores his attention. Someone who would do almost anything he asked.

  “I hate when you say things like that.”

  He chuckles against my lips and lifts himself onto his elbows. “I know, which is partly why I say them.”

  “And the other reason?”

  His expression sobers. “Because they’re true.”

  I roll my eyes in a dramatic flair and press on his shoulders, adding enough force to move him. He rolls onto his back with ease, and his laughter rumbles in his chest. Maybe changing for someone isn’t so bad. A smile mars my offended manner, but my joy dies the moment I realize we’ve consumed our allotted time. Any minute now, we’ll both dress and return downstairs where his driver will take me back to the Pleasure House. The idea of servicing other clients fills me with bitterness and dread, and my skin crawls with disgust. If only Icarus’s touch could erase the memory of every man who has ever touched me. Then maybe, I wouldn’t feel this way.

  “Do you enjoy being a concubine, Moira?”

  His voice draws my gaze up. His head rests on one of his arms, and his amber eyes watch me with an intensity I only sometimes glimpse from him. It takes several moments before his question settles in my mind, and, when it does, the memory of our first encounter flashes, clear and bright. He had asked me the same question in his parlour room that night, and, like then, I shove it aside. There are some concubines who enjoy their role, some who don’t mind it, and some that despise it. I’ve always fallen in the latter group. If given a choice, I’d have packed my bags long ago. But answering him would only reopen a wound that has healed many years ago. My fate is permanent. I’ve never been given a choice, so why lament over it?

  He knows exactly how I feel, yet he insists on asking me. For that, I resent him.

  With one swift move, I rise to sit on the edge of the bed and evade his questioning. “Are you jealous, Mr. Hayes?”

  Instead of laughing at my sarcasm, he settles behind me and sweeps my hair over my shoulder. His fingers slide down the length of my back and, with his touch, his emotions burn my skin, sending a spark of pain through me. Instead of flinching, I draw them inside me, welcome them as my own. But beneath them lies an unfamiliar darkness, a shadow I’ve never seen from him before. The mysterious emotion calls to me, echoing a part of myself I’ve repressed all these years. Enticing, but equally frightening. I test the boundaries in his mind, curious to explore the source of his emotions, but they vanish before I can grasp them in my hands.

  Icarus kisses my shoulder, and his voice lowers with contempt. “I am jealous. I hate the idea of another man’s hands on you. You’re mine, Moira. And I don’t let others abuse what’s mine.”

  His words unsettle me, sending an unpleasant wave of unease through my body. Annoyance, maybe even fear, should overwhelm me. He doesn’t own me any more than Madame Del Mar. I might be bound to them by societal laws, but I’m no one’s. I refuse to be. Yet, his proclamation satisfies a deep need. Against everything I know, the idea of someone caring for me—protecting, loving, and keeping me safe—stirs an age-old desire, one I believed to be dead long ago.

  I turn my head and tread with caution. “Icarus—”

  “But that’s not why I asked. What if there was a way to change things? A way to liberate empaths? A way for you to be free? Would you take it?”

  Initially, his questions slide off me. Words like that would only get me in trouble, because to fulfill them would be impossible. But then heat spreads throughout my body, igniting a fire inside me. I don’t have the luxury to fantasize about change, not like him. He knows this, yet he dangles the possibility in my face, taunts me with it. The flames feast on my rage, demanding to strike back. I would do anything to be free. Anything. And Icarus? He already has the freedom that I only dream about.

  “Is this one of your games?” I shoot to my feet and glare at him. “Because if so, I’m not in the mood.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  “Then did your father put you up to this?”

  His expression hardens around the edges, and his eyes darken. “My father has nothing to do with this. I might be his son, but that doesn’t mean I share his beliefs. I want to change things, Moira, and I want you there by my side.”

  Most women would love to hear a man utter those words. Not me. Things will never change. And even if I were to accept his offer and we failed—because there’s no doubt in my mind we would—I’d be accused of manipulating his mind and sentenced to my death. I shake my head and spear him with my gaze. The only place a concubine belongs is in a man’s bed.

  My voice turns to ice. “You’re a bastard. Why are you doing this to me?”

  Instead of waiting for his response, I storm off and slip my chemise over my head. He’s never gone this far, and I hate that he could force me to stay if he wanted. My hand trembles around the corset squeezed into my fist. Hatred swells in my veins and forces the blood to my head, the pulse rushing into my ears. I despise myself for growing attached to him. His words are fake, nothing but a game. But to me, they’re an unattainable reality. He toys with me, never knowing the life of a slave. He has grown up with the wealth and freedom given to the Elite members, while I have been branded and forced to serve in the Pleasure House.

  “Moira, listen to me.” He sneaks up behind me and twists me around, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m not playing any games.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I have a plan, one involving other empaths. They’ve agreed to work with me, and I hope you will, too.”

  I resist the pull of his words and balk at the idea of other empaths. Who would have agreed to his insanity? How long has he kept this from me? And with that question, more doubts surface. If I failed to uncover his secret plan, then there might be something else he’s keeping from me. The realization slams into my stomach.

  “Oh, really? And who are these other empaths?”

  Icarus shakes his head, his expression softening. “I can’t tell you, not until I know you’re with us. What do you say, Moira? I can make it so you never have to return to the Pleasure House.”

  The promise in his last statement undoes me, and the fight leaves my body. I freeze in his arms, knowing he could never make his vow a reality. But he could purchase me. I’d be trading one form of servitude for another, but I’d rather live with him than spend the rest of my life at the Ple
asure House. I look into his golden eyes and know I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.

  A tiny shake of my head, and my gaze lowers. “I need time to reflect on this. Please, Icarus. What you’re asking of me might get me executed.”

  “No, what I’m asking might save your life.”

  An ache spreads in my chest, leaving me breathless as the feel of Icarus’s arms around me vanishes. The past and present sharpen into focus, illuminating a brutal reality. I had agreed to his plan and had ended up in jail, a far cry from the future he’d promised. A laugh threatens to bubble up, but a choked sob swims to the surface. I had deluded myself into thinking I loved Icarus, and worse, that he reciprocated my love. A complete fool—a naïve young woman who had confused the quantity of a man’s attention with the intensity of his emotions.

  Disgust takes hold of my body, a thick coat of grime for all the hopes he’d planted and squashed. With one promise, I had exchanged my life for the illusion of freedom. Self-loathing weaves dark thoughts in my mind, but I channel that hatred into my animosity for Icarus. Because it’s easier to blame him than it is to accept my faults. I shove him away from me, but no matter how hard I press against his chest, his grip never loosens. He has trapped me, physically and mentally. His snares hook into my skin, piercing through muscle and bone. Like every other person in my life, he used me for his own gain and discarded me when I no longer served a purpose. A tool, a pawn in his twisted game.

  He pulls me closer and murmurs into my ear. “That’s not true, Moira. You were never simply a concubine to me, and I never cast you aside.”

  A pause, and then whispered words. “And I did love you.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe anything you say? You blocked my memory!”

  I clamp my lips shut before I can voice the full extent of my hurt. The anger swelling inside me adds strength to my push and momentarily erases the throbbing in my arm and head. He releases me and stands in one fluid motion. The tension in the room intensifies as he paces back and forth, his feet wearing a path in the floor. Emotions, pure and unfiltered, seep out of his control and drift in the space between us. His remorse, an emerald blot in the air, mingles with the crimson vapour shadowing him. The acrid taste of them on my tongue gives me pause. Even if he apologizes, I can’t forgive him. Not now. Not after everything that has happened.

  Rage and anxiety entwine, spinning a web of confusion inside me. I knew him once. Now, I don’t know him at all.

  Icarus shoots a narrowed gaze in my direction, and his determination creates a thick haze, the colour of deep mahogany, around his silhouette. “I had no choice. You knew too much, and I couldn’t risk the possibility of a blocker reading your mind. I didn’t do it to get rid of you. I did it to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” The words slip from my tongue before I can bite on them with silence. “You abandoned me.”

  The hitch in my voice echoes as I ease back into the sofa. I ignore the prick in my chest until the pain fades. For all I know, he can sense everything I’m thinking and feeling. Not only do I not want him to know, but I also can’t bring myself to address them myself. Easier to pretend as if they don’t exist.

  A minute crack splits through his expression before he swivels away from me. I squelch my anger and follow the path of his emotions, breezing past his barriers and encountering zero resistance. I’ve been inside his mind a hundred times and felt his emotions, his thoughts. Was I so blind that I had missed a clue? I wander into the ordinary layout and stare at the blandness that contradicts with the potency of his powers. How can he be the Phoenix? My doubt rouses his pride. And even though his fury churns in the air, he allows me to continue my prowl. He wants me there, even challenges me to explore.

  His voice—deep, tender, and haunting—echoes in his mind. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  Light pools in the space before me, illuminating the brick wall. I crane my neck back and squint up at the massive barrier. The partition expands upward and across, concealing his true layout and proving my assumption wrong. I’ve only accessed the façade part of his mind and would have remained ignorant if he hadn’t allowed me to see the wall. Years of fortitude had gone into building the block, a feat only a strong empath could perform and succeed at. Amazement pulls my arm up, and curiosity forces me to close the distance. A shudder runs through me as I place my palm against the brick. Shadowy wisps unfurl from the wall and curl around my fingers. So this is what he’s been hiding all along. I snatch my hand away before the dark substance wraps around my wrist. My skin tingles, a mixture of pleasure and pain, leaving me more convinced than ever that I need to tread with caution. I retreat from his mind before he can catch sight of the thoughts spinning in my mind.

  A hint of a smile plays on his face as he mistakes my eagerness for fear.

  His silky voice caresses the length of my body. “Do I frighten you?”

  I lift a brow. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

  “All depends on if you’re still with me. We’re so close, Moira. Everything we’ve planned for will soon be over, and we’ll be free.”

  “We?” I spit the word out, hating the taste it leaves in my mouth.

  When his mouth tightens in response, I let my anger ooze into the room in hopes of distracting him. “You were never a slave, Icarus. You have no idea what it’s like.”

  “I don’t deny that, but my life hasn’t been easy, either. Though my father could never prove my mother’s infidelity, he knew I wasn’t his. The only thing he didn’t know was how far my mother’s disloyalty went—that she had fallen in love with a dream weaver and had carried his child. I learned how to protect myself, to strengthen my mind so no one would discover who I am.”

  “That must have been so difficult for you.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

  “Don’t test me, Moira.”

  “Or what?” I lift my head and straighten my spine. “You’ll get rid of me again? Like you did with Jonathan and Daniel?”

  His mouth twitches, the only sign of his frustration.

  “I told you I take care of what’s mine. You wanted out of the Pleasure House, so I got you out.” His expression smooths into his usual calm. “And don’t worry about Jonathan and Daniel. They won’t be in prison for long.”

  A part of me knows his last statement holds more importance, but my control slips and everything I’ve tried to hold back spills out. “By having Scott purchase me? Do you have any idea what he put me through?”

  My jaw snaps shut, but the thoughts keep pouring out. He was supposed to purchase me. Not Scott. I never would have agreed if I had known that my memory would be erased and I would spend months being tortured.

  “Yes, I do.” Not even a hint of remorse tinges his voice. “He made you stronger. While I may not have agreed with his tactics, I couldn’t deny the results. And I don’t regret my decision. Daniel would have touched you, and I couldn’t allow that. And Jonathan—well, you two have never gotten along.”

  My breath leaves me in sharp bursts as I clench my fists. He had commanded Scott to purchase me, knowing exactly what the blocker would do to me. Had Scott been another one of his pawns? The throbbing in my head worsens as memories collide and struggle to gain precedence, and conflicting emotions war inside me. Vehemence, confusion, and shame. If I don’t leave soon, all of my thoughts will burst forth, exposing my true intentions—that I refuse to join him and fully intend on telling the detective everything. The thought of Keenan sends a spear through my chest. If I tell him the truth, then he’ll see me for what I truly am. A murderer.

  I jump to my feet, the path of my exit burning bright in my mind.

  Icarus blocks my line of escape. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Back to the detective’s townhouse.”

  “Do you believe I’m going to let you leave?” He seizes my arm and yanks me into his chest. “I’ve waited three years to bring you back, and your first thought is to run to the detectiv
e.”

  My face hardens to stone as I rein in my emotions.

  “I’m returning to his townhouse, because if I don’t, he’ll grow suspicious. And what did you expect?” Too late, my fury swells between us. “You’d unlock my memories—the ones you had blocked—and I would immediately fall into your bed and trust you? After everything you’ve put me through?”

  His betrayal stings the back of my eyes and burns the base of my throat as unbidden tears threaten to escape. The urge to cry fails to subside even after a series of rapid blinks. Inside, my resolve shatters, and I feel myself crumble from within. I’ve been a fool. A stupid girl who’d dared to trust, who’d dared to love. I pound his chest with my fists, releasing years of built-up anger. If only I could hurt him the way he’d hurt me.

  He spins us around and slams my back against the wall. His lips fall on mine, rough and hungry, demanding my submission. I gather my frustration, weaving it into a fervent kiss of my own. Our bodies press against one another, crushing and unrelenting, forcing the breath from my lungs. Every second that passes, my body sinks beneath the demanding current of bewilderment. The past, my emotions, and his expectations all bombard me, an excruciating attack cutting me from all sides. An image of Keenan floats to the surface. Other than Devin, he’s the only other person in my life who hasn’t hurt me, the only one I trust. And here I am kissing the one who had betrayed me.

  Icarus slides his hands down the front of my dress and clutches the fabric, wrenching my skirt up. I let him, allowing him to get close enough for my next behaviour to be believable. My legs part, though I have no intention of letting him touch me there. His fingers, impatient and arduous, tug at my undergarments. The dominance governing his actions subsides into desire mixed with a hint of disbelief. The last emotion fills me with smug satisfaction. I have him exactly where I want him. With a quick retrieval of my tongue, I bite down on his lower lip. A metallic flavour blossoms in my mouth as a trickle of blood beads from his wounded skin. He jolts away from me, and his hand flies to his face to assess the damage. Nervousness settles deep inside me, though my blood rushes with the thrill of defiance. How far can I go before I reach the point of no return?