Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
LAUREN
Okay, so that’s a little intense.
Nothing like hearing that the man of your dreams—the one you’ve had the most amazing connection with—is actually one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
My forehead feels hot. The overwhelm of information crashes over me in waves, and for lack of anything better to do, I grab the dough and shove it back in the bowl to rise. I turn away from Romulus, needing space, searching for a towel to lay over the top.
I spot one on a rack by the wall and practically lunge for it, grateful for the breathing room.
“So, are you ready for me to take you home now?” Romulus asks behind me.
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding explodes out of my chest. “You just laid a lot on me. Give a girl a minute.”
I keep my eyes averted as I drape the towel over the rounded dough ball, smoothing it with more care than necessary. Stalling.
Finally, I turn and really look at him. At the face in front of me.
For the first time, I actually study him instead of just reacting.
There are similarities between Remus’s and Romulus’s features, sure. But Romulus’s are less exaggerated than his twin’s. His jaw isn’t quite as wide. His forehead isn’t as broad. His lips are just as full but somehow not as widespread across his face.
I blink a couple times, and suddenly it clicks—what I couldn’t quite put my finger on when I first saw him.
Aha.
He’s the more classically handsome version of Remus.
The thing is, I’ve always thought that perfectly symmetrical, so-called perfect faces were boring.
Generic. I like Remus’s stretched, slightly mad-looking features.
I think he’s wildly, devastatingly handsome.
I love the impish glint in his eye and never knowing what’s going to come out of his mouth next.
But was he just playing with me?
Doing what his brother says—making chaos by stealing me away for fun?
I frown, remembering the way he tenderly promised never to hurt me. The gentleness in his hands even when his passion burned hot. Were those the words of a man who had no value for human life?
Because, uh, I’m a human. And he’s been so careful with me.
Was it all manipulation?
It felt so... real.
“How does your magic or power or whatever work?” I ask. “How did you influence these armies and stir bloodlust?”
Romulus blinks at me. “I think you’re missing the point here. My brother is a very bad—”
I wave a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. He’s the worst. Would tear a hole in the fabric of all that’s good and holy, whatever.” I level him with a look. “I’m asking how. Like, what do you even do? How does your magic work?”
“It’s not magic,” he snaps, sounding genuinely appalled.
I roll my eyes and give another dismissive wave. “Okay, then what is it? How does it work?”
He looks put-off, like he definitely thought I’d run screaming after his boogeyman stories. “What does it matter?”
I cock my head. “You’re expecting me to just take off because of what you’re telling me about Remus.” I cross my arms. “So yeah. It matters.”
It matters because if Remus has been somehow using magic—or power, or whatever—on me to make me feel all the things I’ve been feeling, just to use me for his own reasons and then toss me away? That’s one thing.
If not, then this gets a hell of a lot more complicated.
Romulus shrugs. “It’s a power not of this world, imbued by the godhood of the Great Hall. When the Horsemen ride, our aura spreads across the land. Each curse works differently. Remus and I influence events by lassoing existing energy and pouring in our own will to amplify it.”
I parse through that. “So, can you change people’s minds? Make them do what they don’t want to do?”
He breathes out, and I can tell he’s starting to see why I’m asking. “No. We can’t affect free will. But we can drive men to madness with their own existing desires—by amplifying and feeding off them.”
“Feeding off them?” My stomach turns. “Like some sort of energy vampire?”
He shakes his head. Then pauses. “No. And... yes. My brothers and I never fed—to use such a coarse term. But our father...” His voice trails off. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“What?”
I’m curious every time I make Romulus pause like this. He seems so brash and confident, but sometimes my questions take him completely off-guard. Like he’s not used to being challenged.
Either that, or he’s way, way more covert at manipulation than even his brother.
Because he seems really genuine, even though he’s obviously trying to be off-putting and scary. I guess that’s maybe why I believe everything he says.
I know his objective is to get me to leave. He’s made that crystal clear.
But he keeps forgetting that objective, getting lost in conversation with me instead. Looking reflective. Almost... vulnerable.
“It was the question that used to drive me to distraction,” he says quietly.
“Why did Father do it all? War after war, each different but essentially the same. Backing some human leader who would conquer—sometimes whole empires—but only for a time. Eventually, they would fail and be overtaken, everything they’d built falling to ruin. ”
He’s not even looking at me anymore. Staring past me at something only he can see.
“My father would then start all over again, whispering promises in the ear of another upcoming warlord. What was the point of it all? And Father remained so robust and determined. I thought for a time he was waiting for the perfect empire. And then I realized—” His voice hardens.
“—he hated peace and longed only for the thrill and madness of the conquering. He was like Layden. Always hungry but never satiated.”
His eyes had gone distant while he spoke, but now he blinks. Comes back to me.
“So I don’t know if destruction and devouring somehow fed him, or if he just...”
“Could never be satisfied with the good things he had,” I finish softly.
I’ve known people like that. My ex, for example. Michael could never just be happy with what we had. Always looking for the next thing. The shinier thing. The younger, skinnier thing.
Romulus’s eyes lock with mine.
He nods.
And to my shock, I feel a sizzle of connection. Like a live wire touching water.
Oh.
Then, upstairs, there’s suddenly loud noise and commotion. Voices. Footsteps.
Romulus’s eyes jerk away from mine. He shakes himself—literally shakes his head like he’s clearing it—and pulls back from me. It’s like watching a solid wall fall down between us as he jerks to attention, ramrod straight again.
Every bit of that vulnerability vanishes.
“Good,” he says curtly. “Everyone’s back.”
And just like that, the moment shatters.