14. Lilian
Lilian
T he truth can be a very ugly thing to face when you aren’t ready to do so. Shame coats my insides as I remember what I did with him. I don’t know if it’s even defensible that I thought he was Aries. It’s easier when I lie to myself and say I didn’t know the difference.
They’re identical twins, and Arson played the role of his brother so well that no one else has noticed. But I’m not that good of a liar because there was something about him from the moment I saw him at that stupid ball. Something vital and raw and changed , and a tiny part of me knew he wasn’t Aries, even if I refused to acknowledge it.
I’ve spent hours trying to wrap my head around it all. Waiting with bated breath for Arson to retaliate. He knows I was at the warehouse. There’s no way he doesn’t. Not with the cameras he has set up. No, his response—or lack thereof—is purely psychological. A guy who’s crazy enough to pretend to be his twin brother in every single way proves that.
Between checking over my shoulder every second, I’m also trying to figure out what happened between them to cause such a rift, and where the hell I’m supposed to go from here. Aries’s life hangs in the balance, and Arson has the knife, with all the capability to end things.
The image of Aries in that cell haunts me. His long hair gone, his body thinner, his face bearded, and those familiar eyes hollowed by captivity.
I wish I could’ve stayed a little longer. That I could’ve found a way to get him out of that cell. Whatever Arson’s plan is, it can’t be good. I hate how useless I feel, knowing he’s been suffering this whole time, and no one had any inkling.
I have to find a way to help him, but first, I need answers.
Who is Arson? They are obviously twins. I just hadn’t realized that the brother who was supposedly dead was Aries’s twin. How could he stand to lose him all this time? Did he know he was still alive, or did Aries think he’d died too? So many questions and precious few answers.
It’s making me crazy.
I’ve considered all the available options. Asking my mother is out. Going to the police—likewise. Even if I told the police, it would get back to my mother, and after discovering what they’ve been keeping hidden from me this whole time, I can’t trust her.
There’s no way she married their father without knowing about Arson. Something isn’t right. Everyone is keeping secrets, and I fucking hate being the last to know.
I don’t know what Arson’s motive is, but I do know that it has everything to do with Aries. And all roads point to revenge. The family’s solution to everything has always been to hide it, contain it, and pretend it doesn’t exist. I’ve seen it happen half a dozen times. Mother makes problems disappear so easily, you would think she’s a professional fixer.
If I had to guess, Arson became a problem at some point. This was before my mother married Richard. I know she worked for Hayes Pharmaceuticals when I was a child, but...that’s the only connection I can think of them having to one another.
The irony isn’t lost on me—I’ve spent years being treated as fragile, while they locked away someone they saw as dangerous. Two sides of the same coin: the invalid and the psychopath, both problems to manage.
Except I’m not a problem to be handled. I’m not weak or fragile. I’ve simply stepped into a role they assigned me to fulfill whatever agenda they’ve chosen.
Maybe that’s what happened to Arson?
I press my hand against the scar hidden beneath my blouse, focusing on the steady beat of my heart. What if I can help Arson? Or Aries? What if he’s not crazy or psychotic? What if the reason he wants revenge is valid? All these thoughts open a new space in my mind. If I can make Arson see reason, then maybe I can save Aries.
I close my notebook and start to pack up my belongings. It’s too soon to return to the warehouse. He would expect it, which makes asking Aries anything further out of the question.
I could talk to Lee, his best friend, but he might alert Arson, and that could be an issue if I have nothing to offer him. I need information, something to prove that I know more about whatever is going on than he thinks.
After years of everyone treating my condition like a death sentence, it might finally prove fatal—not from physical weakness, but from tangling with a murderous doppelg?nger. So before he can get his hands on me, I’m going to go to the one place I doubt he’ll show his face: the Hayes estate.
My mother seems pleasantly surprised when I arrive at home and tell her I’m staying for the weekend. Three days. That’s how long I have to try to piece this jigsaw puzzle together.
The walls of this mansion hold so many secrets, it shouldn’t be too much work now that I know what I’m hunting. For now, I snuggle in the library with a book. It’s always so warm and inviting when the fire crackles in the hearth. There’s a secret alcove in the far corner of the windowsill I used to hide away in at night when I was a kid—my favorite spot in the whole mansion. I curl against the nest of pillows I make in the sill, a blanket over my legs and a cup of tea on the side table. The book in my lap barely holds my attention, though.
I feel safe here, which is a bit of an illusion. Arson could show up here anytime, but I’m hoping he doesn’t. I’m counting on it because Aries has always hated this place more than even me. Mother will ask questions if he pops by unannounced and she spots him. Maybe my knowing the truth will keep him at a distance for a while. Is that what I want? I hate that some traitorous part of my body still wants him.
No. It’s not Arson who made my body hum. It’s always been Aries. It will always be him. The door to the library creaks as it opens, but I don’t stir from my cozy nest. Members of the staff slip in and out of here all the time, most often without saying a single word.
I assume they’re keeping tabs on me at the request of my mother, but I’ve never bothered asking. It would only embarrass us both.
After a moment, there’s a subtle shift in the air temperature, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Looking up from the book, I find Arson standing in the doorway. His presence makes everything seem smaller.
Shit.
For one moment, I can’t believe he’s really here, and then reality slaps me in the face, and shock gives way to fear.
What the hell is he doing here? He wears my stepbrother’s face like a mask, so perfect, it almost fools me.
Almost. He shuts the door quietly behind him, eyes locked on mine. I jump from the seat, needing to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Relax,” he says, like it’s a joke. “No need to run.”
My legs go stiff. “What are you doing here? Back to threaten me again?” I hate how my voice shakes. From fear? Arousal? A heady mix of both makes my knees weak.
“Because it’s my house as much as it is yours,” he replies, walking in like he owns the place. He moves with lazy precision—too calm, too measured. A panther stretching its legs. There’s something coiled in his limbs, in his tone. It shoots my heart against the cage of my ribs like a trapped bird.
“This isn’t your house. You don’t belong here. Now tell me what you want.”
His smile is the gleaming edge of a razor blade. “To talk.”
I don’t like that. Don’t like how eerily similar he and Aries look. How it feels like I’m talking to Aries, when my brain knows that I’m not. “What is there to talk about? Unless you want to explain to me why you locked up your twin brother and impersonated him for weeks, we have nothing to talk about.”
He practically rolls his eyes. “You make it sound so dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” I snap, voice a little too loud. “You kidnapped him. That’s not dramatic. It’s illegal.”
“Yet…you didn’t tell anyone.” He fires the words back with a raised eyebrow.
The allegation slices through me like a knife. He’s not wrong. I haven’t told anyone, but it isn’t to spare him. Without evidence, without knowing what I’m walking into, I can’t start speaking nonsense. No one will believe me. I don’t have to explain that to him, though.
“You’ve had days,” he continues, voice dropping. “Hours to spill the truth.”
Hours to consider how he would punish me this time when he caught me.
I take a step back and stumble as my heel catches on the lip of the rug. With him this close, it’s hard to remind myself he isn’t Aries. My body reacts to his proximity like he’s a live wire, but my brain screams WARNING!
“Why is that, Lilian?” His hazel gaze pins me to the floor. “Why haven’t you said a single word?” I try to think of a decent excuse, but nothing comes to mind. Think, say something. “Afraid of what I’ll do? Worried I’ll hurt you?”
My throat tightens. “I’m not scared of you, so if you came here to intimidate me into keeping quiet, it won’t work.”
He prowls forward, and for some stupid reason, I don’t move. I don’t even try to escape him. Probably because in some sick and twisted way, I don’t want to escape him. I want him to catch me and sink his teeth into my skin. “I’m not here to keep you quiet. You’ve already proven to me that you aren’t a risk.”
I don’t contradict him. Let him think I pose no threat. Then, once I have enough information, I can prove just how wrong he was, because I’m going to do whatever’s necessary to free Aries.
“If that’s true, then why are you here?” I almost regret asking the question, afraid to know the truth.
“To give you a reward, of course.”
My pulse spikes. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to give you pleasure instead of punishment this time.” The smile he gives me is terrifying. No matter what I’ve done since that night, I can’t get it out of my head. He’d fucked my throat raw, and I let him. I-I enjoyed it in some twisted, fucked-up back corner of my brain. The only thing I hate is that I thought I’d been giving Aries my first blow job...not his psychotic brother.
“I don’t want anything from you,” I say.
The words are firm, but my voice shakes. It wavers because I’m lying, because my body remembers things I wish it didn’t, and he knows it. Arson takes a step closer, the floor creaking faintly beneath his boots. The scent of him reaches me before he does—dark spice and danger, smoke and skin.
Resist him, fight the desire rushing through your veins.
It isn’t that easy, though.
“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, “but you haven’t left, haven’t run away or screamed for help. Part of me wonders…if maybe…” I don’t want him to finish that sentence because then I will have to face the fact that I’m choosing to let him touch me, choosing to be in his presence.
“Whatever you’re thinking is wrong. I don’t have to run to mean it.”
“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not pushing me away, either.”
He stands close enough now that the heat from his body brushes against me. Since I was sixteen, I’ve envisioned Aries doing these very things to me, whispering in my ear, touching me, and tempting me in sinister ways. It isn’t him doing any of those things, now, though. It’s his villainous twin brother, but my body refuses to acknowledge the difference.
Arson lifts his hand—slow, unthreatening—and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I flinch, but it’s not because I think he’ll hurt me.
I flinch because he doesn’t.
“I’m not going to take anything tonight,” he says softly. “At least nothing you aren’t willing to give me.”
“I have nothing to give you.”
“Is that so? Then why are you shaking?” His fingers trail down the curve of my throat—light as a whisper, making it difficult to do anything but breathe. “You’re angry?” he confesses. “Disgusted? You hate me.”
I nod once, stiff.
“Ahh, but you’re also curious, ” he adds. “And that’s what makes this so much worse.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are,” he cuts in gently. “And that’s okay. You’re thinking about how it felt. About the way you moaned when you thought I was him. About how you begged for more even when your mouth was full of my cock.”
I need to get away from him, away from the truth. Taking a step back, I collide with the bookcase. There’s nowhere for me to go, and he follows, his six-foot frame towering over me. I should find him terrifying and imposing, but there’s a strange comfort in his closeness.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
“But your body did.” His voice drops to a sensual depth. “It knew you liked it. And it knows now.” He leans in, his sensual mouth at my ear. I stiffen, but don’t run. “You can pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend I forced you. Pretend it wasn’t what you wanted, but no matter what we make ourselves believe, we both know the truth.” His fingers skim my wrist and then slide to my waist. The warmth of his touch burns into my skin, branding me. “You wanted it, and if I pushed you further, I have no doubt you would’ve given yourself to me completely.”
I hate it. Hate that he’s right. Hate that it’s him standing in front of me instead of Aries. Hate that no matter how much I deny it, my body still reacts, aching with a need that I wish would disappear.
Arson stands before me, confident and patient. His hazel eyes hold a gentleness in them that makes me want to crack him open and see what secrets he’s hiding.
As much as he and Aries look alike, I realize there is a distinct difference between them. He doesn’t drag me closer, doesn’t force me. Part of me wishes he would because that would make all of this so much easier. Every breath becomes a short pant, my legs tremble, and my blood burns with desire that should leave me feeling ashamed.
“I’m not like him,” Arson whispers. “I won’t pretend I don’t want you. I won’t keep you at a distance to protect you, or because it’s the right thing to do.” He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face.
“This is wrong,” I whisper. It’s my last effort to stop this before it gets out of control.
“It’s not. It just feels wrong.” He trails a finger down my arm, and goose bumps pebble my flesh. His touch alone causes my nipples to harden and my core to clench. There’s a dampness against my panties. I’m wet and aroused, and it’s not because of Aries. “Let me show you how good it can feel.”
His mouth brushes along my cheek. Not quite kissing—just there , hovering, teasing. I don’t stop him as his hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt, dragging softly over the bare skin of my stomach. I should be ashamed, but there’s no room for shame when I’m as turned on as I am right now.
The muscles twitch beneath his fingertips, every nerve ending becoming hyperaware of him. “Do you feel that?” he breathes. “How your body leans into mine, even while you tell yourself this is wrong and that we shouldn’t.”
I’m not—” The lie falls apart in my throat when his fingers move higher, tracing the underside of my ribs.
Something dark flashes in his eyes as they meet mine. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” he whispers. “Is that it? Do you want me to take it from you so you don’t have to deal with the guilt and shame?”
Is that what I want? It would make all of this easier than admitting the truth to myself, but now that I’ve seen it, I can’t pretend anymore.
“If that’s what you want. I’ll do it. I’ll take your pleasure and force every moan and whimper from those pretty lips of yours.” His next words set me ablaze. “Just say the word. There’s no need to be ashamed. I already know the truth. You want this. You’re starving, fucking desperate for my touch. It doesn’t matter that I’m not him. Think of it this way. If you were mine, you never would’ve been in a position to be this hungry for another man’s touch. I would’ve ravished you already, marked you, claimed you, made certain that no other man ever laid eyes on what is mine.”
I’m burning, consumed by a fire that Aries kindled, and Arson set ablaze, and I’m afraid that if I’m not careful, both of them will burn me to ash.
“Don’t say things like that,” I whisper, and gasp when his thumb brushes beneath my breast, making my frayed nerve endings tingle.
“Why not? It’s the truth. Sometimes the truth hurts. Deny it all you want, sweetheart, but you’re desperate for attention, for touch, so much so that even the enemy is starting to look desirable.”
“I’m not, and I don’t want you.” I grit my teeth, trying to hide behind the lie.
“Sure you don’t. I believe you. Just like I believe that you aren’t clenching those pretty thighs together, trying to find any little bit of friction you can to elevate the ache in your core.”
Oh fuck. He can read me like a goddamn book. Every reaction. Every breath.
“Arson…” I say his name, and I’m not sure if it’s to tell him to stop or to keep going.
“Do you want me to stop, Lilian?”
Now is my chance to end this. To stop this from going any further, but I can’t make myself say the words. Silence. Not a yes, but not a no , either. After a moment, and no response, his hand drifts lower again, moving with infuriating patience—down the curve of my waist, brushing over the swell of my hip. He’s giving me a chance, another second to consider saying no, and I don’t know why I haven’t yet.
Because you want this. Even if he isn’t Aries, you want to be touched, consumed.
My breath stutters, and I catch the edge of the bookcase behind me to stay upright.
“So fucking responsive. You’re already shaking,” he murmurs. “And all I’m doing is touching you.”
Lightning bolts of pleasure zip across my flesh as his fingers trail beneath the band of my leggings, slow, warm, deliberate. He’s not trying to steal anything. He’s asking in the way he touches—unspoken, undeniable. I’m answering without words because I’m too ashamed to admit I feel the pull.
“I feel you clenching,” he whispers, mouth brushing my temple. “Every part of you tenses like you want to run…but your hips still tip toward me, begging for pleasure.” I turn my face away, but he follows, lips grazing my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you,” he breathes. “You don’t get that yet.”
His hand moves lower, sinking between my thighs, and I jolt, but not with fear…no— what finds me instead is relief. I didn’t know how badly I needed the pressure until it was there.
Gently, he strokes me through the thin fabric of my panties, slow and steady, like he’s drawing it out on purpose. Every pass makes me more aware of how wet I already am. My entire body trembles, and it feels so good.
I want to tell him to stop, but I’ll lose my mind if he actually does.
Pressing closer, he pins my body against the bookcase, and I tilt my head back against the shelf and open up to him. This encourages him, and his fingers move a little faster, in tighter circles, building a heat that can’t be smothered.
A whimper escapes me, the sound humiliating and real. “Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t hide it. Don’t be ashamed,” he whispers. “I want to hear every little sound I pull from you. Every gasp. Every whimper.” I bite my lip hard, but the rhythm of his fingers is relentless. There’s no escaping the pleasure he’s pulling out of me. My entire body arches toward him, chasing the friction even as my brain screams at me to stop.
“Good girl,” he breathes. “Let yourself have it.”
The pressure crests, and my knees go weak—every nerve ending rubbed raw and exposed. The orgasm hits in slow waves, rolling through me like a tide I can’t fight. I moan against his shoulder, one hand clutching the edge of the shelf like it might hold me together, the other tightening in his shirt. He continues, his fingers stroking me gently, until I’m shaking and completely breathless. When he pulls back completely, the loss of his presence leaves my body aching and empty. With infinite gentleness, he brushes a strand of hair from my face again, and the look in his eyes carries a warning with it.
“Stay away from the warehouse. Pretend you never saw anything so I don’t have to escalate things, because I promise you this isn’t a game you’ll win.”
He pulls away, and I somehow remain standing, watching as he leaves the room. As I fall back down to reality, guilt claims me. Aries is locked in that cell, and I’m out here letting his kidnapper make me fucking come.
What is wrong with me?
I look down at myself. My shirt is wrinkled and my skin burning, while my entire body struggles to make sense of what just happened. My legs finally buckle, and I sink to the soft carpet, the firelight casting shadows of my shame around the room.