CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE: TO BE WED ROSE  AMARA 'S POV I nod as guards go before me after promising to make the car ready. I remind myself to say hello to the workers again whenever I pass them so I don't come out as a bitch.  I'm marching down the hall, feeling like my heart will burst into consuming flame. I don't mind behaving that way with the brothers in the brotherhood, but with the staff, it's a different thing. I learned from my father and Mother to respect those who are beneath me and to hate those who are against me. To catch my anxious breath, I pause at the corner. It nearly feels like I'm finishing a run because of how quickly my chest rises and lowers. The scene I saw inside, though, was worse than escaping. It was a long-lasting, terrifying race. No matter how hard I try, my legs can't help but tremble. They have finished supporting me for the day. As the pillar with the gold rim blurs, I hastily remove the signs of annoyance from my eyes. That's it. It is done. Being a member of the brotherhood entails keeping your promise at all times. Even though I would like to, I cannot leave my marriage. It is already set up and prepared for securing it. Why does it seem like something is simultaneously dying and returning to life in my heart? This is not how it ought to be. I should be planning a brutal killing with Ethan as the victim. Then, perhaps, this burning fire inside me would finally die. In addition, I could keep myself out of this marriage. A presence arises at my back that involves me from head to toe in warmth and a faint mixture of mint and clean perfume. 'You voted for punishment," he whispers in a broad before I turn around. His hot breath tickles my earlobe. 'Princess, is that your kink?" I turn around, preparing to strike him, and simultaneously raise my hand. But before I can touch him, he seizes my wrist. Even though it has been ten years since he departed, I will never forget what it is like to be this close to Ethan. He should be approximately thirty-five years old today, but he looks just like the twenty-five-year-old man I used to know. The hitman made light of everyone but hid in the shadows when required. The assassin who trained me to never hesitate taught me to kill without feeling guilty. He is taller than I am, but unlike Hades or Kirill, he is not overly broad. Although he has a robust body, it is slender, agile, and fit, which allows him to tiptoe like a panther. If someone stands out, it is possible to hear his motions. His long legs are complemented by his black suit pants, which fit snugly against his powerful thighs. His white shirt is untied, though. He never donned those, even at official events or dinners hosted by the brotherhood. He takes great satisfaction in being a renegade, as though he was born to be one. Like a magazine model, Ethan has a face with straight lines and crisp edges. But what of his eyes? Despite their cobalt green appearance, they are muted, emotionless, and practically colorless. One of the reasons it took me so long to trust him earlier was because of them. He never seemed to let his inner personality show; alternatively, his true self may be the one who kills without hesitation. He grasps my wrist in his palm and lightly presses the pulse point. "I see, violent as usual." My wrist is yanked away. Also, murderous if you want to try. He drawls in that accent that makes everything sound sensual, "You're so cruel, Princess." This asshole shouldn't be permitted to have such a lovely accent. 'Stop addressing me like that. I'm no longer a spoilt little princess." "Mmm. I'm proud of you for picking up a spot in the elite group. My throat tightens up like an old dagger prepared to prick me. My feelings try to overwhelm me all at once, but I push them away.  'You don't have to be proud of me Ethan." I say. "Doesn't lessen how proud I am of you." He must quit uttering the phrases I mistakenly waited a long time to hear following Mother's passing. He is an enemy. He has no value. 'You did not yet consent to this in Raven's presence. You can return there and inform them you do not want to wed me." He leans in so that he towers over me, stealing whatever sense of privacy I could have. 'However, I do want to marry you." 'Why on earth would you?" He tilts my head back and says, "Hmm." He grips my chin between his thumb and fingers. Although the contact is hardly there, it seems incredibly intimate, as if he is carving a road into my darkest, most inner portions for your lovely eyes. He moves even closer to me by taking another step forward. I have the overwhelming sensation of being entirely consumed by something. It's as if I've lost control over my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. I must maintain control. The only thing keeping me high enough to prevent anyone from reaching inside of me, let alone touching me, is that. Ethan cannot simply return after ten years and overthrow my authority. I shove him away. I finally tell him what I've been repressing for years. "I hate you." The hands Ethan was holding at his sides. Do you think you would have wed Theo? Hades is another option." "Gladly. Nobody except you." He smirks, but it doesn't come across as mocking. instead, as if he's hiding something behind the expression. 'You are, unfortunately, trapped with me." 'How could I?" 'Are you seriously saying that?" I yell. He moves closer to me again, putting his palms on either side of my face and pinning me against the wall with the words, "Keep your voice down. And I'm dead serious, too. You will become my wife." 'In your dreams, please." "No problem. But will you feel comfortable with it?" "What are you discussing?" "Belle will work if it's not you. She reportedly matured into a lovely young lady. "Ethan, don't you dare." "It's simple. You've already taken her seat before the others, so carry on." And that its he closes his hand around my neck, his strong fingers wrapping firmly but not forcefully. I can still breathe, but it hurts when I take air from my life force. The gesture's recognizability keeps me immobilized; it's almost as if he pressed a button, and I couldn't move even if I wanted to. His hands have always had a certain quality. His fingers look lengthy and manly, like those of a gentleman. Still, they are the same fingers that have instinctively pulled innumerable triggers. Hands of a murderer and a merciless one at that. His lips come close to my ear as his head drops. "When they taught you how to kill, you didn't think they were filthy." I wanted to yell or break, but instead, my voice sounded low and almost pained. 'Then Belle will be covered in these nasty hands." I gaze at his emotionless eyes, "Not if I kill you first." "You believe you can murder me? It's lovely coming from you." "You believe I cannot?" 'Only if you're willing to fall with me. You know me, Princess; I balance my giving and taking." "So do I." "Really? How so?" "You think I'm unaware that you're currently engaged in a game?" This time, the smirk on his face is cheeky. 'Which kind of game?" "A game of power. There was a reason why you left the city and returned." "For what kind of cause?" "I will find out." "I'll wed Belle until then." 'Not a chance in hell." He tightens his grip on my neck as his face goes blank as if trying to make his point. "Then stop being fucking stubborn for the sake of us all." "Fine. Let me go." I look into his emotionless eyes with resentment. I try to control my anger since it causes me to act foolishly. I lose control when angry, and my adversary gains the upper hand. No matter how hard I try to escape from this, I'm trapped. If I reject Ethan, I am sure he will move on to Belle. He doesn't want my help; he wants the power he can gain by breaking into the family, and he won't stop until he succeeds. Ever. So, I retreat and reorganize my line rather than engage him in a losing battle up close. Does this imply that you agree?" I finally get out, "Yes," gritting my teeth. He stays in place despite releasing me and says, "For better or worse."  "Fuck you." He laughs and I try not to be distracted by how attractive he appears when he laughs when his angular features soften. He is like a model for the cover of a vogue magazine. After his tantrum, Ethan extends a hand and runs a finger over my lower lip. 'Princess, I'll look after you well." I need to practice my self-control, really.