Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2)

by Mary E. Twomey

  When Arlanna jerks me to her, laying a kiss on me so grand that my knees nearly go out, I know my life will never be the same. I’ve hoped for so long that somehow we would find our way back to each other. Though she doesn’t remember every bit of our time together, that’s no matter. We can build a future they can’t steal from us.

  A gasp flutters from her lips to mine as one kiss quickly multiplies into many. I suck on her lower lip, tasting parts of her only Gray has ever known. I don’t mind that we’ll be kissing the same woman if it means I’ll be with Arlanna in this way. In fact, as her tongue sweeps across mine, I can’t imagine minding anything for the rest of my life.

  Emotion jerks in my chest as she tangles her fingers in my hair, as if she wants to claim me, to own me and keep me in her pocket. Maybe that is a fae thing, but that’s what I am. I’m a fae prince, and there’s never been anyone but Arlanna I’d want to make my princess.

  My arms circle around her, tugging her closer until her body is flush with mine. These jumpsuits are shapeless, but I can feel her feminine curves as she arches against me, kissing me harder because finally, we can.

  Then, just as quickly as it started, she shoots back from me, banging her back on the wall and ending the best kiss of my life. She grabs her temples, her mouth open in a silent scream as she sinks to the floor.

  “Arlanna? Darlyss, what happened? Did I do something that hurt you?”

  And just like that, the mention of Arlanna being in pain springs Gray to action. He bolts toward us, wedging himself between us in the cramped space. He crouches before her, his entire being painted with the same concern marring my face. “Arly-girl, talk to me.”

  When she opens her eyes, I can tell she’s in some sort of physical torment. “It’s… I…” But nothing helpful comes.

  She holds her head, her face cringing in agony. When Gray tilts her forward so he can pull her onto his lap when he rocks back to sit on his butt, she clings to him. “I didn’t know it would unlock my memories,” she finally says, shuddering against his body.

  My hand goes to my heart, and I crouch behind the two of them, touching her hair as she peers at me over Gray’s shoulder, her eyes rimmed with pain. When she meets my tender gaze, hers show a shock of fear mingled with worry.

  What could she possibly be remembering about me that would instill that kind of look in her?

  The moment Gray releases her, Arlanna lunges for me with an air of desperation so thick, it stifles the next breath I need to take. Being this near her as she holds my face and stares fearfully into my eyes jostles everything inside of me, settling it all back in a different order.

  “How is it possible? I thought you said you couldn’t make eye contact for more than a few seconds without the person withering.” She shakes her head too many times. “But I’m not weak at all. I don’t understand, Paxton!”

  My arm coils around her waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be this close, her breath on my chin. I feel strong, finally, instead of the pawn being told where to stand and what to say.

  “That’s how it is normally, but I have the magic-muting cuffs on. Did I not explain it well enough?” My brows scrunch as my hand cups the side of her face. “Sweet girl, I would never hurt you. I wouldn’t be looking at you right now if I was unlocked. Tonight, when you do your thing, I won’t be able to be this close.”

  “But I did it!” Her usually quiet, stoic demeanor is shrill with fright as she holds my face in place, staring wildly into my eyes. “Just a minute ago when we kissed, I unlocked you. I don’t need to draw power from the others to make it happen. I can do it without inconveniencing them, and I did it. But you’re looking at me, and…”

  “Arly!” Gray’s voice barks. “Are you serious? You unlocked him and then purposefully looked into his eyes? You should have told him!” Then he hooks his hand between us so he can cover her eyes and draw her back to rest against his chest.

  Gray glares at me, but then catches himself making eye contact, and looks away.

  When Arlanna pries Gray’s hand away from her face and stares directly into my shock, I’m not sure what to do.

  I close my eyes because none of this makes sense. I should feel different. I shouldn’t be able to have looked at her for as long as I did after our kiss.

  There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have been able to do tonight, but that doesn’t stop me from holding her gaze now when temptation gets the best of me.

  I want to ask her a million questions, but the most hope-filled one of all rises to the surface. “Did you… Did you cure me?”

  14

  Under Me

  Arlanna

  Charlotte helps me thread my machine because after all these months, I still sometimes get stumped during sewing detail. Today is different, though. They shouldn’t have me sewing this. I can hear my name whispered about the room. Too many sets of eyes are combing my body.

  They know how wrong this is. They know I shouldn’t be sewing this.

  Charlotte puts her hand on mine. “You’re white as a sheet.”

  “We’re not thinking about last night,” I remind her, “which means we’re not talking about it, either.”

  The concrete walls offer no warmth when I need it most. How I wish I could hide under a blanket, pull it over my head and shut out all the things that make absolutely no sense. But the overly bright lights beat down on me from the ceiling, and I’m certain they are exposing my insides to the world.

  Cass keeps her eyes on her work. Her desk is butted up to the front of mine. “At some point, I’d like more than the bare-bones explanation. This whole thing is insane, and makes no sense. Paxton’s family comes from old magic, which I get. And magic develops with age and practice, which I also get. He was… what, partially enhanced when the two of you slept together when you were six and seven, and you finished the job last night? Is that it?”

  My teeth grind. “Don’t say it like that! We were children. We didn’t ‘sleep together.’ We just…”

  Cass quirks her brow at me, holding her bobbin to the side and looking at me like I’m an idiot. “You just slept in the same bed. Together. Got it. After that, he got angry at his mum and from then on, had to wear sunglasses because his glare put her in a coma. If he locks eyes directly with a person for more than a few seconds, they start to feel faint. Am I caught up?”

  Though Cass’ voice is quiet and covered by the whir of the machines all around, I still shoot her a glare that tells her this isn’t the place.

  Of course, Cass is Cass, so she keeps on with her train of thought. “I always thought his sunglasses were just him being too cool.”

  Charlotte shakes her head sadly as she sews. “Being in here must’ve been a relief, since he was fitted with those magic-muting cuffs. Then we had to go and make them useless.”

  “I don’t totally understand how it all went down.” Cass gives up all pretense of working. “You unlocked him and then stared at him? Why would you do something so reckless, Arly?”

  I don’t know how to answer that, so I don’t.

  Charlotte keeps her eyes on her work. “I think you’re right, Cass. Arly must have partially enhanced him when they were children. Finishing the job last night perhaps stabilized Paxton’s death glare. Maybe he’ll be able to control it now. We can’t exactly test out the theory, though. The whole thing is rather high stakes. I’m just grateful we’re all okay. I’ll take the mystery over Arly landing herself in a coma.”

  Gray rests the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’ve been pale since we started sewing. At least you’re not feverish. That’s something.”

  I keep to my sewing as best I can, but too many uncertainties are bubbling under the surface. I want to check on Paxton, but he’s on license plate detail, and I’m not sure if that would be considered hovering.

  Officer McGregor walks by and taps his baton to the legs of our chairs to refocus everyone and bring us back to our tasks. Our pretense of working become
s actual work, and our noses tilt down to the designer bras we’re supposed to be making.

  I modeled this one. It was the cover of their magazine, and the landing page of their website. Pink cups with a gold lace overlain that itched my breasts something fierce.

  This bra is called the Under Me, and will be sold for four-hundred dollars, but we’re making it for pennies. Whatever legal slavery bullshit this is, I loathe the sneaky nature of it all.

  I don’t know how to tell Gray that this bra is the reason all color has left my face.

  This bra that I’m sewing taunts me. I recall every photographer’s assistant who “just had to” plump my breasts, add blush near my cleavage, and do all the things they could to make this bra something a woman would save up for and purchase without thinking twice.

  I’m sick to my stomach with every stitch I make.

  Cass waits until Officer McGregor is at his desk. “I’ve been working on something.”

  It piques Gray’s interest and Charlotte’s, but I keep my eyes on my work while I listen in. It’s all I can do not to vomit on the Under Me bra I’m sewing.

  “I hate that you’re in a different cell, Cass,” Gray says under his breath. “It’s not right that you’re without us. When we get out of here, the five of us are going straight to my pack to live. They’ll love you. Then we’ll never have to be apart.”

  Cass doesn’t correct Gray, letting him know that no pack would ever accept fae into its ranks. “I hate being apart from you all, too. However, that doesn’t stop me from doing what I can to get us closer to our goal. I’ve been practicing my melding,” Cass says with a sneakiness to her. I appreciate that she doesn’t use the entire “shadowmelding” term in mixed company. “Walked through a wall last night.”

  That’s enough to still all our sewing machines. “And you’re just now telling us this?” I shout-whisper at her. “Are you okay?”

  Charlotte’s arm moves, and I can tell she’s put her hand atop Cass’ thigh under the table. “Did it hurt? I don’t want you to do something dangerous without us there for backup.”

  Cass shrugs as if it’s all no big deal, but I can see by the slightly winded look about her that she’s visibly shaken at this new development. “What choice do I have? I want out.” Her arm moves, and I’m guessing she’s placed her hand atop Charlotte’s under the table. “I want to be together on the outside, even if we’re running away from it all.”

  “Are you okay?” I repeat, fighting every urge to leap out of my seat, march Cass to Nurse Jen and force her to sit through a physical examination.

  Cass shoots me a crooked smile, seeing me as the mother bird I might never stop being. “I feel just fine. Did a few extra rounds of pushups this morning to make sure. I don’t feel any different. But if I’m being honest, it did freak me out.”

  Gray starts up his machine, and we all remember that we’re supposed to be working. “You missed a stitch, Arly-girl.”

  I swear as I glance down, ruing every piece of underwear I modeled for Natalia’s Secret. My hands press on the gold lace. I close my eyes and exhale what I hope is the last of my angst, but when I open my eyes again, anguish still burns in my breast.

  Gray catches my eye, giving me a look that tells me he can sense when I’m in pain. I know it hurts him when I keep it locked inside.

  Though I don’t want to say anything, I hold up my unfinished bra. “You don’t hear everyone whispering about me?”

  For the first time, Cass glances around, taking in the tenor of the room. “What’s going on?”

  We’ve been so engrossed in catching up that the three of them haven’t noticed the conspiratorial sniggers all around us.

  I spread out the cups, which are two sizes too small for my breasts. “I’m the model for this bra. This is the Under Me, and it costs four-hundred dollars. The bra did so well because of me.” I shrug, my cheeks burning. “I’m not being prideful. It’s the truth. The Under Me had been out for six months, and was tanking. When I was negotiating going to work for them, I told them that if I could boost their sales of the Under Me, then I wanted…” I hesitate to tell them how much I was paid. “I wanted to be the highest paid model in history.”

  Cass’ eyes pop as she examines the bra with new interest. “Are you serious?”

  I swallow hard. “So I took the bra home and waited until Daddy caused a stir with something or another. I knew the press would congregate outside our gate to interview him about it. He stayed inside, but I went out to greet the press.” I swallow hard, remembering the morning like it was yesterday. “I went out to the gate to fetch the mail, wearing the Under Me and the matching panties.”

  Charlotte tilts her head to the side. “How did that help? They couldn’t know what you were wearing under your clothes.”

  Oh, how sweet she is. “I went to the mailbox wearing only the bra and underwear, and the most expensive gold stilettos I had. Hair and makeup all done up. It was…” I hesitate to own my sexuality in here, in front of my boyfriend. But the truth of the matter is that I did all I could to look like an absolute bombshell.

  Judging from the reaction that spread far and wide, I was.

  I hadn’t giggled. Hadn’t smiled, really. I wore my confidence without apology, strutting slow and with purpose. I knew exactly what I wanted out of life, and told the world exactly what it was going to give me.

  Gray goes completely still. “Are you telling me that…” But he doesn’t finish his sentence.

  I straighten. “I’m telling you that after those pictures circulated, the Under Me was the bestselling bra Natalia’s Secret has ever sold, even now. I landed myself the contract of my dreams, which only ended because I was sent here.” The gold lace mocks me. “And now I’m sewing their bras for pennies, and I can’t even wear them. Even if we could, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

  Gray swears under his breath, and runs a hand down his face. “So everyone in here is picturing you in this bra, because they’ve seen you in it?”

  “I’m saying that everyone in here is going to ramp up their hatred of me. I’m part of the reason we’re sewing this particular bra. If I hadn’t modeled it, endorsed this company, then we would all be stamping license plates.”

  Gray is a good man for many reasons, one of which is that he puts aside every notion that does not serve to protect me. He even goes so far as to hold my hand as I wallow in my own personal valley. I’m sure he has opinions on it all, but those play second fiddle to the murderous glares and venomous giggles that are searing my skin from all angles.

  His arm bands around me, shielding me from their hatred as best he can. “You are not alone in this, okay? We’re right here, and we aren’t going anywhere.”

  Cass postures. “Don’t you dare finish your bra, Arly. The three of us will pick up the slack. Just look busy, and we’ll fill your quota. Breathe through it, hun.”

  Charlotte nods emphatically, and snatches my half-finished bra from my fingers. “This is all going to blow over.”

  But I know it isn’t. Even if they didn’t hold me responsible for their slave labor, I still would.

  I didn’t know. I didn’t research.

  Maybe I should have.

  Iron steels in my breast, now that my lacy torment is out of reach. “When I get out of here, I’m burning all my bras from Natalia’s Secret. Then I’m going door-to-door and asking everyone to do the same.”

  Charlotte grins at me. “You just said ‘when we get out,’ not if. I love that.”

  I grumble at my machine and wonder exactly when it was that I managed to switch from resigning myself that we would never escape, to knowing that somehow, I’ll be free.

  Perhaps even soon.

  We finish out the morning and line up for chow. Gray is a sweetheart and takes all our finished bras to the exporting pile.

  In the half a minute he’s away from my side and Cass and Charlotte are caught up in a moment of pure cuteness, Malrick walks by me and “accidentally” knocks
my chair, gripping the back of it and tipping me sideways.

  I’m unprepared for the attack, my arms flailing as I topple and crack my elbow on the concrete.

  Another inmate slams her boot hard on my wrist.

  Another stomps on my ankle.

  Then I lose count of how many pounce.

  No matter how bad it all hurts, I don’t fight them. On the contrary, I welcome the punishment. “I didn’t know!” I plead with them as a boot catches my stomach. “I didn’t know!”

  Cass screams angrily, straining to get to me, but there are too many between myself and her tenacity.

  Officer McGregor blows his whistle and rushes into the fray, yanking inmates off of me, his baton bashing their arms and legs to grant me a sliver of space.

  The guard is shouting at Malrick and the others, which gives me some measure of vindication. I pick out the words “solitary” and “enough,” and hope Officer McGregor is actually going to do his job and keep the peace that I haven’t done a thing to mess up.

  Before I can right myself, I’m in Gray’s arms. Though my arm is throbbing, he’s holding me tight as he kneels on the concrete, burying his face in my hair. The deep drags warn me he’s on the edge of shifting.

  It’s not the first time I’ve wondered if unlocking someone was a bad idea.

  His guttural exhales are probably mistaken for tears, which luckily, the guard has no clue how to handle. “Uh, everyone line up for chow. You heard the bell. Shifter, you take a second and…” he trails off, like he can’t even bring himself to say the word “crying” even if the word “stop” comes before it.

  “Where does it hurt?” Cass asks, finally controlled now that Malrick and the others have been escorted out by a few of the hallway guards who came to McGregor’s aid. She drops to her knees and ghosts her hand over my elbow.

  Charlotte’s next to her, grimacing at something on my face. “That doesn’t look so great.” Then to Gray she adds, “Deep breaths, Gray. Deep breaths.”