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

by Mary E. Twomey

  It’s hard to watch Gray restrain himself like this. He looks like he’s in physical pain. I know a portion of the strength it takes to be a pacifist—to hold back when you want to show the world all that you’re capable of doing.

  When the cell door opens and a guard escorts Arlanna inside, I’m on my feet, but Gray is on his knees. He slides out of the bunk onto all fours, waiting seconds after the officer leaves us and locks us in before Gray turns his wolf loose with a weary whine.

  I’ve never seen Gray’s animal before, and had assumed it was a normal-sized canine of sorts. When I take in the horse-sized silver wolf with wonky teeth, my body plasters itself to the far wall behind the foot of the bed.

  “Arlanna, get back!”

  But she doesn’t heed my warning. Quite the opposite, actually. She curls her arms around Rafe’s thick neck, burying her face in his fur. “Baby,” she coos, as if Rafe is a harmless kitten who purrs only for her.

  He looks like a right monster.

  But upon closer inspection, there are notes of Gray in the downward slope of Rafe’s demeanor. He’s careful with her, sitting on the floor between the bunks so she doesn’t have to strain to reach him. His eyes close as her fingers tangle in his fur. She lovingly guides his head to rest against her torso.

  Finally, Rafe is at peace.

  “Are you alright, Arly-girl?” Charlotte asks. She’s sitting on her bunk now, because there’s no room on the floor for any of us to stand.

  She nods into Rafe’s fur, her forehead grinding to his, and for a second, I see the little girl she used to be—clinging to a stuffed bunny and begging for peace with those big Bambi eyes.

  Her beauty stuns me, shocking intelligent speech from my system. Her long, chocolate hair swings to her elbow and drapes across Rafe’s maw.

  “What happened?” she asks quietly. “I was locked in the infirmary. Nurse Jen said there was a riot in the cafeteria.” Then she locks eyes with Charlotte. “Did you know that was going to happen? Is that why you told me to go to the infirmary?”

  My chin jerks in Charlotte’s direction. “What are you on about?”

  Charlotte pulls her knees up to her chest atop her mattress. “I didn’t know there would be a riot, but I had a flash, a vision.” She grimaces from the mental image. “All I knew was that you couldn’t go to lunch. I didn’t know why.”

  Arlanna’s mouth firms in a tight line, but I have questions aplenty. “What did you see? You knew about the riot? A warning to the rest of us would have been nice.”

  Charlotte shakes her head, gnawing on her lower lip. “All I saw was Arlanna beaten to death on the floor of the cafeteria. I knew she needed to be gone, or else she would die.”

  Bile rises in my throat in time with Rafe’s wounded whine.

  Arlanna kisses his maw, comforting him even though it’s clear she’s the one who needs to be held.

  Of course she’s filled with unending selflessness. It’s not enough for her to be simply beautiful; she’s also compassionate. Every new facet of her personality draws me in, deepening my crush to an addiction that might never go away.

  “It’s okay. I was perfectly safe with Nurse Jen.” Arlanna pets Rafe in long, luxurious strokes. “Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt? How’s Cass?”

  Charlotte fills her in on Cassia’s bout into shadowmelding, and then pauses, locking her gaze onto me. “Paxton had some fun, too.”

  My neck shrinks. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  When Arlanna turns her focus onto me, the air stills in my lungs. “Are you alright, Paxton? Did someone lay a hand on you?”

  She doesn’t ask me with gushing affection, but rather with that Valentine steel she gets from her father. She’s not inquiring about my wellbeing because she pities my plight, but because her friendship comes with a promise: no one will come near me without having to deal with her vitriolic retaliation.

  How I want to belong to her.

  I have to really gather my wits about me to make sure I don’t sound like a dolt when I finally open my mouth. “When you unlocked me, you didn’t cure me of my death glare.”

  Arlanna freezes, horror striking her stunning features. “What? Paxton, what happened?”

  Maybe our kiss wasn’t a fluke, because she moves to my side and rests her hand atop mine. She doesn’t fear eye contact or physical contact, which brings about a breath of relief I desperately needed.

  When I notice her visible limp, part of my father comes about in me, as well. My spine stiffens, and I scoot over to make sure she doesn’t have to inconvenience her body too much. My father is never affectionate, but his indignation and entitlement knows no bounds. If he has his sights set on something and it’s messed with, that’s when he shows true aggression unbefitting a ruler.

  I feel that same rigidity in my spine now, watching her compose the grimace from her features as she tries to get comfortable, despite the beating she suffered during sewing detail.

  I am supposed to be a steady ruler, but part of me would see heads removed from the bodies of anyone who comes near this treasure with ill intent.

  Instead of turning into my father, I remember that turning her pain into fuel for my rage is a form of using her, which I refuse to do. I content myself with curving my arm around her hips, stabilizing her so there isn’t too much pressure on her hips.

  Just like that, the influence of both our fathers drains from our systems. It’s tenderness we crave, because it chases away the brutality and reactionary nature we were born with.

  “I’m alright,” I assure her, my fingers combing through her hair.

  Her forehead is warm against my neck. This is where I always want her.

  “I don’t believe you,” she replies stubbornly.

  I chuckle at her moxie. “Gray had us under our usual table the minute the riot broke out. I don’t even know what started the whole thing, but it snowballed quickly. Someone grabbed at Cassia’s ankle and tugged on her, trying to separate us and do who knows what to her. I was angry, and I didn’t control my glare.”

  Then my conscience pings, and I know that’s not entirely true.

  I flip over my hand and lace my fingers through hers, glancing at Rafe to make sure this is okay.

  Rafe licks my bare foot, which I find both adorable and disgusting.

  I swallow hard. “Maybe I did control it. I was so angry for too many reasons—frustrated that I’m locked in here, and livid that inmates would turn on each other. When he snatched at Cassia, I snapped.”

  My fingers tighten around hers. If this is the last time she holds my hand, I want to remember the feel of her skin. Her slender and long fingers fit perfectly through mine. The way her knees curl up and rest against my thigh is intimate in a way I was never bold enough to wish into being.

  Yet here it is.

  Here we are.

  My pain must be palpable, because Rafe sets his massive head atop the mattress on which I’ve taken up residence. His movement directs Arlanna to relax against me.

  She’s so close, I can feel her sweet puffs of breath on my throat.

  I can’t work out the confession, so Charlotte helps me along. “Paxton’s gaze lit the bloke on fire.” She pauses only a second to accommodate Arlanna’s gasp. “Just his arm. Then he had the nerve to smother the flames.” She narrows her eyes at me in a faux scold. “I’m not sure I’ve seen such useless do-gooding this deeply engrained. I mean, you couldn’t let someone wicked suffer a little? He grabbed Cass.”

  I smirk across the way at Charlotte. “My apologies. I’ll work on severing my pesky conscience.”

  “Don’t,” Arlanna rebukes quietly. “Without you, the world is left to pretend it understands what it means to be good. Of course nature would grant you a gift this lethal. Only you have the self-control and discernment to wield it well.”

  Impressing Arlanna Valentine isn’t something any sane man ever attempts, but garnering the respect she’s fixing on me right now is a heady gift I hope I’ll one day des
erve.

  I can’t help but slip my thumb up the slope of Arlanna’s hip. If she wants me to pull away, she makes no indication of it.

  Her pull on me is strong. No matter how close she permits me, I crave more.

  I have to stroke the silk of her cheek.

  Bollocks, it’s even silkier than I imagined. My thumb hooks under her jaw and angles her chin up, so I can drown in the wisdom her eyes cannot conceal. She’s always been that way—holding everything back, except for that cool handle on the world I’ve tried my whole life to fake.

  My lips move closer to hers. “When you look at me like that, I have a hard time remembering my own name.”

  Maybe that’s a bit too honest, but I can’t help myself. She draws the truth out of me, whether it’s becoming or not.

  “Paxton,” she whispers in a quiet plea. I can’t tell if it’s permission or forgiveness she’s asking for, but whatever it is, I give it to her. Whatever she needs, I’ll always give to her.

  Especially when she leans in and touches her lips to mine.

  Her mouth is the thing of which whole sonnets are composed. With lips as soft and beguiling as hers, I’m not sure I’d care if pure vitriol spewed out. The fact that she’s measured and composed, kind and affectionate? It only makes her taste that much sweeter.

  Rafe’s head tilts to the side as he watches us, but doesn’t interfere.

  That’s a relief, because I really don’t want to get on the bad side of an animal that enormous. I’m well past the point of being able to stop myself.

  Arlanna’s fingers feather through my hair, conjuring up a sordid noise, the sound of which I didn’t realize I was capable of making. It’s easy to be hers, to slant my head however she directs it, to kiss as slow or impassioned as she wishes. All I’ve wanted for years was for her to think of me in the way I’ve treasured mentions of her.

  My first kiss was photographed by too many rapacious reporters. I was nervous and stiff, and that experience stayed with me well past that awkward encounter. I started to wonder if I would ever be swept away, or if I would be confined to going through the motions, wishing for passion instead of being kept firmly from it.

  Now as Arlanna thumbs a spot behind my ear, I know the yearning that sings through my entire body is the song my life has been missing. My chest swells with pride when her dainty noises of rapture inform me that I wasn’t a bad kisser all those other times; I was just with the wrong person.

  My arms come to life and coil around her, my fingers tracing the arch of her back and the curve of her hip. As often as I’ve wished for exactly this, my wildest imagination pales in comparison to the real thing.

  She pulls her head back only so she can work out sporadic sentences. “They should never have kept us away from each other!” Then her lips magnetize to mine once more.

  “Never again,” I rule, a willing captive of her unending allure. “We belong together. We always have. All these years, I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t stop myself from hoping to see pictures of your face. It calmed me. Inspired me.”

  “I did, too,” she admits. “I searched for mentions of you in the papers. Felt connected to you, even from afar.”

  And just like that, I’m soaring, practically dizzy with elation.

  My fingers tangle in her hair, and suddenly, I’m not the prince who’s pushed wherever his father wills. I’m a man with the woman of my dreams in my arms.

  Uncertainty fades as the ruler in me comes to light. “I will not stand for us being separated again.”

  “Never again,” she agrees. Her lips find mine once more, making up for lost time.

  Everything unsettled falls into place with what has to be a near-audible click. Arlanna is my person, and if I am very lucky, she will let me be hers.

  18

  New Nurse

  Arlanna

  Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

  “Ah!” I recoil from the officer who tries to give me a hand up. “Don’t! Something’s off. I can’t get up yet.”

  I realize the officers aren’t used to being given orders by inmates, but I must look as dreadful as I feel, because he backs away with his hands raised in surrender. “I put in a call to the infirmary. It’s going to be a minute; the new guy doesn’t know his way around all that well.”

  “New guy?” I groan. “I’m fine. I don’t want some stranger treating me. Where’s Nurse Jen?”

  “Believe it or not, she takes a day off on rare occasion. New guy is… new. I forget his name.”

  “Brilliant. I don’t need the infirmary, then.”

  Relief hits me when Officer Johnson comes trotting around the corner. Finally, someone I trust.

  Johnson stops short at the mangled sight of me. “I heard the princess was in trouble, but this…” He grimaces as he moves around his coworker and kneels in my eyeline. “What happened, kiddo?”

  “I broke a nail,” I work out, but my joke falls flat.

  The other officer fills him in. “I had her and a few others for laundry detail. I left them alone for half a minute, if that, and they jumped her. Sent them to solitary, but they did their damage before I could get them all off of her.” He shakes his head at me. “Not sure what she did to get them all riled up.”

  “Are you blind?” Johnson is irate, and his anger soothes me. Someone is taking this seriously, so I can breathe for this small span of time wherein I’m not the only representation of frustration in this room.

  Johnson’s hand moves to mine, his grip gentle as he latches on to steady me. Even though I’m still lying on the cement, I do need him to hold tight to me. “They’ve been gunning for her since the first day she got here. She can sit quietly in a corner, and they’ll still come after her. They’ve got no one to punish, so they’re taking all their aggression out on her.”

  Johnson’s tone turns gentle as he lowers his face to get in my eyeline. “Stay just like this, alright? No one’s going to mess you up if you’re next to me. Remember? That’s our thing. You sit near me, and people leave you alone.”

  Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

  Something about his salt-and-pepper hair combined with an amicable tilt of his head nearly breaks me down entirely. “I don’t like it here,” I whisper. “I think something’s broken.”

  He sits on his butt, still holding my hand. “Then we’ll just have to get you put back together. And I’ll have a chat with the warden, yeah? Get you on work details with one of your cellmates at all times. Would that help?”

  I nod, but even that motion hurts.

  “I’m here!” comes a voice I don’t recognize. Ginger hair and a pale complexion greet me. “I’m Kyle, the new nurse. Are you my first patient?”

  I recoil. “What?!”

  Johnson grimaces. “Is that your best bedside manner? She doesn’t need to know how inexperienced you are.” Then he turns his head away and rolls his eyes, muttering, “Bloody idiot.”

  “Let’s get you to the infirmary, so I can give you a once-over,” Nurse Kyle suggests.

  “Wonderful,” Johnson drones, standing. “How exactly do you want her to get there? Did you bring a wheelchair?”

  “Oh, uh, I didn’t realize.” He leans over, raising his voice, as if I’ve suffered a hearing loss. “Do you need a wheelchair, young miss?”

  I wince at his volume.

  Johnson grumbles at the nurse’s ineptitude, then gives me a look that says, “Yikes. This guy.”

  Johnson has to be about fifty years old, but he moves fluidly as his hand tucks under my head. “Is it okay if I carry you there? Some of these injuries should be treated sooner rather than later.”

  Being carried is humiliating. I’m tall, so I don’t look like a pristine damsel, but more like an awkward giraffe when I’m carried. But I’m in so much pain that I don’t protest. “Cheers, Johnson. It’s my leg. He stomped hard over and over on my ankle and knee. He was trying to break them.”

  Johnson swears. “Alright, then we’ll move really
slow. You tell me if something hurts too badly.”

  It’s an effort on both our parts, but finally, Johnson manages to situate me in his arms in a way that doesn’t draw out a scream. He leads the way down the many halls, so the new doctor doesn’t see my tears fall into Johnson’s collar.

  “Easy does it,” my favorite officer whispers.

  “Don’t leave me with him,” I beg. “I don’t know the new nurse. I can’t defend myself if something goes south.”

  I’m overreacting, but I don’t care. I’m too shaken from being jumped. I need Nurse Jen, not some new guy who can’t be more than twenty-five, checking out my injuries.

  “Not a problem. I’ll make sure you get back to your cell safely, yeah?”

  Though my arm is sore, I loop it around Johnson’s neck, holding tight to him as he carries me to the infirmary.

  Kyle has Nurse Jen’s things all spread out, some bottles tipped over entirely, which she would never stand for. She’s organized and welcoming. This guy has no idea what he’s doing.

  And he’s going to be treating my injuries.

  Brilliant.

  Johnson sets me gently on the table, though his arm behind my back still props me up, which I appreciate.

  Nurse Kyle moves to my foot, bending it too roughly to one side, and then the other, ignoring the cry that belts out when he does the same sort of painful jerking to my knee.

  “Nothing’s broken, so that’s good. Something for the pain, and then you should be good to go.”

  Johnson frowns. “Her nose is bleeding. Maybe that’s something you should tend to.”

  “Ah, right. Of course. I meant after that.” Kyle turns and pulls a syringe from Nurse Jen’s things, and then fishes around in his pocket for a small vial. “This should speed along your healing, and numb the pain a bit.”

  Nothing about this seems right, but I’m too turned around to protest. The needle pokes into my arm, the clear liquid draining into my body.