The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2)

by Courtney Lane

  “Oh, baby. Trust me, I am.” Popping her gum and winking at me, she walked into my brother’s apartment.

  I wound up paying her twelve hundred bucks; she gave me a discount. Nadine, like I knew she would, took it a step further and broke my brother’s virginity.

  It all paid off in the end, because the next morning he gave me a call and told me he was in.

  “You aren’t an exception to the rule, Keaton.

  You never will be.”

  “No small act of kindness goes unremembered.”

  -THE SECT

  “Well?” Noah stared at me from across the table of the coffee shop. His hazel-blue eyes—something he once told me was the result of slight heterochromia—sparkled with optimism.

  I gave him a small grin and flipped through the photographs on the tablet while it rested on the table. “It’s nice,” I said in reference to the pictures of the completed renovations for a building on the outskirts of the D.C. metro area.

  “It’s a place for you and me, away from everyone.”

  “You…and me? We’re moving in…together?”

  “Living with your parents is a better option?”

  “It’s easier right now because my mother is going to start campaigning and—”

  “My mistake, princess, I thought you were a grown woman.”

  Feeling mildly dejected, I looked around the small F Street café in Stanton Park. The midday rush crowded into the cafe. The din of the customers, the smell of the coffee, and the clanking of mugs were all positive draws to my senses. Crowds and busy cities were my lifeblood. Since my time with the cult—but not truly a cult—many things had changed and too many things had remained the same. The largest changes were internal, and it was because of the man sitting in front of me.

  It had only been a couple of months since he came to find me that we’d been trying to navigate our relationship. We’d only been back in D.C. for a few days. It was difficult, but we were trying to make it work in a world outside of the one he created.

  Things between us had shifted, and I couldn’t point out the specifics of what had changed. The only time we felt connected was during our private moments in hotel rooms while we traveled. Since we returned to my hometown, I’d been living with my parents and Noah had been busy finalizing construction on a place—I didn’t know he’d purchased months previously.

  The worn-down warehouse contained three levels. The top level was considered his space and appeared to be a large sparring room with tools and such for whatever he needed. The level below was a loft living space without walls or separate living quarters.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I scanned through the pictures on my tablet. “Is it enclosed?”

  With a grin he shook his head. “I need to see you at all times, princess.”

  I shot him a furtive look and quietly gulped. I scrolled to the first level, decorated much like my room in the house of Rebirth.

  “It’s for you when you need away. But I won’t allow you to be alone for long.”

  It was a new place, but I couldn’t shake the notion it would be a different location but would still hold the horrors I was forced to endure at Rebirth. The room and the lack of complete privacy solidified the fact I’d moved back home, only to have one of the darkest parts of seven months of my life come back to haunt me. When I scrolled back to the top level, I was presented with many of the torture devices and furniture I’d grown to loathe—and need in the same measure—that had been located in the deprivation and torture rooms in the basement of the house in North Dakota.

  I immediately pressed the X button on the screen.

  Noah embodied the unapologetic sadist who reveled in dealing pain. I took on the role of the woman who cared about him and enjoyed the way he loved her. According to Noah, the skillful way he exacted pain on my body showed the extent of his love for me.

  Internally, I had begun to evolve and move away from my prior thoughts. The sight of a place meant for what once served as a source of healing and his indulgences made me feel ill.

  “I can imagine the look on my mother’s face when she visits.” I put the tablet down on the small, weathered wood table and sipped my lukewarm coffee.

  “That won’t be happening,” he mumbled with his head bowed, occasionally shooting unsettling glances into the crowded cafe.

  “Why not?”

  “There is no reason for your parents to come to our place.”

  Noah had met with my parents once while we were in Quebec City and never agreed to meet with them again. On the rare occasion I asked for an explanation, I never received one.

  Ready to change the subject, I dove head first into a new one. “Did I tell you?” I picked up my tablet and booted up my news notifications app to scan through the current events. “My mother is considering resigning from her position at F.A.C.E. soon.”

  It became a mild obsession to unveil the fate of some of the people in the house of Rebirth. It remained an unsolved mystery. After several months, I hoped I’d uncover the truth about what happened to them. The smallest hint I received pertained to Shiloh Oliver, but it was from a magazine not known for its reputable stories; it was proven to be false given the fact the picture they claimed to be of Shiloh wasn’t him at all. In recent memory, there wasn’t a single shred of information on Shiloh’s life or an accurate photograph of him in the news.

  Noah’s position in my life immediately deemed him a person of public interest when we returned to D.C. We received a number of requests for interviews; luckily, they were remarkably less than they were several months ago. The only interview he agreed to, because he had to, was from the FBI—pertaining to the activities of the compound. By now, many had forgotten about the cult and had moved on to the next sensationalized story. It remained only a steady but quiet buzz in the local area.

  Noah transformed into a recluse after he found me. We spent our time holed up in various hotels, ordering room service and making excuses to my parents when they wanted to see us. Upon our return to my hometown, it took hours of begging before he agreed to go to the coffee shop with me. We hadn’t had a single official date since we decided to be together.

  My attention darted from my tablet to him because it had gone too long since I received a reaction to the latest information about my mother. His gaze was trained to a particular place across the café. I scanned around, searching for the scene that had gathered his undivided interest.

  A man and a woman were in the throes of a heated but hushed argument. When he reached up and wrapped his hand around her neck, Noah grabbed the table as though he intended to rip it in half. His other hand clung to the spoon, once quietly stirring his hot chocolate; it began to tap against the ceramic cup with a heavy-tempo drumbeat.

  I reached across and held his hand, startling him out of his daze. “Are you okay?”

  Stretching his neck, he set his gaze back to the man in the corner. “I will be.” He shifted backward, shoving his chair from the table.

  “Don’t get involved.” Acting swiftly, I reached down in my bag and retrieved my phone.

  “What the hell are you doing, Keaton?” He glowered at me, creating fine lines in his forehead.

  As I pressed the touchscreen for the nine key, he put his hand over mine and removed my cell phone from my hand. “I was going to call the police.”

  He raised a brow, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at me in complete and utter incredulity. “You and I both know about the ineptitude of law enforcement officials. Don’t ever say shit like that to me again.” He snatched back from me and marched to the other end of the room. He grabbed the man by the elbow, despite his protests, and led him out the back door into an alley.

  “You think this is rebellion? You think you’re fighting? You’re running straight to what you should be running away from.”

  -THE SECT

  The souls of monsters needed to be punished. The man in my hands, my victim, struggled and tried to get free of me. I held him
tighter, letting him know it wasn’t going to happen. I knew his type. I knew the look in his eyes. I knew the look in his girlfriend’s eyes. He’d broken her, and he wouldn’t stop until she was dead. He had the look of a killer waiting for the perfect circumstances to experience his first kill. I was going to stop him before he had the chance to take the life of a woman who stupidly loved him.

  He spun around once I let him go and snapped at me. “Hey, what’s your problem, asshole?”

  It was all he had a chance to say. My balled-up hand made contact with his nose, and it began to pulsate with bright red blood.

  I could feel the ringing sensation of pain in my hand. It felt good to put someone else in pain. To see the look in their eyes that Keaton lacked lately.

  I’d been sleepwalking while stuck in an undersized cage. I didn’t care for being under the watchful eye of the people in Keaton’s life. I was suffocating and wanted to be free.

  My newest damned soul wavered and darted out his hands in circles to keep himself steady. I drew my hand back and punched him again. This time, I hit his mouth. I could feel the biting edge of his teeth against my knuckles.

  He fell back on the ground and I jumped on top him, drawing back my arm and hitting him over and over again, pounding the back of his head against the asphalt. I wanted his screams. All I heard was the gurgling sound of his breath as he fought for air and sucked down his own blood.

  I stood over his body, my legs apart, in the position to pin him back down when needed. I unlatched my belt and slid it from the loops of my pants, allowing it to curl into my hands. I tugged his pants down until his dick was exposed. It rejected the cold and curled upward. I looped my belt around his junk with the stick end against his flesh and tugged. Hard.

  Now he’s screaming.

  With a smile, I tugged again, snapping my wrist in order to pierce his skin. He screamed louder. I finally felt the weight begin to disappear. The peace I lacked while I sat at the table with Keaton enveloped me, making me feel serene.

  “Hey, what are you doing there?” a man asked down the way at the other end of the access alley.

  “Lover’s spat,” I snarled at him. “It would be best if you minded your business.”

  “What are you doing to that man?” He stepped forward and pointed a crooked finger at me.

  I squatted down over the guy at my mercy and felt around his jean pockets for his wallet. When I found it, I opened it, and showed him I was the new owner of his driver’s license by putting it in my back pocket.

  “Leave us alone, man,” the guy beneath me said, turning his head and spitting blood on to the pavement.

  “Leave that stuff at home, you—you sickos,” the man said with disgust and did a turnabout to walk the other way.

  “Now that we’re alone…” I leaned down into the guy’s face, making sure he saw I still had a firm hold on the end of the belt and slapped the left side of his face a few times to make him wince. “I have directions for you. Your girlfriend? Leave her alone. I don’t care if you leave town or break her heart. Leave. If you’re lucky, I won’t follow you and find you before you get a chance to fulfill your sick fucking fantasy.”

  “What are you talking about, man? I would never kill anyone.”

  “Until you’re pushed. Did you misunderstand my directions? I will gladly detach your cock from your body to make you understand. I can always translate my warning into something simpler.”

  “Understood! Understood!”

  I unfurled my belt, removing it from his dick and stood. As I turned around while putting my belt back in the loops, I caught Keaton staring at me in horror. She immediately turned and walked the other way.

  I chased after her, meeting her at the end of the alley. I held her shoulders and forced her to turn around and look at me. Pieces of her dark hair, fallen down from the up-do she wore, whirled around her face “What’s the issue?” I gave her my trademark smile to make her warm to be again. “The guy deserved it.”

  “You cannot do that here, Noah,” she said, her naturally quiet voice rising a little. “You aren’t at Rebirth anymore. This isn’t a lawless place, or a place where you make up the rules as you go along to do whatever it is you want to do.”

  “I had no idea. Shit!” I said, playing the game of innocent denial.

  She tried to leave—operative word being “tried.” “You can’t do this anymore. I thought what we had between us was enough?”

  “What’s between us is…different.”

  Her light brown eyes slanted as she looked down. “You can’t do this anymore,” she repeated. Her eyes slowly trailed back up to me. “Promise me you won’t. You will get caught and it could mean so many awful things for us. Be the Noah I know and not the man you were forced to be at Rebirth.”

  Touching an angel while having one foot in Hell and tempting her until her wings changed from pure white to sooty black became an experience that couldn’t be matched. I would go my lifetime arranging and rearranging situations to make sure I never went without it.

  I wasn’t going to promise her anything. I had no plans to be completely different from the man I needed to be. Usually, I’d arrange my words in a certain way to evoke a very specific reaction out of her. She was too far gone, and I no longer had to work her that way. It didn’t matter what I did or didn’t do, Keaton wasn’t going anywhere. There were times when she looked at me like I was her forever. But I’d never kid myself into thinking she really believed that. To her, I was temporary.

  It didn’t matter what she believed. I’d distort her thoughts until she realized I am where she begins and ends. Nothing but death would ever keep me from what I desired. Keaton’s fulfillment of my needs kept me from succumbing to the devil’s influence. If I gave in to what she kept quiet, I would turn to another drug that ruined my life and almost took me out of the world. I needed what was between us to survive.

  If Rebirth had to die to kill the monsters created within the compound, fine. But the idea of it could not die. It was a power trip I was hooked on, and I didn’t know the severity of my addiction until she came along.

  “Promise me, Noah,” she repeated again.

  I touched her face and gave her a smile. “Be what I need you to be tonight and every night, and I will promise you.”

  Tonight, Keaton would get another feather clipped from her wings, and I’d feel downright giddy while doing it.

  KEATON WAS DEFINITELY AN attractive woman, but it wasn’t what drew me to her. No amount of pain I dealt to anyone else felt the same as it did when I inflicted my needs onto Keaton’s body.

  Looking at her lying stomach down, her arms tied to the limbs of the narrow table that fit her body just right, my cock began to harden. It would be our first time breaking in the new level I had custom built for her…and the destruction of others when the mood hit me.

  Her skirt had risen up to her hips to show off the pantyhose—nylons, whatever the fuck they’re called—that reached her mid thigh and gave me a perfect view of the bottom of her ass, peeking out from underneath her lace underwear. I stepped back to admire the work already there, the jagged, little healed welts and bruises. Some were healing a little too fast. If she didn’t have fresh bruises or welts on her body, I felt unsettled; I wanted her to wince every time she walked or sat down. Seeing the marks of pain on her face sustained me.

  I moved to the glass table directly in front of her. I picked up the lone bottle of bourbon I brought from my personal stash located on the bar downstairs. I shifted the glass across the table and poured four finger widths of the brown liquid, filling the glass almost to the top. Thinking maybe I was expecting the impossible, I took a sip, leaving a finger width of space at the top of the glass. I walked over to her with the glass and bottle of bourbon in my hand. I set the bottle down on the little space left beside her on the table.

  “Keep up that pageant posture for me, princess,” I said, lifting her chin until it was parallel with the floor. “You won’t like wher
e this leads if you don’t.” I set the glass on the top of her head, leaving her to struggle with balancing it.

  I moved to the other end of the room and pulled out the metal floor locker. Unlocking it, I fingered all the devices at my disposal. I picked up her favorite one, the whip we made—still stained with her blood—and a skinning knife.

  Standing, I walked around her until I was behind her. Her body trembled, losing the struggle to keep her head up. The skin on her thighs emitted a heat as she perspired. Her fear had manifested into a sensation thick enough to taste, and its flavor was unequaled.

  Taking the knife where it lay by the side of her body, I slid it underneath her underwear at the side of her hip and cut it. I slid the flat of the blade along her skin and cut the other side, letting it slide off her body.

  I walked my fingers down the crack of her ass, finding the plump lips of her pussy and opened her. She’s wet, but not wet enough. I looked down at her open slit. The view of the slickness on her rose colored inner lips made my breath hitch.

  Oh, yeah, she’s very scared.

  Taking a step back, I wound the whip in the air a few times, building up her fear a little more. She trembled severely enough to make the glass on her head began to rattle. A tiny little whimper escaped her mouth.

  “I haven’t started yet, princess.” I laughed. “You’re acting like you’re new to this. First I hit you, then you whimper. But tonight, I’d prefer it if you scream.”

  Before she could respond, I flicked my wrist and hit her harder than I usually did when warming up, across the ass.

  She jerked up in surprise, but it left me disappointed. She didn’t scream.

  I received a mood-lifter right away. The glass slid off her head like it was on a slow motion camera and fell to the ground. She fought hard to keep it on her head, but it didn’t matter. Her fists clenched as they remained tied to the legs of the table. She wiggled, thinking she could get free and fix her fuck up. With her legs and arms bound, she couldn’t.