He ends his explanation by crushing his mouth to mine. Without invitation, he plunges his tongue inside my mouth, sending an explosion of unexpected desire straight down my spine and ending at my now-aching sex. Before I even have a chance to reciprocate, he releases me and I fall to the ground. He throws himself backwards, looking disgusted with his actions. He strides back toward the table, tossing it; as I watch, it crashes into the counter. “You’re going to help me.” His words are dripping with fury. Without further conversation, he storms out of the kitchen.
I stand stone-still until I hear the bathroom door slam shut. I finally release the breath I’ve been holding and slowly slide down the kitchen wall. What the mother fuck just happened? I ask myself over and over, trying to calm my racing heart. My skin still burns in the places where he touched me, and I brush my fingertips across my now-swollen lips. Two seconds longer and I was about to come undone in his arms. That’s all it took. But then he acted like I burned him by dropping me, a look of torment covering his face.
The way he described her was somehow fascinating to me, but also sad. I felt like he was describing me and not his lost lover. The way his touching matched his lustful words. The way his eyes burned into mine, as if he was picturing me the whole time he described her. But then I remember his only goal and that’s to kill, and to use me as his decoy to do so.
How the hell did I get myself into this messed-up situation? Then, of course, I remember and curse all to hell. “God, Scott. If I ever see you again, I am going to make you eat your balls,” I grumble to myself. I hear the shower turn on. Knowing there are no clean towels in the bathroom, I pull myself from the wall and make my way to the hallway. I might be living in a world with a panty-dropping fruitcake, but he still needs a clean towel. Deciding against opening the door and handing the clean towel to my new shifter roommate, I leave it by the door. I head back to my bedroom in hopes when I fall back into my bed, I will wake up in Arizona and this whole part of my life will be one big, bad dream.
Sin
I’ve gone crazy. I know it. The images of Emma and the things I hunger to do to her are maddening. My body continues to hum and I’m not even near her, my jumbled thoughts compelling me to act on these cravings. I’ve never felt like this. The pull, the urge to take someone and make them completely mine. Not even with Gabriella. I slam my fists into the shower wall, shattering a few tiles. I watch them crack and fall to the ground as I lay my head on the wall, letting the frigid water fall over me. I tried to deny my needs. To push her away. Her voice just does something to me. Her stubbornness makes my cock rock-hard, and I want nothing more than to shut her up by taking that sweet little mouth of hers.
She is my destiny. She is the one my body demands. The painful truth blares inside my eardrums. I shake the words from my mind. It doesn’t matter now. I know what Emma is to me; I cannot deny it. My inner leopard fights to come out anytime I’m near her. But I won’t be near her for long. After the pain I’ve caused, I don’t deserve that happy ending. I need to focus on my mission, the one I’ve sought out since the day Zander took Gabriella’s life.
For the past five years, I have traveled across the world in order to search out his trail—to find him and end his life. I should have done it that night, the night he took Gabriella away from me. But I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t let him not only steal her beautiful soul, but eat her alive while I watched in the shadows. I chose to protect her lifeless body and, once he had gone, bury her in the forest, under the array of beautiful mossy oak trees instead.
The rage that flowed through me was infuriating. I wanted revenge. I wanted Gabriella to be alive. But because of me and my dark secret, her life was taken. And I was still alive to carry the guilt. I couldn’t bring her home to her family. They would have condemned me for murder. After so many years of failed missions of trying to find Zander and killing him, I felt that maybe I should have given up my life that night, as well. Maybe a painful death would have been better than living life with such regret.
I was no fool to the underworld and the unnatural ways of life. I grew up living in the world of shifters, witches—you name it. My world wasn’t painted as perfect as Gabriella’s. In due time, she would have had to see who I really was and the real world around her. As the days dragged on and the small town of Fallen Crest called out to the townspeople to help find their lost daughter, the pain grew. I had spent agonizing days that turned into the weeks lying in the forest begging for her forgiveness until my voice turned hoarse. I didn’t stop begging until I beat myself down for my betrayal. Because I had betrayed her and my lies and hidden secrets took her life. I knew I had to avenge her death. It would be my mission for retribution. And I had to find Zander to do that.
It was into my third week in the field when I caught wind of what Zander had done. Whispers from the underworld breathed the quiet words of Zander’s plan. He’d gone to a wizard in search of immortal life. His greedy being wanted it all. And he figured out just how to get it.
Seven rare items were to be found, each giving him the everlasting power he hungered for. The proof of Gabriella’s death told me he had already completed finding the first item, giving him the ability to steal human souls.
I needed to find that wizard, needed to know what he was searching for so I could stop him. And, in turn, release Gabriella’s soul. I would do anything, pay anything. I would give my own life for hers if I could. It took some time, and meddling, but I finally had a name of a wizard in the lower woodlands of Fallen Crest. He was hesitant to see me since he knew what I was, but I begged for him to help me. I would give anything. At any cost.
He sat me down while I told him my story, of my heritage and my daily urge to fight who I was. I didn’t want to be or embrace who I was becoming. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be human. I spoke of Gabriella, and I struggled to get through the part about her death. As he listened, he gathered belongings inside his little shop and scribbled words I was unable to read. By the time I was done, he held up a scroll of writing.
“These, son, are the items in which your enemy seeks. He has come far to acquire the power he so seeks, though.” He continued to look into his crystal ball. “It was with wrong intentions he was given this spell. I must warn you that if he acquires all the items, it will create a force of evil that no one can destroy.”
I was shocked at his admittance. Why would he offer such a powerful spell to such an evil soul if he knew he had the potential to bring so much evil to this world?
As I went to grab for the scroll, he pulled it from my grip. “You will pay me one brick of gold first. Then I will hand this over. But you must beware, my son. This is a very powerful spell. If this spell is completed by the wrong hands, hands of evil, it will open up a portal that will cause much havoc in this world. You must hurry to acquire the remainder of the items, and then destroy them.”
I nodded, not understanding the importance that day. I told him I would be back by nightfall with his payment; I just had to go to the depository and use my mind powers to lure the teller to hand me over one brick of gold.
That night, I went to the forest and relayed my plan to Gabriella, hoping she could hear me. I told her I loved her and that I would be back soon to release her soul. When I made it back to the wizard’s house that night, he was dead. And the scroll was gone. I knew very well by the half-eaten dismantled figure on the floor what had happened to him. Zander had followed me. He knew what I was up to, and he killed the wizard and stole the second scroll. Now, only he carried the capability to become even more powerful and potentially bring unending of evil to the world.
The anger consumed me and I transformed instantly, the cracking of bones sounding as I shifted into my animal, the fierce leopard in me crashing through the door and out into the dark of night. The innocent human in me was left that night with the cold wizard. The beast had taken over, swearing to never stop, no matter the destruction, until he found Zander and killed him with his bare hands, dest
royed all the items on his scroll, and freed Gabriella’s soul.
That was five fucking years ago.
I’ve travelled all over the country, always one step behind him. Every minute that’s passed throughout the years has been another kick to the gut. I’ve had him within arm’s reach numerous times, but none in which I have succeeded in my mission. I knew he was finding the items on the scroll. I knew he was slowly growing in size and strength. Always one fucking step behind, I learned the rare items he had acquired: a small Bismuth crystal, a tentacle of a rare jeweled squid, and the root of a Rafflesia flower. If it wasn’t for his lack of keeping his inner beast satisfied, I probably would have lost his trail years ago. But he’s not been smart. In some sick way, I knew he enjoyed seeing his work in the newspapers and the media. They called him a serial killer a few times not knowing what he really was. He was a possessed shifter, gaining power by eating the souls of humans. He needed to be stopped, and it was going to be my hands that put him in the ground.
The last time I was close enough to him was almost a year ago. I followed him to England. He took a few young girls back to their lodging establishment. His eagerness to kill caused him to get sloppy, and I was able to track him to his killing spot. Unfortunately, he knew my weakness, and rather than slitting his throat right there, I chose to save the poor lives of three helpless women. I swore to myself the next time he was within reach, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would do what was right, even if it meant sacrificing a woman’s life to rid him of this world.
Then Zander brought me to Woodland Creek. To her. Her resemblance eats at me. The hair. The eyes. The way her skin tingles when I touch her. The way her body begs to submit to me, even though she doesn’t even know it. And then her scent. Her magnificent scent, which is almost blinding to the senses. Zander is right. She isn’t fully human, but she doesn’t know it. I shouldn’t care because I won’t be around long enough, but I want to find out what she is. Maybe it will help her find some peace from those nightmares.
But right now, I need to track down Zander. I need to convince my throbbing body that it wants nothing to do with her. I need to get to Zander and be gone. Yeah right, asshole, tell your fucking dick that. The guilt of even fantasizing about someone else when I am failing Gabriella weighs on me. I refuse to give into any temptation I have for this woman again. And she will be only that—a temptation. One I will not indulge in. whether it be my fate or not.
Even as I battle my mind and body to focus and stay clear of her, my thoughts continue to go back to Zander and the need to keep Emma safe.
There’s one thing I know for certain, and it’s that Zander wants Emma too. But fuck, who wouldn’t? Her beauty is something only written in fairytales. Her flawless skin that shines to someone like me. A shifter who sees beauty in the inner beast of a human. I wanted nothing more than to take her against the wall. I wanted to rip her thin pajama pants straight off her legs and fuck her raw, until I couldn’t see straight. That’s when I had to pull my goddamn hormones in check and release her. Throwing myself into a cold shower just dimmed the urge. You’re just using her, nothing more. I need her to lure in Zander. Once I have him in arm’s reach, I will kill him with my bare hands. I will end his life and destroy the scrolls along with any remaining items. The thought of being so close to fulfilling my promise to Gabriella is almost too much to bear. I need to get my shit together. I can’t and won’t touch Emma again. She is simply a decoy for me. A ploy in my plan. Like I promised myself before, I won’t stop this time until he is dead. No matter what the sacrifice. If Emma is that sacrifice, then so be it.
It’s when I sense the strong aroma of fear and distress permeating the small space of the bathroom that I sense she is having another nightmare. The fear that she may be in danger turns my blood cold, and I throw all my counseling away as I leap out of the shower and crash through her bedroom door.
Emma
I'm splashing in the water. I can feel my toes curl around the thickness of the seawater. I paddle faster and faster in anticipation that she will let me go and I will be on my own in the ocean. I hear the giggling sound coming from her voice. She seems pleased with my progress. I want to please her so badly. If I please her, maybe she will look at me. Maybe I will get to see her face. Before I have a chance, she lets me go and I begin to sink. No matter how hard I paddle my little feet, my body sinks under the water and I have no choice but to accept that I am drowning.
I bolt up in my bed, gasping for air. My hands, like clockwork, go for my throat, coaxing my larynx to relax and allow oxygen into my lungs. I’m panting heavily as I look around my room, realizing it was just another dream. I'm in my room. And I am not drowning. I take my sweaty palms and push my hair out of my face. I look at the time and it states I’ve only been asleep for a short time.
“Shit,” I whisper raggedly. I hate my dreams. Sometimes, they seem more like nightmares. It unsettles me that I haven’t had these dreams for years but for some reason, they’re coming back in full force.
If you haven’t already guessed, I am a psychologist’s wet dream. Trying to diagnose that dream, they always said it’s my inner self trying to break down an old memory or an emotion I was struggling with. I continued to tell them the same thing every time: I had no idea who the woman was, and I'm not struggling with anything.
If I were honest, I would admit that the woman in my dreams was my biological mother. I don’t remember her, since I was placed into the foster system at age four. Along the way, I tried to ask about my real parents, but the answers were always the same. They couldn’t care for me, or they were dead. I don’t need to share all the details of the foster system and how a child lives. I'm sure you’ve heard enough stories to know the system was broken and not pretty. At age eighteen, I gave everyone the finger and took off on my own.
Around that time, I was in Utah with a foster family who just wanted the extra money. The father was a drunk who confused me for his wife on many occasions, and I had to fight my way out of being sexually assaulted. The wife, on the other hand, saw it as me wanting her husband’s attention. It was a great way to build a non-trusting relationship against the adult world. When I left Utah, I made my way to Arizona, obviously a state far away from an ocean. I did odds-and-ends jobs until I landed a real position at a small bank. They set me up with some intern housing until I was able to afford rent, and I eventually moved my way up within the company to a senior teller. I guess hearing this story also makes sense of why everyone thought I was crazy for leaving. Well, right about now, I will also agree. I was crazy.
I turn onto my side to cuddle my blanket when my door explodes off the last of its poor hinges and Sin rushes forward, barreling into my room— again. I grab my flannel blanket, tucking it just under my chin. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Again!?” I shriek, his sudden intrusion scaring the crap out of me.
Sin, God help me, is naked yet again. He is in attack mode, his eyes glowing a fierce amber while he inspects my room for bad guys.
“Are you okay? Were you having another nightmare?” He searches my face for answers.
“What—what are you talking about?” I look around my small space avoiding eye contact. He inspects me further and realizes I am no apparent danger. As the tension in him dissipates, I relax myself, slowly dropping my blanket to my lap.
“Okay so maybe I was just having a little bit of a bad dream,” I explain softly, ashamed at my second outburst in the past few hours.
Sin steps forward, his masculine legs making his way in front of my bed. “What is it that you see that upsets you?”
“In my dreams? Nothing. I don’t know. I don’t remember them.” I try to sit up straighter, pulling my blanket over my tingling body once again. And why does my body keep feeling all funny?
“You lie.” His voice is like silk, falling over my trembling skin.
“I don’t, and… and it’s really none of your business. Why are you still in here? I said what the fuck are you doing in
here? Again!?”!” I attempt to gain control of the situation. I need him to leave my room so I can kick my body’s ass for its reaction to him.
“You dream about something that upsets you. Your aura is drowning in it. So much sadness. I want to know what it is.”
Calling me out on my emotions triggers a new one: anger. How dare he try to diagnose me? I was done sharing my dreams in those therapists’ offices when no one could help me. When no one could truly understand how real they were and how painful it felt every time I was ripped from my dreams, choking on a vision of a woman I knew meant something important to me once upon a time.
“Listen, it’s none of your damn business. I’m not your poor lost girlfriend who you need to save here. Just leave it be, okay?” The second the words tumble from my lips, I instantly regret them. It’s when I feel the rippling in the air that I know I’ve made a huge mistake. I know my words stung. The way his body jerks and his teeth clench, I’ve struck a nerve. Shit. “Hey, listen. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Within seconds, I’m tossed onto my back and he is on top of me. “I don’t need your sympathy or your pity, Emma,” he growls angrily, his nose nearly brushing against mine. “Don’t think your words harm me in any way. I am numb to your petty insults.”
“I-I wasn’t. I was just saying—”
“You think you can hide your emotions from me, Emma? I can smell the guilt pouring off you. You pity me. Don’t. And you are right; you are nothing to me, so don’t waste your time feeling any emotion for me,” he commands, bending closer, allowing his cheek to graze mine, his lips skimming my chin. I don’t know what comes over me, but even at his hurtful words, my eyelids flutter closed and I lift my chin in hopes of giving him better access to my neck. What the hell is wrong with me? I will make excuses later but right now, I can’t seem to control the way my body wants his mouth on me. I mean, I am human, for God’s sake.
Sinful Instincts (Woodland Creek) Page 5
