Deliverance from Sin: A Demonic Paranormal Romance (Sinners & Saints Book 5)

by Rosalie Stanton

  The shelves contained the same contents that had been there for decades. Books she recognized not by author or title, but by shape and color. Her father’s collection—his display—had consisted of those books he considered great feats of literature and wanted other people to note upon taking the grand tour. There was the American section, dedicated to greats like Hemingway, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Twain, Faulkner, Salinger, Capote, Lee, Whitman, and Williams. Then the British section, with the obligatory Shakespeare, Dickens, Doyle, Austen, Lewis, and Orwell. The horror section, which wasn’t split by nationality, had everything from Poe to Shelley, and King. The largest section, naturally, was the one boasting the pristine first editions of the Jenning Jefferson collection.

  Well, pristine as any collection could be, covered in dust as it was.

  Varina studied the book spines for a long moment. These were the show books, she knew. To be displayed rather than read. They were decorations and recommendations—things her father had read and approved of.

  Her father wasn’t here now.

  Varina slid one of the titles off the shelf. The Midnight History, her father’s debut novel, which had hit bookstores in 1987 and catapulted him to literary fame.

  She’d never read any of his books. At once too young, then too disillusioned. Perhaps it was time to change that. Varina stuck the book under her arm and retreated a few steps before turning fully and heading back for the hall.

  Campbell was still seated at the piano, but from the way his eyes met hers, she could tell he’d been watching the study door ever since she’d dipped inside. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them pulsing with life that had nothing to do with demons or energy signatures.

  At length, he looked away and lifted his hands to the piano’s keys. The silence was replaced with haunting notes Varina knew had been penned by Beethoven, though she didn’t know the exact sonata. She stood there listening for untold moments, fighting tears and welcoming them at the same time.

  She hadn’t known Campbell could play. Granted, there was so much she didn’t know about him. Enough to fill a tome as thick as the one in her arms.

  Varina waited until he looked her way again before convincing herself to move. But she didn’t follow her heart’s directions, instead made her way back upstairs, serenaded by Beethoven.

  She climbed into bed and opened the book.

  The dedication read, To Jules. My light at midnight.

  Then she couldn’t help it. The pressure at her chest couldn’t be shoved back—everything came crashing down, heavy enough to suffocate her under the rubble.

  For the first time since leaving Mount Zion twelve years prior, Varina cried for her father.

  14

  Like the night before, the scream reached into her sleep and yanked her to the land of consciousness. Varina’s eyes flew open and she jerked herself upright, sending the open book on her chest careening off the bed.

  A few seconds passed before her brain kicked all the way online and the pounding in her chest subsided. The lamp that sat on the bedside table was still on, and she was lying on top of the blankets. At some point before falling asleep, she had kicked off her jeans and shucked her bra. Her plan to wiggle into yoga pants had been foiled by exhaustion.

  Another throaty cry tore through the air.

  Campbell.

  She released a long, steady breath, her shoulders slumping as she forced her body to relax.

  She sat still for a few minutes, listening to Campbell’s cries as they came, and the mumbled protests in-between each scream. The part of her that knew waking him up would do no good engaged in a brief, futile war with the part that wanted to help. It didn’t take much to pinpoint Campbell as being a pretty private guy; someone whose pride was wounded more at knowing others had identified a weakness than having a weakness in the first place. His response to Legion earlier had demonstrated as much.

  In the end, though she wanted to help him, Varina recognized her help wouldn’t be appreciated. She settled back on the bed. The room was warm, so she didn’t bother getting under the covers, though she did reach over to switch off the lamp.

  When the room went dark, the atmosphere changed, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

  Varina held her breath, counted to ten, then let it out. The hairs on her arms stood at attention, a wave of goose bumps breaking out over her legs. Around her middle, a hot band grew and squeezed, sending familiar nausea through her system.

  She turned over and looked into the black room. There was nothing, of course—nothing she could see.

  But it was there. She knew it.

  She would not fear. Legion wanted her fear. She would not give it what it wanted. She would not.

  Then something wrapped around her ankle, and Varina nearly choked on a gasp.

  No. No. Control.

  “You won’t scare me,” she told the darkness, her voice shaking so much no one would believe her.

  When the thing tugged, she couldn’t help herself—she screamed.

  There were a million and a half ways to die in the dream world. In Campbell’s dreams, there was only one. And he lived it night after night.

  What was worse, when he was in the dream—standing in the middle of the Colosseum, watching as Hell’s Most Wanted swarmed the only people in this fucked-up world he cared about, he knew it was a memory. He knew that he would wake up, but of course that didn’t happen.

  The dreams hadn’t always been lucid. This was a new twist—a creative, exciting way for his brain to torment him. Campbell found himself locked in a script that couldn’t change, watching helplessly as his family grew farther and farther away, and unable to fight when the swarm came down upon him. Then he’d be on his back, blinking at the disappearing sky, fighting with everything he had as the demons rained down.

  But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. They came and tore and ripped him up, and each time he felt himself slipping closer to the point of no return. To the endless black of death—toward a world that would keep turning and a universe that would keep living, only he’d know none of it.

  He wouldn’t even be bothered, then. He’d be too dead.

  He’d lived so long he’d forgotten he could die.

  Campbell threw his head back and screamed, twisting and bucking. Claws dug into his sides and ripped his flesh away. His chest came open, his guts spilling onto the dirt floor. Everything pulsed around him.

  And then came that awful moment, like it did every night. The time when he stopped caring, when all he wanted was for the pain to stop. The moment when he gave up. When Campbell died and the hybrid he’d become was born.

  His head flopped uselessly to the ground, and he turned, waiting.

  And his eyes landed on Varina.

  Varina?

  A whole new sort of cold took over him, rendering him stiff as stone. His heart stopped, then began galloping. His blood rushed. His bones ached.

  “Varina?” he called.

  She didn’t seem to hear him. She was too far away, and there were so many.

  He wouldn’t get to her in time.

  “Varina!”

  A scream tore through the world, and the sky that had been black was ripped into stripes of white. Campbell scrambled to his feet. Slow. So slow. He couldn’t get there fast enough.

  Then he awoke.

  But the screams didn’t stop.

  It took a few sluggish beats for Campbell to understand, for him to burst into a fury of motion. In a blink he was on the ground, his long strides eating the space between his room and Varina’s. Her door was open, as it had been when he’d retired, but the bedside lamp had been turned off. He stumbled over the threshold and flipped on the switch by the door.

  What he saw made no sense at first—his mind still half inside the nightmare. Varina was holding onto the bedpost nearest him, her body stretched over thin air, one of her legs pulled at an awkward angle, the other kicking toward the unseen force with no avail.


  He didn’t think. A ball of energy manifested in his hand and launched before he could stop himself. Only there was nothing for it to hit but empty space—and the armoire, which crashed against the wall hard enough to send dust and bits of debris into the air. Varina screamed again, but went still—the tug of war coming to a sudden stop.

  Then she collapsed to the floor without ceremony. The resounding impact of her body hitting the ground seemed to make the whole house shake.

  One second he was standing by the door and the next he was on the floor, her trembling body pressed into his. The instant he had her against him, something inside him relaxed. The tension in his shoulders faded and a long sigh rode off his lips.

  “I got you,” he whispered into her hair, hoping he was telling her the truth. “It’s gone now.”

  His words seemed to have a cooling effect, for the second they touched the air, Varina stiffened and pulled back. It shouldn’t have surprised him—she wasn’t the sort of woman who sought comfort—but he couldn’t help but feel a little bereft when she put distance between them.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  Campbell’s heart leaped into his throat, his mind racing. “What?”

  “You threw something at…at…” She looked toward the vacant space he imagined Legion had occupied, her brow furrowed. “What…what did you do? How did you get it to… I…”

  What he’d done was act like a prized moron. Even if he’d tossed something other than energy at the empty space—like, say, a fireball—it wouldn’t have done any good. And it was pure luck he hadn’t thrown something substantial. Fire and electricity were his go-tos. If she’d seen that, she’d be screaming for a whole different reason.

  Campbell exhaled. “I… It’s instinct, I guess.” That much was true, if not deceptive. “Are you okay?”

  She waited for a moment before turning back to him. Her eyes were wide, but lined with that cool determination he’d come to know over the past day. The fierce need to not let anything rattle her. It was something so familiar, yet she managed it with far more grace than he could claim.

  “I… Yes, of course.”

  She was okay enough to lie, so that was something.

  “Good.” He swallowed. “We wanna get up off the floor, then?”

  Varina pressed her lips together and nodded. She climbed to her feet, and he pretended not to see the way her legs shook.

  Then she extended her hand to him. Campbell arched an eyebrow, but took it without comment.

  She’d made several statements over the past twenty-four hours alluding to her strength. These statements hadn’t been arrogant, rather matter of fact, and at no point had she seemed intimidated by him, or unconvinced of her ability to kick his ass if she felt the need. Having been surrounded by boastful assholes his entire life, Campbell hadn’t given the comments much weight.

  He knew from having watched the way she carried herself that she’d reap plenty of damage on earth demons, but that wasn’t saying much. Earth demons, by and large, differed little from humans. There were certain classes that packed more of a punch, like vampires, but most were variations on the same theme, and didn’t require much heat to be put down.

  When Varina pulled him off the ground, though, all his preconceptions went out the window. He had enough muscle on him for his weight to warrant a wince if it fell on someone else to carry him.

  Varina didn’t bat an eye.

  And in turn, Campbell found himself staring at her like a slack-jawed schoolboy.

  She frowned. “Something wrong?”

  “No…I…” He blinked dumbly, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

  She didn’t look convinced but didn’t pursue it. Instead, she released a long breath and turned her attention to the bed—the rumpled mess of it she’d made. “Thank you. I don’t know exactly what Legion’s plan was, but—”

  “That’s why I’m here. To protect you.”

  At that, she jerked her head toward him. “I’ve told you once. I’m not a damsel. I don’t need protecting.”

  “You’re not a damsel, but everyone needs protecting every now and then.”

  She took a step forward, her eyes dancing at her challenge. “Even you? You need protecting, Campbell?”

  Something in her tone made him feel naked and vulnerable. His mind flashed back to the nightmare, to Varina standing a few feet away, watching as the beasts of Hell tore out his insides. She’d been screaming in the dream, but perhaps not for help. Perhaps it had been for him.

  But that was ridiculous. It was just a dream, one of many, and Varina hadn’t been in Rome that night.

  He held her gaze a long moment. “Goodnight, Varina,” he said, and turned to leave.

  He was almost to the door when she said, “Wait.”

  He paused.

  “I… Legion might come back.”

  Campbell hesitated before looking over his shoulder.

  “Would you…stay?”

  “Stay?”

  She nodded, a hint of pink staining her cheeks. “It’s a big bed.”

  Yes, it was. A big, cushy bed in which he could envision doing all sorts of things, none of which involved sleep. Campbell’s throat tightened and his heart thudded with excitement. He turned to face her completely, mesmerized by her sudden shyness. At least, he thought it was shyness.

  His dick twitched, and without warning, his mind unleashed everything he’d spent today trying not to think or feel. He could have her naked and screaming in seconds flat. He could run his hands over that soft skin that had been tormenting him since she’d pulled away from him earlier. He could kneel between her legs and tongue her until she passed out.

  She wasn’t a stranger anymore. He knew her name, he felt he knew her—or at least, he knew her enough to know he wanted more.

  He wanted her to trust him in all the ways she shouldn’t, and not because it meant jack shit to his assignment, but because she was the most captivating person he’d ever met.

  His thoughts must have been broadcasted, for Varina took a step back, raising her hand.

  “Just sleep,” she said, the pink on her cheeks graduating to full-out red. “No sex.”

  A knot formed in his stomach, and the throb in his groin intensified. “Just sleep.”

  Her shoulders sagged a little and something that could have been disappointment flashed across her face. Could have been, but he wasn’t about to push. No matter what, Campbell would never be that guy.

  And sleeping beside her, near her, would be better than nothing. He would take what he could get.

  Though after they were in bed and the lights were off, lying side by side and not speaking, he wondered if this was a new form of torture. The heat radiating from her side of the mattress was intoxicating. He’d never before climbed into bed with a woman just to sleep. His body wasn’t sure how to behave, and even less sure it wanted to.

  Campbell didn’t know how long he lay staring at the canopy before he felt her fingers skating over his hand. Every cell he possessed flared to life.

  “Goodnight, Campbell,” she whispered.

  Something in his chest twisted at the words.

  “Goodnight, Varina.”

  15

  Varina had never shared a bed with a man. Well, not to sleep. Even if she were staying over at a guy’s house, they didn’t bunk together. Too warm. Too intimate. Too…everything. It didn’t matter the circumstances, or whether or not sex was on the agenda. She’d rather opt for the couch. Even the floor was preferable to getting cozy.

  In fact, she hadn’t realized that she’d intended to ask Campbell to sleep with her until the words had left her mouth. After they had settled in beside each other, she hadn’t anticipated getting much in the way of sleep. If not for being so wired from what had just occurred in the room, then certainly due to Campbell’s penchant for night terrors.

  She’d lain awake for a few minutes after whispering her goodnight before closing her eyes.

  The next t
hing she knew, early morning sunlight was pouring in through the broken window. Oh, and she was no longer on her side of the bed.

  There were no sides of the bed.

  First of all, the thing her cheek rested against wasn’t a pillow. It was better than a pillow. She’d never understood how resting on a man’s chest could be considered comfortable until that moment, until she realized her mouth was just an inch or two above his nipple, and her right arm thrown across his middle like she’d decided at some point in the night to give him some full body hug.

  Also, he was shirtless. Had he been shirtless last night when he’d barreled into the room? How had she missed that?

  Varina lifted her head. Her right leg had likewise decided to join the party, having thrown itself over his. Also bare.

  Apparently she hadn’t just invited a shirtless man into her bed, but one wearing naught but a pair of boxers to boot.

  She groaned inwardly, and almost outwardly when her thigh brushed something hot and rigid. Heat flamed her skin and her heart decided to take up tap dancing. Varina hissed a breath, lifting her leg with care. There was a possibility that what she thought she’d rubbed against wasn’t…well, it wasn’t as though she’d gotten a good look at him either of the times they’d had sex. Sure, he’d felt…

  She didn’t need to be thinking about how he’d felt.

  Somehow, Varina managed to reclaim her leg without accidentally kneeing Campbell in the family jewels, though she wasn’t so fortunate as to leave the blankets undisturbed. Something caught and dragged with her, and while this wasn’t enough to rouse her bedmate, it did pull the covers away enough to reveal, yes, he did have some pretty impressive morning wood, peeking through the open slit of his black cotton boxers.

  Varina didn’t realize she was staring until her eyes began to water. She blinked hard and looked away…for about three seconds, then looked back. The male anatomy hadn’t done much to impress her up until this point in life. She appreciated a nice penis for what it could do for her, but being that ‘what it could do for her’ had traditionally been not much, she’d never been the sort of woman who responded to nudity without additional stimuli.