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

by Rosalie Stanton

  His eyes were deep with what a moron might mistake for desperation or regret. Or worse, pity. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he offered.

  Yeah, wrong thing to say. A flash of white-hot rage exploded under her skin, and before she could stop herself, Varina had taken off in a dead run for him, her blade aimed at any opening she could find. Her swing was wild, her vision shifted, and she lost sight of the target. The next thing she knew, Campbell had her by the wrists.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that doesn’t make anything better—”

  Varina reared her head back, then smashed her brow against his. The pressure at her wrists faded, a thoroughly gratifying grunt breaking the air. He staggered back. Her fingers tightened around the blade handle, and prepared for him to attack. Demons always attacked when cornered.

  But Campbell didn’t attack. He dabbed at his nose, which had started leaking blood—red, human-looking blood—then raised his gaze to her. “I had that coming.”

  Varina raised her knife again, her heart thumping. “You think?” she spat, fighting a wince at how hard her voice shook. Her voice that didn’t sound like hers. The control she’d spent years cultivating had abandoned her, leaving her with the horrid need to curl up in a ball and cry. But fuck if she’d let him see that—it was bad enough that she’d exposed herself as much as she had.

  Campbell shook his head, his gaze not leaving hers. “I don’t know what to say. What do you need me to say?”

  A tear broke through her defenses. She felt it, cold and wet and damning, sliding down her cheek. There were more coming. She stared at him, ripping through the clusterfuck in her mind to come up with something to say, but focusing on his question proved impossible. She had too much to ask and too much she didn’t want to know. Self-preservation was not an option. She was as exposed as she’d ever been.

  When she found her voice again, it was hoarse and thick, and it wrapped itself around a single question. “Why?”

  Campbell released a long breath. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean any of this.”

  “You just accidentally showed up at my bar, my house, and decided to make nice?”

  “When I met you at the bar, I didn’t know who you were,” he said. “I didn’t find out until after.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s the truth. I can’t make you believe it, but that’s it.”

  Campbell’s face was an exercise in sincerity. He didn’t blink, didn’t look away, didn’t do any of the things she’d come to expect from habitual liars.

  “You told me you weren’t a demon,” Varina snapped. “You knew what I do to demons.”

  “No, I guessed. And I didn’t lie to you—I’ve done as little of that as I could.”

  “What, you want a fucking medal? And what the hell do you mean you didn’t lie to me? All you’ve ever done is lie to me.”

  “No,” Campbell asserted, his voice calm. “I told you that first day. I’m not a demon. And I’m not. I’m not human, either,” he rushed to add when her eyes widened. “I come from where demons are born. Well, true demons, anyway, but I am not one of them.”

  “You’re either very confused or very stupid.”

  “I know you know there are different kinds of demons,” he said. “The ones that bother you, mostly lower demons—or earthbound. Demons that couldn’t survive in Hell.” Campbell swallowed. “Then there’s Legion. The Hell Demons—the kind that were never human.”

  Varina stared at him, a slew of angry words stuck in her throat, each vying for their chance to swing at him. To cut. Make him hurt the way he’d made her hurt. The pain in her chest, radiating through her body, needed voice, but she couldn’t find it.

  Part of her, some foolish, desperate part, held out for him to explain how everything she’d seen and heard was a mistake so she could go back to the happy place she’d been before they’d fallen asleep.

  Because, apparently, she was the world’s biggest idiot.

  “Hell Demons are twisted, evil fucks,” Campbell went on. “Most of them, at least. Power hungry assholes who view humans as chess pieces. They serve a purpose, I guess, though Lucifer never has explained how. They fuck things up, play politics, orchestrate disasters…shit like that. I’m not—”

  Varina swallowed, her chest tight. “Lucifer.”

  Campbell’s shoulders fell. “Yeah.”

  “Lucifer the devil.”

  “He’s who sent me here.”

  She started cracking all over again—desperate to hold on, to keep from shattering. “So it’s semantics,” she said, trembling. “You saying you’re not a demon.”

  “No, it’s the truth. I’m a Sin, Varina. You know the Seven Deadly Sins?”

  “Of course I know the Seven Deadly Sins. Sloth, greed, Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box, I get it.” Varina paused, frowning. “How can you be a sin? Sin is…it’s an act. It’s what you do. It’s not a person.”

  “And yet, here I stand.” He spread his arms. “I’m a Sin. Me and my siblings.”

  “Oh, there are more of you?”

  “Yeah, that’s where the seven comes from.” The expression on Campbell’s face was somewhere between exasperated and desperate. “Lucifer created us after the Church came up with the idea.”

  “So you were created by the devil, live in Hell, but you’re not demons.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “You’re doing some pretty serious mental gymnastics to give yourself a pass,” Varina snapped. “I don’t care what you are—demon, Sin, the pope, whatever. You lied to me. You lied to me, used me, made me—” She forced herself to break off before she said something even more pathetic, her chest wrenching again.

  Campbell reeled as though she’d slapped him. “What?” he asked, stepping forward.

  No. She wouldn’t give him that. She didn’t think she could stomach the thought as it was, much less give it air. Varina tore her gaze from his, unable to look at him anymore. “Just leave,” she said, her voice soft. All at once, she felt cowed by the hurt, her anger shoved aside, present but exhausted.

  His thick breaths filled the room. “The world almost ended. I told you that, and it was the truth.” He paused. “I was there. Legion escaped, along with countless other Hell Demons, but Legion’s a special case. I was the one who captured it last time, so Lucifer sent me to collect. Legion came here, for you, so I came here too. That’s why I’m here. I had… I never wanted to lie to you, Varina. I would’ve told you everything from the start if I’d thought you would let me in.”

  Varina kept her gaze trained on the space behind him. Each word that crossed his lips struck a chord within her, but she didn’t know what the chord meant. The rational part of her brain absorbed what he’d said, analyzed it and understood. She could see the path from one decision to the next, the hoops he’d had to jump through, the minefields to navigate, assuming any of what he’d said was true.

  But she couldn’t make that assumption. She didn’t want to try. Any route she took, the destination was the same. Unavoidable. No matter what his motives or his reason—if he was a demon or a Sin, here for Legion or another reason altogether—she couldn’t avoid the fact that she’d stripped herself for him, allowed him to see things she’d never shown anyone. Things she hadn’t thought she was capable of sharing.

  For the first time since before her mother had died, she’d felt warm. Cherished. Wanted.

  Loved.

  And he’d been lying to her the whole time. In all the ways that mattered, he’d lied to her.

  She’d given him something precious and fragile, and he’d broken it.

  “Was fucking me part of it?”

  Campbell stared at her. “What?”

  “It’s a simple question. Did you fuck me because Lucifer told you to?”

  “How can you ask me that?”

  The indignation in his tone was the miracle drug she needed to combat her pain. Her chest tightened with anger and her fist flexed around the kni
fe. In her mind, she saw herself lunging forward and giving him the treatment she’d given to countless demons before him—saw the blade buried deep in the place where any human’s heart would be.

  He deserved it. That and worse.

  “I’ve never felt anything like this,” Campbell said the next moment, either too stupid to see he was in dangerous territory, or smart enough to recognize he needed to talk himself out of it. “And I’ve lived a long goddamn time. You have made me want things I’ve never wanted. I came here because I had to.” He looked down and released a long breath, his shoulders dropping. “Trust me, it would’ve been a lot easier to do my job if I didn’t give a shit. If you were just means to an end.”

  “Sorry to be an inconvenience.”

  “Varina—”

  “You need to leave.” She refused to flinch when his pained eyes met hers again. “Get your shit and leave.”

  He swallowed and shook his head. “No. I’m sorry for a lot of things, but abandoning you won’t be one of them. I won’t leave you to that thing.”

  “You’re confusing abandoning with getting your ass thrown out of here.”

  “You can’t face this alone. I know you’re angry with me, but—”

  Varina couldn’t help it—she laughed. The sound was stilted and bitter. “Angry?” she repeated, her voice cracking. “This isn’t anger. This is…”

  But she didn’t want to name it. She didn’t want it to be real. She just wanted time to rewind so she could go back to where she’d been an hour ago. Or hell, where she’d been before she’d come back to this wretched town in the first place—before she’d made the dumbass decision to let herself grow attached. Before she’d fallen for any of his bullshit.

  “There’s the devil you know and the devil you don’t,” Varina said at last. “I don’t know you at all. With Legion, I know what to expect.”

  He gave her another one of this long, imploring looks—the sort that nudged that part of her that was still vulnerable. The part that wanted to twist and bend, wanted to pretend. It was such a new, untried piece of her that she hadn’t had the chance to develop resistance. But it made her feel weak, and that she couldn’t take.

  “I’ll go,” Campbell said at last.

  She felt something inside her break, her mind deafened by the screams of a thousand conflicting emotions. Confusion warred with anger while trying to shake off disappointment, all the while doing its best to ignore the throbbing pulse of pain that had layered itself at the very root of every sensation.

  Varina swallowed, then nodded. “Good.”

  “Just for tonight. I’m going to be back tomorrow.”

  She clenched her fists, the knife slipping against her sweaty skin. “You—”

  “What I came here for is bigger than this,” Campbell replied, his voice tight and curt. “You and me weren’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to come here, collect the demon, and be off. Falling in love with you was not a part of that deal—I did that on my own, and that’s my goddamn fault. Ignore me, hate me, do whatever you need, but until Legion is in that fucking box, you’re gonna have to deal with me being here.”

  At some point during his speech, the knife had fallen from Varina’s hand. Her heart again had started a hard gallop and every inch of her skin felt liable to melt right off her bones.

  Campbell held her gaze. “Yeah, you heard me. I love you. I didn’t ask to. Not particularly thrilled about it at the moment, but I love you. And you’re outta that gorgeous head of yours if you think I’m going to leave you to deal with the demon that ruined your life by yourself. I’ll give you tonight, but I’m gonna be real close until this is over. Once Legion is actually not your problem anymore, I won’t be, either.”

  Her mind tried and failed to provide her with new words. In lieu of a crushing reply, she just stared, grappling for words but finding none.

  She was still staring when he vanished before her eyes, and the heavy, comforting weight of his energy signature faded. She stood rooted to the spot so long her feet began to hurt, the bubble of pain in her chest constricting and inflating in uneven bursts.

  Anger had transitioned into something less definable, amplified by exhaustion. Working through her muddled thoughts seemed a feat almost as impossible as defeating a demon without a body. Likewise, she didn’t want to move, for then she would have to contend with the reality that had been the past hour—what it meant, and what tomorrow would bring.

  For the first time in her life, Varina didn’t have the energy.

  So just this once, she’d give herself permission to feel weak. She’d do what she wanted, and dissolve into hard sobs.

  24

  This time, he knew it was coming.

  The second Campbell materialized under the live oak, the numbness that had taken residence in his chest faded, and the crushing, familiar rush of panic surged ahead. He had no idea how he’d managed to keep it at bay as long as he had—out of necessity or self-preservation or some combination thereof. But the moment he’d realized that Varina knew, the familiar spike of icy fear had mounted forward, only to be put on hold as he’d grappled for control of an impossible situation.

  He didn’t have to fight for control here, and he didn’t try. Campbell braced himself against his knees, gritted his teeth and rode it through. The rising wave of black anxiety coupled with the intense need to breathe and the inability to remember how his lungs worked. He let himself fall down the mental rabbit hole until he couldn’t make out familiar shapes, until everything he knew was a blur of color.

  How long it lasted, he couldn’t say. The painful thudding in his chest raced with the rushing in his ears, pushing harder and harder until crossing some invisible finish line together. At length, the thundering began to subside, the heat infusing his skin to wane, and he fell back to himself.

  Campbell blinked, commanding his eyes to focus. He slowly regained awareness of his surroundings—the hot, oppressive air that seemed to weep against him, the calming chirps from regional wildlife, the colorful streaks of dawn lighting the sky. And behind a heavy, gnarly branch of live oak, beyond a curtain of Spanish moss, stood the columns surrounding Mount Zion. Even from here, Campbell could see the light in the guest room was still on.

  His mind, the prize asshole that it was, drew him back to that moment. He hadn’t had time to consider his words—he hadn’t even meant for them to come out, but once the dam broke, there was nowhere to go but with the flow. The stunned look on her face had chased him out. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. If there was anything to do with it, or if he had further solidified himself as a walking punch-line.

  He hurt, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

  Campbell kept his gaze on the window until his eyes watered, then forced himself to look away. Now that he was outside—a whopping hundred feet or so from the woman in question—he wasn’t sure what to do.

  Everything had happened so fast, from falling asleep with Varina in his arms to waking up with Legion smiling through her face. He hadn’t given himself much time alone with his thoughts since the night before, and for good reason. He hadn’t wanted to consider what he was doing, what it meant, and the decisions he’d have to make. While true, he’d known the truth would likely cost him everything, he hadn’t been prepared for that moment to come so soon. He hadn’t had time to work out what he’d wanted to tell her, assuming—foolishly—that he’d have the chance.

  This was why he didn’t do love. It complicated otherwise simple situations. And why he’d given himself leave to go and fall in love with the stubborn woman, he didn’t know. She’d just happened into his life at the moment he’d felt less like himself than in any preceding moment combined, and something about her had remain lodged where he couldn’t dig it out.

  Campbell looked back to the house. The light was off now, and the sky behind the home had brightened even more.

  Something else hit his chest, then. Something harder and colder than the anxiety that had become so fam
iliar. A foreign ache that twisted when he pictured her round eyes, so full of pain it nearly knifed him. When he remembered the tears that had trailed down her cheeks, and how her voice had cracked around her words.

  Campbell didn’t realize that he had reached for his cell phone until it was in his hand. He dragged his gaze from the house long enough to blink at the device, wonder why he had pulled it out, then think of Varina again. The pang resurfaced, harder this time, and he found himself scrolling through his contacts until a name all but leaped off the screen. His thumb pressed against the call button without waiting for permission.

  “Hello?” Luxi’s voice managed to sound distant and amplified at the same time. “Cam?”

  Campbell stared at the phone, then brought it to his ear. “How did Grayson react?”

  “Huh?”

  “When he found out you weren’t human. How did he react?”

  The heavy pause filled the line. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry.” She made a sound as though pained. “Honestly…that was the worst day of my life.”

  “Great.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t be calling if things were going hot for you,” Luxi retorted. Then, softer, she said, “Is it the gal you had the special ‘I solemnly swear my penis is not diseased’ documents drawn up for?”

  Campbell snorted. At the moment, he had no pride to preserve. “Yeah.”

  “I thought so. I mean, I had a feeling. I dunno. You seemed a little moony-eyed when I visited.”

  “I don’t get moony-eyed.”

  “Yet we’re having this conversation.”

  Luxi cleared her throat, then said, “Grayson finding out what I was sucked. But I look back and I don’t know how that could’ve been different. Well, I guess Big J could have not shown up and made with the bombshells, and maybe Cassie could’ve kept her clothes on and her ass out of Grayson’s house—”

  “Cassie?” Campbell hadn’t heard this story. Or if he had, he hadn’t been paying attention. “Ira’s Cassie? The Virtue Cassie? Our Cassie?”