Original Sin

by Lydia Michaels

  She gave him a sidelong glance and he met it with his own. She should have just stayed in what she’d been wearing. But how would she have explained that to everyone at Jimbo’s?

  She scoffed again.

  When they reached her apartment complex, he paid the cab and it drove away. They could take her car back, she figured, until she faced the exterior door and realized she didn’t have her keys.

  “Crap.”

  “Language.”

  “I don’t have my keys.” His fault.

  He nudged her aside and held his hand, fingers wide, a few inches from the knob. The lock clicked.

  “Did you just...”

  He flashed a smile and held the door for her.

  “You can move things with your mind?”

  “Small things. Nothing too exciting.”

  She blinked. He just Jedi mind tricked a door open. It was freaking epic. That would be the first thing she’d make him teach her after she changed.

  When they reached her apartment, he did the hand lock trick again. “That’s awesome.”

  He followed her inside and she paused at the strange sense that nothing had changed yet she somehow expected everything to feel different. An empty coffee mug sat on the counter the way she left it. Her books still lay open on the table. And no one had been by to fold the laundry she’d been putting off.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She frowned at his question, unable to explain how utterly insignificant her unchanged home made her feel. “No one’s been here.”

  “Were you expecting someone?”

  She hadn’t been expecting to come home to caution tape and sirens, but a note taped to the door might have been nice. She found her phone by the bed. Four missed calls and six texts. That was it.

  Disliking the sense that she was mostly invisible to everyone but Adam, she tucked the phone into her purse and placed it by the door. She scanned the apartment.

  Boxes of memories stared back at her, each one a painful piece of her past she’d successfully avoided for eighteen months. She flinched when he placed his hands on her arms, surprising her from behind.

  “You’re sad.”

  She stared at one box in particular. “I’ve lived here for a year and a half and I never unpacked.” It wasn’t a home, just a pit stop for her to catch her breath.

  She regarded the apartment with strange detachment. But the boxes...

  She couldn’t bear to open them, nor could she bear to get rid of them. Her mother’s life was packed inside. Memories and photos. Keepsakes and recipe cards. Burned birthday candles she’d so lovingly lit that should have held wishes but only held sadness now.

  His lips pressed to the back of her shoulder. “We can bring them with us.”

  She shook her head. Why, so she could lug them around for her next life—a life that would be unrecognizable to the one she knew now and the one she had before?

  Pain tightened in her chest. The tape, holding the flaps of the boxes closed, had been pulled so many times it no longer stuck to the cardboard. Every time she’d opened those boxes, she lost hours to sitting in tears. She didn’t want to do that now, in front of him.

  If her mother were alive, what would she say about him? Would she believe any of this? Would she think him a good man? Would she trust him?

  Annalise smiled. Her mother would have loved him.

  Her fingers pressed over his, still resting on her arms. If she had to choose between him and these boxes, she’d choose him because he was real. The boxes were just symbols of memories, triggers she didn’t need, to remember her mom. But there was one thing she wanted.

  She went to the large box in the corner. “You’re allowed to use batteries, right?”

  He hesitated. “In some cases.”

  This would have to be one of those cases. “Good.”

  She pulled back the tape with a rip and lifted the old boom box out. Any music saved to her cloud would be useless on a farm without electricity or Wi-Fi. But CD’s would still work. Thankfully, she’d kept her mother’s.

  She lifted the little black case of her mother’s favorite albums and the radio. “I’m ready.”

  He frowned at her choices. “I assumed you would want other, personal items.”

  Her clothes would be useless. Her makeup inappropriate. She gasped. “My books!” Without the internet, books would be her only entertainment.

  She dumped a box of knick-knacks onto the sofa and collected her favorite novels and texts, leaving just enough room for the radio to rest on top. She grabbed her purse, too.

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  His frown had deepened as he saw the amount of personal belongings, she’d gathered despite her decision to bring only what she needed. “Annalise, some of those items won’t—”

  “I’m not leaving without this stuff.” This was her life in a box. Her favorite things and only tangible link to her past. She snatched a picture from off the end table and tucked it in the box. “The longer we stand here arguing the more stuff I’m going to grab. Just let me have my way with this, Adam. These things are important to me.”

  He didn’t know this would be the last time she saw these things. He wouldn’t understand that these relics of her human life had caused her pain and she was glad to leave them behind, but needed just a few to make her feel safe. Music was a time machine that took her back to places her mom still seemed alive. And her books were a security blanket that protected her from the real world when it got too harsh to handle. The medical texts symbolized her intention to continue her education, no matter what happened.

  “All right, ainsicht.” He took the box from her arms.

  “Thank you.”

  She followed him to the door, glancing back one last time. He likely assumed this was just a temporary goodbye, but she knew the truth.

  As soon as they returned to the farm, she’d insist they complete the bonding. Once they were certain he would live, they could discuss where to go from there. But Annalise knew without a doubt, that this part of her would be forever dead. And if she decided to move on, she’d be moving somewhere that actually brought her joy.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Adam paused at the fetid odor of wafting testosterone that surrounded her place of work.

  Annalise paused, one hand on the door, her eyes waiting for him to tell her it was safe. “What is it? Do you feel something?”

  It had been a simple question with a simple answer, but taken aback by her reliance on him, he struggled to answer. She was coming to trust his instincts and the idea that he would always protect her.

  “It’s nothing to worry over.” He reached for the door and held it for her.

  Tobacco scented air greeted as they stepped into the dimly lit bar. His hand closed around her hip, tucking her into his side.

  She laughed and patted his hand. “Loosen up, caveman. Why don’t you wait in that booth while I talk to—”

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like this place. He didn’t like the way the men watched her or the way the bartender wanted her.

  “Adam. Let me do this.”

  Once again he had a strange inclination that something had changed. She’d been acting different since they left the Mennonite house two nights ago. Every so often he’d glimpse a resoluteness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  He saw the same glimmer now and wondered what she intended to tell them. “Do not take long.”

  “Don’t be pushy.” She took a step and he pulled her back, spinning her towards him.

  His lips pressed to hers and he whispered, “Then don’t push me.”

  Rolling her eyes, she gave him a little shove on the chest, her gaze playful. “Sit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Never taking his gaze off her, he lowered into the booth and scowled when the men noticed her return.

  “I ... had the flu.” The more she repeated the lie, the easier it came.


  He didn’t condone her lying at all, but for their situation, it seemed a necessary evil. When the bartender finally saw her, he tensed.

  “Anna? Where have you been? We’ve been calling you.”

  She paused and Adam saw in her eye that this had not been the greeting she’d expected from the man. She angled her head toward the back of the bar, and he followed her.

  They stood in the doorway where Adam had a clear visual of them. The music and conversation impeded his ability to clearly hear what they said, but he caught enough to know she was saying goodbye.

  He frowned as a wave of upset stole over her and the scent of her tears reached his nose.

  “We knew this moment would eventually come,” he heard her say. She rose to her toes and a growl rumbled in Adam’s chest as she hugged the other man.

  Without thought, he was on his feet, moving toward her. She saw him coming and hustled to meet him halfway. The guy watched her and frowned.

  “What are you doing? You promised you’d wait.”

  “He’s touching you,” he growled through clenched teeth.

  “Adam, I got this. Go sit down.”

  “He should not be touching you.” His vision shifted to a predator’s stare as another growl escaped. Men continued to ogle her in that dress. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

  She gripped the front of his shirt, yanking him close, and hissed, “Adam, pull it together. You’re making a scene.”

  Nostrils flaring, he drew in an unsteady breath and nodded. “Hurry.”

  “Go sit down. I need a few more minutes.”

  He didn’t have a few more minutes. The scent of other men, their thrumming curiosity and probing focus... It baited him in a dangerous way. “Anna...”

  “I know. We’re almost finished. I need you to give me five minutes, Adam. Please.”

  That softly whispered plea undid his coiling possessiveness enough to allow her a brief reprieve. “Don’t let him touch you again.”

  Unsteady on his feet and bombarded by the drunken emotions floating through this place, he took a seat by the door.

  In a mix of conversation, more lies left her lips. “Upstate. It, um, turns out that I have some family there.”

  Every time she made an excuse for her absence, she followed it with a goodbye. His heart raced as he realized, she wasn’t taking time off, but giving her notice—leaving the job for good.

  His spine tightened. Why would she do that unless she had no intention of returning? What did this mean?

  As he tried to follow her emotions and understand what she planned, he kept getting distracted by the numerous hugs the men offered. At first, she kept her distance, blaming her distance on the flu and claiming she might still be contagious, but some men were more zealous than others.

  When a burly fellow wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off ground, Adam nearly flipped the table springing to his feet. His heartbeat pounded in his skull as his lungs burned as though filled with fire.

  A growl ripped from his throat, as he saw the lush curve of her bottom peek from beneath the hem of her dress as the man returned her to her feet. He was at her side, before she had her balance, pulling her away from the man.

  “We’re leaving.”

  The man frowned. “Who are you?”

  Adam’s eyes flashed, his glare cutting to the man’s gullet. His claws pressing at his fingertips, threatening to come out. “I’m no one you need to remember.”

  “This guy bothering you, missy?” another man asked, and Adam pulled her behind him.

  “It’s fine, Gus.” Her nails dig through his sleeve. “But we have to get going.”

  “You’ll come back and visit.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He seethed as she dragged out the goodbyes. One more person laid a hand on her and he’d lose it. His control frayed like a rolling ball of yarn spinning undone.

  With her nails still embedded in his arm, she jerked him away from the men and growled, “Could you make any more of a scene?”

  “They were touching you.”

  “They were saying goodbye.” She pushed through the door and let go of him. “I wanted five minutes to say goodbye and you couldn’t give me that!”

  His chest heaved with agitated breaths. Her skin reeked of other men and her breasts were nearly spilling out of that undergarment she called a dress.

  “This might mean nothing to you, but it meant something to me, Adam! They’re my friends! Those men are like family to me.”

  Her words pelted him, but her voice hummed as if only a distant echo. Sharp ringing vibrated in his ears until he could only make out the movement of her lips and her anger.

  She shoved his chest and pivoted. The sight of her marching away snapped a trigger and he pounced.

  His hand muffled her scream as he jerked her into his arms and dragged her to the shadows. Her heels kicked into his legs, only heightening his need to dominate her and subdue her struggles.

  Hidden by the trees, he dragged her to the ground and pinned her arms with one hand, his legs trapping hers. She screamed again—

  “Silence.”

  Her voice held with silent panic as he yanked the futile strap of her dress away and plunged his teeth into her frantic pulse. Her body stiffened as he gorged himself. Her blood laced with adrenaline, spiking his own as his hips bucked over her.

  She smelled like them.

  His fingers gripped the top of her dress and pulled, ripping the front open. Snapping his head back, bearing his fangs, he hissed. Moonlight bathed her naked breasts as blood trickled from her throat.

  Her mouth moved, forming the shape of his name, but no sound came out. Releasing her wrists, he cupped her breasts, licking his blood-stained tongue over her flesh and marking her with his scent.

  His body throbbed. His instincts insisted he claim her.

  Tugging his pants open, he shoved at her legs, kneeing his way between her thighs. Sharp nails cut his face as she clawed at him.

  He growled and caught her arms, shoving them roughly into the dirt. His eyes flashed with rage. How dare she fight him?

  He tore at her dress until only tattered threads clung to her skin. The more she fought him, the more his determination to take her grew. An overwhelming need to show her she belonged to him, to take away any other choice and force her surrender took hold of him.

  Stronger than any instinct he’d ever suffered, he released his cock and used his weight to pin her down. He needed to get inside of her, penetrate her soul, fill her, and complete the bond.

  Drawing his wrist to his mouth, he sank his teeth into the flesh at his vein and ripped open his skin. “Be still.”

  Her frantic eyes widened as he held her beneath him, hand knotted in her hair, his blood seeping from his veins, ready to mix with hers.

  Adam... Her mouth shaped his name again and he stilled, the slightest caress penetrating his haze.

  A tear rolled from the corner of her eye. He followed the clear droplet as it passed her ear, diluting the crimson tide flowing from her pulse.

  Sadness. It beat at him.

  He jerked back and gasped at her shivering body. Her clothes were in tatters, her box of personal belongings scattered in the dirt. Her hands shook violently as they protectively covered her naked breasts.

  “Ainsicht...” What had he done? Glancing down his front, he still held his hard flesh in his hand. He let go, throwing his arms in the air. “I didn’t. Tell me I didn’t.”

  She gasped in a breath and rolled to her side, coughing as her voice suddenly returned. Pain exploded in his groin as she kneed him.

  “You fucking asshole!”

  He rolled to his knees, gasping through the pain, needing to see the damage he’d done and make sure she wasn’t hurt. “Anna, please...”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  She stood, her motions unsteady and her breathing sharp and panicked. Moonlight cut through the trees, painting her ivory skin silver. Leaves and dirt clung to
her flesh.

  He gripped his temples, unable to face what he’d done. “Please, Anna. I didn’t mean—”

  “Just ... shut up.” She turned and walked away from him.

  His voice withered to a shameful boulder that lodged in his throat. He stayed on his knees, gathering her keepsakes and returning them to the crushed box, supplicating himself for her forgiveness, knowing he didn’t deserve it.

  She should run away from him. Leave him in this place. In the shadows to rot.

  Shame filled him like poison, a lethal venom seeping from his pores. How could he have hurt her when he’d promised to always protect her?

  He didn’t know how far he’d gone, only that he’d terrified her, used compulsion to silence her. He was a monster.

  Pine needles rasped under her approaching footsteps, but he couldn’t face her. Shoulders heaving, his shut his eyes, his head lowered.

  “I need your shirt.”

  He jaggedly pulled off his shirt and offered it to her.

  “Can this get infected?”

  He frowned and glanced at her.

  She used the shreds of her dress to blot the blood on her neck. His shirt draped over her, several times her size. She wasn’t crying, or even glaring. Her motions were purely mechanical.

  “Did we...”

  “No,” she said, with enough scorn for him to understand she would never be this calm if they had. He deserved her anger.

  Lowering his weight to sit on his heels, he apologized again. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness—”

  “No, you don’t. But it does neither of us any good to dwell on what might have happened. Put your hands behind your back and keep them there.”

  He glanced up at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Hands behind your back, Adam. You need blood and I’m done listening to excuses. And I’ll be damned if I let you close to me right now. Arms back and stay still.” She pushed up the loose sleeve and held her wrist an inch from his mouth. “Well?”

  He blinked up at her, undeserving of her gift. “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t? You need this.”

  “I hurt you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness—”