Sinful Sister

by Kendall Oliver

  Sinful Sister

  Mischief Matchmakers

  Kendall Oliver

  Copyright © 2020 Kendall Oliver

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The author acknowledges the trademark owners of various products, brands, and or/stores references in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and are not sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  First Printing, March 2020.

  Edited by Ms. Correct All's Editing and Proofreading Services

  Cover by Samantha Rose

  Created with Vellum

  I have to first thank my forever loves, my husband and boys. They are my reason to push through the days that feel too heavy. I love you guys pi times infinity quadrupled plus one.

  To all the friends I’ve made along the way. Teamwork makes the dream work and I adore you all. Jade, my writing partner and friend, thank you for helping me find my brave. Your unwavering faith and support mean the world to me. B, you will always be my ride or die. I heart you big. MM, thank you for being you, your positivity is contagious. You’re always there just when I need you. M, you are a genuine one of a kind beautiful soul. Your ability to polish rocks into gems leaves me in awe. To everyone involved in the series and that have helped along the way: I am honored to be a part of all of this. I can’t thank you enough for all the support.

  To everyone: Be Brave. Your voice needs to be heard.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  A year later…

  About the Author

  One

  My heart beats a rapid staccato, thrumming so hard I feel it pulsing in my ears. Tingles run the length of my body like an army of beetles crawling along the clammy skin as plump sausage fingers of the beefy guard dig into the flesh of my arm. He pulls me into the eerie quiet of the council chambers. The old male witches with the power of my fate sit before me in apathy and gluttonous want. They want more. More power. More sex. More drugs. Just more, and it seems I am the price of their next fix.

  The extent of my fury for the old men in wigs sitting before me rises rapidly. No matter how hard I try, I fail to contain the roll of my eyes and scowl of my lips. I mean really, what century are we in, are wigs truly necessary?

  Even more resolute to fix the mess I’ve made, my gaze returns to the men before me. I straighten my spine, looking each directly in their eyes.

  A black emptiness of their ever-present need for more builds before me. Visions of the gambling, alcohol, women, money, sex, men, and more swirl in my mind causing a dizzying wave of disgust until I am forced to look down and steady my breath. It would be so much easier if I could turn off this power right now. The spell they put on me to suppress all of my powers has me all screwed up. Of all powers not to be able to shut off, this is the worst. It’s the real punishment.

  I hear his voice, littered with curls of disdain and joy in wielding his power. With a turn of my head, I stare into the eyes of Head Counsel Witch, Charlez “Chaz” McCoy. Bumps rise along my skin as bile churns in my stomach. Lust simmers in his eyes. His gaze roams over my five-foot-two inches of curves with sadistic desire.

  "What do you have to say for yourself? Do you deny hiding and using outlawed magic?" His voice rents the silence of the space, too loud in the otherwise silent cavernous room.

  I open my mouth to reply in a scathing manner, but he cuts off my first word with, "Watch yourself, young one, or you can burn like your mother. You should be thanking us. On your knees. You are being spared only because you knew not what you did." Unfortunately for him, I can see his real reasons, the things he would make me do should I take his slimey deal.

  A snort escapes me. "I did…" His eyebrow lifts. "I did not." Allowing those words to escape feels soul-sucking. I promised myself never to cower, and yet here I am, epically bowing before him.

  Chaz clears his throat, eyes still taking in my body rather than my face. "You are a beautiful young witch, it would be a shame to see that go to waste.” His words are filled with desire, and I can’t help but shiver in distaste. “We have come to a decision, young lady. I am sure in the long run you will do what is needed." The menace that flickers in his eyes as he finishes is unnerving. "And when you do, you’ll return to us, compliant. Shall we say, well trained." His final words are spoken in a sing-song as if his excitement has been heightened by my defiance and he wants me to know.

  Flashes scroll through my mind of his deepest thoughts and desires, and bile rises in my throat. Even though they have bound my powers, somehow I still have some lingering magic. They must not know. The knowledge of this helps me fortify and refuse to buckle. Cowering is one thing, but I will never break. I survived my mother, I can survive anything.

  "As Head Counsel Witch, on behalf of the Supreme Witch Council that holds the highest power to govern witches, I hereby banish you forever until such time as you satisfactorily complete the witch reformatory school program or return to us willing to accept the terms we choose as an alternate means. Upon your return from reformatory, if you return, you'll be tasked with a"—he again clears his throat while he leers at me—"special task of my choosing to prove your worthiness prior to appearing before us. At such time, you will have your magic restored and be allowed to dwell amongst non-naughty witches again.”

  If he could eat me I think he would. The way he’s been looking at me is disturbing considering he’s at least 60 and I’m close but still not officially old enough to drink.

  “Good luck. After all, you are an awfully naughty witch, aren’t you." His final words make the already churning bile threaten to overflow.

  Before I can respond, loud footsteps thud against the hard marble floor to my left. Though I know better than to break my stare off with the power-hungry leech, I do as my gaze is drawn to the opening door. A guard almost identical to my own drags a defeated Camden beside him.

  I desperately call out to Cam in my mind. I want to hear him, to feel his comfort. The connection is weakened, but I can almost sense him. "Fight," I yell to him through our connection. "Fight no matter what."

  "What is your answer?" booms an impatient voice. I’ve run out of time. "Will you choose to have your magic bound forever, never to return to the folds of the magical, or will you finally show a shred of wisdom and seek to be reformed by the skilled hands of those chosen by myself and these honorable witches before you?"

  This is it, do or die. What will my fate be? I still maintain that my stepsister’s boyfriend, Prince Asshat, sought me out. My pretty little uppity stepsister was blinded by her desire to flee. Not that I blame her, I’ve wanted nothing more the whole of my almost twenty-one years than to escape the claws of my mother. But that man is not all he pretends to be. I also know the poor sweet woe is me she portrays is shit. So what? The whole ‘I had to mop some floors and make my own dress’ she manipulates with is fake as can be. Ella’s study
ing to be a flipping fashion designer, or was before Prince Can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants. Whatever, they deserve each other.

  Maybe I did use my banned magic. I’m tired of hiding my extras. I wanted to piss her off too. Her and Mother dearest. The evil witch she is, to let my mother know I was no longer her marionette. Not that it helped. She was burned to death because of those secrets she kept. Ana had been in the dark about our mother’s true fate when last we saw each other. I wonder if Ana ever found out the truth; it might have been too much for her to handle. I am strong. I am powerful. No matter what happens from here on, I will find a way out. I’ll figure out how my extras work without her help.

  "I'll go," is all I say. I stand straight, my head held high, and resolve to let these simpletons think they've won. A plan starts to form in my head, and I make a vow to myself that this is not the end.

  Two

  It doesn't bode well for Cam that they wait to take me to transport. The now sweaty hands of the guard hold me in the back of the room near the door, forcing me to watch the scene laid out before me. They are using Cam to further punish me. I either lose Cam or, once again, he loses everything, just for me. He has sacrificed so much already. I can't let him give up more.

  I try again to reopen the weakened channel between us. I can't tell if he hears me or even feels me. The cold chill of emptiness engulfs my body as realization hits. Either he is blocking me, or they wanted me to see the ugly they hold inside. Most witches can’t communicate like I can. Cam is one of the few I’ve let in on my secret. I can talk—for lack of a better descriptor—telepathically to those I choose. I can also read other witches’ deepest thoughts and desires. I can even conjure and ‘grant wishes’ if I’m in the right headspace. I’ve spent the time leading to this sham of a trial, honing and learning a multitude of skills.

  It’s part of what Mother always called my extras. Magical abilities no one else needed to know about, especially the powers that be. They wouldn’t have found out about them if I hadn’t let my head get toyed with. My heart too, if I must be honest. But the past is the past, and right now Cam is all I care about. He’s always known and never ratted me out, even when his father ran this very council.

  Head Counsel Witch Chaz—what a douchey name—wants me to agree to the stomach-churning desires he wishes to inflict upon my body. I bet he thinks if he uses Cam he will have a chance, but I will die before that man touches anywhere on me. Cam would never forgive me if I capitulated because of him.

  Cam's tall, muscular but lean frame is pushed in front of the all male witch council to hear his predetermined fate. These are men that watched him grow, and pledged allegiance to his father not that long ago.

  "Camden, I've had the pleasure of knowing your family since before you were born. If not for the highly tragic"—Chaz’s shrill voice pauses to consider his words—"accident. Yes, that's it, the unfortunate accident that your father had, he would sit in this very chair. With that said, you have broken the rules of our society, and there are consequences for such actions."

  There’s a pause, the room silent and tension-filled. "While we should thrust upon you the banishment you deserve, if you pledge yourself to our service and take your rightful place in the council training program, all consequences shall be wiped from your record."

  Cam stands tall as he takes a moment to pretend he is pondering his decision. He runs his large hands through the loose curls of his dark brown hair, shaggy from being slightly overgrown. During the days we've been chained inside prison walls, his scruff has grown heavy and hides the normal innocent, boyish charm of his face. He almost looks like the bad boy they make him out to be. But after fifteen years of growing up together, I know that's false, and they do too.

  He's the same teddy bear I know and love, my ever-steady best friend. He has an ever-present lopsided smile and bright shiny navy eyes. Eyes that are typically ablaze with happiness when asking what mischief I've planned for us that day. I can't imagine my life without him. That would be the hardest punishment of all. Just the thought of losing him has the power to drop me to my knees. There’s a high likelihood I’d be there already were it not for the hands of the guard that hold me steady.

  "What say you, boy," breaks the stilted air of the room.

  "I’m no boy, sir. I assure you, I am a grown man. A man that will one day discover the truth of that so-called accident." He glares but manages to hold his voice even. "Banish me as well. I take responsibility for my actions. I will go to reform. Those are the only words I wish to say in my defense." I’m taken aback by how formal Cam is being. I suppose he places some of the blame of his father's death on the council.

  Chaz growls in irritation from his middle seat perched above even the other council witches. They look to each other appearing to have silent discussions over the unexpected response Cam gave them.

  With a nod to the others, Chaz begins again. Even though impossible, it still feels like his sliminess covers everything around him. He exudes contempt. "I warn you. We offer you this last chance. The council knows you've been under the spell of the oh so decadent creature behind you. As we have considered that to this point, be careful, because there is no return from the decision you now make."

  The air rushes from my lungs, no longer able to hold in the breath I've kept inside in anticipation of the council’s decision. I try to with everything in my being to scream at him to do the right thing. “Camden Gabrial Poston” repeats in my head; he hates when I use his full name.

  He needs to choose himself and his mother so he can find out the truth of the murder of his father, not protect me. There is little point in continuing to waste energy. He's still blocking me and I feel the barrier as it reinforces itself. I am going to punch his pretty-boy face next time I'm able.

  Little time passes before he speaks again. "There’s no choice to make. I stand by my earlier words. I played an equal role. I should serve equal punishment. I'm sure if I asked, most witches outside of my family's influence would agree. Should we enlighten the general public? Allow a vote?"

  The mention of discussing anything, much less allowing passes based on stature or lineage, grabs Chaz's attention. He quickly responds, and evident outrage and contempt mar his features. "Very well. You are hereby banished. Until the time comes when deemed reformed by those appointed by the council at the reformatory. Don't say we did not offer a warning. You have dug your own ditch."

  My stomach churns, my resolve to fight firming. But before I fight the corruption, AKA the pervs in the front, I'm going to murder Cam. Murder him with my bare hands. Though I’ll surely hug him first. I feel so torn. Raw and torn. Between my guilt, anger at his stupidity, and love for the one person who has always been there and loved me no matter what, I can't think clearly.

  Cam is dragged to where I am in the back as they prepare us for transport. My mouth tightens and eyes slit as I see him up close for the first time. Even with the dark purple below his eyes and the grayish pallor of not enough sleep, he looks like salvation to me. I feel him reopen our connection.

  "I hate you, but I love you too," I fire off to him before I close it on my end. I'll open back up, eventually. He deserves to suffer for a while as I did. Too soon, we'll arrive together to face our new reality.

  Three

  "I'll find you." Cam's last words to me before they tore us apart when we arrived repeats in my head. I can't help but think, not unless I find you first. I almost regret keeping him blocked on the way here.

  The niggling feeling that something isn’t right weighs heavy on my chest, but I can't pinpoint what’s causing it. The air is heavy, making my brain and body feel wavy and free. It's like my body is a song actively being remixed. To top it off, I look into random rooms as we walk down the dark hall, and people are having sex. The door is open, people. I'm not a prude. Not a virgin good girl hiding in misunderstood skin. I’ve participated in my share of mischief. Obviously, I ended up in this reformatory. But as hot as it is to think about, I'v
e never not shut the door on purpose. We’re in a highly populated place to boot. The next door we pass leads to two witches chasing shots by snorting lines. Have mercy.

  This place is like another world. It feels so different from where we're from. My inner witch is tingling, telling me we're not in Kansas anymore. Not that we even were. I love that saying, much to Cam's annoyance. Wonder if he’ll snuggle with me and watch old movies to solidify our make-up tonight.

  A beautiful devil of a witch looks up just as we pass. He draws me in and I halt in place. His multicolored eyes glitter, a cocky smile as bright as the sun. He doesn’t appear to be a participant in the rough sex and plentiful drugs happing before him. But his wink. That wink says way more than words ever could. I’d bet he's making more happen than my heart quicken in a pounding rhythm. How fun it is to help others give in and lose control. Hello, reform school, where there's ‘fun and games’ behind every door.

  Electric pain shoots up my arm as I'm roughly tugged away toward my room by that same greasy guard. His hands are a little too touchy for my liking. He's about to find out that I'm trained to defend myself physically. Thank you, Cam. Not only that, I still have magic. Not all of it but some. And I’m more determined not to tell anyone. I don't want it taken away. Or maybe they did it on purpose to mess with my mind? I don't know, everything is a jumbled mess inside my head.