Born Sinner (Se7en Sinners #1) Page 9

His eyes fall to the floor for just a moment, as if the sheer weight of his remorse is too much to bear all at once. When he looks back up at me, his expression is grim…hopeless. “We keep you from committing suicide.”

  I’m trapped by my own destiny, caged in by the hand this life—my insignificant, inconsequential human life—has dealt me. If I stay, I remain isolated from everything I know. No more than a prisoner in a cushy jail cell. If I go, I risk hurting people—killing people. There’s no way to stop what’s coming. No way to fight against it. Andras was right. I was born sinner, and I will die sinner. Even if it’s at my own hands.

  “There may be a way…” Phenex offers. He twists his full lips, as if struggling with the decision to tell me. “We may be able to find out what you were bred for, and help you—teach you—to battle against the urge. Especially with Adriel…”

  “Adriel? Why would she help me? She’s done nothing but prolong the inevitable anyway.”

  Phenex frowns. “She saved your life, Eden.”

  “I would have been better off dead!” The words tumble out of me before I can slow their momentum. I don’t mean to yell, especially at one who’s shown me nothing but kindness and caring since I was taken. I’m not used to that. I’m not used to any of this.

  “I don’t believe that,” he says, shaking his head. “And neither do you. You have a purpose, Eden. A purpose bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all of us. Adriel must have seen that. We don’t know why she fell, but she did so for a reason. Maybe she…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe she would have risked the fall if she knew all hope was lost. If she knew there was no way to get back.”

  I want to tell him that he’s wrong. Adriel is not what he thinks she is. Whispering in my head, telling me to hurt people to satisfy my own irrational anger, does not earn you a ticket back into Heaven. Adriel didn’t fall to bring me to salvation. She fell to bring us to our knees.

  Legion and Cain don’t make it back in time for dinner. I don’t miss the forced chatter around the table as we dine on venison stew and sweet corn bread. It’s divine, of course, but all I can taste is the bitter flavor of my fate.

  I’m going to die here.

  I jerk awake at the deafening sound of a metal against metal. My first instinct is to scream, run, but my voice is merely a choked whisper when I see two dark, daunting figures stagger inside the bedroom, lit only by shimmering moonlight streaming from the window.

  “Shit, L, you weigh a fucking ton!” Cain barks, leading the taller man to the bed. I sit up and pull the sheets up to my chin. Lilith gave me a nightgown to wear, and while beautiful, it’s more than a bit thin. Thick flannel pajamas just wouldn’t work for her and her elevated body temp.

  My first thought is that he’s hurt, and I bite down on the foolish panic rising in my gut. But then I hear something that completely confounds me.

  Legion…laughs.

  Cain has him hoisted up with one of Legion’s tattooed arms around his shoulders. As soon as he sets him on the edge of the bed, he tumbles back, his blissed-out face landing just inches from my leg.

  “What happened to him?” I whisper to the scarred demon.

  Cain looks at me, and oddly enough, his gaze is devoid of its usual spite. Instead, he looks…amused. “Your boy here is a lightweight.”

  “He’s drunk?”

  “No, I’m not!” Legion slurs before breaking into a fit of chuckles. “I’ll take any of you…any of you on right this second. Help me up. I’ll show you. Ain’t shit light about me!”

  I had been worried, as much as I hate to admit it. Worried that something was happening. And all this time, he had been out drinking.

  “Easy, big man,” Cain bristles, pulling off his friend’s boots. “Maybe some other time. I wouldn’t want to blemish that pretty face of yours.”

  “Bull. Shit.” Legion looks up, turning those silver eyes on my stunned expression, before letting them move over my bare shoulders and exposed arms. His mouth parts slightly, and something else entirely fills his gaze.

  Hunger.

  I can’t look away.

  “Ok, pretty boy,” Cain says, straightening his back. “Time to get some sleep. You’re on your own with undressing. Fuck that.”

  I want to tell him to stay, to save me from the raging beast hidden in Legion’s stare.

  Save me from the turmoil I feel for this monster of a man.

  Save me from myself.

  But Cain swaggers out of the room, a devious smirk on his marred face. He’s playing a dangerous game. Maybe we both are.

  I can’t stand the quiet. Can’t stand the way he just…stares. I swallow, washing away my trepidation.

  “Come on. You should get into bed.”

  “Yeah.” He finally blinks, remembering who he is. Remembering who I am. With some effort, he flips over and places his knees on the bed, moving as if the weight of his massive frame is leaden with exhaustion. He’s on all fours like the animal he is, that ghostly gaze whispering over my chill-bumped skin. I can feel his heat wafting over me, caressing my neck, kissing my lips, sliding over my satin-covered nipples.

  He slowly crawls towards the top of the bed, his movements lithe and deadly like a panther. I hold my breath for what seems like eternity, counting each of my frantic heartbeats as he gets closer…closer…closer…until he’s right in front of me. I once thought the size of this bed was ridiculous. Now I’m not so sure if I’m grateful or frustrated for it.

  When he hovers over my bent knees, those muscled forearms on either side of my thighs, I gasp. He moves in just a fraction closer, aligning his face with mine. Seeing me. He sees me to my soul. He sees all the ugly, all the pain. All the desire kindling within my trembling flesh.

  I don’t expel a breath until he suddenly rolls his body over, settling onto his back. He grips his pillow behind his head, his knuckles so taut that I fear he may rip it in two. Impossibly long, dark lashes fan over proud cheekbones as he closes his eyes. Within seconds, his breathing becomes heavy and deep.

  I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink.

  It begins like they always do.

  Cold concrete bites the bottom of my bare feet. The blade in my hand feels weightless, and I stroke it over my naked bosom like a silken feather. I gasp at the sensation of tiny thorns pricking my nipples and let it drift down to my belly, carving phantom symbols along my ribs. I sway my hips from side to side, dipping and rolling so he can see every inch of my body in all its glory. So he can see what pleasure I can bring him.

  I hear their cries, a sweet, erotic symphony to my slow, sinuous dance. They beg me to let them go. Beg me to spare their pathetic little lives. I dip my head back and laugh, allowing them to take in the view of my heavy breasts quaking with my amusement. I part my thighs and tease my slick lips with the very tip of the blade. I moan at the sensation of sharp steel against wet warmth. With eyes pinned on my captives, I bring the knife to my waiting tongue and lick it clean.

  They want it too. They just don’t know it yet. But I plan to make them want it.

  I know the faster I slaughter them, the faster I can take him inside me. I burn for him, but this game is too fun. The anticipation, the longing, it’s just as sweet as the kill. And when I get my reward—when he bends me over in a pool of fresh, warm blood and buries himself inside me to the hilt—it will be even sweeter.

  A blinding flash of light envelops the room, swallowing it whole like a supernova. When my eyes adjust to the strange, bright blaze, I find that I’m in a bed draped in silk and satin the color of morning mist. There’s no more cold at my feet, no blade in my hands. My body is warm and soft and eager. I stretch my limbs and smile, a soft sigh escaping my upturned lips.

  He crawls over my body, wearing that devilish smirk that makes me weak in the knees. I feign fright and try to escape his approach, but he swiftly catches my thigh and pulls me to him.

  “You can’t run a
way from me,” he smiles lazily.

  I look up into those eyes the shade of summer rain and lift a hand to play in his midnight hair. He shivers under my touch. “Why would I want to?”

  “Never,” he breathes, dipping his head so that lips brush against mine. I shiver at the feeling of his short scuff tickling my face. “Never be afraid of me. Never run from me.”

  “Never,” I promise, meaning the word more than the promise of my next heartbeat.

  He parts my thighs gently with a push of his knee and settles between my legs. I feel him against me, throbbing, growing harder and longer still. It pushes at my entrance without him even flexing his hips.

  “Never,” I repeat, on a breathless moan. The tip of him eases into my body, the burning, aching sensation a balm to my trembling flesh. “Never,” I moan into his mouth as his tongue tastes mine.

  He sits upright, taking me with him so I slowly slide onto his length, fitting around him like a glove. I want to move—want to feel him as deep as my body will take him…as deep as he can go—but he cradles me, gripping my back, my hips, while I clutch his chiseled shoulders. Hold on to him, a voice whispers. Hold on and never let go…

  I gasp awake in the earliest moments of dawn, my limbs tangled with Legion’s under the sheets. He sleeps soundly on his back, my cheek pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped around my body protectively. We’re both on his side of the bed. Either he pulled me to him or I must’ve rolled towards him in the night, seeking his heat against the frigid air. He holds me so tight, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. As if some unspeakable evil will rip me from his clutches in the midnight hours.

  I dare a glance at his face, wondering if he can feel my eyes on him. Wondering if he’s aware of the way my bare leg is hitched up onto his thigh. I should pull myself away from him and go back to my side of this stupidly large bed, but I fear it will wake him. And he’s so warm. So warm when my heart is so cold.

  I’m not ready to wake up. I’m not ready to leave the safety and serenity of this cocoon and face another day of learning my fate.

  I close my eyes against the rising sun, and long for night for just a little longer. Just a few more minutes of his darkness to make me feel fragile and human again. The day brings questions that dissolve in morbid answers. Truths that leave me even more confused and angry. I don’t want to leave this bed, or his arms, or this charade. Not yet.

  I hear a voice beckoning, but the blanket of sleep has already covered me. I let it sing me a lullaby, soft and melodic, until all I feel is heat and smooth stone and satin the color of rain clouds. Until obscurity eclipses the sun through my closed eyelids.

  Hold on to him. Hold on and never let go.

  “Never,” I whisper into Legion’s chest before drifting back to sleep.

  Legion isn’t in bed when I wake up for the second time around mid-morning, and I’m grateful. I can’t imagine what had to have been going through his mind when he awoke to me nestled in his arms. Honestly, I don’t even know what was going through my mind. He’s a demon. A creature of filth and destruction. A monster that brutalized me when I was scared and confused. Yet his touch brought me safety. His words brought me comfort. His very presence chased away the terrors in my dreams and replaced them with something else. Something sweet and tender. He replaced that wickedness with…himself.

  I’d been having the nightmares for years now, each one leaving me shaken to my core. It was always the same: cold, cement room without doors and windows, me naked and writhing…and their cries. Their blood. And eventually, me and someone or something I can’t see—can’t quite touch—fucking me senseless among the gore of slaughtered corpses.

  I always scream for him. I always beg for more and more. He pummels my insides until my flesh is inflamed and sore, yet I don’t want him to stop. It’s as if I yearn for the cruelty. I know it’s wrong, but some part of me—something sick and twisted and depraved—feels like it’s right. Like his brand of wicked calls to me.

  I fist my tousled hair in frustration, as if to pull the sadistic thoughts from my head. I’m in desperate need of a good, cleansing shower to wash away the lingering terror. There isn’t a stack of clean clothes on the bed, but there is a large cardboard box by the dresser. Apparently someone got tired of smuggling my things from my old apartment and decided to pack up my stuff. Clothes, shoes, toiletries, books, my phone charger. No photos or any other reminders of the life I’ve been forced to leave behind. I’m glad for it. I’ve already boxed up those memories and stored them away for good.

  I shower and dress in black yoga pants and a sweatshirt, opting for comfort over fashion, before padding out to the living room. To my surprise, everyone is gone, save for Andras and…Legion.

  He sits at the dining room table, staring into a cup of coffee. His forehead is in his hand, his elbow pressed to the marble as if it’s a great effort to keep from falling face first into the hot brew.

  I make my way to the couch where Andras is watching television. He seems like the lesser of two evils.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” he says in greeting. “Jinn left you breakfast on the stove.”

  I nod and give him a tight smile. “Where is everyone?”

  “Patrol mostly. Lilith wanted to go shopping. Such a vain little creature.” He flips the channel to something on HBO, an older movie starring Al Pacino. He snorts a laugh. “I swear, they always depict him as some dark haired, old guy. Humans.”

  “Who?”

  “Lucifer,” he answers flippantly. “Doesn’t anyone crack a book these days? He was God’s favorite, the most talented and beautiful of all the angels. Why the hell would he look like an over-the-hill, saggy-balled, short dude?”

  Lucifer.

  Just imagining him as anything other than a red, horned beast unnerves me.

  “So…what does he look like?”

  Andras shrugs. “Gorgeous. Tall. Sensual. Just as the Creator made his people in his image, Lucifer made us in his. Well, most of us anyway.”

  My curious eyes unabashedly roam the beautiful blonde man from head to toe. Deep-set crystal blue eyes, a straight perfect nose, full, pouty lips. His shoulder-length blonde hair is tied back into a man-bun, which normally would make me cringe. However, it’s stylish and sleek on him. I have no doubt in my mind that he could wear a bag over his head and somehow pull it off as alluring and mysterious.

  If this is the work of Satan, I can’t fathom what he looks like.

  “I thought there were only male angels and demons,” I say, switching gears. “There’s Lilith and…Adriel.”

  “The Bible was written by misogynists who thought it was God’s Will to beat women and sacrifice virgins. And some of the holiest men had several wives and concubines, viewing women as merely incubators for their righteous seed. Don’t believe the hype.”

  I nod in agreement. Unfortunately, too many micro-dicked egomaniacs have adopted the same thinking in the modern world.

  I allow myself just the tiniest glance over at Legion, who still sits with his head in his palm, his coffee untouched. Andras follows my line of vision and flashes a cunning half smile.

  “He’s been there all morning,” he almost whispers.

  “Huh?”

  “I think last night really did him in. He’s not much of a drinker. To imbibe to excess is…sinful.”

  That’s an odd thing to say. I frown, confused. “Why would he care about what’s sinful. I mean, considering what you are, and what he is…” Just the word feels wrong on my tongue.

  Andras shrugs. “Legion isn’t like other demons. What he believes…what he’s been searching for…it’s not just for show. He wants to live the life of the righteous. Shit, after roughing you up, he put himself through the ringer. He fasted, he begged for repentance. He wants this more than any of us.”

  “And what do you want?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “Salvation.” The earnest in his eyes is so clear that I can see my reflection in those pools of blue. “It’s more a
ttainable for some of us more than others. I’m a card-carrying member of the All Boys Club. According to the good book, I’m damned no matter what.”

  “You’re gay?” I don’t mean for it to come out so brash, but…he’s gay? I guess even demons can’t deny who they are. I’m not surprised though. Andras is just too damn pretty. Any woman would be jealous.

  “Last I checked,” he chuckles. “I was birthed to be angelic and alluring. I was known for…tempting the flesh of men.”

  Interesting. I’ve heard of straight men being turned out, but I always just thought they were truly homosexual deep down inside and too scared or stubborn to admit it. Maybe Andras was responsible for more than a few sexual awakenings.

  Andras looks over at his leader, his friend…his brother. When his eyes find mine again, he dips his head in Legion’s direction. “Go talk to him. I bet he’d appreciate the distraction.”

  I can’t be sure he’s right, but something in me stirs. Something sad, lonely and confused. Something I think Legion knows all too well.

  Disguising my intrusion with the need for sustenance, I pad into the kitchen for the breakfast Jinn has so graciously left for me: eggs, bacon and homemade biscuits. There’s even fresh coffee in the French press. I help myself and take a seat at the dining room table, choosing my usual spot…beside Legion. He doesn’t even look up.

  “Are you ok?” I finally muster up the courage to ask. He grunts out something resembling Yeah.

  I silently eat my food, resigned to let him wallow in his guilt and misery. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything. He doesn’t owe me an explanation or even small talk. I can’t expect someone to offer a shred of kindness just because I slept in his arms for the past two nights. Hell, that could very well be the reason he’s ignoring me now.

  Suddenly feeling insecure and a little bit—no a lot—embarrassed, I decide to cut my meal short and escape to the bedroom. But before I can stand to take my plate to the kitchen, he lifts his face from his hand.

  “You were crying.”

  The napkin falls from my fingertips and lands in my half-eaten eggs. “What?”