Page 38 of Sixth Sin

Swiping the bottle, I swallow another mouthful of liquid fire. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll happily dig it out yourself.”

“Cheap shot, rook,” he chuckles. “Clean, but cheap.”

“Forget it.” Setting the bottle by his feet, I wave a dismissive hand and stand. “I’ll leave you to your booze and bullshit.”

I don’t know why I’m so mad. That’s a lie. I’m mad because I’m desperate to hold on to the blame I feel slipping through my fingers. I’m mad because I’m the one standing in the middle of a glass house holding a handful of sharp rocks. Mostly, I’m mad because I don’t know if I’ve acquired a conscience or a weakness.

After all, guilt and gaslighting are only separated by a fraction of a degree.

“Wait.” Dominic’s hand clamps around my arm, and my gaze falls to where his fingers encircle my wrist. “Look, I know I’m not your favorite person, but we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future in a whole funhouse full of mirrors.”

I glance up. “Meaning?”

“Meaning pasts are like assholes; everybody has one. Some are uglier than others, but they’re all full of shit.” Pausing, he pins me with a heated stare. “But I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ANGEL

It’s a loaded offer. Tempting but also dangerous.

“It’s not a happy story,” I admit, pulling away from his hold.

Dominic lets me go without protest, and flops back in his chair, leaving one leg dangling over the side. “I’m not a happy guy.”

His rough voice scrapes over my skin like sandpaper, but instead of turning away, I find myself arching toward it. I’m like Icarus flying toward the sun—knowing I’ll incinerate yet still craving the burn.

I don’t want to open up. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want this pathetic flutter in my stomach, and I sure as hell don’t want this infuriating ache between my legs. But the more I’m near Dominic, the less I can deny either.

And that terrifies me.

For a man whose entire life is based on exposing secrets, Dominic has kept his own cards close to his chest. And while the last thing I want to do is open up a portal and dive into the abyss, I don’t know if I’ll get an opportunity like this again. So, against my better judgment, I sit back down.

“There’s not much to tell. I grew up poor, just like you said. Left a shitty group home when I was sixteen.”

He stares at me, not a flicker of emotion on his face. “What about your parents?”

“Don’t have any.” I stare down at my hands. “I mean, obviously they exist, but not in my memory. I can’t even picture their faces. From what I was told, they weren’t worth knowing. Not that it matters. They didn’t want me, so I don’t want them. Case closed.”

“Were the people who ran the group home abusive?”

I shrug. “They were indifferent, and I was just…there.”

“Invisible.”

I glance up to where Dominic stares at me in strained silence. All of a sudden, I feel bare. Raw. Like he’s reached within and turned me inside out.

“Do you ever feel like you’re trapped in a place you don’t belong?” I ask, quietly. “Like no matter how loud you scream no one can hear you. Like if you could just spread your wings and fly, maybe you’d be okay. But you can’t—”

“Because your wings are clipped.”

My eyes snap to where Dominic stares off into the distance. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

A shadow falls across his face that looks a lot like regret. But that can’t be right. Dominic McCallum doesn’t have regrets. He’s incapable of sorrow or guilt or basic human compassion.

Isn’t he?

“Lucky guess.” He tips the bottle back again.

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