Page 28 of The Secrets of a Sin

I don't make a move to give him the letters, but I soon realize that I can’t hold them hostage for my own selfish needs. Arsen is already a tornado, wild and destructive. But after reading these letters, there's no doubt in my mind that his rage will turn him into something far worse than a windstorm. I reluctantly pry the stack of papers off my chest and hold them out to Arsen, and he swiftly snatches them from my hold. He grunts in annoyance, but his beady eyes immediately seek out the letters, scanning each paper with carefulness. His face scrunches up in anger, and every now and then, he peels his eyes away to catch his breath, but the more he reads, the more his fury rises.

“Some of these are in a different fucking language!” He growls, flipping roughly through each paper. “I can’t… I don’t know what the hell this asshole is saying...”

“It’s Italian.” I answer immediately, remembering Phoebe's necklace and the engravings on the side. “It has to be Italian.”

Arsen glances up from the letters and meets my eyes. “Phoebe doesn’t know Italian.” He grunts in aggravation as he dismisses me.

“Maybe not.” I offer. “But I know where she translated them.”

8

CHARLOTTE

“Can you stop staring at me? Please.” I wiggle under his sharp stare and heavy shadow that is completely covering my form. My hands grow clammy, making it difficult to concentrate on the task of translating Phoebe’s letter, and, unfortunately, as my annoyance heightens, so does the fever in my belly.

Hovering right beside me, he slowly cages me in, dropping each palm on the table I'm sitting at, and nestles his face into the crook of my neck. “Now where's the fun in that? I happen to enjoy watching you squirm.” He breathes into my ear as I cower lower in my chair, fighting the sensations he has now igniting throughout my body. Every forbidden desire I have ever felt was nothing compared to the fiery burn Arsen creates within me. He contorted my addiction into something far worse and more deadly-a blinding obsession with a man I knew would only cause me pain.

As I try to ignore the closeness of his body and the warmth radiating off him, I continue to flip through the pages of the book. “You make everyone squirm.”

“Good.” He whispers as I find my eyes moving to his spread hands, covering the table on both sides of me. His skin is pale and perfect, causing every blue and purple vein to be visible. No tattoos or cuts mar his skin, but I noticed the sharp curve of his right index finger. It looked broken, or perhaps had been broken once, and was now healed, but with Arsen, anything was possible.

Before I can stop myself from making a fool of myself again, I slowly move my palm over to his hand and lightly brush over his finger in awe.

Arsen’s one and only flaw.

The second my skin makes contact with his, a jolt ricochets inside me, causing Arsen to repel as if he felt it too.

“Don’t.” He growls darkly, creating a large gap between us as he no longer hovers over me. His defensive walls were up and, as much as I wanted to pry him for answers, I continued translating the letter until every word was transcribed. With Arsen still lurking behind me, I quickly make my move to read the letter before he can get his eyes on it.

Why are you doing this to me? What happened to our plans? To fucking forever like you promised? Now you won’t even look at me. You avoid me like a disease and treat me as if I am nothing to you. Please just talk to me and explain what I did wrong instead of continually stomping on my heart. I can’t stand it any longer, Phoebe.

Give me answers before you completely destroy me.

Always, your moon.

Staring at what I have just written causes every organ inside my organ to twist painfully. Something happened between the two of them that caused Phoebe to end whatever relationship they had. Was he so unhinged about her rejecting him that he brutally murdered her? Or was this purely coincidental and he was just pinning for her?

I needed more. I needed more clues, more answers. I needed his goddamn name.

As I continue to stare blankly at the words, Arsen soon notices I’ve finished, and rips the paper away from me, reading what I wrote. The color drains from his handsome face as his grip on the paper tightens to the point it tears it in half.

Fuck.

Rising from my chair, I cautiously step towards him in hopes of calming his ascending anger. Not that I was the cure, but anything would be better than nothing.

“They fucking did it. I know it.” He angrily shoves the paper in my face before harshly dragging his free hand through his ruffled hair. “Whoever wrote this murdered Phoebe.” His accusing words came out in a low growl that caused my bones to rattle and my knees to shake. With my back pressed firmly against the bookshelf, I try to lean back further away from his intimidating frame.

“Arsen, we don’t know that yet.” I answer truthfully in a meek voice, but obviously, what I said was the wrong thing to say. His mouth and eyes switched from furious to disgusted in a matter of seconds as he glowered at me. His usual

“You honestly believe that the weird fuck who wrote these didn’t murder my sister?” He snarled savagely like a crazed man who wanted to either tear me limb from limb or fuck some sense into me. I couldn’t decide what, but as his hard chest trapped me against the bookshelf, his violent breaths turned ragged. My heart hammered powerfully to the point I was sure he could feel the thumping against his own chest. But oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid of him. I wasn't scared of the way his eyes blackened as he feasted on me or how his nostrils flared in a way that should have a girl like me running for the hills. But I wasn’t like most girls. Arsen Hale captivated me like no other, despite the big red flags that were practically dangling in front of my eyes.

“I believe, whoever this is, was madly in love with Phoebe.” I confess, daring to meet his eyes only for him to scowl in disbelief. “I’m not saying there isn’t a chance he is her murderer. I just don’t want to jump to conclusions, especially when we're at a school like this.” Yes, even if St. Catherine’s was a reputable school for turning troubled girls into well-behaved women, they never divulged what really transpired behind its doors. Or who, I should say. No one who is sent here is normal. We all had issues, but there were certain girls who would give Amy Dunne a run for her money.

“You mean a school that’s filled with weak unruly girls who can’t follow the simplest of orders?” He taunts, still filled with rage that burns hotter than before. “Phoebe never belonged here.” He moves his eyes crudely down my small body like I was one of those ‘weak girls’ he was speaking of. “You may be freaks, but the only person I see that’s capable of killing my sister is hiding behind these fucking love notes.”

“We’re not weak.” I growl, rising on the tips of my toes to be at eye level with him. His stare moved from my dry mouth to my feral eyes that smoldered with passion. I may be many things but being weak wasn’t one of them. “Weak are the foolish women who kneel at your feet and fall victim to your fictitious charm. You don’t fool me, Arsen. You’re as much of a freak as we are.”

His eyes darken to an even deeper shade while his nostrils flare like a beast in heat. My skin was waiting for his grasp or tug, but it never came. Instead, I felt his pure wrath course under my flesh and breathe life into my core. His resentment

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