Page 5 of Wicked Devotions

“You two need to stop arguing.” Emerson, our other best friend and roommate, joins us. “This is a celebration of love and commitment.” He leans into his slow, southern drawl.

“Love? Not so much. Commitment? Yes, but only to psychological warfare.”

“Speaking of psychological warfare, how was the first family dinner last night?” Cyrus asks.

“Could have gone worse.”

The officiant motions me over, so I leave my friends to entertain themselves while he goes over the ceremony with me. Dad and Annabelle opted out of having a formal rehearsal since there’s no bridal party and the actual wedding should only last ten minutes. Just enough time for vows and a kiss, making sure to get it on camera so Rev. Flynn can be sure to watch.

“May I have this dance?”I hold my hand out to my new stepsister as she sits at a table sipping champagne.

Flecks of gold and bronze swim in the hazel of her eyes as she looks up at me with trepidation. She gives my hand a glance like it might burn her but slides her fingers onto my palm and allows me to help her up anyway.

“I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“That’s a bit inappropriate to say to your sister, isn’t it?” she says primly.

“You’re not my sister.”

She follows me onto the dance floor and allows me to pull her close, putting her hand on my shoulder while the other stays in my own. I watched her dance with Banks earlier, surprised that he never once ran his fingers over her smooth, exposed skin. I don’t have it in me to not push the boundary of propriety, so I let my fingertips slip beneath the open edge of the back of her dress, curling into the soft flesh beneath.

She stiffens but doesn’t ask me to remove them. Until she decides to speak up, I’m not planning on moving. Her honeysuckle and vanilla scent surrounds me, testing my will power to not leandown and drag my nose along the elegant line of her neck.

“Mom said she’s going out of town with Cillian tonight. Should I find a different place to sleep?”

“Why would you do that? Is your room not up to your standards, Princess?”

Her eyes flash with anger, but she quells it just as quickly before responding. “No, not at all. I love my room actually. I just didn’t know if I’d be in your way.”

“We’ll have to get used to each other eventually. Might as well start now,” I say with a shrug.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

I say nothing to that because I already know Iwon’tbe staying out of hers. I plan on popping up everywhere she goes over the next few days. It’ll be a fun little one-sided game to play.

Chapter

Three

HARPER

Milky sunlight filters through the curtains hanging in front of my window the next day. I’ve only been awake for a few minutes, the sound of the shower running waking me from a surprisingly deep sleep. As soon as I hear the bathroom door leading to Declan’s room open, I toss the covers off and get up. Banks is coming over today to swim and spend the day with me, so I want to grab a quick shower.

I stop in my tracks as soon as I open the door, though, because just on the otherside, I find my new stepbrother in nothing but a towel wrapped dangerously low on his hips. I can see every impressive cut of lean muscle and the trail of dark hair leading from his belly button to beneath the terrycloth doing a terrible job of covering him. He keeps running a razor along his sharp jawline while he watches me in the mirror.

“Like what you see?” He smirks at me. Drops of water gather at the tips of his dark brown hair.

My cheeks burn. “I was just surprised. I thought you were done in here. Sorry.” His hand connects with the door as I try to close it to give him privacy.

“Don’t worry about it. You can do whatever you need while I finish.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself.” He goes back to focusing on his reflection, while I go over to my dresser to look for a bathing suit.

They’re all modest one pieces with good coverage. You’ll never catch me in any kind of bikini, not with the scars that litter my sides from punishments doled out at the hands of my father. Even Mom hasn’t seen the series of cigarette burns I’ve had for over a decade now. I had hoped that they would fade away with time, but they’re still visible. Ugly reminders of my own wickedness.

Memories of my father overtake me as I stare down into the drawer, a deep green bathing suit in my hand. Bile swims in the back of my throat as I think back to the searing burn of having a lit cherry pressed into my flesh. He’d recite Romans 12:2 and command me not to cry. Even now I feel my lungs seizing up as I battle to breathe through the panic.

---