Page 25 of A Sin So Pure

“Well, with that out of the way,” he drawls as he stands, pocketing the tonic in his suit. “One more question and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He stalks over to the empty dance floor, head tilted towards the rafters. Devoid of patrons, our voices echo. The sterile house lights cast everything in harsh shadows.

“How is she?” he asks.

“How is she?” I repeat.

“Yes.”

It’s such an open-ended question.How is she?

“Why are you interested in her, anyway?” I ask. “She’s proven herself capable as Pride. Exceptional even, given everything she’s already done for her House.”

It was unbelievable, actually. Nora and Josie stepped into their roles seamlessly, taking over with grace and a kind of ambition I could only imagine having. Not only are they expanding their businesses, but I hear the rumors—I know they’ve put an end to clippings. Now, the barbaric House Pride tradition that they had to suffer through won’t be forced on anyone else. I’ve seen the scars on their backs—their change is a blessing.

Nora’s got a pure heart. She might be violent and dangerous, but it’s there, underneath all the layers of bravado.

But he knows all this, as I do. I’ve told him as much from the start.

“I keep tabs on the Royals and the other Sins, but you don’t ask about them in such detail. What’s different about her?” I ask.

He’s got an infuriating, lopsided grin plastered across his face when he shrugs. Smoky tendrils of shadow curl around his body. But as they swallow him whole, he leaves me with an answer.

“Call it a gut feeling, Lust. There’s something more there that you’re not seeing.”

6

NORA

Early is on time. On time is late. And if you’re going to be late, you might as well not show up.

It’s a rule that was hammered into me by Pride, but one that’s proven to be true—and more importantly,useful—as I’ve navigated the political ring within the Unseelie Court.

Being early means you have the opportunity to be settled in a space before others, to claim it as your own, so that everyone else is the “other.”

Alternatively, it could mean spying something not intended for your eyes. Imogen taught me that one.

My thoughts flitter to my morning with the blond. Her amber eyes had a sad, disappointed sheen about them when I was leaving.

It made my insides twist.

It’s not that I don’t try to bask in the warmth of an early morning embrace. I do try. But it only lasts a minute before my skin starts to itch as we lay tangled and still.

It’s the stillness that always pushes me from the bed, the silence too loud for my mind. Her gentle breath becomes a clock ticking down to the alarm. Thoughts cloud the edges of my vision: the pressure of the moment, the intimacy of it,theknowing each otherthat comes with waking together—it becomes too much.

And so, I sneak away when dawn wakes me. I slip from her bed before she can be roused from slumber. At least, Itryto.

She’s an addiction as much as my cigarettes are. I can’t quit her, nor do I want to. But her side effects are something I don’t know how to treat.

Andthen, as if to make my morning worse, I thought I lost the tonic sample.

When I got to the warehouse, Hattie talked me off the ledge. My inner circle played a game of he-said-she-said until they finally let me know that I apparently gave it to Wes to bring back amid the chaos of the party. An event of which I have no recollection of.

Then again, what do I remember from last night other than the flashes of Imogen’s smile, her delicious moans, and the taste of wine mixed with her honeyed flesh on my tongue?

I must have been drunker than I thought last night…

“You okay?” Josie asks, ripping me from my thoughts.

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