Page 50 of Wicked Sins

Her lips quirk at this, but she’s far from pleased. A lawyer?

I realize I’m full out grinning when my mother glares at me before pivoting on her high heels and click-clacking out the door.

Could it be?

Is she filing for divorce?

My shoulders sag.

No, it wouldn’t be that simple. She’s got her claws deep into Mr. Bale.

“Whatchya doing?” Emma asks.

Again.

“Same thing as the last time you asked,” I say through my teeth.

“Making stir fry?”

“You got it.”

“I don’t like carrots.”

“Then don’t eat them.” I glance at her over my shoulder, about to point out that she can just push them out of the way when she’s dishing up, and then I spot a dark shape leaning against the kitchen wall.

“What do you want?” I snap, turning my back on Josiah as he pushes away from the wall with his hip and comes closer.

“To gloat,” he says through a smug laugh. “Mmm-mmm. Smells good.”

“Fuck off.” My eyes glue to the scissors in my hand.

I could stab this through his stomach and claim it was an accident.

They wouldn’t believe me, of course. I mean, I’m an arsonist. Nothing precludes me from escalating to murder in the same week, right?

“So, there’s this party next week Friday,” Josiah says, sounding exactly how I’d imagine the serpent sounded when he was tempting Eve in the garden of Eden. “Wanna go get fucked up?”

His voice is inches away from my ear.

Everything goes white.

I’m distantly aware of my body twisting. My arm flying out. Air flowing like frozen silk over my skin.

There’s athunk. It travels through my arm and embeds itself in my shoulder socket.

The wickedly sharp tip of those blades hovers an inch from Josiah’s face.

Emma yells, but that’s happening outside the bubble of suppressed violence enclosing Josiah and me.

His jaw tics, eyes narrowing to slits.

The tendons in my arm cord.

“Let go.” I have to push the words through my teeth.

“So you can stab me? Not a chance, darling.”

“Stop calling me that.”

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