Page 52 of Buried Beneath Sin

Again, Beatrix sways. This time, her face goes slack, and her eyes begin to glaze over. I pull her closer ready to grab her in case she faints. To my delight, Beatrix sags against me. The motion is instinctive rather than deliberate. Still, my heart does something strange. Is it… fluttering? Tilting my head down, I suck in a deep breath of her honey and lavender scent. It makes me dizzy with excitement and causes my dick to harden even more with eagerness.

“T-this is messed up. Why are you both here?” She shoots me a wary look just as the recorded bell overhead rings and Knox saunters through the front door. “Why are allthreeof you here?”

I chuckle. “That’s a loaded question, Little Viper.”

“Well, originally we came to kill you, Patrick, and Lauren,” Knox says casually then laughs at her soft cry of alarm.

A heavy tremor rushes through Beatrix as she stiffens.

“Be nice, Pretty Boy. Beatrix isn’t used to your flippancy yet,” Thatcher warns, but his smile doesn’t falter.

Knox rolls his eyes and spares Beatrix a bored look. “Don’t worry, Starr Girl. These two changed their minds so you’re golden now. So golden in fact, I’m guessing they’re the reason Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb suddenly went poof up at the house.”

Beatrix flinches in surprise. “What? Really? You guys got rid of Trevor and Sebastian?”

Her liquid amber eyes touch my face as she searches for answers, and I feel myself melt into them.

“They’re not goneyet,” I answer slowly. “But they will be. Let’s walk and talk.”

The shock of the situation seems to be wearing off because her eyes flash with indignation and she’s back to pulling away from me. “This is sick. You’ve bothtouchedme knowing we’re related. This is so messed up.”

Immediately I shift my hold on her, letting go of her arm so that I can grab the back of her neck possessively. I jerk her toward me, and she gasps. I savor the way her pupils blow wide and her lips part in a soft gasp. The challenge in Beatrix’s eyes falters as she realizes there’s no use fighting me. She licks her bottom lip nervously. I track the motion. For a second, I think about leaning down to claim those full lips. But I hold myself back.

“That’s right. I havetouchedyou. I left my mark all over you,” I growl before smiling at the color blossoming under her beautiful brown skin. “Last I checked, you loved every fucking second of it.”

“You’re sick,” she hisses with a heavy scowl.

“Yet you're turned on just thinking about it,” I note as her breath hitches. “Who’s sicker?”

“It’s strange that your sexual adventures with the twins are what bother you the most, especially since you’re notbloodrelated,” Knox comments thoughtfully, moving around her to stroll toward the back hallway. “Asking them to kill their own father? Nowthat’spretty fucked up.”

Beatrix gapes, and Thatcher laughs. I let her neck go to drape my arm over her shoulders. This time, she doesn’t fight my touch. My brother comes up on her other side and he grabs her hand. It’s a casual touch, but I know it’s anything but. I can feel his anxiousness, the hard need for the contact pressing against our bond and how it eases as he weaves his fingers through hers. It’s not appreciated by Beatrix who tries and fails to pull away.

“I’m glad the murdering part doesn’t faze you, Little Sister,” Thatcher says. “Since it’s what we do.”

There’s a short pause, as if Beatrix doesn’t want to ask but needs to know the answer. “What do you mean?”

Thatcher smiles down at her as we walk. “For years the three of us have been roaming the states, killing and living off our various talents.”

There’s a short pause as Beatrix works the shock and tension from her body, inspired by Thatcher’s confession.

“Oh, ah, what changed?” Beatrix asks after a second.

Thatcher nudges his head toward Knox who strolls ahead of us. “We realized our Pretty Boy needed something stable and, given that we’ll do anything for him, we had to reassess our priorities.”

“Killing Patrick was always going to happen,” I pick up where Thatcher leaves off. “As fate had it, our father had a pretty nice set up here. Having married into a family with an already established business, a house long since paid off, and living in a small town just outside a large city—the plan came easily to us.”

Beatrix glances at me warily through her lashes. “Your plan to murder us all?”

“Yes,” Thatcher answers. “And to take everything that belonged to him. We had Knox come by a few weeks ago with a new will and paperwork to transfer the house and business into his name, and he was successful in getting Patrick and Lauren to sign everything.”

Beatrix’s footsteps stagger as her shoulders go absolutely slack. Her expression crumbles and twists, turning into a mask of absolute devastation.

“So… so you’re taking all this away from me?” she asks as we approach the back of the funeral home.

“Yes,” Thatcher nods as Knox pushes the button that opens a set of double doors. “And no.”

“Wait, why are we going into the cremation chamber?” Beatrix asks, her voice jumping up an octave. “If you’re not going to kill me then why?—”

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