Page 21 of Entombed In Sin

Just as I make it to the kitchen, I hear the sound of another approaching. I place the blade of my knife between my teeth as I let go of Beatrix’s hand and lengthen my stride to meet the person heading our way. One of the owners of the house comes in through the other entrance of the kitchen. The middle-aged man has enough time for his eyes to widen, his footsteps to falter, and his breath to catch before my hands take his skull and snap it to one side.

His body falls to the floor in a heap. Beatrix squeaks in surprise. I whip my head around to glare at her. She stands there gawking at the body on the ground. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes bulge. She notices my glare and quickly slaps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet.

“Arnie, make sure it’s sharp and clean! Last time it was neither, and I got a nasty infection!”

I pause, listening to see if the second individual is headed our way or intends to remain put. He chooses the latter. Reaching up, I grab the hilt of my knife and remove the blade from between my teeth. I wave Beatrix forward. With what looks to be a great deal of difficulty, she lifts one foot, then another. The movement finally becomes fluid by the time she reachesmy side. Her eyes find my face, searching it for something, but then she looks straight ahead, her chin tilting upward with determination.

My smile comes and goes but is unseen by my pet. Her desire to see whatever I have in store, no matter what, is charming. Humbling even. She may be upset with us, but we haven’t lost all her trust just yet. I allow myself to reach up and stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. It’s an unexpected touch for both of us. Gentleness is not in my nature. I can’t even fake it—not like Thatcher. So, when Beatrix looks up at me, her brows puckering with confusion, I find I’m just as baffled by the gesture as she is.

Fuck, if I’m not careful, I might grow soft.

Without further delay, I lead us into the other room where Arnie’s friend is waiting. Naked except for the overstretched, permanently stained tighty-whities is a fat old man on his knees. With his head bowed and his body facing toward the mantel, we go unnoticed. A fire crackles in the fireplace, casting the room in a warm orange glow. The pleasant crackling and popping of wood is soothing—a wonderful background noise for what’s to come. On the wood mantel sits a variety of various-sized jars. Each one is filled with liquid, some murkier than others. But what’s inside each of them is clear enough.

Knox would be appalled at the poor conditions these organs are being kept in.

Beside the fireplace, dangling on a mannequin, is a red robe. It’s seen better days. There are old burn marks on the sleeves and there is caked-on blood around the hood. A bloody hole by the heart gives me a hint as to what happened to its previous owner.

Beatrix freezes just within the room, but I don’t stop. I come up behind the unsuspecting man and kick him in the ass. He cries out in surprise and pain as he’s thrown forward. His arms fly outward, but he doesn’t catch himself in time before his cheekhits the floor. I kick him again and his face slides across the carpet, gaining a few superficial burns.

“What in the hell—!” he sputters as he sits up.

My foot slams between his shoulder blades to knock him back down. I step forward and then down onto his back, applying all my weight.

“AH! What the hell is going on?! Arnie?” he cries out.

I twist around to look back at my pet, who watches on silently. Her jaw is clenched tight, and her arms are wrapped around her torso, but rather than scared, she appears apprehensive. Morbidly curious. Maybe a little excited.

“Come here, Little Viper.” I hold my hand out to her.

Her eyes dart to it, the knife in my other hand, then down to the man on the floor. Our victim squeals like a pig, shouting for help, but I block him out. His words are unimportant. Hislifeeven more so. We’ve come here for one thing, and he’s going to give it to us.

Beatrix moves toward me, having decided on feeding her curiosity over her cautiousness. Her hand lightly comes to rest in mine. This time when I smile, I make sure she sees it.

“It’s time to strike, Little Viper. Tonight, I will show you how.”

Understanding flickers to life in those beautiful, light brown eyes. Her jaw clenches tighter and her nostrils flare.

“Why him? Why now?”

“Because you’re coiled, ready to sink your fangs into flesh,” I explain. “If you do not control your impulses, they will consume you.”

She’s not easily fooled. Her pupils narrow. “You just don’t want me to lash out at Knox. He almostkilledme, Sagan!”

At Knox’s name, my chest constricts. The thought of him harmed sets my teeth on edge. Tonight is for Beatrix as much as it is to protect him. Redirecting her energy elsewhere willhopefully buy Knox enough time to win her over again. I take a deep breath and let it go. With it, the tension follows.

“Yet here you are, alive and well,” I point out, my voice calm.

Her glare is dark and dangerous. A shiver of desire whips through me at the sight. Slowly, she lifts her bandaged hands.

“Your fingers will heal.” My mouth curves into a humorless smile. “But I should amend that by saying ‘well enough’.”

“You think because I’m well-ishthat everything is ok?” Beatrix asks, her voice deepening with hostility. “I don’t know if it’s enough for me. What if I take what I learn here and use it elsewhere?”

Elsewhere as in Knox. Or Pastor Michaels. Or me and my brother.

“Get off me! Get out of my house, you crazy freaks!” the man beneath me wails. I lift my foot only to slam my booted heel into his spine. His cry reminds me of a squealing pig.

I look back at Beatrix who's holding herself rigid. The fury she’s been masking all day flickers to the surface. Her brows smash together and her jaw ticks. She’s practically vibrating with rage now. I can see it in her eyes, the desire to lash out, to show everyone around her that she’s not to be messed with.

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