Page 63 of Entombed In Sin

This woman just flipped my entire world upside, shaking away some of the shitty pieces of myself to make room for something better. I’m reeling from the experience, breathing easy around someone who isn’t Sagan and Thatcher. The reality of that is surreal and mind blowing. But while I’m overwhelmed with excitement and nerves, wonder and whatever that hot sticky sensation is inside me, Beatrix is cowering away from me. She’s not wrong to be scared. Look how I’ve treated her since we arrived. From day one, I told her that my loyalty is to the Hunt twins, not to her. Around her, my mood swings go from hot to cold and back again at the drop of a hat. I nearly slit her throat in a panicked rage, then I left her in the ground to suffocate to death. How I’ve treated Beatrix Starr is radiating from her body language now. It’s clear I’ve been one of her worst tormentors.

I hate it.

My whole being shies away from being that person to her now. There’s just something about her that makes me want to lean in and just… relax. I’m safe with her. I feel that deep down in my bones. I’ve only felt this strongly about two other people in my life. It's terrifying, and it’s beautiful. I want her to feel that way with me.

I also want her heart. It’s only fair to covet it because I’m pretty sure she’s stolen mine.

Swallowing hard, I try to rein in my enthusiasm. Lowering my head beside hers, I speak.

“It wasn’t like that with you,” I whisper into her ear. “God, Beatrix, I-I don’t know what to think or how to feel. I’m all sorts of fucked up in the head right now. But I’m curious, I just have to know if you feel just as good now as you did when I was on that table while I was high as a kite. W-will you touch me? Please?”

I can hear Beatrix’s breath catch. She doesn’t move right away, and I pull my head back to study her expression once more. Beatrix turns, so she’s facing me again, her eyes full of wariness.

“Knox…” she starts, her voice small as she begins to shake her head in objection. “I don’t know how to play this game with you. I feel like whatever I do right now is going to be the wrong thing, and I’ll get punished. Please don’t make me play.”

Her soft plea makes me feel nauseous.

“It's not a game,” I promise vehemently. “I need this. Touch me, Beatrix. Let me feel your hands on me again. Let me explore if it was you or the drugs.”

Beatrix takes her bottom lip between her teeth while indecision wars on her face. Her brows slowly pinch together before they curl upward.

“Iwantto touch you, Knox,” she confesses. Her voice is so soft I can barely hear her.

Fear and uncertainty linger in her gaze, but that energy between us thickens, and I can see her nipples poking through her shirt and the slight pink creeping up into her warm brown cheeks.

“Come on,” I urge. “Do it. I promise I’ll be good, no matter what happens.”

Even if her touch causes pain, I refuse to lash out like I had before.

Beatrix swallows hard but, cautiously, she reaches up with a single hand. Immediately, I flinch. I can’t stop the reaction, and I inwardly curse when Beatrix yanks her hand back while she mirrors my reaction.

“Fuckingtouch me!” I shout, letting my fear and hope and desperation pour out. “I need to feel that rush again. That sweet, agonizing bliss as it burns me! I need this, Beatrix. I needyou. Please tell me there’s a chance that I’m not so fucking broken I can’t accept the touch of a goddamn angel. Touch me, Beatrix!”

Confusion washes over her face. For a second, I’m not sure what she doesn’t understand. Then it dawns on me, and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. For her entire life she’s dealt with a town that’s wary of her, a neglectful mother, a handful of stepfathers who abused her, and had to deal with my bullshit and the Hunt twins’ games… It doesn’t take a lot to realize that Beatrix has never once felt appreciated or needed.

Her words from earlier come back to me: about the lack of friends she has and how she thought everyone last night was watching me. I don’t know where she got that idea from. If she really looked around, people were watchingus. Beatrix doesn’t see herself clearly. She’s gone so long without anyone on her side that she simply doesn’t see or value her worth.

I get it, to some extent. I’d felt the same way for a while. But I’ve had the twins on my side for years now, replacing that heavy weight of isolation. Beatrix didn’t have that. Now that she has us,I wonder if we’re really enough to beat through her insecurities. I know, as great as the twins can be, there’s nothing incrediblysweetabout them. They’re intense, demanding, all-consuming in the best possible ways. And me? I’m a fucking dick. She deserves better.

“Has no one ever told you that you’re an angel?” I ask.

She shakes her head. Doubt and suspicion flickering in her eyes as she stares up at me.

“Well, you are,” I assure her.

Her smile is small, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Before I can press the issue, Beatrix’s right palm comes to rest right over my heart. The touch is unexpected, causing me to flinch violently. I almost jerk away but stop myself at the last second. Instead, I go still. My breath catches as I brace myself for the pain to come. I stare down into Beatrix’s eyes, and she looks back up at me, watching with dread—expecting the worst from me. Time comes to a grinding halt. I don’t know if it’s seconds or minutes, but for a while, neither of us moves.

For Beatrix, I’m sure freezing is a survival tactic. Like a deer staring into a pair of headlights.

It’s different for me. I’m too preoccupied by the internal barrage of chaos rioting through me to do anything else but stand here and just take it.

My body reacts to her touch. It’s a throat punch, a kick straight to my balls, the burn as lightning plows through me. But it’s also the kiss of warm sun rays, the caress of a feather, and a balm to an ache that’s soul deep.

If I wanted to, I could let the pain consume me. I could fall into the familiarity and scream, giving voice to the horrors of my past. If I’m being honest with myself, I like the pain. It brought me back from hell and made me strong. And I like how the twins wield this power over me, allowing me to suffer like a fuckingmasochist in my own ways, but being there to stop it whenever I’ve reached my breaking point.

But pain has been a constant in my life. Why not accept something else for a change? What would it be like to fall into the pillow-soft affection that sweet, young Beatrix gives so freely? She’s been offering me a warm place to lay my head since we barreled into her life without looking for anything in return, and I, stupidly, have been fighting it every step of the way.

My heart shudders at the intensity of the hot, sticky feeling filling my chest. Oh god… I just… Ineedthis. I need her. I need Beatrix Starr.

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