Page 67 of Entombed In Sin

“Why would you do this? You just lost your son the same way…” the male voice wails. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, Ernest. I just got home when I got your message. We could’ve done something about this. Beatrix should’ve understood how important it was to you to keep Trevor’s memory pure and alive. This would’ve blown over for her. You didn’t have to feel so fucking guilty… Damn Starr…”

I pause.

What does this have to do with Beatrix Starr?

23

BEATRIX

Istare up at the ceiling of the room that once belonged to my mother. When was the last time I stared up at the pretty beams that cross the length of the room? I vaguely recall lying on her bed as a child when I was sick. She’d curled up and laid with me for hours while I shivered with a fever. I think that must’ve been the last time. Had I been six? Seven maybe? It was during one of her short stints of being clean. I can remember her arms wrapped around me—her voice in my ear whispering something. The words are muddled due to so much time passing, but I get the sense they were full of love and concern.

My heart clenches at the memory. I miss that woman,thatversion of my mother. That version of her has been dead to me so long that I don’t know if I actually miss her, or if my body is just so used to missing her that it still reacts to these memories.

I swallow hard. Slowly, I pull my gaze away from the ceiling. It lands on the pretty blond man that’s half-sprawled over my naked body. Knox’s head lies on my stomach, his arm thrown over my waist. One of his legs is draped over both of mine, his semi-hard dick pressed into my hip. The soft sounds of his gentle snores make me smile.

That smile is fleeting, though.

Not for the first time this evening, I’m wondering what’s happening between us. Knox spent the rest of the day with me. Most of it was locked up here in his room. We’d gone downstairs to grab the pizza Knox had delivered to the house, and we had eaten with the twins, but after dinner, Knox pulled me back up here and he’d…

Well, he made sure I was too exhausted to make my way back down the stairs to my own room.

He’d fallen asleep a few hours ago as I lightly ran my fingers down his back. The motion was absentminded on my end. For Knox, he marveled in it. I can still see how he arched his back into it, groaning every now and then between the stories he was sharing with me. It was in the middle of one of those stories that his voice teetered off and he fell asleep. I should be sleeping just as soundly. I’m tired enough that it should be easy. Instead, I find myself alternating between looking at the ceiling and the man laying on top of me instead.

Knox hadn’t snapped at me once after his punishment. He let me touch him. And then, Knox and I had sex like we were animals in heat. What is this? A friendship? Acceptance? My heart flutters a little as I stare down at the top of Knox’s head. His messy blond waves are all I can see from here. It felt like something more transpired between us. A connection cemented in stone.

Doubt caresses that connection, though, testing for any signs of weakness.

It’s like we’ve done a complete 180. I want to believe that everything is ok between us. If the previous relationships in my life are any indication about how this one might go, however, I have to admit tomorrow could look much different from today. What if he has a change of heart when he wakes up? He could go back to hating my guts or giving me the cold shoulder wheneverthe mood strikes, and I’ll be left back at square one, trying to prove I’m not his enemy.

My mood plummets at the thought.

Can’t I just getsomestability in my life? I bite the inside of my cheek as I mentally chastise myself. Idohave that now. Thatcher and Sagan have been there for me since the beginning. Sure, there was a moment where I didn’t trust them after Knox buried me alive. I’d been so mad… Then Sagan had gone and given me an outlet for that anger, and Thatcher? He’d been there afterward to take care of me. The twins, as messed up in the head as they are, have been there for me. They gave me strength and power. For someone who’s been beaten down by everyone around them, in every way possible for their entire life, that gift is something I’ll never be able to repay Thatcher and Sagan for.

The sour dip my mood has taken vanishes. In its place, peace settles.

If Knox flips back to his hot and cold self tomorrow, that’s fine. I’ll just have to keep working toward some common ground. I think, if this afternoon and evening are anything to go by, working this out with Knox—finding common ground—could be absolutely worth the bumps in the road. His soul is a beautiful, multi-faceted surface that is woven together with ribbons created from his rough past and painful truths. He’s more than just a pretty face, he's a broken man who built himself up on a pillar of bones and dubbed himself king of his life. My heart swells and I smile.

I hope I can be as strong as Knox one day. With the Hunt twins by my side, I think that’s possible.

As I think of this strange family I’m surrounded by, sleep finally takes over and drags me under.

“Beatrix.”

I jerk awake at the sound of my name, and a door opening. It’s early. I know that much thanks to the darkness I can see through the drapes Knox has up. I can also tell because I’mexhausted. I’ve probably only been asleep for two or three hours. Suddenly, the lights in the room turn on. Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I turn to find Thatcher strolling toward us. His hair is in disarray but raked out of his face. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking as if he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Get up,” he orders.

I attempt to do just that, but when I try, I find Knox still on top of me.

Right, I ended up in Knox’s room. I shift beneath him, and when he only curls around me tighter, I ask, “Knox, can you?—”

Knox groans, cutting me off. His hand comes up to rest at the base of my throat. With just a little pressure, he tries to push me back down.

“Ignore him,” he mutters from between my breasts. “Go back to sleep.”

“Knox, let her up,” Thatcher commands. There’s something in the tone of his voice that has both of us stiffening.

“Thatcher?” I ask as Knox rolls off me. “What’s wrong?”

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