Page 13 of Sinner: Before Rain
Shaking her head, she looks at me, eyes glaring, “Fuck you, Elijah Sinclair. You are not a good person.”
I don’t respond, because I already know this.
And I don’t fucking care.
She slides her feet into her high-top sneakers and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her.
Grabbing my phone from my front pocket, I find ‘Brunette’ in my contacts and delete her from my phone.
Once they start to show signs of attachment, they are done.
No longer in the rotation.
Throwing my phone onto the middle console, I climb through the gap between the seats and get comfortable again in the driver's seat.
Undoing my pants quickly, I pull my cock out and take the soaked condom off. Unrolling my window and tossing it out, letting my come drip out of the rubber onto the ground. Turning my car on, I pull my pants back up and put my car into gear. Slamming down on the gas, my tires spin, squealing as they burn against the cement parking lot. My tail swings before the rest of the car catches up, speeding away into the sunrise.
Chapter
Eight
ELIJAH - AGE TWENTY
“Son, you know what’s coming.”
“Yes Dad. Fuck. I’ve known since I was five.”
I respect my dad. We have kept in touch over the ten years that I have been away. But he acts like I don’t have a fucking clue what is coming. At any moment, he and the society could call me back, now that I have turned twenty.
I am fucking aware.
His stern voice rumbles through my speaker, “Good. I’ll be in touch when it’s time.”
Then the call disconnects.
I’m sitting in Maxton’s home office. I often come in here when he isn’t home to see what kind of fun things I can find.
Sometimes it’s nothing. Other times, it’s different bank statements showing all the money he has conned out of his followers. I don’t feel bad. If they are dumbenough to believe him, then let them be dumb enough to fund his lifestyle.
My face is painted in black paint, shaded perfectly like a skull.
This is fucking me.
Take it or leave it. I don’t give a flying fuck. Plus, stepdaddy hates it when I do this, which makes me love it more.
My phone vibrates on his desk, speaking of the devil.
I click the green button and put it on speaker, “Yes, Master, how may I be of service?” Sarcasm flows freely from my lips .
“Show some fucking respect. Or have you forgotten who I am?”
Rolling my eyes, he is always this dramatic. “No, I just don’t always care.”
“Chapel, tonight. And it’s not like anything we have had before. Don’t be late.”
The call ends.
“Why do these fuckers keep hanging up on me?”
