Page 65 of The Sins That Bleed
I watch the amber and red leaves tumbling across the road, some getting caught in an updraught and swirling in the air together as if in the middle of a waltz.
I’ve never felt more alone.
Rai has stopped texting and calling. He gave up two days ago and even though it’s my fault for ignoring him, I miss him trying. I huff out a sigh, frustrated with my toxic self and push the button to start the engine.
I might as well go and get high on blood, it’s better than moping around here waiting for someone to try and mug me, I’d only end up ruining their day. The car roars to life like a beast set free from its cage and I ease it forward, lulling her into a purr before speeding off back through the city.
It’s late afternoon and even though most people should be working, the hustle and bustle is still prevalent. I used to like the noise and constant trickle of humanity weaving between the concrete jungle I call home. Now I want to run away from them all and live out the remainder of my existence in a Gothic castle in the middles of a deep forest.
Alone.
A strange recluse that the locals make up dark tales about to keep their children in line.
Back at the tower, I wait for the doors to open so I can drive into the underground garage, and ease my car in once they do. I drive around and park in my spot next to my other luxury cars before switching off the ignition.
I used to love these cars, but now I look at them and see gluttony. For someone so against men and their sins, I sure have turned into the very thing I despise. I may help those that escape trafficking rings or bad husbands, give them jobs within my different establishments, and pay them well, but I’ll never be able to cleanse myself from my worst sins.
I open my door and wait for it to raise up before slipping out and shutting it. As I do, I hear another car roll in and switch off. Fuck, I’m not alone. The urge to hide or get back in my car and drive away is strong, but I will not run away like a coward, no matter how much I want to.
Without even turning to look, I know who it is. They shouldn’t be home this early; it might be a Friday, but they work late most evenings. I know, because I’ve got security on them when they leave. After the break-in, I had to protect them in some way.
My dead heart grows heavy, the thread tying me to Rai tugging painfully in hopes we can come together. I’ve been ignoring it most days as best as I can—slicing into rotten human flesh has helped to distract me, but now it hits me full force.
I twist and face them, their footsteps stop nearby as they notice me, and when my eyes meet his I fall to my knees. Home, that’s what those bright blue sapphires are to me, and I’ve missed him so much, more than I ever thought I could.
Seeing him in all his beauty after days of depriving myself hits me like a freight train and I want to beg, plead, and pray that this man will be able to forgive me for all I’ve done.
For how could I continue to exist in a world where the other half of my soul doesn’t want me?
I’d rather be carved into pieces and fed to the rats infesting this city than to be out in the world knowing he doesn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t know when I became this desperate version of myself. I swore no man would ever be my weakness again, and here I am, on my knees before the man I’ve lied to, who I’ve hurt and purposely tormented.
“Forgive me,please, forgive me,” I whisper to their feet.
I wait and wait, the seconds ticking by excruciatingly slow, humiliation burning my cold skin at how I must look right now, but I deserve to feel it all. I expect them to laugh at me and walkaway, to be as cold and cruel as I have been and will continue to be to those that deserve it, but they don’t leave.
To my surprise, Rai moves toward me and before I can look up, he’s kneeling on the cold hard ground before me so close our knees touch, and then his hands, his lovely, warm hands are on me, cupping my face and tipping it to his.
I close my eyes at his touch, the warmth seeping into my icy skin like a blanket. I don’t mean to cry, but a tear slips loose from under my lashes. I feel the pad of his thumb swipe across my cheek to clear it away, but it only makes more escape.
“Hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry, Valeska. It fucking kills me to see you like this.” His voice is pained.
I’ve done nothing to deserve this comfort from him right now; he still doesn’t know everything I’ve done and kept from him. I try to pull away but he doesn’t let me. His hands slip further around my head until his forehead touches mine. We stay like that for a while and I realise he needs to ease the soul-tie too.
“Um, friends, as cute as this reunion is, we should go somewhere more private. We need to talk, and the elevator is about to arrive.” Nico breaks through our moment, but I’m grateful for the reminder that whilst the garage is secure, it’s not as safe as the penthouse.
Again, I try to move back but Rai holds me still. Before I can convince him we need to leave, his forehead and hands leave mine. I mourn the loss, shivering as the cold of my skin creeps back in from where he’s thawed it away.
I open my eyes to find him—if I can’t touch him then I can at least see him—only to find his hands palm up and waiting for me. I slip my hands into his, worried he might realise what he is doing and that he’ll change his mind.
He doesn’t, and once my hands are fully in his, he closes his palm around them and stands, pulling me with him. Our eyesbore into each other, a thousand unsaid words swirling between us.
I look away first.
His gaze is too intense, the fact that they are not filled with hatred multiplies my guilt from all the secrets I still hold. I hear Nico walking toward the elevator, so I try and slip my hands from Rai’s. He only lets one go but the other clasps my hand as he laces our fingers together and holds it by his side.
We follow Nico, the whole time I’m looking at where our hands are joined as I trail behind Rai. Holding hands seems so simple, but to me it feels more intimate than sex ever could.
No man has ever wanted to hold my hand before. My dead husband would only touch me in public when he had to, and even then it was always sexual and in private, painful.
