Page 46 of Spark of Madness

“Upon women who don’t deserve it, who never asked for it.”

“On women who were chosen by God to serve those needs.” He stops in front of the room he says is mine, and he turns to face me. “You rejected God’s favor when you turned and ran into the forest, when you hid in that tree, when you ran fromme.”

He unlocks the door and shoves it open, then his hand wraps around my elbow before he forcefully drags me across the threshold. Flinging me forward into the room, he releases me unexpectedly. My weight pitches forward and I stumble. I catch my balance and turn to face him as he closes the door and locks it.

Then he charges toward me, his intense stare scaring me enough to make me step back as he moves into my space. The force of him shoves me until my back hits the far wall across the room. He slams his palms against it on either side of my head to cage me in between his arms.

I can smell the mint on his breath as he glowers down at me, breathing out fire like a demon—like a man who needs to purge. Fear rises in my chest as my eyes widen at the way he watches me. While fear rises, sin descends, an unwanted clench of a forbidden feeling tugging desire low into my core.

My body remembers the warmth of his pressed against me, the touch of his fingers as they moved inside me, the overwhelming sinful sensation of coming at the touch of another’s hand.

All the air escapes my lungs as he dips his head, bending closer. “Do you still want to run from me, sinner?”

“Yes,” I breathe, and though I intended to speak honestly, it feels like a lie.

His plump lips part with a sigh as his forehead touches mine. “And if you did run from me again...would you want me to catch you like I did in the forest?”

“Yes.” And that’s the truest I’ve ever spoken.

It feels like the most blasphemous thing I’ve ever wanted, ever thought, ever said out loud. It’s blasphemous to want my warden, my controller, my eventual executioner to touch me the way he did during a night of service.

I want it now.

I want it badly.

I want him to sin with me…and I don’t understand the feeling at all.

It’s perhaps the most shameful thing a servant could do—to admit such things to a man outside of the full moon and tempt him in that way when he’s not allowed to act upon it. Yet I can’t control the arch of my back as my body is called to his, as his warmth beckons me.

“You’re a sinner,” he whispers, his head rolling against mine. “You’re a sinner and you want to take me down to the depths of hell with you.”

“I want no such thing.” My hands rise between us, curious fingers reaching out for him, though I don’t know where to touch. “Not for me, not for you, not for anyone.”

He solves the confusion over where my hands want to be as he sways forward, moving into me, crushing them between us.

“Liar.” He drags in a deep breath and forces it out again, his chest rising and falling against me.

“What are you doing?”

“Be quiet.”

“I need you to hear—”

“Silence, Mercy. I didn’t purge and you’re tempting my urges...”

“You didn’t purge?” I ask in disbelief.

“Your sins stole my attention under the last full moon.”

Indignation wrinkles my forehead at the way I’m blamed. “I did nothing but run from flames that threatened to consume me.”

I feel his breaths, quick and shallow, nearly panting. “You made your presence known to me, and that was enough.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing. I wiggle my fingers and they graze the button on his waistcoat. Absently, I grab hold of it, my hands fidgeting as a result of my anxiety in this heated moment.

“Your hair smells like wildflowers...”

My heartbeat quickens as he shifts forward, his body kissing mine.

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