Page 66 of Spark of Madness

“You’re a hypocrite,” she mutters. “All of you are.”

I give a sharp tug on the end of her braid, eliciting a yelp. “So says the sinner. You’ve always been rebellious.”

“Why will your sins be forgiven and mine won’t?”

I tie off the end of her braid with a short length of twine that I pulled from my dresser drawer. The view of the coarse rungs wrapped around her starlight hair sends a shudder through my spine that makes my cock painfully throb. I stifle a groan as I work to loosen the braid at the base of her neck, flattening out the strands.

“Because your sins were your choice, and your temptation brought me to mine.”

“You’re unbelievable!” she snaps, trying to rise to her feet, but I shove her back down in the seat with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Youchosethis as much as I did. You let me fuck you, commanded me to come.”

I tug on her hair again, forcing her chin up, craning her neck back far enough that she can look at me when I bend over her. “Because youknewI didn’t purge and came here with the intent to tempt me anyway. Don’t lie to yourself and pretend you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. You used your body to get what you wanted, to spare Delle.”

Her cheeks flush pink with fury as she fumes at me, nostrils flaring. But I’ve successfully managed to shut her up. I release her, and she whips her head forward with a huff.

“This...these starlight strands of hair...you must have been colored by demons, painted bright white to mimic the heavens as a lure for men. This temptation is too great.”

Her chest heaves with fury, but her voice is lowered to a harsh whisper. “And now you blame my hairfor your failure.”

I pull the scissors I had collected from the bathroom from my back pocket. An unexpected tremor shakes through me as I grip them and open them, prepared to cut. She’s not even aware that I’m holding them. Not even aware that I’m going to cut her fucking hair because it calls to me like a siren’s song.

I bring the scissors to the base of her neck where I’ve loosened and flattened her braid. I spread the scissors open wide and hover them over the strands. I take in a steadying breath and shut my eyes for a beat as indecision washes over me.

Yet, I know I have to do it.

To save my tempted soul, I have to do it.

Snip.

I cut a chunk at the base of her neck.

She gasps, startles, tries to turn as her hands fly up to her skull. “What’re you—”

I place my other palm on the top of her head to keep her still, and with forced determination, Isnip,snip,snipmy way across the line of her shoulders. Each snip echoes, slicing through the quiet room, a horrifying sound I feel rip through my chest, cutting me with regret.

Yet, I continue.

“Stop!” She wiggles, fighting against my grip which presses down on her head.

I cut all the way across, from shoulder to shoulder, and her braid drops free, tumbling to the floor in a heap.

“No!” she cries as I let go.

I bend to grab the fallen braid as she leaps from the seat, whirling around to face me as her hands reach behind her for the hair I now hold as a severed braid in my hand.

“Why did youdothat?” Her expression is a mix of sadness, shock, and horror—you’d think I’d cut off a limb by the look of her face.

And it kind of feels like I did.

“If temptation is brought to man outside of service, the temptation must be removed,” I quote the Impulse Edict, the documentation of the doctrine we follow in Ember Glen.

“My hair…” she gapes at me, “you cut my hair.”

“I removed a temptation.”

“You haven’t removedanything!”She stomps forward, pressing into my space. “You’rehorrible,” she spits. Her hands slam to my chest and she shoves me back. “You’redisgusting.I hate you!”

I’m struck by her words. They physically pang as they hit my heart, forcing me to take another step backward. I swallow an odd lump that rises sharply in my throat.

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