Page 65 of Our Sins in Blood (Coven of Sin 1)

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll be right up. I’ll just grab the hoodie real quick and get out. Won’t be more than a minute.”

Wishing me luck, Kenzie made her way back upstairs. When she was out of sight, I turned toward the door and steeled my nerves before reaching for the handle.

The first thing that met me was complete and utter darkness. I used my cellphone to light up my immediate vicinity, the white light from the LCD screen illuminating the brick walls. Finding an ancient-looking light switch, I flipped it. There was an audible click as the light bulbs mounted in industrial steel sconces flicked on, washing the room in warm, yellow lighting.

For a second, I stood completely frozen. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Eros’ room looked like a medieval dungeon that had been decorated by a modern twenties or thirties something guy. The floors were cobblestones, the walls were exposed brick, and thick wooden support beams ran down the length of the ceiling. This house had to have been built around the 17th century but somehow the basement looked even older. It smelt musty, with centuries worth of memories ingrained in the porous brick. And by some dark, mysterious stains on the walls, not all good memories.

Huge metal racks were pushed to the perimeter of the walls, displaying dozens of crude weapons. By the rusty metal, they had to be ancient. Stepping closer, my stomach twisted when I realized they weren’t weapons at all.

They were torture devices.

Thankfully, it looked like they hadn’t been used since their hay day.

So Eros collected medieval torture devices. That was… kind of cool. In a really creepy sort of way.

Foisting my attention to the rest of the room, I began inhaling every detail. MMA posters littered the walls, some of them his own posters and some depicting other fighters.

What surprised me the most was that the entire basement was relatively tidy. It was obvious this place had been used for storage long before Eros had ever taken over due to all the dusty crates and barrels pushed off to the corners of the room, but everything had its place. The item that drew the most attention was his bed. It was a wooden four-poster behemoth that was oddly eloquent compared to the rest of his furniture, such as the barrel he was using as a side table and an old Coca-Cola crate that appeared to hold an assortment of trophies.

I wondered how he’d managed to get the bed down here. Or if he even used it. The black bed coverings were smoothed down nicely, and the pillows plumped. Everything about this place was a mix of hard and soft, beautiful and crude. A testament to Eros, maybe.

My attention settled on what I’d come here for. A dresser at the foot of his bed. I slowly stepped up to it, taking a moment to examine all the little knick-knacks covering the top. A pack of cigarettes, a pair of handcuffs, a bowie knife wrapped in a bloody sock—vampire blood by the color. A lighter with gothic script reading DW stamped on the front. Hand wraps. A mouthguard.

The collection of items illustrated Eros as strange, but evil wasn’t exactly popping into my head when I took in his room and all its contents. Dangerous, definitely crazy, but not exactly evil.

Holding my breath, my hands hovered over the dresser’s brass handles that had long since had the finish worn off from decades of use. Was I really about to rifle through his clothes? This was definitely an invasion of privacy. Was Kenzie right about my scent fading before he got home? Some dark, twisted part of me wanted him to know what I’d taken from him.

To see what he would do.

Maybe I did have a death wish after all. And what a match made in Hell we could be.

I was beginning to learn things about myself in the company of these vampire princes. Fucked up things. Like the phantom sensation of Vincent’s hand wrapped around my throat that first night we’d met. How his expression had been carved up with hatred, but his eyes had been banked with lust. Even thinking about it sent a rush of tingling heat to my sex.

Would Eros be just as heavy-handed? Or would his brand of torture be more skilled and practiced? My dark fantasies began to unfurl in my head, but all the images of me splayed out on my back in the bed before me slipped away as I opened the drawer and a plume of masculine scent washed over me, heady and potent.

“Holy fuck,” I whispered to myself as I pulled out a black t-shirt and buried my nose in the fabric, inhaling Eros’s scent. It was metallic, like blood and steel, with the vaguest notes of cloves and cigarette smoke.

The fragrance was gloriously male, one that belonged to a monster. More unsettling than that, was the way it swept over me like a palpable touch, making my mouth water and my knees wobble.

Putting the shirt back, I only had to dig a little deeper to find the hoodie. It was black, with gothic lettering reading ‘Deathwish Dethrones the Feral King!’ and sure enough, there was a black and white picture of him in the ring, landing a huge fist in Vincent’s nose.

A devious smile curved my lips, thinking how Eros might react once he found out I’d broken his brother’s nose the night we’d met.

I quickly tugged the hoodie on, breathing in the prince’s spicy aroma. It was huge on me, covering my denim shorts and red crop top I’d chosen from Kenzie’s haul like a damn tent. But it was cozy, and more than that, it felt like armor for some reason. Closing the drawer, my curious gaze swept over the bed one last time before making my way for the door.

I’d already been here too long and if the guys had bothered waiting for me to start their little meeting, I doubted they’d wait much longer.

Reaching for the door handle, my hand froze in mid-air when I heard footsteps echoing down the basement stairs.

My heart launched into my throat as I listened closely.

The steps were too heavy to be Kenzie’s.

Then the scent hit me.

Metal. Cigarette smoke. Cloves.

Deathwish was home, early. And he was about to find me in his room, wearing his clothes.

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