Page 30 of Savage Sin

“Isn’t it?”

So he likes word games. Great.

He inhales deeply and when he does, his chest expands. A swath of corded muscles flex and the valleys and peaks of all those defined muscles catch the light. And my attention.

My heart lodges in my throat. Pieces of his broken soul linger in the depths of his gaze and are right there for anyone looking closely enough to see. Or is he being vulnerable for me? Years of doubt and living under the roof of toxic men have me questioning everything. My father was known for games. He liked to talk in riddles to the point he had you agreeing to almost anything by the time the conversation ended. He also liked to use his wealth to manipulate the people around him. Mainly my mother. Close to my tenth birthday, I figured out that as long as I didn’t want anything my father’s money could buy, he couldn’t hold my desires over me. It worked for a long while.

And then Joaquin came along. I thought all snakes were the same, but that is not the case. He didn’t care about anything other than securing his position at the head of the Castel family empire at first. Gabriella and I skated under the radar for months. But once he married my mother, and he had the reins in his hands, all his wicked intent trained on me. With power and money, he could have anything he wanted.

Except me.

And it drove him insane. Breaking me became his focal point and how I got my scars.

I consider the tousled hair and gentle touch of my captor. Consciously, I know not all men are the same. But my heart has a hard time trusting that observation. Remnants of pain and bruises tell my heart it’s right.

But I don’t know. Something is different about this man.

One minute his expression is as blank as a clear sky, and the next storm clouds are rolling in. Not knowing how to read him is frustrating and another reason to do what it takes to get out of here. What knocks me off kilter is there are no red flags and warnings going off in my head.

Something deep inside me—maybe fate or destiny—gently pushes me toward what feels inevitable.

“My step-father tried to rape me. I did nothing to merit his attention except carry my father’s last name.” My vision blurs with horror-filled memories. “He used it as a weapon against me. He said he owned everything the Castel name touched and that included me. When I fought back, he took the glass to my thighs as a way to show me who was in control and then dragged me to the basement to die.”

My eyes focus on a drop of inked blood on his chest, and I let the words spill from me. I feel suddenly irrevocably exposed.

“My mother found me and stopped the bleeding, but it took a long time to heal. I gave up wanting to live for a long while.” Inside the facade of a whole body, the splinters of my soul are a thousand pieces of jagged edges. Not because of what I went through, but what my sister suffered because I defied Joaquin. I swallow the rest of my story and hold the tortured truth close to my chest. Trust is earned and the full truth will cost more than a sponge bath.

Strong fingers slide around to the back of my neck and instead of taking control over me, the warmth of his touch is comforting. My eyes drift up to his as he listens to me. Not asking anything or pointing out it wasn’t my fault or the million other things usually said to comfort those in pain.

He truly listened. “You’ve lived with more pain than most.”

The meek mouse of a girl I wish I could be screams for me to stop, but I can’t help what happens next.

It is step two of the plan on getting out of here, I tell myself. Step one was earning his pity. The lie of why I told him something so personal helps cover the truth. I wanted someone to know. I wanted him to know.

My eyes fix to his, our breaths mingling. And then I kiss the man who tied me to his bed. My lips brush over the enemy’s. Hints of stubble lightly scrape against the edges of my lips. My breath hitches. He tastes of sin and vodka. My lips part and I dare to sample a real taste.

All part of the plan.

Seeking fingers find the sides of my hips and his hold on me flexes into ample flesh.

He leans his substantial weight forward. Mounds of pillows keep me from fully retreating. He braces a hand on the bed beside me and that is when I lose all control over my feeble plan.

My chest heaves with surprise when strong lips capture mine. Demanding fingers encase the back of my neck and I’m suddenly pinned to him.

“Demoness,” he rumbles gruffly, and those hot lips find the throbbing beat of my heart just below my ear. He traces the wetness of his lips over the sensitive skin before scraping his teeth over flesh.

My mouth falls open with a silent gasp.

Sweet, tortuous agony.

If this is how he is going to pry secrets from me, it could work.

“This is wrong,” I utter into the void of nothingness because he’s not listening and I’m not fighting him off.

“Don’t think you can tease me and I won’t demand more. Kiss me and this time give me something to sate my monsters.”

Sparks of danger ignite his penetrating gaze.

---