Page 21 of Be My Sinner

He strides away from me back towards the front of the house. Each of his steps is filled with violence. I shove the note into the pocket of my pants, doing up my zipper now that I realize I ran out of the house with my cock hanging out, like some unhinged depraved creep, and stroll back towards the place I call home, but which is really my prison. I need to come up with something believable to get us out of this mess.

Chapter 11

The Sinner

Dinah

Iwatchthembothwalk away from my position in the thick foliage with a mixture of satisfaction and hunger. What am I hungry for? Is it destruction? The blood of those two fuckers who betrayed me and my family, or is it something else? I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. Maybe it’s the dissatisfaction of seeing them alive, when the person I loved the most trusted them and is now rotting in the ground.

Eight months ago…

The phone rings sharply, ending the quiet and peaceful silence that Sammy and I are enjoying inside the house I call a lavish prison. You don’t see the bars that enforce my unwilling confinement but trust me, they are there.

I’m lying on the sofa reading a relic of the old world, one that speaks of other prominent religions before the world went nuts and up in smoke. The fact that there used to be so many different choices, before the Order of the Brotherhood took power, both saddens me and makes me angry at what we allowed to happen to us as a populace.

Sammy’s working on his stolen laptop, helping to move funds around for the rebellion. Well, actually, I think it’s more like he’s stealing funds from the Founding Fathers’ accounts and funneling them to the uprising. Either way, he’s doing the Lord’s good work.

Sammy reaches over and answers it while I roll my eyes at him, and the obnoxious rule that I cannot answer the phone as a woman. Fucking assholes. The stupid Brotherhood and all their nonsensical rules. Like, what if he wasn’t here? Would I just be expected to stare at it ringing? I swear, all their brain cells left their big heads and made their way to their little heads when they took power. Bunch of cunts.

“Yes.” He clears his throat while giving me a severe look on his handsome, scarred face. One that says ‘behave’ as he raises a thick eyebrow at the smirk appearing on my own face. I have an urge to lick that very scar while he talks to them, just to get him all riled up. Maybe I will drop to my knees and suck his cock down my throat, to see if his words stutter. The thought alone of hearing him grunt deep in his throat has my body heating and my thighs tightening.

Sammy’s jaw tenses at whatever they say back to him, and I watch as his whole demeanor changes instantly. He places the laptop on the coffee table in front of him, and I’m positive I see his hand shake when he pulls it back. Gone is the relaxed and easygoing man from just a few moments ago, and in his place is the soldier—the cold warrior, rigid and unflinching. I can almost see his hackles starting to rise. This is the image of the Sammy I first met when I came here. The man who I thought would never smile or I could ever come to trust.

Almost six years later, reappearances of him are few and far between, but right now, that’s all I see. Uneasiness starts to fill me, because it takes quite a bit to frazzle Sammy. This can’t be some soldier on the other side of the phone giving him orders. No, this has to be someone high in authority calling.

Maybe they are telling him about another visit here, to check on their captive and well-protected Sacred Daughter. A snort leaves my lips; if they only knew what I have been up to in captivity, and how well Sammy has been keeping me safe. In my bed and between my legs, teaching me all the things a Sacred Daughter shouldn’t know.

“I understand.” A long pause follows as he continues to listen to whoever is on the other side of the conversation, and I watch his jaw clench tightly. Unease moves through my body at the tension in his.

“When? Fuck! My apologies. How long?” He questions, his eyebrows rising and his dark blue eyes staring intently at me. “Do you think it wise, sir? Her mind is not as stable as you would wish. She is still prone to acts of deep hysteria and violence. This may push her over the edge.”

Not stable, my ass. That’s the bullshit nonsense that Sammy has been uttering for years to keep me safe from the Brotherhood. I am sure the psychotic, violent, and depressed vision of me he depicts to them is the reason I wasn’t collected when I turned eighteen, unlike most Sacred Daughters on the date of their birthdays.

A present, wrapped up in chains for the men of the Order. Handed off to her husband with goodwill and cheer to be used up, bred, and abused by her spouse, and those they choose to share her with. Every girl, for her eighteenth birthday, gets her virginity robbed from her, her life taken away, most likely a gangbang she doesn’t wish to participate in, and the blinders taken off about what kind of world she really lives in. All while having to accept the words of God shoved down her throat.

If only society really knew what befalls a Sacred Wife. Perhaps, then, the other classes wouldn’t so readily part with their sons and daughters to keep this new world order running. No, millions would join the uprising and the rebels, to fight against the Brotherhood, if they found out how genuinely unholy the Order was.

“I understand, sir. No, she hasn’t attempted to self-harm in a while, but this may push her to do that again. Yes, she is still violent with me and the staff. Yes, I understand my duty.” Sammy slams the receiver down with frustration, not even saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end. Staff? The little old lady who comes in once a week to clean? Like I would ever be violent with her.

He gazes at me with fear and horror, causing my breath to catch and my palms to sweat. I sit up, observing him, bewildered by the situation. His lips part, but no words emerge. It feels as if a colossal boulder has plummeted into the pit of my stomach. Dread begins to seep into my limbs, rendering them heavy and sluggish.

From his grave expression and his speechless demeanor alone, I sense that whatever he’s about to utter will shatter my world. Are they finally coming for me? Will they snatch me away from here? Away from Sammy, and hand me over to some psychopath to be used up like a dirty washcloth?

“Just…fucking…tell…me.” The words struggle to leave my clenched teeth as I prepare myself for the very worst. Being handed over to a Founding Father, or one of his spawns, is akin to being sent to my execution. I won’t go quietly. I will fight with everything that I have in me, and pray that one of the guards shoots me before they can get their hands on me.

“Nightstar…I…ah.” He clears his throat and firmly grasps both my hands. I attempt to pull away, but he tightens his grip. My heart thunders so loudly that I can hear and feel it echoing within me. No…whatever this is, I can feel that it will break me. I don’t want to listen to the words he’s going to utter. I don’t want my world to change from my safe cocoon with Sammy.

You were never safe, idiot. You have been playing pretend for far too long and have forgotten the world you are bound to. The words slither through my mind, filled with malice and contempt.

“Nightstar, there has been a death.” He clears his throat. I watch as his lips thin out to a straight menacing grimace. Lips that I love. Lips that bring me endless amounts of pleasure, but that will now be used to hurt me with his words.

“You are called forth to attend the funeral as a Sacred Daughter. I have to bring you back to the capital.” His golden skin has paled dramatically, and I can see the little lines at the corner of his eyes becoming more profound and prominent somehow. It’s like he has aged years in just a few short minutes.

His words come stumbling out, and his face is filled with regret. What is he regretting? That he has to take me back to the capital? Once again, I will have to stand before the Order, and play a meek and obedient Sacred Daughter. I won’t do it. He has portrayed me as a psychopath, which is what I will be in front of them.

Just in front of them, my mind questions. Who are you trying to fool, girl?

Wait, he said, a death? “Whose death?” The words leave my lips before I can stop them. My mind shrieks that we don’t want to know the answer. Alarm bells clang inside my head, and my entire body tenses as though bracing for an assault. What is coming will tear what’s left of my heart out; I can feel it.

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