~Alaya
“Drink?”
My gaze stalks after Sinful, careful of every move he makes. I’m waiting for him to bring that knife out again so I have a reason to flee from him. I simply sit in a chair in front of him, my back pin straight, my knee folded over my thigh.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. He doesn’t get one for himself, either.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that, today,” he says gently, his tone like silken honey, however, every hint of it reminds me of the state of Cyprian when the immortal was done with him. “But it was completely necessary.”
Somehow I doubt that. I may only know Cyprian for his kidnapping and trickery, but Sinful’s threats meant something else. For talking to me? For touching me? The thought of it has made me sick to my stomach ever since I got back here. It’s a muted kind of sick though. The magic of this place has my emotions on standby, ready to hit me in the face if Sinful saw fit.
Sinful stands directly in front of the fireplace, that roars brilliantly. The vivid orange halo gives him a lazy, seductive edge as he gazes down at me. We currently lounge in his quarters, only having just gotten back from Shanae’s estate.
No matter how much I press Sinful for information, he seems just as shady as Asher does. He doesn’t seem to be in great pursuit of the husband we made up, and when I asked what would happen to Shanae, he insisted I had been through enough, and didn’t need to to know about that.
Bullshit.
“Do you do that kind of thing often?” I question, my fingers entwining in front of me nervously. To me, his reply matters.
He steps forward in a manner that has all my muscles tensing. Sinful has the kind of aura of anticipation that has no transparency. A part of me assumes he’s about to flick that knife out again and use it on me this time.
He crouches in front of me. I keep my thighs tightly pressed together. “No, I don’t do that often. Only when someone threatens something important to me.”
I let his words take time to sink in. My importance to him hardly registers. We hardly know each other. In the immortal world, does a relationship typically take only a matter of a week or so to mean something? This man is all powerful, supposedly, with plenty of people completely afraid of him. And he’s seeing me as important to him?
When I don’t answer, Sinful sighs deeply, and places his hand on my knee in a questionably platonic way.
“It won’t happen again, Alaya, not in front of you,” he promises. I stay quiet. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’m confused, that I don’t even know what to think. This is all catching up with me, and now I’ve been dragged into an issue between you and those people. I’m sure Asher hates me, I’ve had my memories stolen and I had to watch you torture someone. So you tell me what you’ve been thinking,” I say in one breath.
Sinful seems to think for a moment. I had to quickly stop myself from saying I want to go home. This plan won’t happen, whatever it may be, and I’ll never see Sky again. Even though it’s so tempting to get Sinful to send me home…
Would he? After he admitted I’m important to him.
“I think you need to stop thinking,” he comments, holding my gaze despite how deep my frown creases. Stop thinking? I wish that was an option for me considering how much my mind likes to manipulate things into something they aren’t. I always assumed it was just my conscious trying to protect me.
“How do you suggest I do that?” I ask flatly, wondering what Sinful’s masterful advice is on this subject. He does happen to be the one who crushes souls for the Moon.
Sinful doesn’t reply instantly with words. Instead, he leans forward in his crouch position, to run the hand that had been on my knee up further. It’s only an inch, but immediately my thighs clench together, stopping him from making any further movement.
“You need to relax,” he says softly. “You overthink everything. Know your limits, but don’t hold them to the point where they drive you insane. Some things don’t need to be so worrisome. Just go with it.”
“That’s perfectly flawed logic,” I mutter, glaring down at the hand that he now removes from my thigh. Relief doesn’t even begin to describe it, until I fully register the lack of touch… No, I don’t like it.
Sinful stands, adjusting the lapels of his jacket as he does so. I hate remaining sitting while he stands around me, but I have almost no feeling in my legs anymore. I hate being shy. I hate it.
I feel him move around me, like he had done with Cyprian. Instead, though, he places both hands securely on my shoulders, pressing down slightly. As much as Sinful makes me nervous, especially recently, all the tension in my shoulders diminishes, and I have to fight myself not to shudder from the feeling.
“Tell me what worries you, and I’ll tell you why it shouldn’t,” he assures me, his voice delicate and prompting.
I think about that for a moment. “You.”
I’m curious as to how he is going to reply. Now, I’ve gained a little confidence and am sure he’s not about to lash out of me. He wants to know, then I’ll tell him.
“Why’s that?” he asks softly. That’s an anticlimactic reaction. All of a sudden I’m wanting something out of him, wanting him to know exactly how I feel. It’s the strongest feeling I’ve had this entire time being in the immortal lands. It’s as impossible to explain, as it is easy to fall into.
“You tortured someone,” I say, to state the obvious. “I’m also attracted to you, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act.”
My hands instantly come up to cover my mouth. Did I seriously just say that?
It’s a thought I knew was there in my mind, however, I never thought I would admit it. As Sinful walks back around, I have to watch him for his reaction. There is no surprise on his face from my words, only something completely unreadable. I’m not about to say anything more in case I say anything else embarrassing.
“Any other thoughts you would like to admit?” he asks. “Anything about Asher?”
I could take this two ways. Either he’s onto us about our plan, or this is something romantic. The mood that has surfaced from our discussion is suggesting the latter, leaving me speechless. As far as I’m aware, I haven’t been thinking too heavily about Asher and his potential feelings for me, or mine for him.
“Asher’s cold,” I say carefully. “Really cold, toward me, at least. There’s something going on in his head that he won’t tell me, and that really bothers me.”
“Why?”
“What did I do to him that made him hate me so much? What does he want from me?” I question, not meaning to sound so exasperated, but I can’t help it.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Sinful says darkly. “Trust me.”
My want to question him further is seized by him holding his hand out to me. I stare at it, and all the possibility of it weighs out in front of me.
“Prove it to me,” I whisper.
“Take my hand,” he breathes, and I do so.
He pulls me swiftly to my feet, ensuring there’s space between us, which I can appreciate. I look up at him, fully expecting him to tell me Asher’s secret. I’m not sure what his intention is with me, and with Asher. I don’t even know how to tell if he likes him or not. He’s admitted how he feels about me, supposedly. So is he jealous about whatever Asher and I might have.
Which is nothing. Clearly he knows something I don’t.
He gently summons me closer, until my chest is pressed against his, and I’m entrapped into the hazel gaze of his. “I don’t know if you could handle his secret. People here are different, and you’re still afraid to just… let go.”
True, although that’s not the answer to my curiosity. I’ve been wondering and waiting for just a sense into what Asher is thinking.
Sinful brushes his knuckles across my jaw softly, alighting chills across my skin.
“I can’t let go,” I admit, hating myself with every word. Why can’t I be like Sinful? He doesn’t care, he does as he pleases and he gets away with it. If I could just do what I want and not be worried about it, life would be so much better.
“Tell me why not,” Sinful continues, leaning into till his lips touch my neck. Not only does it send heat straight through my entire body, my knees nearly collapse at the feeling of how soft his is. And his scent… his touch. Why is breathing so suddenly difficult?
The gentle but persistent kisses down my neck are enough to derail my train of thought. I need to answer though. “Because… I can’t.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sinful continues against my neck, his hands grasping my waist tightly. “No one is going to care. Unless of course, you’re afraid of what Asher will think.”
That makes me angry, for some unknown reason. In an act of defiance, I pull Sinful’s face away from my neck, so he is looking me straight in the eye. Excitement and anticipation simmers there, making me all the more alluring.
“I don’t care,” I growl, bringing his lips to mine. His reaction is instant. He expected it.
He swept me up, clutching the back of my thighs. I don’t care where this ends up. Not anymore.