Page 52 of Capturing Sin

When I finally emerged, the only outward sign of my uncle’s fury was the mottled bruising purpling along my cheek and the split seam of my lower lip.

Not for the first time, I cursed the meaty ham hands of my uncle and headed for my assigned lab.

I swallowed back the tears, but they wedged in my throat as an unnecessary lump. I hated when emotions had physical manifestations instead of just lurking in the recesses of my mind, waiting to ambush me with a panic attack, like they were supposed to.

Without conscious thought, I paused outside the lab, staring at the smooth white door.

Whether I wanted to or not, I had to go in there and do my damn job.

“The cure,” I murmured. “I can do this.”

I drew in a deep breath.

One. Two. Three.

Released the air from my lungs in a controlled exhale and slapped my pass against the scanner. The door beeped in a familiar high pitch, and I pushed it open.

Like always, the monster from my nightmares haunted my days.

“Ah, she still lives.” Sin’s deep voice rumbled through the cluster of holes in his plexiglass containment cell.

He lounged against the far corner, a predator at ease. The devil’s eyes tracked me as I strode inside, glittering with sadistic amusement.

The door clicked shut. The locking mechanism re-engaged.

Just me and the demon, trapped in a small room.

“Come to poison me once more?” His tone rasped like sandpaper over exposed nerves. “Or simply collapse again like the fragile human you are?”

I turned my back on him, unable to process any more aggression as I retrieved the kit from the mini fridge bolted to the wall. My hand quaked as I withdrew Cara’s latest serum and placed it on the tray. The vial clattered loudly, rolling across the metal to collide with the waiting syringe.

Silence reverberated in its wake, the air charging with something indefinable.

The predator had scented blood. Weakness.

Would he finally escape and snap my flimsy neck like he’d promised? Or would he drink me down like my father’s murderer?

“What’s this? No scathing rebuke?” His words seemed to slither across my skin, each one a lethal caress. “No peek at that adorably vicious side you like to smother?”

My hand stilled on the tray as his rich chuckle washed over me, saturated in dark promise and anticipation. Finding some ounce of grit, I shoved the needle into my inner elbow and pressed the plunger, ignoring the cool rush down my arm.

Facing the demon, I almost lost my nerve at the sight of him right before the glass, an indomitable force of nature.

“No, I’m here to set you free for your all-you-can-eat human buffet,” I snapped.

His lips twitched, but the smirk died off as his attention zeroed in on my mouth.

Notching my chin, I pretended not to see the storm clouds brewing in his eyes. Or feel the pit of dark need splitting my chest.

What did he have to feel violent about? The bastard just lazed about in his cell all day like a pampered pet. I was the one dealing with a hostile work environment.

“So,” he murmured, voice deceptively casual. “What happened to your face, poison?”

A fist slamming against my cheek. A snarl of displeasure. Shame smothering me.

I cleared my throat, forcing my body to still rather than shifting on my feet. “Nothing.”

His claws screeched like nails across a chalkboard as they raked down the plexiglass, the harsh dissonance setting my teeth on edge.

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