Page 53 of Capturing Sin

Looming like a monster, he uttered a single syllable, drenched in violence. “Who?”

For a moment, it almost sounded like he cared.

The idea was enough to crumble the fortress I’d rebuilt around my emotions. I was that desperate for someone to care about me.

So. Fucking. Pathetic.

No wonder my uncle tried to beat the weakness from me.

My father’s callous voice echoed through my skull—Never let them see you weak, Tiger-lily.

“What does it matter?” I hissed, jutting my chin.

I was sick of being manipulated by everyone around me. My whole life was a lie. I’d committed atrocities thinking I was doing the right thing, and I could never remove the stains from my soul.

Now, the one time I could finally do some good, and even that wasn’t simple. Even that caused suffering.

My life was an endless maze of grey. Every turn just led to more of the same. I was tired of the never-ending struggle, the meaningless sacrifices, the agonising existence that insisted on grinding me down until I was nothing but scar tissue and frayed edges.

“Look at me,” the demon snarled, deep timbre rattling the glassware.

My gaze snapped up.

I’d never seen him this angry: glistening fangs slick with venom, broad chest heaving like he’d sprinted a marathon, shoulder spikes gouging the air.

But it was the churning darkness in his glowing eyes that held me against my will.

“You’re mine, poison. Nobody else gets to lay a finger on you without me snapping it off.”

A low chuckle bubbled up from the hollow pit in my chest, as bitter as the demon. “Yours to hurt?” I asked. “To kill?”

Sin’s full lips curved into a slow, predatory smile that should have filled me with dread. Instead, heat whispered through my veins.

“Exactly,” he purred, voice the darkest velvet. “I’ll hurt you so sweetly, poison. Exquisitely. You’ll never be the same again.”

Something was fundamentally wrong with me, because it almost sounded like a sinful promise rather than the brutal threat he’d intended.

I shook my head, stifling a wince as it worsened the ache in my skull. How had things got so complicated?

I stuffed my wrist against the open hatch.

“Shut up and bite me, Sin.”

Chapter 22

Fangs sliced into my wrist.

So familiar now I could time the second of pain before pleasure burned it away. It spread outwards, pooling warmth low in my body, straddling the line between delicious torture and forbidden ecstasy.

At least it distracted from my throbbing face.

Reckless desire tried to choke me into submission. I’d been ignoring the twisted longing ever since the demon had unravelled me with his sinuous tail.

Sin knelt behind the barrier, hooking me with starlit eyes. An intensity simmered in their depths, edging from bloodlust into dark, wicked things.

He pulled back before I could shatter, crushing my shameful hope right alongside it.

Self-disgust filled the void, and I turned from my captive with a grimace, but something warm snagged my leg.

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