Page 89 of Capturing Sin

“My father,” I whispered.

His lips peeled back into a sneer. “The one hurting you?”

I shook my head. “He’s dead.” I swallowed thickly, eyeing my wrist on the table, sleeve pushed back enough to expose the spotted tiger-lily inked into my pale skin. “But he’s the reason I am…was…a hunter.”

Sin followed my gaze, voice gentle. “Your tattoo… What does it mean?”

I shifted in my seat, curiosity luring me in. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

His horns canted aside, a crooked smile playing at his lips. “An unfair trade, given how many I have compared to you.”

I smirked, the cruel expression he loved taking over my face.

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. A break in the clouds had sunlight filtering through the bay window, turning the longer strands of Sin’s hair pearlescent where they fell forward into his eyes.

He brushed the strays back between his curved horns, forcing my eyes to the flex of his bicep. “Fine, but toxins first.”

I huffed, but my lips curved upward without my permission. The expression died as I thought of my only tattoo.

“When I was twelve, I watched a blood demon kill my father,” I said.

Sin’s expression shuttered, but he didn’t interrupt.

My jaw worked as I took a moment to compose myself. “I loved him, but he was a bastard,” I said simply. “He used to call me Tiger-lily, and when he died, I got this to remind me that even the strong get hurt, and family can mean many things.”

Not that I’d needed the reminder.

My expression wiped clean. I’d already revealed too much to the observant demon.

Sin considered me for a long moment. “You fed a blood demon, even though one of my kind murdered your father?”

I shrugged. “What can I say, maybe not all blood demons are bad.” Guilt squirmed through me on the heels of that thought. I jerked a chin towards his chest. “And yours?”

“The tribal art is the story of my heritage. It honours those who came before me, and the bonds of family.”

The idea of celebrating family like that was foreign, but something I longed for in the quiet hours of the night when loneliness bit at me with sharp teeth. What would it be like to have such strong ties to be thankful for, not twisted ones that held you down?

My tongue darted out, moistening my lower lip. “And the others?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest until I worried for his T-shirt seams. “In hell, I lived in one of the smaller blood kingdoms, working as an enforcer for our laws. My subtype is fairly traditional, and historically closed off, but one day, the King and Queen let in a new group of blood demons. At first, they seemed to settle in well. Then they murdered my mother.” His eyes hardened to shards of ice, voice dropping. “I slaughtered them all. Made it hurt. And I enjoyed it.”

An ache built in my chest. I knew the pain of losing a parent. The horror of witnessing it.

Was this the shadow at his back from his tattooed script? Or was it the violence that followed? I knew all about the guilt that came from such bloodshed.

Some sense of understanding passed between us as I held his starlit gaze.

“She’d always look up at the sky with a smile on her face.” His fingers reached up, grazing the pointed star tattoo that wrapped his neck. “And she’d have loved you.” He chuckled, but the pale glow in his eyes wavered. “She’d have cheered you on for poisoning me after the way I hurt you with my venom, because she was bloodthirsty like that, and she’d have respected the fires out of you for your fierce nature as a huntress, even if you were going about things the wrong way. You’re a protector with blood on your hands. Like me.”

I thought back to the script on his chest. We both sought redemption.

I swallowed hard. “I avenged my father too.”

He inclined his horns. “I’d have expected nothing less, poison.”

The pop of a cork startled me from the intensity flaring between us.

The waitress grinned, holding the wine out like she was giving Sin a gift and fluttering her lashes seductively. “Would you like a taste, sir?”

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