Page 147 of Sins of the Hidden

"Seven minutes." V's voice sliced through the bathroom door. My hip slammed against the counter as I flinched, another bruise blooming beneath denim. No point perfecting my makeup now. V would see right through it anyway. He always saw everything.

The lock twisted with a harsh metallic scrape. He filled the doorframe completely—shoulders nearly touching both sides, head almost brushing the top. The surgical mask covered half his face, turning his expressions into a cruel guessing game. Only his eyes communicated, and tonight they were obsidian—flat, reflective, revealing nothing while absorbing everything.

"A-almost ready," I stammered, voice cracking on the first syllable. My hands flew to my hair, smoothing what was already smooth. "I just need to?—"

Two soundless steps and he crossed the bathroom. Personal space wasn't a concept V recognized—not with me. His body heat pressed against my back before he even touched me, the scent of leather and gunpowder filling my lungs. His proximity stole the oxygen from the room, leaving my lungs burning.

A small black box appeared in his scarred hand, held in front of me like an offering. Or a threat. My pulse skittered, stumbled, then raced ahead. My throat closed around unformed questions. The velvet box settled on the counter with quiet finality. Ash radiated from his skin as he stood waiting, the scent pulling me back to the basement at Hellbound, to that stained blanket on cold concrete.

The hinge released with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in the small bathroom. Nestled against midnight velvet lay something I recognized immediately.

"Is that..." The words died on my tongue, heat flooding my face. "Why would you?—"

"Your period." He said it like discussing the weather. "You said orgasms help with cramps."

The vibrator caught the bathroom light, its sleek surface gleaming beside a small magnetic clip.

"You won't let me have you." The hairs at my nape stiffened at the blunt assessment. We hadn't been intimate since the wedding night. "This will help."

It was my period week—a week of absolute hell—but it was day four and I'd stopped bleeding on day three... but the cramps were nonstop. Words abandoned me as he lifted the toy from the package. "Need to make sure it works."

I turned, spine digging into the counter's edge as I tried to create distance where none existed. "V, we have to leave soon?—"

His breath ghosted across the shell of my ear, hot and damp even through the mask. The bathroom suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer, air thickening until it caught in my throat. "Unbutton your jeans."

My brain short-circuited. The delay cost me as V's hand moved to the waistband of my dark denim jeans, button slipping free with a soft pop that shattered the silence. The zipper's teeth parted, revealing pale skin and white cotton beneath. His palm pressed flat against my lower belly, the heat from his hand seeping through to my core. He detached the black magnet from the vibrator. "V, we can't?—"

Cool silicone pressed against my most sensitive nerves, the sudden intrusion sending electric currents shooting up my spine. An involuntary gasp tore from my lips as my fingers clutched the counter edge for support. He positioned the device with terrifying accuracy, then slid my underwear back into place. The magnet clipped to the cotton exterior with a soft snap.

His phone appeared in his palm, one finger swiping across the screen. "Oh!"

Vibrations erupted against my body without warning. My knees buckled as sensation shot through me, sharp and unexpected. Every muscle below my waist clenchedinstinctively, a response I couldn't control even as my mind screamed in protest. V observed my reaction, head tilting slightly as his thumb slid across the screen again.

The pattern shifted from steady hum to pulsing waves, each one stronger than the last. Electricity raced up my spine, pooling at the base of my skull. I pressed my thighs together tightly, but it only intensified the torment. "I-It works!"

His thumb tapped the screen once more. The vibrations ceased abruptly, leaving my body strung tight, nerve endings still crackling with unresolved tension. His attention lingered on my parted lips, on the rapid rise and fall of my chest as I struggled to regain composure.

"Finish getting ready." The door snapped shut behind him with quiet finality.

Between my thighs, the vibrator lay silent but potent—a loaded gun with his finger on the trigger.

Dad's expression transformed the instant the door swung open—the welcoming smile shattering into something hard and jagged as his eyes locked on V towering behind me. The muscles along Dad's jaw bunched visibly beneath stubbled skin, a vein at his temple throbbing with barely contained rage.

He shifted sideways in the doorway, the movement reluctant and mechanical, like his body was fighting a command from his brain. Every line in his posture screamed resistance. V stiffened behind me, his chest expanding against my back as he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of hostility like others might appreciate fine wine.

"Oakley, honey!"

Mom's voice cut through the frozen tableau as she emerged from the kitchen trailing clouds of savory steam, flour-dusted hands leaving white prints on her dark apron. Her smile remained intact for precisely three seconds—until her gaze drifted to my jawline where makeup couldn't quite conceal thetruth. The subtle tightening around her mouth, the momentary flicker in her eyes betrayed everything she tried to hide.

"And V!" She recovered admirably, voice warm despite the fear that flashed across her face. "I'm glad you could join us."

V studied her. His brow furrowed as she placed her hand on his arm—her fingers light, automatic, maternal. Something unreadable crossed his face, there and gone before I could decipher it.

"Your face looks better," Mom whispered, leaning close enough that her perfume wrapped around me like a childhood blanket—artificial coconut and something powdery that had scented every memory of comfort I'd ever had.

"Come in," Mom urged, her hand finding the small of my back as she guided us through the foyer. "Dinner's almost ready."

She ushered us further into the house, her hands constantly in motion—adjusting a picture frame, straightening a runner, nervous energy manifesting in movement. "V, I didn't know what you might like, so I made a bit of everything."

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