Page 35 of The Sins That Bleed
He’s still fast asleep, so I tiptoe to the chest of drawers and open each one until I find what I am looking for. I shouldn’t be surprised by the precisely folded clothing, in colour order from lightest to darkest.
There’s not much colour in here, mostly neutrals, but I spot a few knitted cardigans with flowers embroidered on the pockets. I try to imagine the big burly man in such a soft-looking item; it’s difficult to picture it but I somehow know it weirdly suits him.
Rai looking cute is not good for my weary heart.
I grab a grey hoodie and sweats that match. I think about going commando but fuck it, I might as well take the works since I’m already stealing from him. I snag socks and a pair of clean boxers from the top drawer.
I’m giddy at the thought of wearing his clothes. Fuck me, I need to get a hold of myself.
I ignore the strain of the stitches as I slip his clothing on, relying on all of my heightened senses to monitor Rai’s sleeping form. He snores softly and I freeze in place, my leg half in the joggers as I wait for him to settle again. He shifts, raising an arm above his head as he lies on his back.
When I’m convinced he isn’t waking up, I continue getting dressed, trying not to tear open my partially healed wounds. It takes me twice as long as it normally would, but I’m now decent enough to head out. I forgo putting my shoes back on, not wanting to risk moving through his apartment and giving him a chance to wake.
I swipe my bag from the floor and slink over to the window, sliding it up, and stash the bag outside on the fire escape. I’m about to climb over the ledge but guilt plunders through me. Sneaking out on him after everything he did for me last night feels wrong.
Is this a natural emotion or a side effect of being dickmatised?
The man who hated me but still did everything I asked, took care of me and put me back together after I’d been brutalised. I unfortunately owe him a little more than disappearing in theearly hours of the morning. I go back over to him, on his side of the bed this time, peering down at him.
He’s sopretty.
Fuck me, I’m weak. He’s only a man, I need to get a grip on myself.
But he’s so pretty it physically hurts to look at him. Not many men can pull off a moustache and crew cut, but I couldn’t imagine him with anything else. I use the headboard to keep my weight off the bed as I lean down to hover my face over his, ignoring the tugging of my flesh.
I’m going to have to have words with myself later.
The warmth radiating from his skin leaps toward me, as if its sole purpose is to try and repel the cold from mine. I brush the tip of my nose against him and it feels more intimate than any kiss or fuck has ever felt.
How can I be willing to give so much of myself to this man?
Maybe I’m mentally unstable, got dropped as a baby, or all the trauma has finally destroyed my common sense.
I don’t want to want him, but my cards have been dealt and I must play the hand. I’m destined to be ruined by him, but for now, I’ll take whatever he is willing to give me, even if it’s only his hate, his revulsion, and now his care.
When you’ve been starved of love and affection for as long as I have, when it’s been used as a weapon against you, you take anything you can get. I know I should demand better, but we must all pay for our sins.
I plant a light kiss on his lips, the softness of them in complete contrast to the coarseness of his facial hair. I close my eyes, committing the moment to memory like I have all of our other interactions against my will.
I lean back, tracing my finger down his face, along his jaw, and down the column of his neck. My finger lingers on his pulseas his blood sings to me. My nostrils flare as the sweet cinnamon scent floods my lungs, my mouth flooding with saliva.
One little bite…
I rip myself away from him, moving back to the window in record time. I’m on the other side of the wall, snagging my bag and pulling the wicked-looking silver dagger, the one that was plunged into my chest last night, from where I stashed it on the fire escape.
I’ve got some explaining to do to Sunny.
Upset doesn’t even beginto cover Sunny.
Her fury is palpable and stabs into me like a million pins, prickling at my skin as she unleashes herself on me.
Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried ripping off my head.
“I told you this would happen! I begged you to not say those words to me and jinx the mission, but you did it anyway. Why do you continue to put yourself in these situations, V?”
She’s pacing the length of her room in front of me from where I watch, leaning against the door I came through ten minutes ago. I’d given her a quick run through of what happened, skirting as close to the truth as I could. I leave out the part about going to Rai’s, but I came clean about my wound. She thinks I cleaned it up myself.
Another lie to add to the list. I’m glad I changed out of his clothes before I came here.
