Sinful Instincts (Woodland Creek) (8 page)

“Shit,” I whisper raggedly. I hate my dreams. Sometimes, they seem more like nightmares. It unsettles me that I haven’t had these dreams for years but for some reason, they’re coming back in full force.

If you haven’t already guessed, I am a psychologist’s wet dream. Trying to diagnose that dream, they always said it’s my inner self trying to break down an old memory or an emotion I was struggling with. I continued to tell them the same thing every time: I had no idea who the woman was, and I'm not struggling with anything.

If I were honest, I would admit that the woman in my dreams was my biological mother. I don’t remember her, since I was placed into the foster system at age four. Along the way, I tried to ask about my real parents, but the answers were always the same. They couldn’t care for me, or they were dead. I don’t need to share all the details of the foster system and how a child lives. I'm sure you’ve heard enough stories to know the system was broken and not pretty. At age eighteen, I gave everyone the finger and took off on my own.

Around that time, I was in Utah with a foster family who just wanted the extra money. The father was a drunk who confused me for his wife on many occasions, and I had to fight my way out of being sexually assaulted. The wife, on the other hand, saw it as me wanting her husband’s attention. It was a great way to build a non-trusting relationship against the adult world. When I left Utah, I made my way to Arizona, obviously a state far away from an ocean. I did odds-and-ends jobs until I landed a real position at a small bank. They set me up with some intern housing until I was able to afford rent, and I eventually moved my way up within the company to a senior teller. I guess hearing this story also makes sense of why everyone thought I was crazy for leaving. Well, right about now, I will also agree. I
was
crazy.

I turn onto my side to cuddle my blanket when my door explodes off the last of its poor hinges and Sin rushes forward, barreling into my room— again. I grab my flannel blanket, tucking it just under my chin. “What the fuck are you doing in here?
Again
!?” I shriek, his sudden intrusion scaring the crap out of me.

Sin, God help me, is naked yet again. He is in attack mode, his eyes glowing a fierce amber while he inspects my room for bad guys.

“Are you okay? Were you having another nightmare?” He searches my face for answers.

“What—what are you talking about?” I look around my small space avoiding eye contact. He inspects me further and realizes I am no apparent danger. As the tension in him dissipates, I relax myself, slowly dropping my blanket to my lap.

“Okay so maybe I was just having a little bit of a bad dream,” I explain softly, ashamed at my second outburst in the past few hours.

Sin steps forward, his masculine legs making his way in front of my bed. “What is it that you see that upsets you?”

“In my dreams? Nothing. I don’t know. I don’t remember them.” I try to sit up straighter, pulling my blanket over my tingling body once again.
And why does my body keep feeling all funny?

“You lie.” His voice is like silk, falling over my trembling skin.

“I don’t, and… and it’s really none of your business. Why are you still in here? I said what the fuck are you doing in here?
Again!?”
!” I attempt to gain control of the situation. I need him to leave my room so I can kick my body’s ass for its reaction to him.

“You dream about something that upsets you. Your aura is drowning in it. So much sadness. I want to know what it is.”

Calling me out on my emotions triggers a new one: anger. How dare he try to diagnose me? I was done sharing my dreams in those therapists’ offices when no one could help me. When no one could truly understand how real they were and how painful it felt every time I was ripped from my dreams, choking on a vision of a woman I knew meant something important to me once upon a time.

“Listen, it’s none of your damn business. I’m not your poor lost girlfriend who you need to save here. Just leave it be, okay?” The second the words tumble from my lips, I instantly regret them. It’s when I feel the rippling in the air that I know I’ve made a huge mistake. I know my words stung. The way his body jerks and his teeth clench, I’ve struck a nerve.
Shit.
“Hey, listen. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Within seconds, I’m tossed onto my back and he is on top of me. “I don’t need your sympathy or your pity, Emma,” he growls angrily, his nose nearly brushing against mine. “Don’t think your words harm me in any way. I am numb to your petty insults.”

“I-I wasn’t. I was just saying—”

“You think you can hide your emotions from me, Emma? I can smell the guilt pouring off you. You pity me. Don’t. And you are right; you are nothing to me, so don’t waste your time feeling any emotion for me,” he commands, bending closer, allowing his cheek to graze mine, his lips skimming my chin. I don’t know what comes over me, but even at his hurtful words, my eyelids flutter closed and I lift my chin in hopes of giving him better access to my neck.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I will make excuses later but right now, I can’t seem to control the way my body wants his mouth on me. I mean, I
am
human, for God’s sake.

Shit.

Speaking of human.

My eyes fly open just as I swear Sin is about to lick my neck. “Wait!” I stop him. He halts instantly, his eyes locking with mine. “Wait...” I repeat, giving myself time to pull together a logical sentence. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I blurt out. I mean, right? Not a good idea? I’m lying in bed with a complete stranger, who happens to not be fully human, and I’m trying to debate whether it is a good idea if I should allow him to take this relationship to second base. But wait—was that what was about to happen? He
did
just tell me he has zero interest in me. I look at him, and his eyes have hardened.

He doesn’t speak, but he can sense my reluctances. His look turns stony and he pulls away.

“I hate to disappoint you, but you’re misreading this,” he says crossly. I would disagree, considering I can feel his hardness pressing against my thigh. “Get up. I need you to be ready. I won’t mess this up again.” His words soaked with cool tones, he pushes himself off the bed. I follow, sitting up and waiting for him to turn toward me, but he doesn’t. As he makes it to the door, he voices, “Meet me in the living room. We have some work to do.”

Then he is gone.

Emma

I decide on a cold shower before I meet Sin in the living room. Toning down the lust level while dealing with a shifter, as he describes himself, calls for a good ice-cold spray to the face. Once I’m clean and feeling somewhat human—
haha, human
—I make my way to the living room where Sin awaits. As I walk past him, he catches my eye. I put my hand up, signaling for him to pause it. I need coffee, and pronto. No one can sit and talk paranormal activity without a full cup of coffee.

Once I’ve made the perfect cup of joe, I reenter the small room and sit next to Sin. “Okay, so... if I am going to help you, I need to know a few things,” I say sternly. I am not a helpless victim here. If I’m going to stick my neck out to help this guy, I want details. Like, all of them.

“All right, ask away.”

Well, that was too easy.
“Okay, so. Where did you come from?” My simple question almost seems to disappoint him. He shrugs off my first inquiry and answers. “I am originally from a small town in Cuba, where I spent the first fifteen years of my life. Once I became strong enough, I took the life of my father for raping my mother. Given the dangers of killing him coupled with my mother longing for a more normal life, we fled across the Gulf of Mexico and eventually landed in a small town in New Orleans, one similar to Woodland Creek. The night Zander took something very important to me I swore I wouldn’t stop until he paid for what he’d done.” He pauses to inhale a deep breath before continuing. “There’s more to that night than him taking a life. Zander had already conspired to formulate a spell that would result in immortality. He had succeeded in retrieving one of the seven items at that time. I am led to believe that within the past five years, he has claimed all but one.”

So, he killed a man, check. Immortality, check.
He definitely has my attention now. “What are the items? What makes you think he has that many?” Totally into this story.

Sin sits straighter on the couch, his facial expression tight. “That, unfortunately, is what I don’t know. Only Zander carries that precious information.”

Oookay then
.

I say no more, so he continues. “So, for the past five years, I have been traveling. Bounty hunting, I'm sure a term you understand.” I do, so I nod. “I followed Zander to England. Since he was still traveling, I knew he couldn’t have found them all yet. I kept in touch with some sources, which allowed me to stay on his trail. He couldn’t keep his urges under control, so it was easier to track him. His killings brought me here to Woodland Creek.”

Hmm... So, we’re dealing with a psychotic serial killer. Got it.
“Okay. So, I get that you both are shifters.”
Not really.
“Are you also searching for immortality? Is that what this is about?”

He places his finger over my lips until I get his hint and stop talking. “As I said, I was born into this life. I didn’t choose it. I was the result of a rape. My mother was human. My father, if that is what you would call him, was a full-bred leopard shifter. My mother chose to keep me, and here I am. I am part human, as you, and my animal inside is leopard. But to answer your question, no. I have no interest in immortality.”

Fair enough.
Taking the conversation down a notch, I ask a basic question, “So, like, what do you do? I mean, I saw what you
do
, but how? Or why? Or
when
?” I accentuate the ‘when’.
Curiosity—it’s a guilty pleasure.

His hardness lifts a bit as his demeanor shifts into a more playful mode. “I can shift at any time, but choose to only transform at night. I do not wish to expose who I am. Anger, lust, fear, those are core emotions which trigger me to shift. I tried to fight it when I was young, but that caused me to lose a lot— lose Gabriella. So now, I embrace it. When I change, it’s to hunt and destroy. I won’t harm anyone for fun. I harm only for revenge.”

Yep, that last part along with the whole
I killed my dad
part causes me to scoot a little bit farther away from him on the couch
. I definitely shouldn’t have made that girlfriend comment
.

“I won’t hurt you. I’ve already told you this.”

“But how do I know that?” I question warily.

“Because I’ve already told you. I am not here to hurt you, Emma. I want what he took from me and then my revenge. That is all. And none of that has to do with you.”

“Okay,” I reply hesitantly. “So, last night. He called you his brother. Why was that?”

“Because I am. We share DNA. And he finds sport in reminding me who my father was. A way to taunt me for the partial blood I have flowing through my body. Blood that, on a daily basis, I wish I could expel. And if not for that, the reminder of what he was able to take away from me.”

“And does he feel he will ever get caught? Or pay for what he’s done?” I ask curiously.

“He believes he won’t. I think otherwise.”

Talk about holding a grudge.
“So, you’ve spent the last five years of your life chasing your half-brother?”

He nods.

“Why? I mean, why not just let it go? Aren’t you the least bit over what he did? I’m sure your girlfriend would want you to move on. And you said so yourself, you don’t even want to be immortal, so why waste all this time trying to find a spell of immortality?” I can’t imagine always living in grief and hatred.

His reaction confirms he does not agree.
Uh-oh.
His playful banter gone, he replies, “Because of me, she isn’t here to have a say. So my condemnation is to live with that agony and guilt until I can find Zander and destroy whatever was on that scroll. The hatred will live within me until I make it right. Then possibly, I will live a peaceful life.”

“Okay, but still…” I feel like I’m beating a dead horse here. “I just don’t understand why you don’t let it go. You keep mentioning this scroll. How is destroying it possibly going to fix what’s already been done?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s not that simple.”

“Well then, explain the un-simple parts. I mean, no one has the power to bring back a life.”
Geez, dude.

“There are details you do not need to know. He took someone very precious away from me. If that isn’t reason enough to end his life, then I’m sorry I cannot answer your question.”

Yep, not good enough for me.
“Yeah, well, if I am going to go all
play the bait
for you, I need answers.” I stand up quickly. “If you’re going to stay locked-lip then you’re on your own, pal. Spill, or I ain’t helping you.”

I turn but his hand is around my wrist, tugging me back down onto the couch. Without releasing my wrist, he continues. “He killed her, yes. And I will take his life for it. But that’s not it. There are these scrolls, as I’ve mentioned. They contain a very dangerous spell, if you will, and in the wrong hands, it can threaten a lot of human lives.”