Angel Blood

15- Entitled Sh*thead

I twist away from him, clenching my palms so he can't see the way they quiver. I have to remind myself to turn the betrayal churning in the pit in my stomach into something more useful, like anger. The words make too much sense for them not to be true.

"I don't get it. Why?"

His fingers wrap around my wrist, sending a warm tingle up my arm as he tugs me closer to him. His propped knees nudge my stomach as his hand reaches out to brush the hair from my face.

"Why does anyone do anything manipulative and twisted?" The rough pads of his fingertips skim over the skin of my cheek. "Why am I guilty of doing the same?"

I shrug, too transfixed on the way his fingers dip to trace the outline of my lips.

"Greed. Power." His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. "I told you I'm not a good man, angel. I like killing people if that means building my empire. I like money. I like when people quiver in fear at the sight of me."

The words fall out before I have a chance to think better of them. "Are you going to use me too?"

He smiles. "Well. Not in the same way you're thinking."

"I—" My mouth snaps shut as I glance away from the suggestive gleam in his eyes. "Jesus."

He laughs. "Trust me, angel. That's the last name you'll be saying when I'm done with you."

I frown at the way his eyes take in the reddening state of my face with an unusual sort of hunger. "You know, you weren't being so forward earlier."

"Wasn't I?" His fingers trail down my cheek to the cut of my jaw, gently turning my face into his. "I told you that you weren't ready. Don't misinterpret me, Calli."

My hand cups his wrist as I think about pushing him away. It would be the smart thing to do, but I don't. What do I have to lose anymore?

Only your heart.

I scowl at the thought, pushing it away as soon as it rises. I'm in a bad place now, one that I doubt I'll ever escape. Sinclair's arms are just a poisonous method of comfort, a bad habit. Nothing different than all my other unhealthy coping mechanisms, like how I binge ice cream when I cry.

"I thought you didn't fuck virgins," I murmur, studying the full shape of his lips as they near mine, noting the nearly feminine shape. The memory of their softness pushes its way into the forefront of my mind.

"I never said it was a promise," he says, softly brushing his mouth over mine.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, contrary to the way his hand digs into the curve of my ass.

Sin leans back, eyes gentle as they take in my face. He widens his legs, tugging me into the space between them and presses my body flush with his. My fingers find their way into his dark hair, tangling in the silky locks.

It feels strangely natural. Familiar. Almost as if his body is meant to fit into mine.

The thick tension festering between our bodies is cut abruptly as a rustle sounds behind us.

I attempt to jump back, whipping my hands away from the thick strands to push against his broad chest but his hands stay fixed around my waist. When I try and stumble backward, he only pulls me closer to his chest.

"Theodore," Sinclair says, the calmness in his voice making gooseflesh rise on my arms. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I turn my head, blinking as Theo plucks an orange from a bowl behind the bar and slices into the skin with a pairing knife. A grimace stretches over my face when I realize it's the same one that lay on the floor next to the dead body moments prior, blade wiped clean of the freshly drawn blood.