Page 82 of Perfect Sin

I drop the sponge and study my hands. The bleach has left my skin an angry pink, and sure enough, my palms are bleeding where I’ve dug my nails into my flesh.

“Princess, come with me,” Sin holds out his hand. For the first time, I hesitate before I take it. The thought of anyone touching me makes my stomach churn.

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t rush me. With a shaky hand I reach to take his offer of help up. Instead of the disgust I fear I’ll feel when our skin touches, I feel safe. It’s an overwhelming sensation, and I burst into tears.

“Let’s get the bleach off you,” he says in a gentle tone.

They’re both looking at me like I’m a wounded creature and I hate it.

“I’m not made of glass,” I snap. My throat is scratchy from breathing in fumes. I know this episode isn’t my finest moment, but I won’t crumble.

“I know you aren’t. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but maybe I’m not so strong right now. Please let me care for you,” Sin whispers.

There isn’t a logical argument I can mount against his concern. I want to though. I want to fight him, my brother, the entire goddamn world even.

He moves through the house, back to our room. I hear the sound of water rush through the pipes in the bathroom and head in that direction. Sin has his sleeves pushed up to test the temperature of the water.

“You need to rinse the bleach off your skin. It’s burning you.”

I nod. Even if a sick part of me welcomes the pain, I know the smart thing to do is to get it off. “Can I have a few minutes?”

The thought of him seeing me naked right now, while feeling the ghostly presence of Kyle haunting me, makes the sick feeling return.

“Of course,” he agrees. He attempts a smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace. Someone is always coming between us, and for the life of me I can’t figure out how to stop it.

Sin steps out of the room and I lock the door behind him. As soon as I’m alone, I strip off my clothes and stand under the spray.

Tears I’m unable to stop stream down my face. Will I ever rid myself of this? I put a knife in Kyle’s eye, and yet part of him refuses to die. Will it be the same with Damien?

Sitting on the floor of the tub, I give into the melancholy. No, I won’t break, but I realize I am a bit cracked.

25

Amends

Sin

Helplessness isn’ta feeling I’m used to, but it’s the only way to describe the way I feel listening to Raven sob alone in the shower. She’s taken so many hits in the short time I’ve known her that I’m surprised she keeps getting back up.

Although, I guess it hasn’t been such a short time really. Part of me has known of her nearly my entire life, another one of the memories I’ve repressed during the years I’d been a captive.

I never understood my extreme reaction to seeing her at Blackthorne Manor. The surety I felt she didn’t belong there and the anger at seeing her standing in the moonlight didn’t make sense to me. Neither did the urge I had to protect her. My job had never been to protect anyone. I destroyed people, never looked after their safety.

Over the years I held on to a hazy memory of a mother I thought abandoned me. The look of love and pride was burned into my mind, and I secretly held it close hoping it meant my mother loved me, at least at one point. Now I know, that memory wasn’t of my mother but of Natalie.

Finding my parents filled a void inside me. As much of a bastard that my father is, he’s still a thousand times better than Damien Blackthorne. Carina could do with more backbone, but I believe she’d never have given me to Damien. Still, it would be nice to have a memory of her from before I was taken.

The second foreign sensation I’m feeling is fear. Losing Raven is the only thing in this world that scares me, and I’m not sure how she’s going to react once it settles in that she was essentially given to me. I can’t imagine the desperation Natalie felt to ask a five-year-old to take care of her daughter. How could she have known back then I’d move heaven and earth to keep Raven safe?

I fought against the way I felt for Raven from the beginning. Only now do I realize how impossible it was. Fate and destiny aren’t words in my vocabulary, but there isn’t any other way to describe Raven and I. She is my destiny, and I am hers.

The water shuts off, and I wait impatiently for her to come out of the bathroom. When she emerges, she’s wrapped in a robe I hung on the door for her with a towel around her head.

“Let me see your hands.” I try to gentle my tone, but making demands is second nature for me.

She holds them out, and I fight the urge to touch her. The skin is still a dark pink, but I think she escaped a lasting burn. They should be back to normal in a few days, though the breaks in the skin from her nails will take a bit longer to heal.

She tucks them under her arms. “I know they look bad, but it doesn’t really hurt.”