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I hate how quickly the time seems to be ticking by. I only have eight more days here, and as much as I try not to think about how all this ends, I can’t control my thoughts from going there. I’m going to Hell. Like literally. I will be tortured in Hell for eternity. That really puts the pain Sinn puts me through into perspective. Obviously, I’ve never been to Hell, but I know there’s no comparison. The hands of the Angel of Death are far more appealing than the Devil’s will be. I’d gladly take an eternity with Sinn. I would choose an eternity with Sinn, if I had the choice, but I don’t.
My thoughts are interrupted as the gorgeous Angel of Death walks into the living room and literally steals the air from my lungs. He dressed in his signature black, from head to toe, but it just accentuates his deep blue ocean eyes. Eyes that see me and see through me. He approaches me where I’m sitting on the couch, bundled up in a cozy blanket. He leans down over me, one hand bracing himself on the back of the couch, the other griping my chin and tilting my face up to his.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, as his eyes search mine.
I try and give him a smile but I know it’s weak. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just my treacherous mind doing what it does best.”
“I’ll stay with you tonight. I don’t need to go down to the bar.”
That does earn the devious angel a genuine smile. I love the fact that he’d stay with me if I asked him too and to hell, possibly literally, with the other souls waiting for guidance downstairs.Thisis the effort I see, and it warms me down to my bones to know that he does care about me on some level.
“No, Sinn, you have a job to do, and those people need you. Go. I’ll be fine.”
He stays staring into my eyes for a few beats longer. His stare is always so damn powerful. I can’t help but get lost in them as everything else in the world fades away. Nothing else matters except him and I. And there’s no hidinganythingfrom him.
He must be satisfied with whatever he sees in my eyes because a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and then those sexy full lips are descending on mine. My body automatically reaches for him. I stretch as far as I can in my seat to meet him for the kiss. I want to either climb up his massive body, feel his strong arms pick me up and hold me against him, or I want to pull him down and feel his weight on top of me. I’ve never craved someone as much as I crave him. He’s the worst kind of drug and I’m past the smoking stage. I want to puncture my own damn vein and put him directly into my blood stream.
Is this what it feels like to be an addict? I’ve never been addicted to anything in my life before. I had to grow up watching a person I love become a slave to the high and I swore I’d never let myself become the same. I never understood the pull. I never understood how she couldn’t control herself. I never understood how she couldn’t just stop using what was clearly bad for her. How could she continue to use what was slowly killing her?
Now I think I’m beginning to understand because Sinn’s kiss is clawing its way inside of me. He’s going to wrap himself around my heart, sink his claws in, and absolutely ravage it to pieces when I’m forced to leave him in eight days.
Sinn pulls back from the kiss reluctantly. My body wants to protest and follow him, keeping our lips locked, and escalating this moment to something more. I fight the urge to reach out to him and slump back down against the cushion. I can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that’s eye-level with me and it’s my turn to fight a smile at what I see.
“Fucking hell, Wendee,” he grunts, as he reaches into his pants to adjust himself. “Now I’m going to be hard all fucking night.”
“Or I could just take care of it for you before you leave.” I reach my hand out and rub him over his pants, reaching for the zipper.
Sinn clutches my wrist before I can pull it down and steps away from me. I look up into his face and I can see how hard he’s fighting not to let me. His eyes are blazing with need and his jaw is clenched tightly. Just glancing at him, you would think he’s pissed off, on the verge of unleashing his fury, and not on the verge of unleashing expertly crafted pain and pleasure. His face always looks so hard and mean, but his eyes have become so emotive, at least in private with me, reflecting what he’s really feeling. His eyes are just like the ocean they remind me of, with so many different types of waves, depths, hidden dangers, and hidden treasures, and I’m slowly
learning how to navigate them.
“No,” he says curtly. “I want this need with me all night. I want the reminder of what I have waiting for me when I get back. And when I get back, I’m going to unleash it allon you.”
Son of a bitch. Just the threat of his promise and the look in his eyes has me clenching. “I’ll be waiting,” I promise in return.
He rubs his thumb lightly over the scar on my wrist that’s still gripped in his hand. He always caresses my scars, and kisses them, as if to show me that he doesn’t mind, that it’s all ok. I love the gesture because I know he does it from a place of deep understanding, but it always just reminds me of the clock ticking down and what those scars mean. They’re my entry into the eternal afterlife of Hell.
He slowly releases my wrist and heads towards the elevator. I fall back into the fluffy couch with a sigh. We only have eight days left together and I want to spend every single second of those days with Sinn. But he has a job to do, a job he doesn’t even want but has to do because of me. Because, as an angel, he also committed an unforgivable sin. He took a life, a soul, when he had no right to. But he did it forme. And I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how we’re connected, how I called to him when no one else ever has. And why he made that sacrifice, knowing what would happen.
I hear the quiet whoosh of the elevator doors, followed by hushed footsteps against the marble floors, and I smile triumphantly.
“Did you change your mind about that blow jo—” My words get stuck in my throat and the smile falls form my face as The Crocodile comes into view.
He raises an eye brow, an amused smirk on his lips, as he takes me in with those eerie white-blue eyes. His hands are hidden in his pockets, and he exudes the same calm yet dangerous energy he did the first time I met him.
“I’m not exactly sure what Peter is thinking right now butIwouldn’t have turned downanythingif I was in his shoes.” He smirks arrogantly.
I don’t even want to THINK about him being in Sinn’s shoes. He’s attractive enough, sure, but he scares the bejesus out of me. There’s just something about him that feels…off.So, I quickly change the subject.
I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, the move looking graceful and elegant. “I came to talk to you, Dee. I can call you, Dee, can’t I?”
“Ugh, sure.”
“Let’s take this little chat onto the balcony. I prefer the fresh air,” he says, as he starts heading to the large sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. I hesitate. I don’t want to be alone with him much less on a balcony where he can throw me to my death. Well, then again, I’m already dead, aren’t I? “Come now, don’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
With no reason NOT to trust him, and no warning from Sinn about him, I throw the blanket off my legs and follow him onto the balcony. The warm night air immediately wraps around me, a huge contrast to the cold of Sinn’s penthouse, sending shivers down my body. He passes by the large seating area and stands at the end of the balcony, overlooking the city. I may not have a reason not to trust him, but that doesn’t mean that I do so I remain by the seating area and watch him as he takes in the view of the city and inhales deeply.
