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“Get off me!” I wriggle, but Manasseh keeps me firmly on the bed, and something grabs his attention.
The rosary!
“Where did...” he whispers, looking at it with wide eyes, clearly surprised.
“It's mine!” I shout at his face, standing my ground. “It's mine, and you stole it from me!”
“Now it makes sense,” Manasseh laughs and grabs the rosary, tightening it around my neck. “You’ve seen it.”
“Yes,” I won't deny it, but I'll admit I'm scared of what my honesty might lead to.
“Then there's no going back. You're marked, Becca. From now on, you carryThe mark of my Crasnic, and not even the strongest rosary can prevent what's destined to happen.”
CHAPTER 25
Present
Rebecca
My mind is a mess.
I can't tell if I actually wanted something to happen between Manasseh and me, or if I was just pushed into it by the circumstances. I feel poisoned, dirty, and more dehumanized than ever since his hands found their way to my skin and his lips forced my flesh to endure his vengeance, because his intention wasn't pure. It was all just a five years old ambition of his, smoldering strongly enough to make him come back for me.
The ambition to have me, even if it's just for a moment.
I feel like nothing can hurt me, especially after breaking the promise that once tied me to him in the past, the promise that connected us forever.
I didn't think much when I thrusted my tongue deep into Manasseh's throat. The promise once made for his brother, the one I had genuinely loved, was overshadowed by a thirst for revenge like never before.
“Promise me you'll save your kisses just for me.”
Well, that's all gone out the window, along with the one thing I held onto so tightly. I did it all to prove a point, to play this game without holding back.
My mom once told me that women let guys start things so women could finish them. She told me many things, completely inappropriate for a preacher's wife. But then again, she never saw herself as a preacher's wife, and it turns out she wasn't a saint either, but I never really wanted to know all the details.
Maybe I know nothing.
I've been blindfolded for far too long, and Manasseh came back to my life, determined to remove the blindfold I've stubbornly worn like a widow's veil since I was a teen.
I'm not any different from what I've always been. I'm physically healthier, but mentally sicker.
I've also been foolish enough to think that having sex with Manasseh would be enough to erase Samael from my mind. But I'm still incapable, and that's how I shut the door in his face before he could follow me into the bathroom, even after I initiated the invitation, telling him to his face that I can't go any further.
The feeling that I'm cheating on him still haunts me.
Manasseh hasn't been by any means the only man I've had sex with in the last five years. I've had three flings, two of them being one-night stands, and one that lasted a bit longer, simply because the guy turned out to be a creepy maniac who fell madly in love with me after a night of sex, which meant nothing more to me than satisfying carnal needs.
That's it.
I didn't love them.
I didn't love any of them.
Fuck! I didn't even have a real orgasm before, and I realized that the moment I hooked up with Masse in the restaurant bathroom. Maybe that's why I hate myself so much now, and the guilt inside me is growing like a void of sensations ready to drive me insane and cloud my judgment.
Manasseh managed to cloud my judgment, and any reason turned to ashes the moment I felt him deep within me. I climaxed from the very first penetration, all because he had me burning up with his oral skills.
I’ve come for Manasseh, enjoying it as long as he was inside me, like some dumb slut who doesn't know what a piece of shit he can be, and I'm so ashamed of that.
