Trapping Sophia: Disciples 6

by Sweet, Izzy

“Is it the secret type?” she asks quietly.

  I shake my head. “No, just the arrangements and rituals.”

  Flipping through my contacts, I push on Father Coss’s name and wait as the phone rings.

  “James, my boy,” he says cheerily into the phone.

  “Coss,” I say, not bothering with any of the banter he loves to engage me in. “I need to make arrangements for a funeral.”

  “Ah,” he says with a long quiet sigh. “Which of God’s children?”

  “We’re not his children, Coss. We all fell out of his favor so long ago, we’re erased from the book of names. Michael will need the same arrangements as Peter and Paul,” I say with enough force that anger seeps into my words.

  “It’s never too late,” he snarls at me. “And you know I detest these pagan rituals you force on me.”

  “You’ll do it, you stupid old fuck,” I yell and spit flies out of my mouth. “You’ll cremate him and you’ll make sure the rites are said as you place the coins over his eyes. Don’t fucking tempt me, Coss. I’ll fucking end you.”

  Pushing the disconnect button, I want to whip my phone across the house and let it shatter against the wall. I want to scream as I rip the furniture up from my living room and break apart every single thing I own.

  I hate that man.

  I hate when we die.

  Taking a deep breath, I swallow the hatred that threatens to engulf and consume my world.

  Arms wrap around me from behind, and my heavy, angry breathing slows as I feel Sophia’s head rest against my back.

  Her slow, calming breaths gives me the anchor point I need to stop me from completely losing my mind.

  * * *

  Much of last night was a blur of emotions for me. Each death does that to me. I don’t know why. I should be used to them by now. But it’s as if every one of them hits me in a different way.

  Each one hurts and enrages me.

  I talked to Peter about it once. He was drunk as shit that night I picked his ass up so he didn’t get in a car wreck.

  I remember the words that fucking broke my damn brain for days.

  “You’re my brother, you’re my best friend, and you’re the Ferryman Charon. That’s why Matthew’s brought you into this part of the family. You’re going to make sure we’re all sent across the River Styx. He’s got you doing it because you grieve for all of us. Bart the Betrayer, Thomas the Watcher, Paul the Protector. All of us eventually. It’s because we can’t grieve for the fallen like you do.”

  His words were slurred from his drinking, but he was clear of thought.

  That was the last time I got to talk to him.

  Sophia held me through the night. She wrapped her body around mine. She forced her presence into my very being. She stopped the walls from crumbling in around me.

  I would have killed again last night.

  I would have murdered someone, somewhere.

  I would have ended a life just so they would have been forced to accompany my brother as his eternal slave when he reaches his end.

  But she kept me bound to the earthly world.

  Rolling over to be face to face with her in the early morning lights, I push my forehead against hers.

  “Thank you,” I murmur to her slowly waking eyes. “I… I love you, Sophia.”

  “James,” she says quietly.

  Shaking my head, I say, “In your own time. You feel it now, I know you do. You just can’t admit it to yourself yet. Kinda like how you already know my dick has ruined you for all other men.”

  “Ugh.” She scrunches up her nose at me. “You’re such a douchey frat boy.”

  She doesn’t pull away though, and I think we both know what that means.

  She fucking loves me and my douchiness.

  The phone rings on my nightstand and I wait to see if I feel my stomach drop.

  When the feeling doesn’t arrive, I flop to my back and pull Sophia close to my chest.

  Hitting the speakerphone, I say, “John.”

  “Me, Beth, Charlie, and Amanda are stopping by for breakfast in a couple hours,” Johnathan snickers before disconnecting the call.

  “Motherfucker,” I growl.

  “I don’t have any clothes,” Sophia says with a groan.

  “I’ll call Uriel,” I grumble.

  14

  Sophia

  James thinks he loves me.

  Fuck, he thinks he loves me.

  And I’m pretty sure, after all the stuff he said yesterday, he’s wants to knock me up to keep me with him.

  Digging through the bag of stuff Uriel dropped off for me, I search desperately for my birth control pills. Deep down, I know James would never instruct or give Uriel permission to pack them for me.

  Despite how much I begged and begged.

  But there’s still a tiny irrational part of me that hopes that when Uriel was packing my stuff up, he may have accidentally included them too.

  After all, he’s packed all my toiletries and makeup.

  Sorting quickly through everything, I find my hair dryer, my curling iron, and even my tampons and panty liners. There’s also some Midol and my daily vitamins.

  But there’s no birth control pills to be found.

  Or a single bra, for that matter…

  “What the fuck?” I mutter as I rip through the clothes Uriel packed for me.

  “Something wrong?” James asks from behind me, and I don’t even have to look at him to see the smirk on his face.

  I hear it in his voice.

  Last night was a strange night for me.

  After James received the news about his friend, I watched him completely break down. His pain, his anger, so raw, so visceral and real, it called to my own grief.

  And… I don’t know why… I know he’s sick and I should put as much distance as possible between us, dammit, but all I wanted to do was comfort him.

  Comfort him so he didn’t have to hurt like I hurt.

  Like I’m still hurting.

  I couldn’t stand to see what he was going through. I couldn’t bear the thought of him aching with the same ache I wake up with and feel every day.

  It was eating me up inside.

  And despite everything that’s happened, everything he’s done to me, for whatever reason, I didn’t and don’t want him to suffer what I have.

  I wanted and needed to be there for him.

  When he let me hold him, when he let me ease some of his pain by just being there for him, it was almost like he was comforting me too.

  The night was long and full of our own ghosts and demons, but the morning seems to have returned things to somewhat normal.

  Normal enough for me to pretend like we totally didn’t have a moment last night.

  Normal enough for me to pretend like I’m not entertaining the idea of actually staying with him.

  Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I would even want to do that.

  He’s so crazy, I think he’s making me crazy.

  Sensing him peeking over my shoulder, I glance up to glare at his face. “I thought you told Uriel to pack up everything I’d need?”

  Giving me his best blank expression of pure innocence, James blinks slowly at me. “I did.”

  Grabbing a black lacy thong and pinching it between two fingers, I wave it in his face. “Then why did he only pack me thongs? And where are all my bras? There’s not a single bra in here!”

  James glances at the thong then his eyes slide back to me.

  A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips. “Bras are unnecessary.”

  “What?” I scowl at him.

  “You don’t need a bra. In fact, scientific studies have proven they’re bad for you. They cause unnecessary back pain, can prevent tissue from growing, and weaken your muscles.”

  When I just gape at him in disbelief, he waggles his eyebrows. “Free the twins.”

  Groaning loudly in disgust and rolling my eyes, I throw the thong at his face. “I don’t care. I w
ant a bra!”

  James makes a little oomph when the thong hits him in the face then he laughs at me. “Sorry, not sorry. I’m doing it for your health, babe.”

  Snatching up the thong before it slides to the floor, he holds it up, staring at it intently for a moment. Then he grins at me, flashing his teeth, and twirls it around his finger.

  Not at all amused, I start to cross my arms over my chest then think better of it.

  Fighting with him is so much easier than dealing with the other stuff. It makes it easier to forget it ever happened.

  “What am I supposed to do then? Huh?” I ask before I grab my boobs over my t-shirt with both hands.

  Cupping them, I lift them up and down, and look pointedly at him.

  Mouth going slack, James gapes at me as if he’s suddenly stupefied. The thong he was twirling slides limply down his finger.

  My boobs aren’t huge, but they’re not small either. And you can definitely tell when I’m not wearing a bra under my tops. My nipples tend to poke through most fabrics.

  “Am I supposed to walk around with them hanging out in front of Charlie and Johnathan?”

  Letting my boobs go, I finally cross my arms over my chest, shielding them from his eyes.

  Snapping his jaw shut, James shakes his head hard, like he’s coming out of a daze.

  Then he frowns at me. “I see your point.”

  I nod my head sharply. “Yeah, it’s indecent.”

  “Or should I say points?” he smirks then immediately ducks away as I growl and lunge at him.

  Grabbing thongs out of the bag, I launch them at him like they’re flying lacy missiles. “You better get me a bra before they get here!”

  Laughing all the way to the bedroom door, James swats the flying thongs away and throws up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll see if I can get one delivered or something.”

  I launch one last thong at him for good measure then start to relax, appeased for the time being.

  “But only one, for when company comes over,” he snickers.

  I nearly shriek with my frustration. “You! Ugh! You’re impossible!” Grabbing whatever is within reach inside the bag, I launch it at him.

  Nearly doubling over with his laughter now, James ignores the shirts and leggings hitting him. “You can have a designated bra for company, just like I have a designated pair of boxers.”

  I frown at him before I launch a t-shirt at his head. “Designated pair of boxers?”

  Still laughing, James swats the shirt away and nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a single pair of boxers I wear when I have to visit the strip club.”

  I shouldn’t ask, just because I get the feeling he really, really wants me to ask.

  But my curiosity gets the better of me.

  “Why do you have a pair of boxers for visiting the strip club?”

  Straightening, he looks me in the eyes and deadpans, “Where else are the strippers going to stuff the twenties?”

  I nearly choke on my own spit. “What?”

  Lips twitching with amusement, he takes a step toward me. “They can’t exactly stuff them up my asscrack, now can they, love?”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You are so full of yourself.”

  The strippers pay him? Yeah, right…

  It’s so ridiculous it defies belief, and I know he’s just messing with me…

  But what if he’s not?

  What if he really does go to the strip club and strips or something?

  Out of nowhere, an absurd image of James up on a stage, shaking his ass for a group of cheering strippers, pops into my head.

  Almost instantly a hot wave of jealousy boils through my veins.

  I have no reason to be jealous. Absolutely none. Not when I’ve convinced myself I’m not in love with him and he’s really not in love with me.

  That he’s just confused for the time being.

  And yet I am.

  Not the least bit ashamed or offended by my reaction, James gives me that same waggle of his brows he gave me when he said free the twins. “Oh, I’m full of something alright, baby.”

  Then he starts to stalk toward me, the look in his eyes darkening with heat.

  Once again, he’s only wearing gray sweatpants that sit so low on his hips I don’t know how they haven’t fallen off yet.

  “No. Uh-uh. Don’t even think about it,” I warn, tearing my eyes away from the defined V that points at the rather impressive outline of his… package. “Stop right there.”

  “Think about what?” he asks innocently.

  Ignoring my warning, he continues to stalk toward me. Even reaching out his hands and squeezing them like he can’t wait to grab me.

  Panicked at the thought he might touch me, might somehow seduce me again before I can figure out a way to escape his house or get my hands on some birth control, I blurt out the first excuse I can come up with to keep him away.

  “Think about getting anywhere near me! Especially now that I know you have stripper cooties!”

  James stops in his tracks so fast he nearly trips and falls on his face.

  “Stripper cooties?!” he repeats in disbelief, rocking back on his heels.

  “Yes, you have stripper cooties. You said it yourself, you visit the club and… and… do whatever it is you do,” I try to say seriously, but it comes out a bumbling mess.

  I would have been better off lying and telling him I’m too sore like I did yesterday, dammit.

  I feel my cheeks warming as he narrows his eyes at me, scrutinizing my expression.

  When a big grin, the biggest grin he’s shown me yet, stretches across his face, I know I’ve messed up.

  Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “Are you jealous?”

  “No! I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?” I deny, but it comes out a little too quick, a little too insincere, even to my ears.

  I glance at my bag on the bed, breaking eye-contact.

  I’m not jealous at all, dammit. I just want to keep him away…

  “That’s good,” he says, taking another step forward.

  My attention immediately snaps back to him.

  Eyes glittering with humor, he says slowly, “But, just in case you are… You should know I haven’t been to a strip club in months.”

  It’s a trap, my brain screams at me. Another one of his sneaky traps.

  I should just ignore what he said.

  “Okay… whatever. That’s nice, I guess,” I shrug at him. “I don’t really care.”

  Even though I’m dying to ask when the last time he went was.

  “Oh? Don’t you? I thought you were worried about stripper cooties,” he snickers, his grin twisting into a smirk as he takes yet another step forward.

  “I am,” I say, stiffening and narrowing my eyes at him. “Even if it’s been months, you’re probably still contaminated with them. So stay back.”

  “But, baby,” he drawls out while continuing to advance on me, “I swear I haven’t been to a club since before Christmas. And that was just to kill those Santas…”

  “What?” I blink at him.

  “It’s a long story.” He winks. “But there’s no way I still have any stripper cooties.”

  “You do,” I insist, refusing to back down on this even though it’s dumb as hell. I chose this hill to die on, so I have to stick with it. “That kind of thing never goes away. You’re forever tainted.”

  I don’t know why he’s coming at me, but I know nothing good will come from it. Not when he’s got that look in his eyes. That look that says he wants to rip all my clothes off and eat me alive.

  I’m so weak, so damn weak when it comes to him, if he does get his hands on me, I just might let him do it. And that would be a total disaster. If I get pregnant… fuck, I can’t even contemplate it.

  “If that’s the case…” James gives a long, drawn out sigh before his eyes flash and that wicked grin reappears. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  Knowing that clo
thing won’t be enough to keep him at bay, I reach into the bag without taking my eyes off him and grab the first hard thing my hand falls on.

  Whipping my hand out of the bag, I thrust out what I’m holding in front of me. “No. Stay back or I’ll…”

  I glance down at my hand and have to swallow back a groan.

  “Hairspray me to death?” James laughs then he suddenly lunges for me.

  “Yes!” I shriek as I jump back, just out of his reach.

  Eyes tracking me as I dance from side to side to avoid him, he says, “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Dammit, James. I’m serious! Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!” I shriek and quickly try to tear the cap off the hairspray.

  Let’s see him laugh and be happy when I spray him in the fucking eyes.

  Taking advantage of my distraction, he pounces on me just as I manage to pop the cap off the bottle of hairspray.

  “Unhand me, you nasty, contaminated, cretin!” I demand as he grabs me by the hips and spins me around like I weigh absolutely nothing.

  Pressing my finger down hard on the little nozzle, I let loose a thick stream of hair spray that completely misses his face as he tackles me down to the bed.

  “Now that’s not very nice,” he growls playfully, his eyes still laughing at me as he knocks the hair spray out of my hand with a swipe of his forearm.

  “It’s the truth! You are a cretin! A total cretin!” I declare and try to shove him off me.

  Using his weight to push me back down, he chuckles. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He tries to grab up my hands, but I slap at him, fighting him off.

  “I meant,” he continues to chuckle, “you shouldn’t needlessly create holes in the ozone layer. We need to protect the environment for our future children.”

  I let out a loud groan in frustration and he manages to capture my left wrist. “I’m not making any babies with you. You’re a cretin with stripper cooties.”

  He pins the hand he captured to the bed.

  “Yup.” His chuckles soften into snickers. “I’m a cretin with stripper cooties. Stripper cooties that are getting all over you…”

  I suck in a breath then expel it in a deep, raspy sound that’s almost demonic. “You!”