Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1)

by Mary E. Twomey

  “It was our kiss!” I confess. “I broke Rafe!”

  I cannot believe Gray has the grace to chuckle, but the velvety sound finds me in the black of the night. “You didn’t break anything. He’s just hit an unexpected growth spurt, is all.”

  “You know it’s more than that!”

  Gray tucks his finger under my chin, lifting my face so he can examine me. I can’t see a thing (especially with my eyes closed), but I know his night vision gives him enough clarity to see my remorse.

  His lips find mine because, I’m learning, that’s what they were meant to do. The second we connect, the terror fades and the problems of the world seem far simpler. Solvable, even.

  “That was the most intense kiss of my life,” he admits. “It was bound to shake up Rafe.” Then he calls up to Charlotte and Cass. “Sorry if I scared you, ladies. I’ve got him under control now. He won’t come back out without my permission.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” Cass quips. “Charlotte, let’s sleep up here tonight. I won’t be able to calm down if either of us is on the bottom bunk.”

  Charlotte sniggers. “That’s fine.” Then to me she says, “You must be one crazy kisser, Arly-girl!”

  I dip my head down in embarrassment, pressing my forehead to Gray’s bare thighs.

  “Something’s going to happen tonight,” Charlotte warns us all.

  Cass snorts. “I think something already did.”

  Charlotte doesn’t reply right away, which stirs up the air with a wariness no one wants to address.

  Just when I’m about to ask her to explain her prognosis, Charlotte shuffles down from the mattress and then a few beats later stands at my side. “I need a strand of your hair.”

  I keep thinking I’ll get used to Charlotte, but she always finds a way to throw me. “What are you on about?”

  Her hand rests atop my head. “I don’t know why, but I need a strand of your hair. And I need you to give it to me on purpose; I can’t like, just collect a random hair from your pillow. You have to willingly give it over to me.”

  I don’t know why this is on the edge of too weird for me. “No reason, you just need it?”

  Charlotte kneels beside me. “I don’t know the reason. But I need to sleep with a strand of your hair under my pillow. Is that okay?”

  I pause before an immediate “no” pops out. Really, of all the things I’ve had to be cool with, this is the least intrusive. But still, it’s strange enough for me to really have to talk myself into it before I finally agree. “Alright. I mean, we’re friends, so what’s mine is yours, but this is weirder than I was expecting.”

  Charlotte doesn’t apologize, because we both know this request isn’t from her, but rather from her visions. She combs her fingers through my elbow-length brown hair and plucks a strand out by the root.

  Then she kisses the top of my head. “Goodnight, Princess.” Then she climbs back up onto the bunk she’s sharing with Cass.

  Gray lifts my hand up from his thigh and kisses the back of it. “Let’s get some sleep, honey. That was enough excitement for one night.”

  “Agreed.” Gray is careful with me as he helps me to lay down on our bed, and then fishes around for his underwear. In the pitch black, I’d forgotten he was naked.

  The creak of the bedframe as his proper size weights the mattress is a comfort to me.

  “Did I hurt you with my kiss?” I ask quietly as Gray curls his arm beneath my neck and angles my body so I’m cuddled into his side.

  He answers by kissing my lips, but this time, we move slower, more carefully because we now understand the stakes if we rouse Rafe and excite him more than Gray can handle.

  “Goodnight, Arly-girl.”

  My fingers brush over his stubble. “Goodnight, Gray.”

  27

  Clairvoyant’s Dream

  The dream that takes me under starts with a swirl of gold and red, streaking the glitter across the insides of my eyelids. Vertigo like I’ve never known takes my knees completely out, and suddenly I’m falling, until I’m dumped unceremoniously on the carpet of a room I don’t recognize.

  “What just happened?” Gray asks, his body in similar disarray beside mine.

  “Bollocks. I was hoping for a sexier dream than falling if I ever had one with you in it.” When Cass and Charlotte sit up behind him, shaking the dizziness out of their heads, I harrumph. “And no offense, but you two were not on my list of people to join in on my dreams of Gray.”

  Gray chuckles, and then looks down, seeing himself in the same boxer briefs he was wearing when we went to sleep.

  “Where are we?” Cass asks, blinking and scowling as she takes in the touches of cherry wood lining the stately room where we’ve found ourselves.

  Charlotte stands—the only one of us who doesn’t appear worried. “We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. This is good. See what happens when we don’t push the future to unfold sooner than it’s meant to?”

  I’m still trying to orient myself as King Regis shuffles a stack of papers atop his desk.

  I recognize this place, I realize as I glance around from my spot on the floor beside my friends. The king has given many an address to the nation behind his massive mahogany desk. He’s always looked so in control without being domineering. Official yet approachable.

  Today he looks tired.

  Gray, Charlotte and Cass are straightening their limbs on the floor near where I’m still gathering my bearings on the thin carpet. It smells like feet down here, which isn’t how the king’s office should smell. He should stink of power, which probably smells like freshly sharpened pencils and cologne, or something to that effect. Not feet.

  When I glance across the way, I notice that the king’s got his shoes off. Despite the fact that I’m afraid I’ve possibly gone mad, I can’t help but find the habit of him working on world policies with his shoes off the tiniest bit endearing.

  The king’s got a shock of blond hair, not unlike his son, but without the glow of the cameras, I can see he’s thinning a bit on top. He’s wearing a suit with no tie, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. He’s hunched over his desk, frowning, like he’s trying to solve an unfathomable problem.

  And also like he has no idea we’ve just materialized in his office.

  “Are you okay?” Cass whispers, though perhaps she doesn’t need to be so quiet. Regis doesn’t appear to see or hear us in the slightest.

  Charlotte’s too baffled to give a full nod, but the sentiment is clear. “I’m more than okay. It worked! Your hair, Arly. I fell asleep with your hair under my pillow, and it bumped up my clairvoyance higher than I ever thought possible.”

  Cass stands and scoops Charlotte into her arms. Cassia is wordless, so I know she’s scared out of her mind.

  Gray runs his hand through his hair, clearly shaken. “Are you saying this is real? Why am I in your dream? I’m not clairvoyant.”

  Charlotte shrugs, as if the answer is simple. “I used Arly’s hair to increase my magic. Cass is holding onto my body while we sleep, and you’re cuddled up to Arly. Arly and I must’ve brought you along for the ride. It should be just the two of us. But this is way better.”

  “My hair isn’t magic,” I protest, but as I glance around, I wonder if I understand the bounds of what I’m capable of at all. “How is my hair magic?”

  “No idea.” Charlotte’s grin tells me she’s not perturbed at all when the world doesn’t make sense to her. She enjoys the ride, while I’m begging for a roadmap.

  I would be a dreadful clairvoyant.

  Gray’s hand in mine is gentle, but the jumping pulse in his neck tells me he’s nowhere near at peace with this situation that none of us understands. “It freaks us all out when you don’t know what’s going on. You’re the clairvoyant! You’re supposed to know more than us.”

  Poor guy is standing in only his white boxer briefs. He’s been through far too much in far too short a span of time.

  He wanted a quiet
life where he wouldn’t make waves. The problem is he’s attaching himself to me. I’m the wave. My reputation is too big for me to be able to hide a relationship with him. My kisses mutate the wolf he depends on. And now my hair is magic, apparently.

  Yet after all that, he’s still holding my hand. “Are you alright?” he asks me, sweet and gracious and far too selfless.

  “I’m sorry!” I whisper. “You wanted a calm, quiet existence, and I’m ruining your plans to stay under the radar!”

  Gray responds by tucking me into his side. “I chose you. I want to be with you. No part of that is too much for me. Stick close. I’m not totally on my game, being transported to… wherever we are.”

  “It’s only psychic transportation,” Charlotte clarifies, as if we’re all overreacting. “Our bodies are still in the cell.”

  Like that should make it all better.

  I palm Gray’s tight abdomen. “It’s the king’s office.” I point to Regis, who hasn’t looked up yet. “The king can’t see or hear us.” I glance around for clues as to what we could possibly be doing here. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  Charlotte’s voice possesses far more tranquility than the rest of us. “We’re inside one of my visions, but it’s not a vision of the future. I can tell it’s happening right now.”

  “How?”

  But Gray’s question goes unanswered. It doesn’t matter how. What matters is we’re witnessing something, and I don’t want to miss it.

  Gray hisses as I move toward the king. He doesn’t want me to wander far from his side, but I need more information. So I shuffle around the desk and glance over the king’s shoulder so I can peek at his papers.

  Boxes of sugar. He’s stressing over sugar.

  When his phone dings, his receptionist says, “Mister Valentine is here to see you.”

  “Let him in, Harriet.”

  My breath stills in my lungs when Sloan opens the door and holds it for Daddy.

  Gray swears and covers his body as best he can, no doubt not expecting to see my father minutes after kissing me, while still clad only in his underthings.

  I doubt the sun is even close to rising. It’s too early in the morning for business, but then again, the business never seems to sleep for very long.

  “Morning, Regis,” Daddy greets the king, motioning with a smile for him to stand. He kisses both the king’s cheeks, but I’m not overly focused on the nuances of the exchange. The sight of Sloan tightens my chest, especially when he waits by the door, not seeing me at all.

  Sloan can always see me, but not this time.

  I don’t like this.

  “Good to see you, Val. I was just going over a few things.” The king’s eyes fall to Sloan. “You’ll need to tell Sloan to wait in the hall.”

  Then details start to filter back in. Val? Since when is Dad familiar enough with the king to warrant a nickname? Since when do they kiss cheeks when they meet?

  Since when do they meet up? The two hate each other. Sure, they used to be closer than brothers when I was a little girl, but since the falling out ages ago, they don’t associate with each other.

  Then why do they look so comfortable together?

  Daddy turns good-naturedly over his shoulder. “Oh, Sloan? He’s fine. You know he’s trustworthy.”

  The king doesn’t mince words. “If you want this meeting, you are getting it. Not anyone else.”

  Daddy waves off Sloan, whose lips purse at being cast out of the meeting. I know he wants in on every detail of this, but he complies without question.

  The second the door closes the two of them inside with Sloan on the outs, the king lowers what little pretense of cordiality he mustered upon my father’s entry. He grabs up the paper on his desk. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

  To his credit, Daddy doesn’t crack. “What we agreed to isn’t possible. You wanted the picture of Arlanna in her Prigham’s uniform, and I wanted you to push through a few shipments of sugar for me.”

  “We both know this isn’t sugar. And it’s more than a few shipments.”

  Daddy glances over the top of the pages. “Says sugar from where I’m sitting. Looks like your signature’s already on the line, too. Good man.”

  “If this gets into the country, it’s going to ruin a lot of lives.” Regis glowers at Daddy. “I had it tested.”

  When father’s eyes narrow at the step he wasn’t expecting the king to take, I know the king’s treading on dangerous ground.

  Regis doesn’t give a crap. “It’s ten times more powerful than Luster Oak, and my people are saying it’s likely to be twice as addictive.”

  What is Daddy doing, messing with that stuff? Uncle Antoni only deals in Luster Oak. I don’t understand.

  Daddy sits down across from Regis, resting his elbows on the armrests and tenting his fingers, as he always does when he’s thinking through a punishment.

  Can he not feel me standing behind the king’s seat?

  “Now you’re telling me you’ve brought in people to test my product. That wasn’t part of the agreement. It’s a signature, Regis. That’s what I needed. A signature for a picture of my princess. That was doable. Now, hand it over.”

  “You’re asking for more than a signature, and you know it.”

  “And you’re asking for more than a picture. A photo of Arlanna endorses the system you’ve created. Don’t think I don’t know the protests got worse when she was arrested.”

  Regis’ shoulders lower. “You’re asking me to look the other way while you destroy lives. You’re asking for me to put my name on a public record. I’m sorry, Val, but if you want me to push through these shipments, it’ll take more than a photo of Arlanna in her jumpsuit. Passing the Sins of the Mother bill needs the proper press, true, but this favor is hardly worth the trade, given the damage your product is likely to cause.”

  Sins of the Mother? The king must have misspoken.

  Silence weights air, and I want to scream at them both to just get on with things already. If Charlotte’s vision brought us here, then I want to witness whatever I’m supposed to witness, and get on with my life.

  “Sins of the Mother?” Gray’s voice is filled with worry while the two mules stare each other down. “I haven’t heard anything about that. What is it?”

  I shrug, unsure which way is up at this point.

  Cass clutches Charlotte’s hand, clearly still shaken up by her girlfriend’s ability to transport us psychically at random. “If the Sins of the Father bill got us all locked away, what could possibly accompany that? What is the Sins of the Mother?”

  Finally, the king crumbles, breaking the silence first, which I know means Daddy’s won whatever it is they’re fighting over. “You know what I want. If you want my signature on this, you’ll give it to me. I’m done going back and forth on this, Val.”

  Daddy’s jaw ticks with agitation. “And if you say it out loud again, you’re likely to leave this office in a body bag. You’re not getting anywhere near my little girl. I don’t care how weighty your signature is. You’ve been trying to get her alone for years, but I’m always one step ahead of you. I’ll keep her locked up for the rest of her life if it keeps your filthy hands off her!”

  My skin feels cold. Goosebumps prickle over my arms as horror crashes into me. Any semblance of certainty that I might have known what was going on is now dashed to pieces.

  Gray postures, his nostrils flared. “Arly, what are they talking about?”

  I speechlessly shake my head to let my cellmates know that I have no idea what’s going on. We’ve taken a left turn somewhere, and we’re now headed down a dangerous path.

  The king’s response hits me like a punch in the gut. “I’ll get what I want, and what I want, only Arlanna can give me. I’m tired of waiting for the world to restore itself. It’s time we forced nature’s hand. She will give me what I want, which is more than a picture.”

  Gray growls, but the sound comes out as his animal, not as his own v
oice. All the color leaves my face, and I stumble back, feeling faint and sick all at once.

  Cass starts shouting at the king, calling him all the names under the sun a woman should invoke when a man exposes himself for the pervert he is.

  Daddy puts out his cigar on the king’s desk, leaving his mark to remind Regis he doesn’t play games that don’t curve in his favor. “You’ll keep your hands off my little girl. A picture is enough to satisfy our agreement. Anything more will test my patience.”

  The king sets down the papers and shrugs. “Very well. You’re not getting your signature. You’re not getting your shipment. The entire crate of ‘sugar’ will be destroyed.”

  Daddy stands, towering over the king’s desk. “Do it, and you’ll start a war with the family. I’d think long and hard before you go that route. When we went our separate ways all those years ago, we went peacefully for the sake of the kids. I’d hate to make your life miserable over one lousy shipment.”

  Regis leans back in his chair, his jaw tight. “I’ve thought long and hard about Arlanna. We both know exactly how good she could be for me.” Then he gives a derisive snort. “You sent your daughter to Prigham’s, yet now you’re all protective? You’ve been benefitting from her for twenty-eight years. It’s my turn.”

  Daddy makes the mistake of losing his temper, his fists leaning on the king’s desk. “I sent her to prison to keep her out of your reach. No matter how you try to stalk her, you’ll never get close to laying a finger on my little girl. I’ve got eyes everywhere. I will never tire of keeping you away from her!”

  Vindication rings like sanity in my ears. I back up until my spine hits the wall. Daddy didn’t sell me out. Not really. He was keeping me from a man who has no limits to his reach, except for the locked-down facility with guards posted everywhere.

  I finally find my voice. “You sent me away to keep me safe.” I know he can’t hear me, but I want to talk to him. “Daddy?”

  But my father’s already turning his back on the king, though not before Regis slides the contract into the garbage.