by R. Scarlett
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
Vein of Love
Body of the Crime
A Vow of Thorns
To Crown A Beast
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction.
David Jones
Fetish by Selena Gomez
Stutter by Blaise Moore
Guys My Age by Hey Violet
Bad Bitch (feat. Ty Dolla $ign) by Bebe Rexha
Eyes Closed by Hasley
Do I Wanna Know by Artic Monkeys
What You Do by James Gillespie
Wolves by Kanye West
Beast by Mia Martina
Surfboard Fire (“Heartless” Remix) by Blitz//Berlin
Poison (ZDot Remix) ft. Krept & Konan by Rita Ore
Lockdown Or Nah by Kanye West ft. The Weeknd
Suck My Blood (prod. Lederrick) by LiL PEEP
Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
Cola by Lana Del Rey
Illuminate by Wildes
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.
WHEN SINNERS KNEEL
Copyright © 2018 by R. Scarlett
All rights reserved.
Cover and book design by Mae I Design & Photography
Edited by Marjorie Dumas Gelinas and Ellie McLove (Gray Ink)
ISBN: 978-0-9952361-6-5
Dedicated to Mary Hamel,
Thank you for being a loving grandmother and role model throughout the years. Thank you for always supporting me and thank you for giving me the writing gene! I will always love you!
They’ll skin you alive.
I remembered Dale’s words before I left to sneak into one of Scorpios’ warehouses. A warehouse filled with weapons and belladonna, a demon drug that sold well in the market. Dale, the man I worked for was my only option of employer at the age of eleven. He provided me with a roof over my head and enough money to put food in my stomach. And because of how young and tiny I was, no one questioned me. I could slip in and out of places without anyone discovering me.
But today…I’d been cornered.
Huddled in a crate, holding my breath, praying to anyone who would listen, that they wouldn’t find me.
They’ll skin you alive.
Dale’s raspy voice haunted my thoughts as I bit into my palm.
Scorpios, a group of powerful demons that ran New York City, were known for their ruthlessness, their callused hands snapping necks and ripping organs out for pure enjoyment.
And they were the ones I had been sent to steal from. It was supposed to be simple, get in, take some of their supplies, and get out. But black shiny cars had shown up just as I was about to leave. Men in crisp, black suits had entered the warehouse, their shoes clicking against the concrete floors.
Now I hid, small enough to crouch in a crate filled with packages of belladonna. The low-class craved belladonna, but Scorpios was the only one who supplied it and Dale had said their prices were too high.
So I was to steal some, and he’d resell it for a cheaper, more competitive price.
I’d rather return empty handed to Dale then face the wrath of Scorpios. Dale would beat me black and purple, but he wouldn’t kill me. I was too valuable for his business.
These men, however, would.
All I could make out were murmurs and soon they grew louder, closer.
I peeked through the tiny holes in the crate and could make out a pair of black pants approaching.
Oh God.
I squeezed my eyes shut when the footsteps suddenly stopped, bending my head, hoping somehow if I made myself smaller all of this would vanish.
Then brightness flooded around me and I felt a whoosh of air on the back of my neck.
I didn’t need to look up to the eyes of whoever had found me, drilling holes in my skull. I could taste their anger and anxiety on my tongue as it filled the warehouse. A con of being a souleater: I could taste people’s emotions—strong emotions.
And this man above me was angry.
“Up,” he snapped.
I took a deep, shaky breath and lifted my head, willing myself to sneak a look at my would-be murderer.
The man above me had features in-between a man and a boy. Still young, but not youthful. His mouth was twisted into a scowl and his heavy, dark brows furrowed.
His gray eyes narrowed at the sight of my face.
I wanted to pat my hair down, knowing how tangled it was. Dale only allowed me to shower once a week and he didn’t own a brush so I had to use my fingers.
“Up,” he repeated, but this time his voice was low, controlled. It had lost some of its initial vicious bite.
I stood and stepped out of the crate, my entire frame shaking.
I was going to die.
He was going to snap my neck like Dale had said.
After a long silence, I braved another look at him.
He stood in front of me, his hands curled on either side of his body, his head held high.
&nb
sp; Moving closer, he asked, “How old are you?”
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt nervously. It was far too long and wide for my tiny frame. A man’s shirt, not a girl’s. It rested at the middle of my thighs, covering half of my tattered and frayed jeans. Not the best clothes, but they were the only ones I had.
“Eleven,” I whispered, dropping my gaze.
The man brought his hand to his jaw and rubbed it, scanning me and then cursed. “Eleven?”
I nodded, unsure if I should speak.
He scanned me again and this time, I saw his sorrow for me. I tasted it on the tip of my tongue. His eyes narrowed farther, his mouth pinching into a deep, dissatisfied frown.
“Tensley,” another voice called, walking up behind the man. His focus snapped to me and he frowned. “This is the one that’s been stealing from us?” He scrunched up his nose and I had the urge to punch him.
Not that it would do much damage to a man his size.
The first man, Tensley, didn’t look at him. His attention was fully on me as he worked his jaw.
“Should we get this done here or take her out back and do it there?” the man asked, his hand going to the inside of his jacket. When he pulled his hand out, a knife was clenched in his grip. A long blade with a worn handle.
My chest tightened.
“Put it away, David,” Tensley hissed, glaring at him. His eyes darted back to mine. “She’s just a child. We’re not killing her,” he tsked. His eyes seemed to search the place, after a beat, a muscle feathered in his jaw and he added, “If she managed to get all the way here unnoticed, and more than once, she’s good. She could work for us.”
“What?” David asked, shaking his head. “She’s just a kid. You just said so yourself.”
Tensley faintly grinned. “Exactly. I imagine this is why she was hired in the first place. We never would have suspected a child to be the one stealing considerable amounts of our supplies. Clever bastard, whoever hired her.”
David scowled and looked back at me.
“Working for you?” I asked, afraid to move.
Tensley nodded. “Unless you’d rather we kill you.”
I shook my head with vigor.
“Go start the car, David,” Tensley ordered. David rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving the two of us alone. Slowly, Tensley moved closer and I straightened my back, trying in vain to appear taller. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I wrapped my arms around my middle. So many people had said that to me in the past, but then they always ended up hurting me in the end anyway. Emotionally, mentally and physically.
“What’s your name?” he whispered, so close I could see the faint stubble on his jaw.
I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. “Alexandra.”
He smiled. “Alexandra, I’m Tensley. I’m the son of the Dux and I promise you, you’ll be safe with us. I’ll make sure of it.”
He lifted his hand and held it out.
My gaze traveled between his relaxed features and his hand. “Why…?”
His brows wrinkled and he sighed. “Because you can help us and we can help you in return. Keep you safe. You’re too young to meet your end already, don’t you think?”
I fidgeted again with my shirt, my mind going wild. “I’m a souleater.” Most people liked to know first what I was. Souleaters were considered of lower ranking to incubi.
He shrugged. “We’re all demons. Bastards in different ways.”
Again, my eyes went back to his large hand, a few faint scars lining his palm.
And slowly, I let my hand reach out and drop into his grip.
“Do you have parents, Alexandra?”
“No,” I replied after a moment, my heart squeezing at the thought.
“Good,” he smiled, and it was warm. Friendly. “Welcome to Scorpios.”
I wanted to be safe.
I wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be loved.
With Scorpios, I would find a new beginning, but also my ending.
The pit was my hell and saving grace.
In its dark depths, thick ropes lined the patted down square of dirt separating the wild crowd of screaming onlookers from the fight.
Hungry shouts echoed off the steel walls. Hunger for blood, pain and victory.
A sense of danger and urgency reigned in its gloom, engulfing any demon that dared enter it. It was nothing but a hole where filth and monsters united. Those who were neither, feared this place, they knew nothing good ever came out of Hell.
But to me, it had become home.
I lived in the darkness, let it consume me, day and night.
Over and over.
The shadows were where I thrived—and it had been that way most of my life.
Being the son of a Dux, my story had been no secret to the demons haunting the streets of New York and beyond.
I knew they often used it to warn their children, to show them what happened when sacred laws were broken, and punishments were thoroughly given by the hands of our king, Fallen.
Grow a heart, lose the heart.
I’d fallen in love years before when I was nothing but a young fool and for that, I’d paid the price of becoming heartless.
There was nothing more dangerous than a heartless beast.
The shouts vibrated through my muscles and bones as I circled my opponent. His blood coated my skin, dripping from my tight fists and pooling at my feet. The demon beast within me was thrashing and growling at the smell. Wanting more blood. More pain. More glory.
More.
More.
More.
The beast always craved more.
The other fighter was more or less similar to me in size, but nowhere near as good in the ring. A low-class incubus wanting to impress his friends.
Stupid fucking fool.
To anyone watching our fight, it was clear who the true predator was between the two of us. The second fighter was only trying to survive the predator’s wrath.
His eyes were trained on me, nostrils flaring, body locked in a defensive stance, anticipating my next move.
Or tried to.
Before his next blink, I lashed out, a vicious kick aimed straight for his sternum.
It collided with precision in an effortless move, the wind wheezing out of his lungs as he stumbled back, back, back, and into the hands of the eager crowd. The man’s lungs filled once more on a deep, broken inhale just as a low growl rumbled through my chest.
The man answered with a growl of his own and the crowd’s eager hands pushed him back up. He straightened, body shaking with boiling rage.
Good, I thought. Let the real fucking fight begin.
The Pit was the only place where low-class demons could feel powerful, where we could dominate and let our inner predators run loose.
Outside of these cracked cement walls, we had to abide by the laws of the greater power. Hell, I was the one making sure they were respected. But in here, we were free.
In our society, two things determine whether or not you were worth a damn; the type of demon you were born as, and the crimes you had committed in the past.
As for me, I was born in a high middle-class family of incubus. We were treated like royalty amongst our people, the Scorpios.
A family of Dux.
A family of born leaders.
And after the crimes I’d committed years ago; a family tinged with shame.
My hands curled into tighter fists as I observed the man in front of me—the blood and sweat mixing together as it slid down the side of his face.
With a brutal cry, he stormed forward, fist raised to strike—
I let him come closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Giving him a taste of hope. A taste of oncoming triumph.
And then I burnt it to ashes.
My right hand swung up, plowing into his stomach just before my left elbow collided with his nose.
He flew back once more, body twisting mid-
air, and fell down face first, eating the fucking dirt right off the ground.
Silence.
People waited to see if he’d get back up.
When he didn’t, cheers erupted.
Some fighters like to scream victoriously, hitting their chest with fists.
I’d never been one of them.
I stayed silent as sweat, blood and dirt kept running down my skin. And waited, waited for the calm to wash over the storm thrashing within me.
When I felt it slow, I breathed out, cracking my neck to release the tension.
This, fighting, was the only thing that managed to appease it.
When I was in the ring, cheered on by the crowd as I let the beast in me play, I was in my zone. My element.
In those violent moments, the darkness surrounding me didn’t feel so pressuring anymore, so suffocating. It felt welcoming.
And so I kept coming back.
And I kept winning.
My younger brother Tensley may be Dux of Scorpios, king of New York.
But I… I was king of The Pit, king of the dark and king of the filth.
Exactly where I belonged.
In here, I was unstoppable.
Unreachable.
Unbeatable.
Like a god wrecking-havoc.
I didn’t bother staying to watch them drag my opponent’s unconscious body off the ground. Once they were down, I tuned out. They were only of interest to me while conscious, while they could still fight.
The longer I fought, the more it calmed me.
Simple as that.
I stepped over the ropes, ignoring the chants and calls as I moved up the stairs to the bar.
The crowd parted, each demon watching carefully, as if they were fearful I’d snap.
Good. People needed to be careful around me.
Sweat started to break along the back of my neck, fingers shaking slightly, and I knew what it meant; I needed a hit of belladonna. And I needed it fast.
“Savage,” a high-pitched voice called as I stepped onto the upper level. I looked up to see the women standing near the back wall. They called these girls Aphrodites around the club, women who had no lives beyond this place.
They were considered whores in the Pit. Nothing less, nothing more. They worked here to please whoever would pay for their services and pleasure the winning fighters as some kind of twisted prize.
Not that any of them seemed to truly care, they were all so fucking high on belladonna and sex I doubted they could even remember their own names or how they got stuck in this hell.