The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

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The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5) Page 9

by Jennifer Harlow


  “Well, do not do that. Of course if you do I will help you dispose of the body,” he says jokingly. I would smile if I could. I don’t have it in me right now. “Are you driving right now?”

  “No, I pulled over.”

  “Good.” He’s quiet again. “Fairest, I have to work tonight. I have to get caught up. I shall be in and out until morning, but if you wish you may stay with me. You can take a bath and fall asleep in the spare room.”

  Oh, I was hoping he’d say that. “Are you sure? You’re not sick of me?”

  “Of course not. If I did not have a night full of meetings and paperwork I would have begged you to come home with me tonight. But now I insist. You should not be alone if you are this upset.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you alright to drive to the club?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I shall see you soon, fairest. Bye.”

  After I slip this phone back into my purse, I pull back onto the street and take deep, calming breaths the whole ten minutes it takes to drive to the club. I call Connor again when I reach the private parking structure under the club. The gate lifts, and the man himself steps into the garage. It hasn’t even been twenty minutes since we last saw one another. He strolls over to get my suitcase. “Long time no see,” I quip.

  Connor kisses my forehead. “I knew you could not live without me for too long.” He wraps his free arm around my waist, and I rest my head on his shoulder as we meander to the door. “I see the Mercedes came in useful already.”

  We enter a narrow, dim concrete cinder-block stairwell upstairs. “Yes, a Mercedes is the perfect getaway car when confronted by well-meaning jerks.”

  He squeezes my waist as we enter the hallway to his apartment. This time he doesn’t hide the code from me. Guess he trusts me now. We walk into his apartment. Oh, there’s the table we had sex on. And the couch. Floor. All I’m interested in are the bath and bed. “If you compile a list I can send someone out to purchase you food and whatever else you require,” Connor says.

  “My own minions. Nice.”

  “My minions are your minions from here on, fairest. Use them well.”

  “Aren’t you the most gracious of hosts.” I flop down on the couch and sigh. “This is just for tonight.”

  “You are welcome to stay here as long as you desire,” Connor says, sitting beside me. He takes my hand. “You had no idea he was coming to town?”

  “No. None. I saw him and I just…my brain short-circuited.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to say much.”

  “Do you think this is related to Antonia?” Connor asks.

  “Like she enlisted him to spy on you? I very much doubt it.”

  “But he is here because of me,” Connor says.

  “I think April called him. We had a huge fight a week ago. She was probably dialing his number before I even made it to my car.”

  “You fell out with your friend because of me?”

  “Because of a lot of stuff.” I lay my head on the back of the couch with a sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk period.”

  “Do you believe Oliver will leave?”

  I scoff. “Hell no. He made that crystal clear.”

  “What do you think he will do?” Connor asks, for some reason concerned, as if I were being stalked by a serial killer.

  “I don’t know. Nothing…bad. He’d never hurt me. Never. So there’s no need to be the strong protective Papa bear, Connor. I had enough of that with Will, thank you very much.”

  “Yes, your wolf was most…overprotective. It must have been quite chaffing. And now Oliver is here to take over the role.”

  “It is coming from a good place,” I point out to us both.

  “Is it? Do you consider jealousy a good place?”

  “What?”

  “Fairest, three months of silence. No contact. None. Then the moment we begin seeing one another he must swoop in and save you from yourself out purely of the kindness of his heart? The timing is not suspect? He is not here for you, he is here for him. To drive a wedge between us. To poison you against me so you go rushing into his arms.”

  “That’s not…” Okay, maybe. Probably. I sigh. “I’m tired. I don’t want to think about this. I don’t want to deal with it. Not tonight. All I want is a bath and sleep.”

  “In that case, fairest, my home is at your disposal. I should return to work anyway.” He kisses me again before rising. “And make that list. Someone will purchase it immediately.”

  “Thank you. Really.”

  “Of course. I shall come check on you later. Call me if you need me.”

  I give him a smile, which he returns before walking toward the front door. He blows me a kiss before departing. Good. I lie down on the couch and stare up at the white ceiling, too tired to even decide what I want to do next. Every little decision is such hard work. A bath. Definitely.

  I cart my suitcase up the stairs to the second level where his bedroom and bathroom are. I’m not quite sure I want to sleep in his bedroom, not because it isn’t nice. It’s tres chic with a thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets on the California King size bed with a chrome headboard, a large flat screen above the modernist dresser, a mini-fridge and microwave, and abstract art covering the walls. I think the painting over the bed is a genuine Pollack, but the lack of a single window and the fact the door’s made of solid steel and locks like a prison door with only a keypad to open it gives the place a slight jail cell or at least panic room quality. I check out the guest bedroom but it’s the same just sans TV. Jail cells for all. Maybe I should just go to a hotel. My yawn vetoes that idea. He’s not going to lock me in like a prisoner, especially if I’m in the same room with him when he’s literally dead to the world. If he trusts I won’t kill him in his sleep, I can trust he won’t trap me. Besides I’m dying to try out his Jacuzzi tub.

  As the water fills, I retrieve my toiletry bag before stripping to nothing. Like the rest of the apartment the bathroom’s all chrome and Venetian marble with one of those multi-spigoted showers with gray mosaic tiles. Our room at The Venetian had one of those state-of-the-art but we barely used it for cleansing purposes. The only things to get clean were my breasts. Connor’s a boob man. Good thing I have plenty to offer in that department.

  After adding the vanilla scented bath oil, I slip into the tub and flip on the jets. Oh, that’s heavenly. I’ve so missed taking baths where I can spread out and let the water cover my whole body. Nana’s tub is so small and shallow I barely bothered to use it. Some of the tension begins to dissolve out of my body as the jet at my back works an Oliver sized knot out. This is lovely. I’m definitely getting some of my vacation glow back. Maybe I can just pretend that horrible fight at the house never occurred. That it was a figment of my imagination. I sigh. Yeah, not even my denial skills are that masterful.

  I always knew I’d see him again, I just always figured it’d be years down the road when I was on my death bed or when he needed someone to help extract out of a jam since I’m the only sucker who would actually show up to help. For such a “popular guy,” as I’ve heard him called a million times, Oliver doesn’t have that many true blue friends. I haven’t met a one. People who want to kill him, sure. Women and men he’s slept with, those are legion. Ride or die, pick you up from the airport, drop everything to save him friends, only me. And after tonight I may not even fit that category either.

  Connor’s probably right. Three months without a call or email to check on me, I’m with Connor a week, and Oliver has to come rescue me? He does have a jealous streak. When he discovered Will and I were together he lashed out, almost feeding me to my werewolf lover. It was the only time I’ve ever been truly afraid of him. If this trip is all about jealousy then God knows what he’ll do to Connor. It’s gotta be driving him nuts I’m with another vampire. I told him time and time again the fact he doesn’t have a pulse and sees me as a Big Mac cre
eped me out. Now here I am banging a guy with no pulse who keeps asking permission to feed on me. In all our nights of debauchery that’s only one, okay two acts I’ve denied him. The other being still outlawed in several states.

  So what is Oliver’s plan? What does he want? What will he do next? I…am too exhausted to work on a battle plan. This whole mess will keep until tomorrow. After almost half an hour, I climb out of the tub, brush my teeth, and slip into the pink satin nightie I bought in Vegas. The black Egyptian cotton sheets feel equally luxurious against my skin when I climb into bed. I’ve missed having the finer things in life the past three months. My time at the F.R.E.A.K.S. mansion spoiled me with huge bath tubs, silken sheets, cloud bed, and every electronic gadget available at my fingertips. Once you’ve lived in Paris it’s hard to go back to the farm and milk the cows. Guess it’s the same with everything. What I’ve done and seen the past year, the high highs and the below rock bottom lows, all else in life seems so mundane. Boring. Trivial. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to Connor. He’s a safe danger, like a rollercoaster. Whatever the reason, at this moment, I’m glad to have him. He’s been just what I’ve needed. I will get a hotel room tomorrow, though. I am truly exhausted and after a few minutes I drift off to sleep.

  The rocks and twigs dig into my bare feet as my legs pump faster than I thought them capable of. He’s coming. Even with my own heavy breath, the crack of the branches as I shove them out of my way, I can still hear his equally ragged panting growing closer by the moment. I don’t look back. I have to go faster. I must but I can’t. I have nothing left inside me. No drive. No energy. I’m not sure why I’m running except I’ll die if I don’t. Maybe that’s better. My lungs, my legs, my throat, the cuts on my feet and arms all burn like glass shards covered in fire. If I give up, if I let him have me, it would stop. I just want it all to stop. Then why do I keep running? Habit? Fear of death? Could it be any worse than this? I’m just about to give up when I see it in the distance.

  Light.

  A sign. I can make it. Maybe it’ll be better if I make it into the light. Using what little reserve I have left inside, I fuel, I channel it to help me make that last long stretch. It will all be okay if I can make it to that light. Ignore the agony. Ignore the blood pouring out of me with each frantic step. Just keep going.

  As the light grows closer, he does as well. Fifty feet. Forty. I can all but sense his snarling breath on my neck. Don’t look back. Never look back. All that matters is the light. Thirty. Twenty. Ten.

  The monster vanishes.

  I step into the light, out of the woods into a clearing. It blinds me for a moment. I can barely make out the frame of a man stepping to the edge of the clearing across from me from his own half of the woods. But only for a moment. I’d know him even without eyes. I’d know his scent, his energy anywhere. Right where light meets dark, he stands. Smiling. Waiting for me with a huge, brilliant smile on his preternaturally beautiful face. But I can’t take another step. I’m so exhausted even breathing proves near impossible. He knows it. He always knows. And he can’t wait for me any longer. He takes one step into the light, and I haven’t the breath to warn him. Oliver makes it three steps before the light singes him. That radiant smile twists into a silent scream of horror as his arm stretches out to me, as if I can pull him to safety, but there’s nothing I can do. He burns to ash.

  I awake with a gasp of shock, from both the nightmare and as the heavy door mechanically locking. It’s so dark, even with my better than average night vision, I can barely make out his movements. I hear clothes rustling, his sighs as if the simple task of undressing takes all his fortitude, all before the bed shifts as he climbs in beside me. We never really slept together like this. Before dawn came, Connor would slink away to his coffin, leaving me alone. Guess he likes to sleep nude because that’s how he comes to me. Clings to me. Connor spoons me, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through the nightgown as his manhood presses into my buttocks.

  “Sorry I woke you,” he whispers.

  “I’m glad you did. I think I was having a nightmare,” I whisper back.

  “What about?”

  “I don’t remember,” I answer truthfully.

  “So we both endured nightmare evenings.” He kisses my neck as he pulls my breast free over the top of my nightie. The tingles radiate from my nipple down between my thighs as he teases it with his fingers. “Is it alright if I make love to you?” he whispers.

  Whatever happened in that nightmare wound me tighter than hell. Not to mention his deft fingers revved my motor the moment he began toying with me. “I’m still a little sore. Go slow.”

  He kisses my neck again. “With pleasure.”

  With my back still to him, his free hand traces up my leg, under my nightie to push it up, before removing my panties. I kick them off as his erection grows against my now bare back. As we both lie on our sides, I lift my leg enough for him to position his pelvis against my bottom and he gently, slowly enters me. The soreness rises as he continues inside but is overshadowed by that glorious sensation of fullness which prompts a quiet moan. “Is that alright?” Connor whispers.

  “Yes. Keep going.”

  He glides inside me again with tender care, prompting another moan, especially as one hand returns to my breast. With the third thrust his free arm snakes over my bare hip until his hand reaches his destination, my engorged clitoris, toying with it in perfect sync to his other caresses. I close my eyes to savor the sensations. “You feel so good, fairest.” Another thrust. “Like liquid silk.” Another thrust. “Knowing you were here waiting for me was the only thing that helped me survive the night,” he whispers before kissing my shoulder.

  After another slow thrust, another tickle of my clitoris, another moan, I ask, “Why? What happened?”

  Another gentle coupling, followed by his moan his time. “Oliver.”

  With that one word my pleasure quotient drops significantly. “O-Oliver was here?”

  “He came to the club.”

  “Wh-what did he want?”

  Connor stops moving, stops toying but remains inside me. “What do you think? He wanted you. Demanded I produce you immediately under threat of grievous bodily harm.”

  “He knew I was here?”

  “He suspected and I confirmed, which precipitated a theatrical bandy of insults, aforementioned threats including castration and true death. There were even a few tense moments where I was certain he would physically assault me. It took two of us to eject him from the club. I did not think he could become so unhinged.”

  “You didn’t…hurt him, did you?”

  Connor’s silent for a few nail-biting seconds before saying, “No, though I was well within my rights to do so. But I was merciful out of deference to you. Because of your…friendship.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper before shifting my hips and squeezing my Kegels to spur him on.

  Connor takes the hint and begins gliding and teasing me again. “But he only gets the one pardon, fairest. And I fear his envy has overwhelmed his common sense. He was almost feral tonight. Without a doubt he will say or do anything to achieve his ends. He has never been violent with you, has he? Perhaps I should assign guards to—”

  I look back and press my lips to his to silence his words. “Stop worrying.”

  “I cannot. You did not see him tonight. Did not witness the bile and threats. Did not gaze into his black eyes. He has lost all reason, Beatrice.” He pauses and stops moving again. “As long as he remains in the city, I want you to stay here. Where you will be safe.” He rolls my nipple and clitoris in his fingers, and I can’t suppress a moan. “Where I can take care of you.” He begins thrusting again, a little harder this time. Another moan. “That is all I have desired since the moment we met.” He thrusts faster now right over my G-spot. “Let me take care of you, Beatrice.” He kisses my neck. “Let me take care of you.” Oh, that’s perfect rhythm. The perfect pressure in just the right places. “Let me take care of everything
for you. You need not worry about a thing.”

  “Thank you,” I gasp. “Oh, that’d be lovely.”

  “Anything for you, fairest.” He thrusts again. “You are precious to me.” He thrusts again and again as I moan, impaling me again. God, that’s good. “So precious.” He kisses my neck before another quick thrust. I’m getting close. “I will take care of you. Of everything.”

  Just give in. Just relax and give into him. And I do. I come gently this time, little light tremors that bring me peace and tranquility on a night I truly need both. I could use somebody taking care of me. He can’t do a worse job than I have.

  Chapter Seven

  Easy Street

  What is so damn cold?

  Over the past year I’ve woken in so many new beds in so many different hotels I should be used to this. It takes a second for me to gain my bearings. There’s not light, not a speck which actually helps spark my memory. Connor’s. That’s what is so cold. My lover’s all but dead body. A tiny chill snakes down my spine and not just from the cold. I’ve never woken beside a vampire the morning after. Normally I linger in bed but not today. Last night I wanted him inside my body and now I can’t stand to be a foot from him. I sit up and turn on the light on the nightstand. He does like to sleep in the nude. Even pale as paper with a road map of tiny blue veins crisscrossing his back, bum, and arm, he’s still handsome. Peaceful. I pull the covers up over his backside. His damn fine backside.

  The clock reads 11:08. Oh, he’s left a slip of paper with a seven digit door code and “XOXO” written on it. At least I can get out of the room. First, the bathroom. After the usual morning activities, I change into black jeans and my red and black star t-shirt before returning to the bedroom. He hasn’t moved. He won’t move until the sun sets or a little before. I’m all alone. What the hell am I going to do with myself today? He wants me to stay indoors. Protect me from Oliver. I roll my eyes at that one. I can take Oliver without lifting a finger. And I’m safe from him during the day. Don’t have to see or speak to him. Right now I don’t have to do anything. No strings, no responsibilities, no…idea what to do with myself. Except eat. I’m starving.

 

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