Sinful Instincts (Woodland Creek)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  Shit.

  Speaking of human.

  My eyes fly open just as I swear Sin is about to lick my neck. “Wait!” I stop him. He halts instantly, his eyes locking with mine. “Wait...” I repeat, giving myself time to pull together a logical sentence. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I blurt out. I mean, right? Not a good idea? I’m lying in bed with a complete stranger, who happens to not be fully human, and I’m trying to debate whether it is a good idea if I should allow him to take this relationship to second base. But wait—was that what was about to happen? He did just tell me he has zero interest in me. I look at him, and his eyes have hardened.

  He doesn’t speak, but he can sense my reluctances. His look turns stony and he pulls away.

  “I hate to disappoint you, but you’re misreading this,” he says crossly. I would disagree, considering I can feel his hardness pressing against my thigh. “Get up. I need you to be ready. I won’t mess this up again.” His words soaked with cool tones, he pushes himself off the bed. I follow, sitting up and waiting for him to turn toward me, but he doesn’t. As he makes it to the door, he voices, “Meet me in the living room. We have some work to do.”

  Then he is gone.

  Emma

  I decide on a cold shower before I meet Sin in the living room. Toning down the lust level while dealing with a shifter, as he describes himself, calls for a good ice-cold spray to the face. Once I’m clean and feeling somewhat human—haha, human—I make my way to the living room where Sin awaits. As I walk past him, he catches my eye. I put my hand up, signaling for him to pause it. I need coffee, and pronto. No one can sit and talk paranormal activity without a full cup of coffee.

  Once I’ve made the perfect cup of joe, I reenter the small room and sit next to Sin. “Okay, so... if I am going to help you, I need to know a few things,” I say sternly. I am not a helpless victim here. If I’m going to stick my neck out to help this guy, I want details. Like, all of them.

  “All right, ask away.”

  Well, that was too easy. “Okay, so. Where did you come from?” My simple question almost seems to disappoint him. He shrugs off my first inquiry and answers. “I am originally from a small town in Cuba, where I spent the first fifteen years of my life. Once I became strong enough, I took the life of my father for raping my mother. Given the dangers of killing him coupled with my mother longing for a more normal life, we fled across the Gulf of Mexico and eventually landed in a small town in New Orleans, one similar to Woodland Creek. The night Zander took something very important to me I swore I wouldn’t stop until he paid for what he’d done.” He pauses to inhale a deep breath before continuing. “There’s more to that night than him taking a life. Zander had already conspired to formulate a spell that would result in immortality. He had succeeded in retrieving one of the seven items at that time. I am led to believe that within the past five years, he has claimed all but one.”

  So, he killed a man, check. Immortality, check. He definitely has my attention now. “What are the items? What makes you think he has that many?” Totally into this story.

  Sin sits straighter on the couch, his facial expression tight. “That, unfortunately, is what I don’t know. Only Zander carries that precious information.”

  Oookay then.

  I say no more, so he continues. “So, for the past five years, I have been traveling. Bounty hunting, I'm sure a term you understand.” I do, so I nod. “I followed Zander to England. Since he was still traveling, I knew he couldn’t have found them all yet. I kept in touch with some sources, which allowed me to stay on his trail. He couldn’t keep his urges under control, so it was easier to track him. His killings brought me here to Woodland Creek.”

  Hmm... So, we’re dealing with a psychotic serial killer. Got it. “Okay. So, I get that you both are shifters.” Not really. “Are you also searching for immortality? Is that what this is about?”

  He places his finger over my lips until I get his hint and stop talking. “As I said, I was born into this life. I didn’t choose it. I was the result of a rape. My mother was human. My father, if that is what you would call him, was a full-bred leopard shifter. My mother chose to keep me, and here I am. I am part human, as you, and my animal inside is leopard. But to answer your question, no. I have no interest in immortality.”

  Fair enough. Taking the conversation down a notch, I ask a basic question, “So, like, what do you do? I mean, I saw what you do, but how? Or why? Or when?” I accentuate the ‘when’. Curiosity—it’s a guilty pleasure.

  His hardness lifts a bit as his demeanor shifts into a more playful mode. “I can shift at any time, but choose to only transform at night. I do not wish to expose who I am. Anger, lust, fear, those are core emotions which trigger me to shift. I tried to fight it when I was young, but that caused me to lose a lot— lose Gabriella. So now, I embrace it. When I change, it’s to hunt and destroy. I won’t harm anyone for fun. I harm only for revenge.”

  Yep, that last part along with the whole I killed my dad part causes me to scoot a little bit farther away from him on the couch. I definitely shouldn’t have made that girlfriend comment.

  “I won’t hurt you. I’ve already told you this.”

  “But how do I know that?” I question warily.

  “Because I’ve already told you. I am not here to hurt you, Emma. I want what he took from me and then my revenge. That is all. And none of that has to do with you.”

  “Okay,” I reply hesitantly. “So, last night. He called you his brother. Why was that?”

  “Because I am. We share DNA. And he finds sport in reminding me who my father was. A way to taunt me for the partial blood I have flowing through my body. Blood that, on a daily basis, I wish I could expel. And if not for that, the reminder of what he was able to take away from me.”

  “And does he feel he will ever get caught? Or pay for what he’s done?” I ask curiously.

  “He believes he won’t. I think otherwise.”

  Talk about holding a grudge. “So, you’ve spent the last five years of your life chasing your half-brother?”

  He nods.

  “Why? I mean, why not just let it go? Aren’t you the least bit over what he did? I’m sure your girlfriend would want you to move on. And you said so yourself, you don’t even want to be immortal, so why waste all this time trying to find a spell of immortality?” I can’t imagine always living in grief and hatred.

  His reaction confirms he does not agree. Uh-oh. His playful banter gone, he replies, “Because of me, she isn’t here to have a say. So my condemnation is to live with that agony and guilt until I can find Zander and destroy whatever was on that scroll. The hatred will live within me until I make it right. Then possibly, I will live a peaceful life.”

  “Okay, but still…” I feel like I’m beating a dead horse here. “I just don’t understand why you don’t let it go. You keep mentioning this scroll. How is destroying it possibly going to fix what’s already been done?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not that simple.”

  “Well then, explain the un-simple parts. I mean, no one has the power to bring back a life.” Geez, dude.

  “There are details you do not need to know. He took someone very precious away from me. If that isn’t reason enough to end his life, then I’m sorry I cannot answer your question.”

  Yep, not good enough for me. “Yeah, well, if I am going to go all play the bait for you, I need answers.” I stand up quickly. “If you’re going to stay locked-lip then you’re on your own, pal. Spill, or I ain’t helping you.”

  I turn but his hand is around my wrist, tugging me back down onto the couch. Without releasing my wrist, he continues. “He killed her, yes. And I will take his life for it. But that’s not it. There are these scrolls, as I’ve mentioned. They contain a very dangerous spell, if you will, and in the wrong hands, it can threaten a lot of human lives.”

  “A spell,” I repeat. God, this just keeps getting better.

  “There wa
s a scroll. That night, I couldn’t take her back to her family. They would convict and hang me for her death. I laid her to rest within the woods of Fallen Crest. With his newfound powers, Zander was able to steal her soul. She lives within him. Knowing that information, I was in search of someone who performed magic. One who could explain how he was gaining his powers and how I might be able to reverse it. In time, I found someone. He was a wizard, and he spoke of an old labyrinth spell.”

  I really wish I put vodka in my coffee.

  “Zander was in search of seven items that would result in immortality. I was to find these items before him and destroy them so he was unable to complete his spell. Then once I found Zander, taking his life would release all the souls he had captured. Including Gabriella’s.”

  Okay, maybe I should have skipped the coffee and gone straight to the vodka.

  “Okay, so… Yeah, you may have lost me at spells and eating souls.” I’m starting to feel like he’s pulling my chain here. I mean, sucking the soul outta huh?

  Sin says no more, releasing my wrist and tossing my arm away from him. “I don’t need you to believe me. I just need you to help me, which you will.” His voice is thick with fury. I really hate being told what to do, but the scary, beast-like snarl he is giving me tells me maybe I will make an exception just this once.

  “Fine, I get it, and I’m sorry. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around all of this. I mean, come on, it’s not every day I meet a leopard shifter looking for a magical spell to release his dead girlfriend’s soul.” Because right? Have you? I live in a normal world where this stuff happens in books, people! Not real life.

  “I was headed back to the wizard’s home to trade gold for the scroll. Before I was able to return, Zander got to him first. His throat was slit and his insides were eaten clean out. Zander was gone, and so was my copy of the scroll.”

  Ew.

  “Okay, so what now? Does he even know what to do with it when he finds them all?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay, throw me a bone here, man. “Aaaand?” I retort.

  “He knows that once he retrieves all the items, he can gain eternal power. It’s like raising the souls of the dead to create an unnatural army of sorts.”

  Army of dead souls, got it. “Okay, so if he knows what to do, why hasn’t he used it yet?”

  “I believe he hasn’t found all the items on this list yet. From the research I have done, legend says there were only a select few who carried these certain items. I was unable to break down the language the wizard wrote in, but I wrote down some of the words I did remember and I had them translated. Some of the items were located in certain regions in which Zander had been located. As time passed, I realized he was slowly finding each item.”

  “Shit,” I mumble.

  “Yes, well, if I am correct, based on the information I have collected, he is on the last item. Hence why it is important that he is stopped before he finds it.”

  “What is it? How will you know if he’s found it or not?” Besides seeing a portal from Hell opening up.

  “I imagine that whatever it is he is looking for, it is located here in Woodland Creek.”

  At that, I laugh. Nothing is here in Woodland Creek. “I highly doubt anything magical is hidden in this town. Trust me. I haven’t been here long, but it’s nothing all that special.”

  “Ahh, that is where you’re wrong, Emma. Woodland Creek is anything but ordinary. The town resides on a ley line, which means it is very, very populated with the unknown.”

  “The unknown.”

  “Yes. Shifters, witches, you name it. The supernatural tend to flock to the same areas. They can be anyone. Your nosy old neighbor could be a shifter, and you would never know it.”

  I gasp. “Mrs. Peterson?”

  Sin chuckles. “Well, don’t worry, she’s not. I would have smelled it on her right away. She is actually a fae. A fairy, of sorts, which explains how she heard us last night when we barely made a sound.”

  Get out of town with that shit! “Okay, so wait,” I pause. “Let’s rewind. So, you’re telling me there is an unstable beast with a grocery list to open up the portals of Hell, this town is anything but the average small-town folk growing up and growing old in the land of Boringsville, and my ninety-year-old neighbor is a fairy?”

  “You are correct, smart one. How you follow so well.”

  I ignore his sarcastic remark toward me. Wow, now that is super nuts. I try and think of sweet, old Mrs. Peterson being anything but old and sweet. Then of anyone I’ve ever come across and wonder if they are really aliens. Marty the cook from the Bar and Grill always seemed off to me, but I would never suspect he was anything but a boring, forty-five-year-old hermit who still lived with his mother and gets off on playing video games.

  I shake off the thought. “So, how will you know what it is? This item. I mean, you say you need to find it before he does. Is that possible? And how do you know if this last item is really even here? I mean, you could be chasing something that no longer exists.”

  “I could be. But this wizard was convinced all items were alive or accessible.”

  “Alive? Like, as in a living person?”

  “That I also do not know. I know nothing. The details and clues are on the scroll Zander holds.”

  “And you need the scroll to claim the items. How do you know he doesn’t have all of them?”

  “I don’t, but once I catch him, I will determine what he has and doesn’t have. I will continue from where he left off, if that’s the case.”

  Very interesting. I mean, I thought that beer guy was the most interesting, but who would have thunk it? “Man,” I mumble to myself. I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around all this new information. “So, what happens if it’s a human who carries the magical item?”

  “They die. It’s just a sacrifice they carry.” Well, that’s kind of sad and somewhat disturbing at the same time.

  “What happens if it’s, like, a baby?”

  He doesn’t even hesitate before he responds. “Then he or she will die.”

  “Geesh, really? That’s kinda messed up!” I exclaim.

  “It’s the steps I am willing to take to give Gabriella peace.”

  “You know this is all really messed up, right?” I respond.

  He just nods. Okay then. “For what it’s worth, it’s just a small theory. All items have been mainly objects. There was an eye of a very rare Shetland sheep that is only bred in the European Region. That has been the only sacrifice of anything living so far.”

  I consider his theory. Still so sad, if you ask me. And of course, my fat mouth shares that thought. “I feel like that is all just so sad. Like you deserve more than living in a world of vengeance.” I speak without really thinking. My thoughts are trying to wrap around this poor man’s hatred. I’ve hated and I’ve been suffocated by revenge, but to let it consume me would be letting the enemy win.

  Sin leans in closer, pressing his rough hand to my cheek. “I won’t tell you again, Emma.” His breath warms my skin. “I can smell the overwhelming sense of pity pouring from your veins. I told you. Do not pity me.”

  I lean into his touch, closing my eyes as I listen to his deep, alluring voice. A sound that is so threatening and soothing all at once when he speaks. My eyes slowly drift back open, and his face is closer than it was before. His lips are within reach of my mouth, and it would just take a simple tilt of my head to lock his sweet lips to mine. We stare at one another, both fighting the same urge.

  I don’t know why we continue to put ourselves in this position. He doesn’t want me, and I seem to be unsure of what I want. I feel his breath skim my lips, knowing a hairsbreadth separates us. Anytime I’m near him, I lose sense of myself and my body takes over, begging for his touch. For his plump lips to kiss me, his hands to take me and explore every single inch of my body. Raising my chin to get the right angle to press my upper lip to his, I offer myself to him. Just when I see the look of surrender, the
doorbell sounds off and I jolt forward, banging my head into his.

  “Ouch!” I groan, grabbing for my forehead.

  Sin, on the other hand, jumps into action and hops over the couch. “Get down!” he growls at me as he makes his way to the door. “Are you expecting anyone?” His hard tone is back, peering through the peep hole.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I reply, nurturing my poor head.

  “Get up. I want you to ask what they want. Do not open the door.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that if I don’t open the door?” I ask, bewildered. This guy is off his rocker, and becoming very bossy if you ask me. I throw my body off the couch and head toward the door. “Can you at least move out of the way?” I give him an eye roll, pushing him away from my peep hole.

  “Hello?” I raise my voice so my visitor can hear me through the door. I look through the peep hole, only to realize it’s a police officer. “Shit!” I jump away from the door. “It’s a cop,” I loudly whisper, nervously staring Sin down for what to do next. “One does not simply not answer the door for a cop.”

  “Ask what he wants,” he demands sternly. I give him my ‘are you serious’ look. He gives me the ‘do it or else’ look. Yep, asking him what he wants.

  “Ms. Waters. My name is Officer Aaron Bellaire from Woodland Creek Police department. Your purse was turned in this morning, and I was just returning it.”

  My purse. I turn to look at Sin, excited to get my stuff back. How nice of someone to be kind enough to turn my stuff into the authorities. I smile and go to unlock the door when I remember my poor door doesn’t have a working lock anymore. That’s when Sin’s strong hand slams against it, throwing it back closed.