Deliverance from Sin: A Demonic Paranormal Romance (Sinners & Saints Book 5)

by Rosalie Stanton

  He smirked, and her temper spiked again. “Ooh,” he cooed. “Touched a nerve, did I?”

  “Even if I needed a prince,” she spat, “you wouldn’t make the cut. I prefer someone who doesn’t spend the evenings screaming bloody murder at a goddamn nightmare.”

  Campbell went deathly pale. A thick beat pulsed between them before he rasped a strangled, “What?”

  Varina’s heart dropped and a cold pang of regret stabbed her gut. But it was too late—the words were out there. She could see them, dancing in the air separating her from Campbell, mockingly real but not solid enough to catch and bury. The world seemed to rush back to her, then, as though she’d taken a step away from her body for a few minutes and let a different creature take charge. Something nasty and bitter—something she didn’t like at all.

  The damage was done. Nothing to do now but accept it and clean up the mess she’d made.

  Except the words she needed to say wouldn’t come. No words came.

  Varina swallowed and shoved at him once more, weaker this time, then made for the door before her mouth could run away with her again.

  It was the coward’s way out, she knew, but at the moment she didn’t have the energy to try for brave.

  And she wouldn’t have trusted herself, anyway.

  17

  Varina cursed and twisted onto her side for the fifth time that evening. It wasn’t any use—sleep wouldn’t come. If not for the niggling fear that Legion would jump out of the shadows the moment consciousness began to fade, then for her own mind’s tortuous repeat of everything she had said to Campbell and the shitty reasons behind it.

  Then there were the cries.

  They had started later tonight. Campbell hadn’t said anything to her after the kitchen—had pretty much avoided her, not that she could blame him. Varina hadn’t had the patience to return to the boxes on the third floor, nor had she been able to focus on the words in her father’s book. The evening had been a long, arduous testament to regret.

  Sometime before ten in the evening, Campbell had made his way upstairs. He hadn’t even paused as he passed her bedroom. Hadn’t looked inside. Hadn’t done anything to acknowledge her presence. He’d shut himself behind the door, and all had gone quiet.

  That was, until the screams had begun. Like they always did.

  And more than ever, Varina felt helpless. She wasn’t used to fucking up and she didn’t like it. And she hated the sound of Campbell’s tortured cries—of him lost in a world beyond this one.

  Last night, after he’d joined her, he hadn’t been bothered by nightmares. Varina had no way of knowing if her presence had calmed him—if she had anything to offer now—but as the night progressed and the cries kept coming, it seemed cruel to sit on a possible solution.

  If there was a chance she could give him peace, it was worth exploring.

  Decision made, Varina threw back the blankets and slid to the floor. The air in her room was unusually chilly, sending goosebumps across her skin. She rubbed her arms, briefly debated exchanging her boxers for sweats or yoga pants, then decided against it. If Campbell welcomed her, his body heat would set her on fire.

  The prospect had her legs trembling, and the parts of her anatomy that had spent a lot of time trying to ignore Campbell flared to life.

  Varina swallowed and made her way across the hall. The door to Campbell’s room was closed, of course, but she doubted very much he would have thought to lock it. His cries sounded louder, throatier than before. Or perhaps that was the echo of her own racing heart. The moment felt strained and surreal, like at any instant she’d find herself back in her room, staring at the canopy and wishing for sleep.

  Then she was twisting the knob, and the door swung open.

  Only forty-eight hours had passed since the last time she’d looked in on him like this, but it seemed like an eternity. Nothing had changed and everything had changed. The man on the bed was no longer an unknown. He was Campbell, the first friend she’d had since childhood.

  The only man she’d ever wanted just because.

  Varina pressed her lips together and pushed her feet forward. As she neared, other details became clear. Like the fact he was naked—completely naked. He lay on his back, the sheets and blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his skin damp with sweat, the sounds erupting from his lips intense and almost inhuman. He curled his fingers into the mattress but couldn’t find purchase.

  He was so beautiful. She hadn’t forgotten that, but she’d done all she could to ignore it these past two days. Campbell was a piece of living art, all muscle and sinew. The scars at his abdomen were as prominent as they had been before. And his cock, while not erect, was no less impressive.

  He was so strong. So strong, and so human at the same time.

  Varina’s chest tightened.

  Okay, bad idea or not, she couldn’t walk away without trying to wake him up. If he took a swing at her before snapping out of his nightmare, so be it. He needed her. If only to remind him that the world in his dreams wasn’t real anymore, if it ever had been. To tell him everything was going to be okay and see if she could help keep those bad dreams away.

  It was the right thing to do.

  Varina pushed herself forward until she had no choice but to climb onto the mattress. Campbell didn’t respond, just murmured and turned his head away from her.

  “Campbell?”

  She held her breath and waited.

  Silence stretched for a long, pregnant beat. Then he strained and whimpered.

  Varina reached for his shoulder. His skin felt damn near feverish under her fingers. Still, she found herself suppressing a shudder. Touching him was like stroking a livewire. Every part of her responded.

  She felt somewhat sleazy, sitting on his bed, touching him and getting turned on all at once, but she’d come this far, and she had good intentions.

  Didn’t she?

  Varina’s throat tightened. Her fingers pressed down on his shoulder. “Campbell,” she said again, giving him a little shake. Nothing, save another moan. She edged closer. “Campbell, wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re dreaming.”

  His brow knitted and he flipped back toward her, his eyes still shut.

  “Campbell.” She shook harder, her voice notching up a couple octaves. “Campbell, it’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up.”

  He murmured, shook his head, then—to her horror—started sobbing softly.

  Jesus Christ.

  Varina forced herself to breathe. “Oh, jeez, Campbell. Please wake up.”

  Nothing still, except an errant wave of his hand another throaty cry.

  Options. She was running out of them. Varina sucked her lower lip between her teeth, her mind racing to all the techniques she’d seen referenced in books and television when it came to waking someone in this state. She flicked his ear with no result. Pinched his arm to no avail. Patted his cheeks. Nothing.

  Damn. She’d heard waking people up in this state was difficult, but she hadn’t thought it’d be this hard.

  When the muted sobs started again, Varina went for broke. That sound shattered her—lost and small, nothing like the Campbell she knew. Whatever hell he was facing, she wouldn’t have it anymore, no matter how embarrassing this was.

  She acted before she could talk herself out of it, casting herself astride his upper thighs. His warm met her cold, sending pleasant little zings throughout her body that were best left ignored. Her mind, dead-set on distracting her, dragged her back to the grand hallway downstairs and the last time she’d had him between her thighs, and her pussy began to throb.

  Varina shook her head, as though that could shake the want away, and seized his shoulders. “Campbell,” she said, her voice firmer than she’d expected. “Campbell, it’s okay. Look at me. You’re dreaming. It’s just a bad dream. You’re okay.”

  At that, his head turned as though he’d heard her. Her heart jumped into her throat.

  Varina dug her f
ingers into his skin. “Campbell!” she shouted. “You’re fine. It’s just a nightmare it’s—”

  His eyes opened, and her mouth ran out of things to say.

  Everything and nothing was different. The Colosseum was the same, the sights and smells as they had been every night prior. The sky remained the dark blanket of endless nothing, staring down at him as Hell’s horrors rained. Campbell found himself adrift in a sea of chaos, which was also a part of the script. Fire blazing, electricity pulsing, people screaming.

  And again, Varina was there.

  Varina didn’t belong, but she was there. On her back, where he was supposed to be, looking at him with wide eyes full of fear, her hand stretched toward his. Campbell’s chest felt like it was caving in.

  “Campbell!” she screamed, and the demons descended upon her. She disappeared in a blur of spewed blood and ripped flesh.

  No.

  He moved forward. He tried to move forward, at least, but his legs refused to obey.

  And the demons devoured, tore and destroyed. Ribbons of pink, bloodied skin blew outward like confetti. Her screams painted the night, louder and louder until she gargled and went mute. Campbell couldn’t get to her, couldn’t pull her out. He tried and tried to move, but his feet wouldn’t budge.

  It was supposed to be him, not her. She shouldn’t even be here.

  It was supposed to be him.

  His shoulders pressed inward, nails biting into muscle. He tried to swat it away, but it only grew harder. Distracting him, pulling him away from her. Pulling him…

  Campbell forced his eyes open, a hard gasp pressing against his lips as his brain pushed him over the threshold from sleep to alert. The dream tried to come with him, bits of horrific imagery clinging to his racing mind. The pinched sensation at his shoulders remained, and something soft and firm had him banded to the mattress.

  And Varina was still there. Only he could see her now. She wasn’t screaming anymore, nor was she buried under demons. She was…

  He blinked. The image didn’t change.

  Varina was in his room. She was here, straddling him. She was real.

  Campbell stared at her, panting, his heart thundering and his rushing blood deafening. He fought through the mental fog, sure he had missed something, remembering vaguely that she’d pissed him off but not caring very much at the moment. Because she was here. Not dead. Not at the Colosseum. She was right where she needed to be.

  On his lap, wearing nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts.

  Fuck, he hoped she didn’t punch him for what he was about to do.

  Campbell sat up just far enough to capture her cheeks between his hands and bring her mouth crashing to his. And either he was still dreaming, or Varina had stopped giving a shit, because her tongue pushed its way into his mouth almost immediately, bringing a soft whimper along with it. And that was it. He was lost. Her taste flooded his senses, leaving him dizzy and aching and in need of something he could barely name. Every beat in his body began to pulse and throb, his dick instantly awake, hardening with the need for her touch. Her tongue. Her cunt. Whatever she would give him.

  Real. She’s real. This is here.

  Campbell’s mouth pulled and played, getting to know hers all over again, emboldened. She began rubbing herself against his thigh, and though her skin felt cool to the touch, the heat searing from her pussy nearly burned him alive.

  There were rules, he remembered. Reasons to stop…maybe. He should pull back and ask if this was what she wanted. Do the noble thing, or some other shit. But at the moment, Campbell didn’t have the strength. He just needed—needed her, and it felt like she needed him too.

  God, he hoped she did. If she didn’t, there was a good chance she’d get a front row seat of a grown man crying.

  A prospect that seemed imminent the next second, when Varina gently pushed back on his chest. Their lips broke apart. Campbell found himself staring up at her, panting and doing his damnedest not to act like he was out of his mind with want. Of course, given that his hard cock was between them, stiff and saluting and so very happy to see her, he didn’t have much of a poker face.

  Varina studied him for what felt like eternity, then favored him with a truly saucy, balls-tightening grin before she fisted the hem of her tank top and drew the thin garment over her head. Campbell’s mouth ran dry, his eager eyes soaking in the sight of her full, bared breasts before his hands remembered themselves. He palmed her, his thumbs finding her nipples, and his heart threatening to explode when she graced him with a moan.

  Fuck, she was gorgeous. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman more beautiful.

  Then, because he couldn’t help it, he lifted his head and took one of her nipples between his teeth, his hands skimming down between them to explore the cotton-clad apex of her thighs. At the first touch of his fingers, Varina whimpered and thrust against him. He felt her fingers tunnel through his hair, her nails skimming his scalp. Campbell growled into her skin, sucking and teasing her nipple before kissing his way across her chest so he could lavish the same attention on her neglected breast. She jerked and ground herself against his thigh, her left hand slipping between them.

  Oh yes. His cock jerked, hot need pulsing through his body. He released a small sigh when she closed her fist around his shaft.

  Campbell left her breast with a parting lick, then kissed his way up her collarbone, her throat, not stopping until her mouth was his again. He fed her a small groan when she squeezed and pulled at his cock, his own hand fighting to find an opening to her boxers. He needed to feel her. Needed to touch her, make her as crazy for him as he was at the moment. He needed to feel her come apart on his fingers, his mouth, his dick. He just needed like he hadn’t needed anything.

  Then she pulled away, wrenching her mouth from his and releasing his cock without preamble. Campbell’s heart constricted—he would have been well and truly worried if not for her soft, teasing grin. A grin he didn’t understand until the rip of fabric pealed through the air, and he realized she’d literally torn off her shorts.

  Holy fuck.

  She tossed the fabric aside, rolling her hips so that the hot, wet mouth of her pussy came in contact with his cock. She nearly scalded rational thought out of his head, but he couldn’t keep his mind from spiraling. From catching on that one quick flash—that moment where she’d chosen.

  She’d ripped her clothes off. Never in his considerably long life had anything like that happened before—never had a woman done the ripping. He didn’t know why the image stuck, but it did. It wasn’t just what she’d done, but how she’d done it. That soft grin, the light in her eyes, the parts of her that were wholly Varina. The utter, complete trust with which she’d regarded him.

  His heart jerked again, though the ache was different this time.

  It wasn’t until she lowered her lips to his again, until she sucked his tongue back inside her mouth, that he realized what had changed.

  He was in love with her.

  A stab of familiar fear chased the thought, dizzying and consuming and without end. But the knowledge remained.

  Varina’s hot mouth returned to his before his brain could take him from the moment. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the lips of her sex cradling his erection. She was fire in liquid form, burning him from the inside out. He felt her heart thundering against him, felt every vibration in her body. His heart swelled to the point of bursting, but he couldn’t focus on that now.

  Now he needed her.

  Campbell bucked against her, seized her by the shoulders and rolled her over. Her legs opened in welcome, and he found himself perched between them, the tip of his cock poised at her wet opening. A long, ragged breath fought its way through his throat. He gazed down at her, waiting. Needing and waiting.

  Varina rolled her hips and spread her legs wider. She caught his gaze and held.

  Then, miracle of miracles, she nodded.

  That was all he needed. Campbell reclaimed her lips as he slid
his cock into her pussy. It was like plunging into the sun, hot as she was, and he couldn’t get enough. Her vaginal walls clamped down on him immediately, strangling him sweetly, and he was a gone man. Gone. He pulled his mouth from hers, his head finding her shoulder, a long shudder rippling through him as his hips developed a rhythm.

  This was different. Different than when he’d been inside her before. The feral need that had possessed him then still pulsed, but there was something else as well. The burning in his chest—the echoed epiphany he couldn’t push aside. It amplified every movement. Every beat. Every time he pulled away, that pushed him back. Until it seemed he could feel her skin as though it was his own.

  It was too much and not enough at the same time. Her slippery skin colliding with his, the way her pussy hugged him tighter every time he plunged back inside. The gentle gasps that ricocheted through her at his thrusts, a soft cadence edging him faster, faster. He loved her hot breath at his ear, fanning his hair, and the way she clutched and scratched at him, her hips rolling and her cunt grasping him again and again. The bedsprings whined in beat, joined by the hot smacks of wet flesh. Every sound she made went straight to his dick, propelling his thrusts harder, harder until it seemed everything in the room was moving along with them.

  Campbell had never been a chatty lover. He preferred listening to the music of sex as much as anything—there was nothing quite like hearing a woman gasp and moan and respond to the way he fucked her. With Varina, though, he found himself with a throat full of things he wanted to tell her. How fucking incredible she felt, how he wanted to bury his face between her thighs and feast. Wanted to fuck her with his tongue and see if he could really make her sing. Wanted to lap at her clit as her pussy clenched around his fingers. Wanted to feel her mouth on his cock. Wanted her tongue to trace every vein and lick around the head until he saw stars. Wanted, wanted…

  But those confessions wouldn’t come, because leading the way were three words that terrified him. On repeat, over and over, making his balls constrict and his dick throb, shoving him across a threshold he hadn’t known was there.