Sin of Fury

by Avery Duncan

  Murderous crimson eyes connected with Jamie’s. She froze, knowing that if he could have, he would have killed her. Lyne’s chest puffed up, yet the disdain for her remained. The man fell limply into the ground, not a muscle moving in the aftermath. Jamie cursed herself, the damnation she had caused herself ingrained into her mind, into her soul. For defying his brother, Lyne was going to use her deal to his advantage.

  “Auro,” he snapped, flinging her away from him. The look of a virile man, of consideration, was gone, replaced by cruel calculation. “Take him to the rooms. Clean him. I want their coupling to be over tonight,” he said. By Auro’s shocked expression, it was obvious that Lyne rarely commanded him, or took charge of anything with such authority. He started to shake his head, but Lyne’s hiss stopped him.

  The look he gave Jamie chilled her to her soul. She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself, all of their eyes turning on her. The unknown man’s filled with hate, Auro’s filled with murder, and Lyne’s filled with authority.

  Jamie looked away, towards the door. As much as she wished she could make a run for it, she had to stay for him. He had probably done nothing to deserve this, and since she was dragged in, she wasn’t leaving without him. Once they were out, they could go on with their lives and hopefully forget about everything.

  She knew the thought was ridiculous, false. Still, she hoped.

  “Yes, brother,” Auro spat, yanking the man to his feet. A viscous roar came from him then, and he lashed out, catching Auro on his chin. Jamie watched with horrified fascination as he rounded on the pale man with a murderous fury, Lyne jumping in to stop the attack.

  He was on the ground in seconds, eyes shut, blood pooling at his temple. Her heart pounded before Auro picked him up with such ease that she blinked. A tear slowly fell down her cheek, watching him walk away. “He is going to my room?” she blurted once Auro had left. Lyne paused, looking down at her as if he had forgotten about she was there.

  Then he nodded, a perverted smile gracing his weathered face. “And you’re going to mine.”

  Bile rose in her throat at the damning words, but she couldn’t regret them. Not when they had helped the man, not when it would mean freeing them. She forced herself to think of this as Chris and her, how he would force himself on her when she did something wrong, when he was drunk or angry.

  Just Chris, she coaxed herself, avoiding his leering crimson eyes.

  You know it isn’t “just Chris”, her mind whispered to her. It’s “just some monster who is going to suck you dry and have his way with you”.

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced herself to be strong. If she kept the man safe, he would be their way of escape. Just Chris, she chanted, shuddering with disgust as his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, leading her...like some kind of dog.

  They were exiting the dark room in time to see the man’s bloodied feet disappear behind a corner. The fact that Auro had the strength to carry a grown man, one twice the size of any she had ever seen before, attested to what she suspected to be true. They weren’t human.

  The house amazed her for the second time. It was large, spacious, dark and goth. It was mysterious, terrifying, and made her want to weep. Where Chris’s house had been light and airy, it had still been a prison. This house was dark and terrifying, the exact opposite of Chris’s house and yet so painfully similar.

  Torches cast shadows, like dark ghosts reaping their revenge. How many men had died here? she thought. Lyne yanked her along, tearing her gaze away from a portrait of the twins together, a malnourished bloodhound at their feet. In its mouth was a limp rodent, shredded to bits. It looked like a cat.

  Jamie swallowed past the bitter taste in her mouth. Her old cat, Ralph, would have howled.

  Before she realized what was happening, she was veered into a room and the door slammed shut behind her. A tense, cold silence screamed through the room. Her ears rang. Her hands were numb. Jamie thought she was going to vomit. A cold hand caressed her arm. Her head spun.

  “Why would you put yourself on the line,” Lyne murmured softly, “for such a monster? What good has he done you?”

  The gentle curiosity was a false mask to what hid beneath his ancient features. His eyes, while conciliatory, were narrowed with slight anger, as if he didn’t want to know but needed to ask. Jamie flinched.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she answered, voice cracking. His frosty finger trailed over her shoulder, around the nape of her neck. Shivers spread across her pale skin. Not with passion, but with horror, fear, repulsion. Never in her life had a mans touch affected her so. Even with Chris, it had been discomforting and she had hated him for it, but it had not made her want to die, to curl into a ball and get burned alive with hopes of relinquishing his acidic touch on her skin.

  “Oh, dear,” he said, the endearment said with mock understanding. “Sure you do. We warned you about what that monster is capable of. You did not heed our warnings, and instead wish to salvage him?”

  Jamie shook her head, unable to explain. Lyne would not take kindly or accepting to Jamie using the man to escape. Her breath halted in her throat as he came around her front, finger still against her skin. The knife-like digit slid dangerously close to the swell of her breasts. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, Lyne taking it as an incentive to go further.

  She jerked back, a nervous laugh bubbling out of her throat. “Master Lyne,” she said between clenched teeth, hoping it would make him soften. It worked — his eyes gentled, appreciation for her overcoming his features. So different he was, she thought, when he was not in front of an audience.

  He was more vulnerable, more exposed and susceptible.

  Lyne curled an arm around her shoulder and led her to the large bed that lie in the center of the room. She started to refuse, wishing that Auro would barge in as she suspected he was going to. The possessiveness that he expressed to his brother was frightening, but a godsend.

  Jamie almost shoved him away, but those furious black eyes stole into her thoughts. Swallowing, she let him sit beside her on the plush bed. His arm wrapped around her tightly, his hand dangerously close to the underside of her breast. Bile rose in her throat, mind racing for ways to get out of this. Why wasn’t Auro bursting in, sword at the ready —?

  The door slid open softly, the knob tapping the wall. Jamie almost fainted with relief. Even though the delicate tap sounded more like a bomb, her shoulders still slumped.

  “Lyne, I must speak to you.”

  Auro floated into the room, eyes like frost as they drifted over her. She wrapped her arms around her waist, avoiding his eyes. There was such hate, such aberration in them. Jamie was grateful that he had come in when he had, though. A second later and Lyne would have been over her in a heartbeat.

  Lyne reluctantly dropped his arm from her shoulder, turning liquid crimson eyes his way. Jamie almost gagged when Auro stepped forward to place a gentle hand on his chest, his intent clear. Lyne’s features changed dramatically.

  “Ivan,” he snapped, though his eyes held his brothers. “Take her to Talon.”

  A large hand came out of nowhere, latching onto her arm. She went willingly, turning away from the passionate brothers. Her stomach churned as he took her from the room.

  “You’re lucky you aren’t dead right now,” he hissed at her ear, hand wrapping around her arm impossibly tight. She held in her wince, turning her chin up at him.

  “You’re lucky you can still have kids,” she returned quietly, the steel in her voice only making him incensed. He yanked, dragging a groan from her as the throbbing in her shoulder returned.

  “Just wait until that man is done with you,” he sneered, raking his eyes over her body. “There won’t be much left.”

  Jamie swallowed, not replying.

  The room she was pushed into several minutes was the same as the one she had been in before. Expansive cream walls were the same, the carpet as spotless as it had been. The only thing wrong was the bed. Laying on the spread, st
ill as stone, was the man. She tried to remember what Lyne had called him, but shrugged it off when she saw him move.

  Ivan left, slamming the door behind him.

  Relief coursed through her. She forgot about the danger he possessed, how he could — and probably would — snap her neck. If Jamie was going to rely on him to get them out, then she might as well take care of him.

  Her feet carried her to the bed, a feeling of deja vu coming over her. She could see herself, an apron clutched in her hand, soft leather shoes tipping over the floor as quietly as she could... He was there, laying, armor next to the bed. His hand was holding his head, a day's growth of stubble making him look like a rogue.

  The site of dark red blood snapped the vision from her mind. Her cheeks flushed brightly. It had almost seemed as if they were man and wife, close as no other could be. She shook the feeling off, sitting on the bed. His back, bruised and damaged, was to her, his bare legs drawn to his chest.

  As Jamie stared at him, her heart started to break.

  She bit her lip, noticing his head wasn’t even on a pillow. His skin was dark, scarred, rough-looking. Hand shaking, she started to reach for the pillow closest to him, her other hand slipping under his neck.

  At the light touch, her breath stopped. Not because it was frozen cold, or because it was so thick, but because of the sharp tingles that ran up her arm. Jamie stared down at him, confused, frightened, but still lifted his head up.

  She peered over his shoulder, her suspicions confirmed. He was asleep. Feeling braver now that he was unconscious, she stood and tugged the heavy duvet back, pulling it from under his body.

  Slowly, Jamie covered him with the blanket. Immediately, shivers had him convulsing. And still, he was asleep. She hoped so, at least. She stared around the room, at the door in the corner. Going to it cautiously for reasons she didn’t know, Jamie pulled open the door.

  A grin lit her face as she looked at the bathroom. Towels were stacked in the corner, a large bowl placed near the sink. Jamie peered into the bowl, a smile lighting her face once again. Flower petals. Dumping the petals into the sink, she turned the water on hot, grabbing a towel. She had never taken care of someone like this. Her mother had always been there for her, and had relied on no one through her hardships. The only person she had taken care of was herself. Chris had never needed her help, except when he was drunk. Her fear of him had held her back from tending to him.

  The water was hot in the bowl, a towel draped over her arm. She walked into the room, setting the half-filled bowl on the bed carefully. Feeling her heart stop in her chest at how close they were now, she slowly pulled back the blanket back from his shoulders, letting it rest on his hips. While she had been in the bathroom, he had stretched out, now laying on his chest.

  Tenderness overcame her. Long lashes swept over his proud cheek bones. His chest was huge, like a barrel. Streaks of dirt and blood covered him. She started there, softly swiping the damp cloth over his chest. She had no clue what she was doing, why she was doing it, or if she even should be doing it, but something about him, so relaxed in his sleep, called to her.

  His face was much more clear to her. In the room, the shadows had acted as a mask for him. The contours of his face had been mysterious, angry...terrifying. She shivered, remembering the horror that had overcome her when she had seen the mess of his chest and back.

  She stared at the water droplets, following their path down his chest and to his defined abs. She swallowed, feeling a sort of heat settle in her stomach. Her hand felt like it was burning, an ache settling in the lower part of her stomach.

  Jamie was just letting out a shuddering breath, feeling ashamed at the need rising within her, when something covered her hand. Jamie froze. Large, dark, thick, the man’s hand was covering hers. Her heart stopped in her chest.

  Her eyes snapped up to his, the arousal quickly replaced by fear.

  Darkly blazing eyes burned into hers.

  Awake.

  And furious.

  Chapter 6

  At first, Talon had no clue what was happening to him. Warmth, for the first time in what seemed like forever, was settling upon him with a tight embrace. Soft, delicate strokes, damp with warm water, slid across his skin with a gentleness that shocked him.

  He lay there, silently. Talon held in the shivers that ran through him, staring up at the intently working woman through narrowed eyes. Soft light surrounded him, and something covered his hips and legs. The scrape of the material was a surprise to him, the unaccustomed warmth spreading through him as she continued her gentle stroking.

  Talon almost shoved her away, almost took her hand off. The slow rage boiling in his chest was subdued, though, as he saw her eyes fill with an unfamiliar emotion. They looked wet, as if she were about to cry. She stared at his chest and wounds as if his pain were hers. Talon’s hands constricted subtly at the foreign emotion. Her eyes followed the trail of the droplets absently, her free hand moving to his leg.

  The gentle pressure of her fingers as she stroked his thigh in a comforting motion almost undid him. Feeling his chest pound, he reached up and snagged her hand. Anger, as sharp as ever, coursed through him. Her soft gasp did nothing but make his eyes narrow.

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered, attempting to pull her hand away. For some reason he didn’t understand, he tightened his grip around her hand. The fear in her eyes calmed him, but only minimally. Talon held her eyes, dull shock dawning on him.

  She was by no means beautiful, he thought with disgust. Her lower lip was too full, her cheeks were too high and regal, and her dark hair was just...too dark. Her shoulders were slim, and with the brighter light he saw more of her than he thought was healthy.

  The dress was strapless, the corset extra tight. She looked to be having slight trouble breathing, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or how constricting the thing was. Her waist was small, too delicate for his liking. Her hands were slender and pale, just like the rest of her body. He could have easily snapped her wrist, he thought, considering. She would not be so foolish to touch him again.

  But even as she tried to pull away to do the very thing he wanted her to, his hand kept her still. He noticed when her hand left his thigh. A snarl escalated from his throat, the veracity of it bringing fear to her eyes.

  “Listen, I’m really sorry. Just let me go and I can leave you alone...” She trailed off, voice becoming weak as he brought his eyes to hers. His hand relaxed, yet he didn’t let her go. His shoulders loosened. His lips parted on an exhale.

  Her eyes were so blue...and too big. He forced himself to believe that she was no beauty, forced himself to remember that she was a pawn for Auro and Lyne and wanted nothing but his demise. She was surely working with them, he thought, turning his head from her.

  If Talon hadn’t been so weak, he would have cleaned himself. But as it was, he found himself letting her hand go, not pushing it away but letting it sit there, the damp cloth turning cold in the frigid air.

  There was a tense silence in which he thought she was pull away. Instead, slowly, the cloth was pulled from his chest and replaced warmer than before. He glanced at her face, turned down from his gaze. Talon felt uneasy when he saw the blush overcome her face, her shoulders tensing with every second.

  She turned so stiff her hand started to shake. Talon sighed, and did something he hadn’t done for months.

  He spoke. “Stop.”

  The woman squeaked, her hand stopping. Even to his own ears his voice was rough, like colliding rocks. It boomed through the room, even though he hadn’t said it loudly. It almost hurt to talk, he thought, closing his eyes briefly.

  He tried again, wondering how he was going to get her to calm down. The shakiness in her hands could only be catastrophic to his torn chest. If she were to dig the cloth too sharply into his chest he would only feel pain, might only attack her.

  Talon spoke uneasily. “Don’t be scared. I won’t kill you until you do something wrong,” he said, hat
ing how deep his voice was. Not only was it deep, but it was scratchy and it hurt to talk.

  For a second, her face shown only confusion. And then fear as realization dawned on her. He watched her face pale a second before she stood, rushing to the door in the corner. Talon felt like an ass as he heard the rushing water, could imagine her crying silently, alone.

  He started to sit up, grimacing.

  No one had ever bothered to take care of him. His ravaged body had taken a fierce toll. He pushed aside the blanket and stared down at himself. His skin was loose, bones showing. He no longer had a perfectly tanned, perfectly formed body. Disgust rolled through him.

  He sat up, drawn to the woman in the bathroom. She had just been trying to help. While she may be a pawn for Auro and Lyne, it was unlikely they had told her to clean him, to even use warm water on him. It stung, but it was better than ice cold water.

  Soft steps on the carpet drew his eyes to her. She had a cup in her hand, but her face was still pale. And dry — meaning she hadn’t cried. Relief coursed through him, then anger. He hated himself for caring, even if it was just a small amount.

  Yet, as she came forward, the dress flowing behind her with an ethereal grace, he didn’t take in the room as he would have. He saw nothing but her, but the calm masked that sat upon her face. He wondered how hard it would be to break her, how long it would be till he could rid himself of her.

  First, though, she would clean him. His shaking arms collapsed under him, his strength sapped. That he had even thought of using such precious strength to go to her was alarming.

  “You sound like something crawled in your throat and died,” she said nervously, holding the cup. She didn’t seem to notice when she drew the covers back over his hips, up to his pectorals.