A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  She giggles at my advance, low and sultry, as we keep turning through the throngs of other dances. “We could,” she murmurs.

  “No, we couldn’t,” I snarl back, hunting a new direction across the floor. Never will we do that. “You’re just a useful rutting post. Grind harder.”

  Another giggle, as her hip gives more leverage for me. “So callous, Gray. I like you more in this mood.”

  Of course she does. I’m tuning into Malachi for the night.

  Chapter 13

  Hannah

  T he long trail of my dress drags behind me, heavy with black jewels and crystals, as I weave through the people in this room I’ve found. It’s dark here. Murky and shadowed against the lighter air outside on the main floor. And it smells of sin.

  Slaps crack around the room, laughter and moans following them in a new pulse of their own making. I stand and close my eyes under this elaborate mask, smelling and listening to the continuous sound with no care for the position I’m in. It’s all so beautiful, like a desperate need fulfilled by hands and bodies and objects.

  My eyes flutter open slowly at a scream close by, and I spin gently to watch as a man strings a woman up higher and higher into the air. Ropes embellish her skin, creating patterns and knots that seems to constrict and heave tighter on each next pull. I stare as she arches and swings above me, fascinated by the sense of bliss she seems to be under. The scream seems laced with fear, but her face seems anything but fearful. Serene, maybe.

  Tranquil.

  “He hasn’t found you yet,” Malachi’s voice says from somewhere.

  I twirl again to look at him and find nothing amongst the dark shadows and corners but other people. Still, I smile at the thought of him nearby, remembering our time together, and run my fingers over the lace at my stomach’s bruises. This must be his type of fun. Dark, dangerous.

  I look upward again, wondering if this woman would die if she fell now. Deadly? Maybe that’s Gray’s fun, too. My fingers twine the gold chain around themselves, looping it and gripping. I could do this for him if he asked. I could spin and fall, crash into his arms and hope for protection.

  I giggle at that and look around, chasing more visions in this cacophony of dirt and sex. Grim visuals assault me, all of them deemed acceptable because of the joviality on the faces dealing with them. A bar tans a man’s behind in the corner, the thwacks of it loud and aggressive. And a knife slices skin on another woman, ejaculate mingling with the blood drawn. I briefly wonder if any of them are married like Malachi and Faith are, and then I dismiss the notion. No memories now. No thoughts backwards. Hannah is here.

  No one else but the singular.

  “Don’t turn around,” Malachi says. His body presses into mine, arms latching around my waist and fingers dragging on the bruises he caused. “Do they hurt?”

  “No. Not especially.”

  “I’ll have to hit you harder next time.”

  My smile widens at the thought. Harder means better orgasms. I’d like some of those. “Why can’t I turn around?”

  “Because you’ll fall in love, and Gray will be lost for the evening with no one to fuck.”

  I feel the hard length of his cock press into my lower back, the weight of it pushed in hard as his fingers tighten on the welted areas. They burn from his touch, as if signalling a need lower down between my thighs. I purr at the feel of it all, my eyes still fixed on the sight of cum falling across the woman’s stomach, and I roll back into him through instinct alone.

  “As he said, it’s only you he wants. Why is that?” he murmurs.

  I don’t know. But it’s true of me, too. I ache for Gray now. Deep down. Low in my body, as if it’s lost without a missing part. No one has ever been there before him, never touched me in ways he does or handled me the way he can. I flinch at the thought, my body still undulating of its own accord, as I watch another slice of skin.

  “Blood play,” eases out of Malachi’s lips. “You like?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You liked the blade on you, too.” Did I?

  Cold, metal.

  No other words are spoken for some time. We both just stand here, taking in the sights around us and listening to the distant grunts and moans. It’s almost quiet in my mind other than the sound of Malachi’s breathing above me. That’s all I can really hear, as he keeps rubbing his cock into me slowly and rests his chin on my head.

  “Have you stayed off the pills like Malachi said?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I move away from him, manoeuvring my dress around the bodies and feet littering the ground. “I have one night. I’m enjoying it,” I murmur. “The time for remembering is not yet."

  One night. One more night and then I leave. He won’t take no for an answer again. I know that. I felt it in his words and then felt it in my body when I stared at myself in the mirror earlier. Faith said as much to me, regardless of her telling me I could stay as long as I wanted, as she dressed me. She said he was obsessed, infatuated, and that that was a precarious place to be with men like Gray.

  I don’t really know what that meant, but I can’t deny the fact that unless I hide, or run, or ask Malachi to fight Gray for me, which I doubt he will, I will be going home after this.

  “I just want to dance, Malachi. Lose myself again.”

  A hand threads into mine, as I move into a new room without him, and I look up to see who it is. The sight makes me gasp slightly and trip over something, as the malicious face stares down at me. Black eyes, vivid red veins on a dark red background, and a cruel smile that seems as dead as it appears, imposing on the mask.

  It twists in my vision, moving around and coming in closer to back me up to a wall.

  “Veins,” puffs out of me, as I remember the dance floor, the fear.

  My shoulders climb against the brick surface, grating and roughing, as my eyes flick sideways for escape routes. There aren’t any. Just this mask and the fear it emanates. I pant, deep breaths trying to calm me down. It’s only a mask. That’s all. There are no real demons here or any need to be scared. Something galvanises at the thought of that. No demons. Nothing to test my resolve when it comes to fun and laughter.

  I reach forward for the mask, gently dancing my fingertips on the hard surface so I can feel the contours and ridges. Smooth, heatless. I smile and tilt my own gaze, enjoying the devilish eyes glinting behind the holes, and then move my lips forward to the black line that is slightly open. He can’t hide who is here. Shouldn’t either. Masks or none, Malachi is as Malachi should be.

  A breath blows out of me into the slit, my own lips grazing what should be a mouth. “It suits you, Malachi,” I murmur.

  “Are you tempted to let me use you instead of him?” he asks. Not with that on his face. He’s right. It’s definitely not something to fall in love with.

  Not that anything is anymore.

  “No,” I reply listlessly, waning under the thought, as he takes my hand again.

  My hearts beats weakly under the torment of old wounds, unable to deny the floating sense of disenchantment I’ve fallen into now. But I stare off to the side and let more visuals collide with the slow burn inside me. He ignores them all and leads the way, cutting through people like an ocean that seems to part for him.

  A woman stands perched on a table, her legs wide as a man pummels his arm inside her. I squirm at the scene, grasping my thighs tightly to get past that particular offer of torment.

  “What are we going to do with him, pretty thing?”

  I don’t understand the question, nor do I care now I’ve thought of love again, so I keep up as he leads me into another space and then downwards. Rough, stone steps clatter under my heels, even rougher walls grazing my arms because of the speed of descent. Eventually we break out into a small room and he points at a cave like tunnel in front of him.

  “Where does that go?” I ask. “I wanted to dance.”

  “Somewhere. Everywhere. Would you lik
e to go?” My lips quirk, mind trying to keep up with his strange ways. I giggle and stare at the long malicious nose that sticks out from his face, my hands reaching for the covering over my own eyes. “I wondered if he might try to save you again.”

  “From what?”

  “Me.”

  I laugh and keep staring at his mask of a face, unsure what I need saving from anymore. Maybe he did seem scary at first with his face full of veins, but he’s been inside me now, been gentle with me using feathers. That was before he beat me with something, but even that was sensual in some way I can’t process yet. Whatever fear I had of Malachi seems lost and meaningless now, perhaps deemed rash or impulsive because I didn’t know him. It’s not unlike how I felt for Gray at first. And that sense of distress has long since left me.

  Gray.

  My body turns back for the entranceway we just came through, a longing building inside me because of the thought of him. He’s not there, though. It’s only us and wherever I’m being led. I shouldn’t care. I am singular, alone. But I do care. I asked for him tonight. For him, not Malachi, and I can feel him inside me still, hear his groans and calls to me from the distance, feel his heat.

  I sway slightly at the memories bedding into my skin, colours merging all around me, as the dull beat carries on above us. “Lead the way, Malachi,” I muse, picking up my dress again. What does it matter who I follow? They’re only memories. Not real. Nothing is here.

  We travel swiftly, his hand still towing me. I remember the feeling of following him like this before. We turned, went upwards until we were on the roof looking out at the view. Malachi says. My head shakes, mind trying to find some resonance with memories I can’t quite grasp. His trick. He wouldn’t show me. Said he wouldn’t do it even though I won.

  Swinging balls.

  “What is your trick?” I ask, still being towed by his hand.

  “I have several, which one are you talking about?” he rumbles, a chuckle coming soon after. Deeper and deeper we go down the tunnel, the sounds of the music above us disappearing. “I have how to dangle a woman on a thread by any body part I’m amused by. Useful. I also have how to fuck a woman to death. It depends on my mood. I don’t like women much.” Perhaps I should gasp, or show horror at the thought, but it all seems so natural from his mouth. And he can’t mean it anyway. It’s just a taunt, something to make me feel fear again so that I shiver under his stare. Not this time.

  Not anymore. There is no fear. No pain either.

  “Swinging balls?” I ask.

  “We’re here.”

  The sudden dank cave we arrive in holds nothing but chilly air and a fusty outlook. I shiver instantly, wondering what this has to do with anything. He lets go of me and circles the small space, eventually lighting a torch and replacing it in a holding after he’s lit another few.

  “That’s beautiful,” I whisper, stepping forward quietly.

  Swathes of light dance across the expanse of water that was hidden in the dark when we arrived. It flickers off the roof of the cave, skipping across stalactites that hang low. I’m mesmerised by it, part in awe of anything so magnificent and aged. One lone droplet ripples down on the calm surface, pushing a wave of wrinkles across the perfection.

  “Take your dress off.” My head swings back to look at him slowly, body inching forward again to the water’s edge.

  “Why?”

  “You’re going for a swim. And I like that dress. It’s my wife’s. Malachi says go for a swim.”

  Malachi says.

  I shiver again and look at the perfectly still water, wondering what it would be like to swim somewhere like this. Cold, I should think. Still, I can’t stop myself from walking closer to it, tempted into the thought, as I scrunch the fabric of my dress higher. The heels slip from my feet, toes reaching for the edge. I could dance in it. Rise and fall and find a rhythm of my own down here without anyone to interrupt my thoughts. I’d be reborn. A new me. A me who worries for nothing and thinks only about what she needs rather than what men want.

  Another step gets me closer, close enough that a small pebble tumbles into the surface and creates more magical undulations. I reach forward, trying to trace the patterns with my fingers before they come to a still again.

  “She is not going swimming.”

  Gray’s voice cuts through the silence, and I turn to see his hazy form ducking through the tunnel entrance behind us. His full, black mask sits on his face, showing barely any resemblance to the beauty I know beneath it, but I know that voice. I can feel it again, crawling through me and pulling me backwards away from this majesty. “What the hell are you doing, Malachi?”

  “Playing.”

  “Stop it.”

  “No. Malachi says go for a swim.”

  Malachi says.

  I turn back for the water again and let it mesmerise me further. Dramatic. Like me. I laugh and tune out the sounds of them talking behind me. Harsh words. Bitter words. Words filled with anger and hatred. I don’t care for it. I care for this and the offering it brings to cleanse myself of before.

  My hands grab at the clips behind my neck, opening them so the dress skims and pools down to my bare feet. Cold. So cold. Not lifeless, though. Here is full of life and memories. Decades of them. I’ll swim and splash, laugh and linger in the timeless sensation. One step, two, and the icy chill flows through my skin and bones. I suck in rapid breaths, trying to stay calm as it assaults me.

  Frigid.

  Not like me.

  Deeper in I go, hands splayed out to the sides of me as I push the waves around. It licks at me, creating patterns across my skin. So peaceful here. Quiet and noiseless. Only the sound of the water and me breathing through it. It flows over my breasts, making me gasp and stutter out, as my nipples tighten painfully. My teeth chatter. Chattering. We used to chatter. Rick and I. We talked and planned, made a future in front of us to dream about.

  Lies.

  One more step and the rocky ground underneath me disappears. A breath hauls into me and I sink under, slowly descending. There’s a beat in my ears. Music running along with my heartbeat. Charming. I’m cocooned in here. Lost and drifting, yet held tight in a grip swirling endlessly to keep me still and comforted. So quiet. No din or stimulus. Just me and my body sinking downwards, the distant sound of my own music carrying on.

  Bubbles creep out of me, and I watch them rise upwards and away from me through the murky water all around. I’ll break the surface with them soon. Arise and be new. But not yet. I’m sinking first. Finding the bottom so I can push off it when I get there.

  Chapter 14

  Gray

  M y body crashes into the wall, hard hands shoving me there. I glare and right myself, pitching sideways to get around him, as I rip the mask from my face.

  “You are not getting passed me, Gray. Not for the next few minutes.”

  I snarl and move forward again, intent on getting her the hell out of that freezing water before she dies. Stupid. Why she followed him here is beyond me. I watched her sink under, fought him as she slowly slid beneath and he held me fast.

  “Get out the way.”

  “No. She needs this.”

  I growl and pace, not sure what the hell he thinks she needs but damn sure dying isn’t on the fucking cards today. “She’ll die if she’s in there too long.”

  “And?”

  “What?”

  “What does that matter to you? Maybe that’s what she wants. I’m helping.”

  He chuckles under the mask, his frame perfectly still between me and the pool. I keep watching the shadows play over his mask, as I pace the back wall, the loose frame of it highlighted on the cave walls around us. None of this make any sense. Still. And him bringing her down here, away from me, is passed the point of what tonight is supposed to be for her.

  My eyes dart to the surface of the water, as small pockets of air break through the calm.

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but it needs to stop.”<
br />
  “Why?”

  Anger blazes in me at his disinterest in her life, enough so that I propel myself into him. He moves, counters, and damn near kicks my feet from under me.

  “You won’t beat me, Gray. And you don’t care enough about her anyway, do you?”

  More rage builds in me at those words, as I pull myself upright again. I do care about her. Of course I damn well care. I wouldn’t damn well be here if I didn’t care for her. I’d be at home, working, not having to deal with any of this and doing the things I should be doing rather than the things I shouldn’t. I move in closer, no care if he manages to hit me or not. I am going through him to that water, and if I need to take him with me I will. “Malachi. Move.”

  “No.”

  The speed of my fist into his neck shocks him enough that he buckles slightly under the weight of it, and that gives me the chance to shove him sideways and rush at the water. My shoes hit the edge, the next step fully intent on going straight under to find her, and then I see her head slowly rise out of it twenty feet away. She lingers there, her mouth barely above the surface, and gazes at me across the water. Dark hair slicked back. Embellished dark crystals over her mask. All those hollows and ridges sharpened because of her insipid features cutting a harsh line through the lapping pool.

  I stare, unsure what she’s doing so still out there. She must be near frozen. Barely able to breathe under the torment of the ice against her skin. But there’s still no movement from her as she scowls at me across the rippling surface. Nothing other than a perfect frame across from me, and eyes that burrow in further every time I see them.

  “Come out,” I call, waving my hand. Her head slowly moves side to side, hardly affecting the light swirl of the water around her. “Hannah. Now. Swim out.”