The Secrets of a Sin, page 9
Jesus, this man was infuriating. It was like he knew exactly what buttons to press to rile me up.
“Can you just stop?” I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance. I wasn’t going to sit here all night and go back and forth with him. After last night’s ‘slip up’, I swore to myself that Arsen would never see me like that again. See me so desperate and unhinged for that ten-second high I madly fantasized about.
He was so damn infuriating and potent that I felt his intensity seep through my bones. I was now sure I was permanently marred by him. But the worst of it all is that he wants me too. Not in the simple infatuation kind of way. He wants me carnally. As I leisurely fucked myself on his thigh, I saw the raw hunger in his eyes. I was shocked he didn’t take advantage of my anguished state, but I wasn’t all that surprised when he decided to humiliate me instead. I should’ve known he was going to be an asshole, just like the two men who ruined my life. But they at least had the decency to let me come before they decimated my reputation.
“Last night was a… huge, ginormous, never-going-to-happen-again mistake that I wish never happened.” I awkwardly admit with extra fidgety hands that can’t seem to stop moving. “I… I don’t know what came over me, but I’d like for us to forget the incident and move on.” I straighten my stance and meet his eyes, seeing an amused expression as his mouth turns up into another smirk. He remains silent as I widen my eyes waiting for his answer. “Arsen…” I groan, starting to feel a bit heated under his heavy stare and intimidating frame.
“You want me to forget about you fucking my leg last night?
Jesus.
Cringing, I slowly nod, swallowing a large lump in my throat as he chuckles darkly.
“Kind of hard when you left a stain on my right pant leg.” He brushes a lone finger across the bottom of his lip as I feel seconds away from darting down the hall and hiding.
Why was he doing this to me?
Every word that comes out of this man’s mouth was either demeaning, rude as hell, or angry. Nothing nice is ever uttered from his lips.
“Arsen, I’m serious.” I beg, hoping he notices the desperation in my voice. The only way I was going to forget and move on was if he forgot it as well. “I can’t help you if all I can think about is what we did and how humiliated I feel about it…” I gravitate my eyes away from his as I feel my cheeks heat to a burning degree. I was beyond mortified about what happened. How easily I lost it and let my emotions take over. But what made me more uneasy was the fact that his eyes never left my face as he remained silent and unresponsive. Gnawing at my bottom lip for some sort of comfort, I reluctantly meet his potent stare head-on. For a second there, I notice a slight twitch of his mouth, but it’s soon hidden by his finger that kneads back and forth across his chin and lower lip. “And here I thought you were an expert at fucking men’s thighs.” He jokes, causing me to internally cringe and heat up.
“I’m not. I don’t do… those kinds of things anymore.” I stammer, not wanting to go further into detail, but his curious expression and darkened eyes say that I'm totally in for it. “Before you even ask, no. I’m not discussing any of this with you.”
Standing a couple of feet in front of me, Arsen closes the gap between us in one long step that has my heart galloping and causes my breathing to stagger. Every part of him is invading my senses, and I am as helpless as I am fucked. Dressed in a pair of stained leggings and a long sleeve tee, Arsen greedily swallows me whole as if I was wearing the most scandalous pair of lingerie when, in reality, I looked damn near homeless. “Anymore? Now you have me intrigued, angel.” His nostrils flare as he inhales me in. My eyes flutter for a short moment as ruinous ideas course through my head and down to my traitorous center. His eyes alone cause a cataclysmic quake to rock my thighs, but it is his closeness that has me trembling from head to toe. By now, he knows the best way to torment me was not to touch me. That standing nearly nose-to-nose would be enough to send me into cardiac arrest or perhaps something worse.
“Don’t call me angel.” I try to muster up my best snarl, but Arsen’s wide toothy grin has my thighs twisting. His striking face slowly lowers until our eyes are perfectly aligned, and all I see are pools of black which have me afraid of drowning in their depths. It's as if his pupils no longer exist, and his whole eye is now the darkest shade of black I’ve ever encountered.
“I think I’ve earned the right to call you whatever the fuck I please, don’t you agree?” He stares deep into my soul, clawing his way further and further into a place I didn’t want him to find. I closed off the deepest parts of me, knowing that if I let myself open again, I would just end up hurt like before. I was already too damaged and broken beyond repair, and a man like Arsen would be enough to shatter me completely.
With a scrunch of my face, I glare hard into his soul-sucking eyes. “How the hell have you earned that right? You’ve been nothing but an ass to me the whole time we’ve known each other.”
He chuckles lowly in my face, causing my nostrils to fill with a mixture of his minty breath and tobacco. The smell is dominant, conquering my senses and warping them all until every piece of Arsen becomes permanently engraved into my body. “I’ve earned that right the second I’ve felt that juicy cunt of yours rub against my leg. Perhaps instead of using a harmless nickname, I should return the sentiment?” Brushing his hand across my taut stomach, my insides squirm, and my skin breaks out in a cluster of goosebumps. As he strokes below my belly button, his eyes lock in on my mouth, staring at my lips as if he's starving for a taste. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Choking on my cock until your eyes fill with tears.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it takes every ounce of strength inside me not to taste his mouth.
The mention of his cock doesn’t make matters any easier.
“Open your mouth for me, angel. Let me see just how wide you can go.” He demands with a glazed look in his eyes. I am bewitched and in a fragile state as every part of me wants to obey him.
But obeying Arsen would be my downfall. Once I let him have all of me, I’d want all of him.
“I thought you didn’t fuck teenagers.” I argue, even though I am already considered an adult at eighteen. But at this point, I would say anything to get a rise out of him.
His face is unreadable but his movements on my stomach continue. “You’re right,” And just like that, he removes his warm fingers from my belly and leaves me breathless. “I don’t.” A cocky grin replaces the lust-filled trance that consumed his eyes, and like a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped over my head, I scowl.
“Well, I don’t screw assholes.” I flatten my palms down the sides of my mesh shorts. “So, at least we're on the same page.”
“Good thing.” He regards me closely before shifting his eyes away from mine and towards the vacant entryway. The halls of St. Catherine’s are cloaked in darkness, with a single hanging lamp hanging off each corridor wall. I usually avoided walking around the school at night due to the eeriness of the atmosphere. Even now, with Arsen, I still managed to explode in goosebumps that trailed over both arms and legs.
But unfortunately, I had a feeling the creepiness of the school wasn’t the cause of it.
“Well, you got what you wanted. I’m here.” I plant both hands on my hips. “Now what?”
In a matter of seconds, he shifts into vengeful brother mode, and with fire brewing in his eyes, he responds.
“Now we find out who murdered my fucking sister.”
We were both silent the whole walk to Phoebe’s room. In all honesty, I didn't even know how to speak to Arsen unless he had some rude or vile remark that I could counter. And small talk didn’t really seem like his cup of tea anyway, so instead, I remained at a safe shoulder-to-shoulder distance from him as we came to a stop at her door.
I waited for him to grab the handle, but his cold eyes appeared lost as he stared intensely at the door. He was stuck frozen or in a trance, completely withdrawn from this moment.
Was this his first time going into her room after her death?
Or was he going to suffer through another one?
My heart sank watching him, but as quickly as he had become paralyzed, he reached for the handle.
As soon as he opens the door to her room, his whole demeanor shifts. His body stiffens in front of me, halting his movements as if his feet are nailed to the floor beneath us.
“Arsen?” I apply the slightest pressure of my hand on his back, hoping to soothe whatever pain he feels right now, and, surprisingly, he doesn’t shrug me off. From the little time I’ve spent with him, I’ve never actually seen him grieve Phoebe. Not in the way most people do. Tears were non-existent, but the anger was there, coursing underneath that thick skin of his. He masked his emotions well with sexual innuendos and sinister smiles, but, deep down, I knew Phoebe’s death wreaked havoc on his soul. “Are you okay?” I foolishly ask, and he quickly shakes out of his stiffness and marches into her room. As I close the door behind me, he flicks on the light, illuminating the whole room, and it’s as if nothing has changed. Her clothes are still hanging neatly in the closet while a black cardigan lies over her made-up bed. Instead of taking in more of her room, my eyes follow Arsen. His movements are slow as he reaches for one of her shirts hanging in her closet and gently grips it between his fingers. He’s delicate with his hands, at first, like he’s trying to soak it all in and then, suddenly, he rips his hand away. His body burns with rage, trembling like a volcano that’s about to erupt, seconds away from throwing the whole damn room upside down in hopes of finding something.
It is heartbreaking to watch, no matter how much of an asshole he is. He didn’t deserve to lose his sister like this. I wish I knew how to connect with him psychically and emotionally. I wanted to feel what he felt. I wanted to take some of his pain away, even if it meant I had to carry some of the weight, but I knew that wasn’t possible. And even if it was, I had a feeling he wouldn’t burden me with his torment. He seemed like the kind of man who thrived in it, and that had made him who he is today.
A beyond broken man and a lost soul, like me.
“Arsen?” I speak up in a whisper, causing his shoulders to relax and his head to turn the side slightly, revealing his side profile. His dark hair hangs loosely past his forehead.
“I’m fine.” He swallows before shrugging off the sorrow that captured him. “How about instead of standing there staring at me, you make yourself useful and try and find something in this room?”
Grunting, I immediately avert my eyes with the word ‘dick’ on the tip of my tongue, but I know that would only entice him. He seems to enjoy my foul mouth and finding ways to get his hands on me. Brushing past him, I focus on the small end table beside her bed. An old-fashioned lamp rests on the top while a drawer beneath the surface top catches my attention. A corner of a piece of paper sticks out from the side, and I slowly tug on the knob, revealing a stack of letters.
“Didn’t the cops come in here and go through her things?” I question, reaching for the papers wondering how in the hell they could miss something like this. Pulling it out, I notice each sheet is folded neatly in half before opening the top letter.
Mea luna,
Last night, I sat outside, underneath the dark sky, in hopes that you would be gazing at the same stars I was. By now, you should know that where your eyes go, mine follow. In our time apart, the starry sky is the only thing keeping my faith alive that we'll soon be together. Every day I can’t touch you is torture for my soul and makes it harder to stay away from you. Tell me when we can meet again because I don’t know how much more time I can bear not being around you.
Yours,
Tuum solem
Each word I read sends spasms to my heart, and I don't even notice Arsen hovering over my shoulder, reading every intimate sentence on this love letter from Phoebe. I can already feel the heat radiating off his body, but it was the flaring of his nostrils that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes were practically burning holes through the flimsy paper that I was almost positive would catch on fire in my grip.
“Arsen, don’t.” I begin to tremble severely, which almost makes me drop the stack of papers, but Arsen’s pressing tone has me turning rigid.
“Give me the papers.” He demands from behind me in an eerily manner that bleeds rage. Shaking my head, I knew that these letters would potentially be explosive in Arsen’s hands. He was already unhinged, so there was no doubt in my mind that if he read more, he'd detonate.
I swiftly spin around and put a safe distance between us, holding the letters close to my chest. “You know that’s not a good idea right now.” I frown, realizing I was playing with fire. With his hand stuffed in his pocket and a haze of blackness coating his eyes, he appears seconds from jumping me and stealing them from my hands.
“I don’t give a damn if you think it’s a bad idea. Those letters could have the fucking answers to Phoebe’s death.” He snarls through his gritted teeth, but instead of feeling fear, it sends a different sensation throughout my hazardous body. Wanting to pinch myself for finding his anger and darkened glare arousing, I focus on his chin in hopes of dulling my need.
I don't make a move to give him the letters, but I soon realize that I can’t hold them hostage for my own selfish needs. Arsen is already a tornado, wild and destructive. But after reading these letters, there's no doubt in my mind that his rage will turn him into something far worse than a windstorm. I reluctantly pry the stack of papers off my chest and hold them out to Arsen, and he swiftly snatches them from my hold. He grunts in annoyance, but his beady eyes immediately seek out the letters, scanning each paper with carefulness. His face scrunches up in anger, and every now and then, he peels his eyes away to catch his breath, but the more he reads, the more his fury rises.
“Some of these are in a different fucking language!” He growls, flipping roughly through each paper. “I can’t… I don’t know what the hell this asshole is saying...”
“It’s Italian.” I answer immediately, remembering Phoebe's necklace and the engravings on the side. “It has to be Italian.”
Arsen glances up from the letters and meets my eyes. “Phoebe doesn’t know Italian.” He grunts in aggravation as he dismisses me.
“Maybe not.” I offer. “But I know where she translated them.”
8
CHARLOTTE
“Can you stop staring at me? Please.” I wiggle under his sharp stare and heavy shadow that is completely covering my form. My hands grow clammy, making it difficult to concentrate on the task of translating Phoebe’s letter, and, unfortunately, as my annoyance heightens, so does the fever in my belly.
Hovering right beside me, he slowly cages me in, dropping each palm on the table I'm sitting at, and nestles his face into the crook of my neck. “Now where's the fun in that? I happen to enjoy watching you squirm.” He breathes into my ear as I cower lower in my chair, fighting the sensations he has now igniting throughout my body. Every forbidden desire I have ever felt was nothing compared to the fiery burn Arsen creates within me. He contorted my addiction into something far worse and more deadly-a blinding obsession with a man I knew would only cause me pain.
As I try to ignore the closeness of his body and the warmth radiating off him, I continue to flip through the pages of the book. “You make everyone squirm.”
“Good.” He whispers as I find my eyes moving to his spread hands, covering the table on both sides of me. His skin is pale and perfect, causing every blue and purple vein to be visible. No tattoos or cuts mar his skin, but I noticed the sharp curve of his right index finger. It looked broken, or perhaps had been broken once, and was now healed, but with Arsen, anything was possible.
Before I can stop myself from making a fool of myself again, I slowly move my palm over to his hand and lightly brush over his finger in awe.
Arsen’s one and only flaw.
The second my skin makes contact with his, a jolt ricochets inside me, causing Arsen to repel as if he felt it too.
“Don’t.” He growls darkly, creating a large gap between us as he no longer hovers over me. His defensive walls were up and, as much as I wanted to pry him for answers, I continued translating the letter until every word was transcribed. With Arsen still lurking behind me, I quickly make my move to read the letter before he can get his eyes on it.
Why are you doing this to me? What happened to our plans? To fucking forever like you promised? Now you won’t even look at me. You avoid me like a disease and treat me as if I am nothing to you. Please just talk to me and explain what I did wrong instead of continually stomping on my heart. I can’t stand it any longer, Phoebe.
Give me answers before you completely destroy me.
Always, your moon.
Staring at what I have just written causes every organ inside my organ to twist painfully. Something happened between the two of them that caused Phoebe to end whatever relationship they had. Was he so unhinged about her rejecting him that he brutally murdered her? Or was this purely coincidental and he was just pinning for her?
I needed more. I needed more clues, more answers. I needed his goddamn name.
As I continue to stare blankly at the words, Arsen soon notices I’ve finished, and rips the paper away from me, reading what I wrote. The color drains from his handsome face as his grip on the paper tightens to the point it tears it in half.
Fuck.
Rising from my chair, I cautiously step towards him in hopes of calming his ascending anger. Not that I was the cure, but anything would be better than nothing.
“They fucking did it. I know it.” He angrily shoves the paper in my face before harshly dragging his free hand through his ruffled hair. “Whoever wrote this murdered Phoebe.” His accusing words came out in a low growl that caused my bones to rattle and my knees to shake. With my back pressed firmly against the bookshelf, I try to lean back further away from his intimidating frame.
