The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2) (8 page)

“Is it too much?” Sonja immediately backtracked, her brown eyes glimmering with concern. “I know where you were…” She halted her statement to take a few deep breaths. “I don’t want to walk around eggshells with you, Keaton. I know it can feel like you’re being ostracized when people do that.”

“No, it’s not too much,” I told her with a smile. 

“I love that I have a room in my house that makes people feel that kind of energy.” She set her gaze to the painted gold-scroll design on the ceiling. “It’s good for the house. Good for Craig and me.”

“Well… I won’t be a guest who adds to the energy.”

She folded her arms, her intense gaze poked holes into my assuredness. “Don’t be too sure.”

I sat down on the edge of the firm bed and looked around the room. It radiated romance, if that is what she meant by the energy in the room. I felt her stare and met her eye level. 

A storm of torment was behind her eyes. She seemed unwilling to unleash it and remained silent. 

“Did you and Brandy have a talk about me?”

She shook her head with a sullen smile. “We aren’t going to do the prod and push conversation. When you want to talk to me, you know I’m here.” Extending her hand, she gestured for me. “I think the eggplant bake is done.”

I took her hand and followed her down the stairs. 

I, along with Nathan and Craig, helped her prep the table. There were a few former friends in attendance that I hadn’t communicated with in a long time. 

I glanced at the chair beside my place setting, not yet occupied by the one person who was supposed to be there.

Shortly after the first course, Nathan began to fill the silent space by chatting about his decision to move to D.C. and possibly start up a new practice here.

 “I…never thought you’d be a divorce lawyer.” I chose my words carefully to avoid offending him.

“I don’t think any of us saw
that
coming,” Brandy muttered into her glass of wine.

“I have friends out in Chicago,” said the woman with strawberry blonde hair, who used to be my Zumba partner at one point, “who tell me you’re well known out there. I believe she said something like you were a vampire for the defendants in divorce cases.”

“I’m very good at what I do,” Nathan replied.

I thumbed my phone from where it rested on my lap, hoping for a response to my unanswered texts and phone calls. 

Sonja and Craig had begun to serve dinner and the invitees were eager to dig in, but seemed to be waiting on something…or someone.

“Go ahead and eat.” I waved at them while simpering. “I don’t want to ruin your dinner.”

“It’s already ruined,” Brandy snarled.

“Something must be wrong.” Avoiding the probing stares from the people at the table, I fiddled with my phone. “He doesn’t usually disappear without returning my calls or texts. Excuse me.” I walked away from the table and called Noah in the kitchen; I was met with a call that went straight to voicemail. I informed him the night he came home—after Brandy’s visit—that we were going to have dinner with my friends. While he never outright agreed to coming, he never said no. In fact, he barely said a word to me and went to the bathroom to shower.

I swiveled around to see Brandy, standing in the doorframe with her arms crossed. The discrimination on her face was so stark and readable. I knew everything she was thinking without a word expelling from her mouth. Tonight was Noah’s chance to prove himself and explain the new scars on my back. He’d failed miserably. Brandy no longer had any reason to accept his presence in my life, if she had an iota of positive feelings toward the man at all.

“I’m going to check on him.” I dropped my arm and tightly clutched my phone. “There might be something wrong.”

“Why don’t you take some food with you,” Sonja suggested, appearing beside Brandy.  

“I’ll help.” Brandy’s voice overflowed with irritation and fury. She stormed around Sonja’s kitchen and wrestled cabinets open, only to slam them closed when she couldn’t find what she wanted. She sloppily packaged up a dinner for two and threw it into a reusable shopping bag. She yanked my arm, walking me to the door, and preempted any chance of my friends saying goodbye to me.

“I hate him, Keaton,” she barked, her hand tightening on the door handle as she held it open for me. “ I hate him for what he did to you at that fucked up cult.”

“Okay.” It was all I could say. Clarity to find the perfect thing to say to abate her anger eluded me. I didn’t pity anyone who got on Brandy’s bad side. She inherited her mother’s talent at making her enemies feel every inch of her wrath when she was crossed. I witnessed some of Brandy’s tactics in high school; she knew how and where to hit to inflict the most pain. I could only hope she didn’t view my relationship with Noah as a destroy mission.

I glanced at Nathan and Sonja, standing alongside one another. The looks on their faces couldn’t be mistaken. Brandy had told them all about her discovery in the warehouse, and they were on the verge of their own search and destroy mission.

I doubt it mattered if Noah had shown up to the dinner or not. His jury had condemned him long before he had a chance to plead his case.

I WRESTLED WITH THE bagful of containers of food as I pulled down the gate to the freight elevator to transport me to the second floor. Too exhausted to take the stairs, I took the elevator that seemed to jam at least once every week. Exhaling an elongated breath, I leaned up against the wall of the car. The only things that were in my thoughts were to have some semblance of a peaceful dinner with Noah and to turn in early. If work hadn’t succeeded in siphoning most of my energy, being that I was wearing two hats and taking care of my mother’s position while she focused on her campaign, my disastrous dinner with my friends completed the job. 

The doors opened to the second level. I lifted the gate and stepped out of the car. I moved inside the area between the living room and kitchen and set the bag containing the takeout containers on the kitchen counter. 

There was a low intoning sound. As I walked deeper into the open space, it changed to a guttural and short series of groans. A freestanding wall separated the bed from the rest of the area, but with no doors or walls, it could barely be considered a bedroom.

 Three glasses of various shaded drinks in differing capacity levels were set on the dining room table.

The sounds I heard in the bedroom area began to clear. Two men were moaning and grunting. I ambled forward, spying the feet of two men and legs tangled with one another on the bed. 

I stepped around the floating wall; the scene in front of me stunned me into silence. Two men—who were unknown to me—were having very rough sex with one another. Noah was seated in the club chair in the corner of the area, watching them with intrigue and an expression that couldn’t quite be labeled as a genial—it was much too sinister.

I immediately turned on my heels and headed for the elevator. 

“Hey.” Noah’s heavy steps marched across the stained concrete floor, nearing me at a hurried pace. “Where do you think you’re off to?”

Without providing him with an answer, I continued to make strides to leave.

He grabbed my hips, spun me, and pushed me hard against the gate to the elevator. “You’re not leaving, princess. When they are done, I’m going to fuck you on the bed and our guests are going to watch.”

In awe, and unable to formulate the right words to say, I stared at him for a while. “Who are they?” I asked, my voice broken and dry. 

“Who they are really is no concern of yours.” He pulled my hand, tugging me back toward the bedroom.  

I snapped back hard, forcing him to lose his grip on my hand. “I’m trying to be patient and understanding over whatever you’re going through. Maybe it’s an adjustment period—I don’t know. I’m always trying to be what you need me to be and be there for you. I only asked you for one thing—to meet my friends and show them how wrong they are about you. You didn’t bother to come because of this?” I pointed to the action still in progress on our bed.

“I never agreed to go.” Reaching forward, he slipped his massive palms on either side of my neck. “Besides, princess, you know me, and you know better than to think I’d sit around and play tea party with your friends. I don’t give a shit what they think about me, and I’ll never act and try to pretend like I actually care. They don’t matter to me, and they don’t matter to you anymore.” He pushed forward, showing me how aroused he was as his hands slipped down my shoulders to my behind. He bunched up the material of my dress, sliding it up to my hips.

“I can’t do this with you right now, Noah.” I shoved my arms down, fighting against his unmatched strength to hold me closer. I gave up the fight, having made no leeway in making him let me go. “If you want to be with me, why can’t we be alone? I only need you and not this. That”—I shoved an arm toward the bedroom area—“isn’t something I enjoy.”

He pressed forward, pinning me against the gates so firmly, the metal bars began to dig into my skin and agitate the sores on my back. 

The instant I sucked my teeth in pain, the corner of his mouth turned up in pleasure and showcased one of his dimples in the center of his cheeks. 

“I never pegged you as a coward who didn’t like to try new things, princess.” His low and husky voice tickled my lips. “They aren’t going to touch you, you know I would never allow another man to have his eyes linger on you for more than a few seconds. This is what you’re going to do: You’re going to take off your clothes, lay on the bed, spread your legs, and submit to what I’m going to give you.”

Pressing my hands down against his chest, I attempted to push him away again. His chest muscles jumped as he further strengthened his hold on me. 

“You don’t need to take on the role of Reven or try to make this corner of the world simulate the world you created with Rebirth. We have each other, isn’t that enough?”

“What have you been taught?” His hazel-blue eyes began to squint. His thick lashes cast an intimidating shadow over his eyes. “It’s about expressing yourself sexually and not letting anyone else define what you should and shouldn’t do.”

“I don’t need to express anything with anyone. I’m happy with us, as we are.” Happy. It was a word that sounded strange coming from my mouth and said with very little conviction. He didn’t seem to notice either way. 

“It’s not about what you think you need, princess. It’s about what I know you need.”

“Is sex with me becoming…boring?”

“Honestly?” He only caught a glimpse of the brokenness on my face, and it made him sneer. Swiftly, he plucked me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me to go into the bedroom. He threw me down beside the two men engaging with each other and spread my legs. 

“No.” I swatted at his hands, the harsh slapping increasingly echoing between us. “You promised you wouldn’t ever do this.”

My reminder only angered him. He tangled his hand in the back of my hair and yanked it back. The abrupt shift in angle sent a striking pain down my neck. “Who are you, Keaton?” he barked at me.

I couldn’t answer, and he forced one out of me by yanking my hair back so harshly he pulled a few hairs from my scalp. He continued to pull until I whimpered and my lip quivered, fighting a losing struggle against disclosing my pain to him and feeding his insatiable appetite. “Yours,” I submitted, my voice shaking.

“You made this nonconsensual. I’m not very happy about that. Fix it.” He pushed down on the top of my head, brutally coercing me to stare into his demanding eyes.

I pleaded with him, granting him my reluctant permission with my words distant and quiet.

He wedged a finger between the lace of my panties and my sex. With one strong tug, he shredded the material. It fell away from my sex, leaving me exposed. 

He unbuckled and pulled down his pants with a blinding speed. Grasping his erection, he directed it toward my slit and drove inside my sex—not well lubricated enough to prevent me from being in pain from his harsh thrusts. He shoved his full length inside me at once and pushed against the soft cushion, holding it there until my will to cry was broken. 

He fucked me with an angry brutality, punishing me with no intention but to make me suffer.

My cries came harder and faster, stealing my breath away. My verbal declaration of the burning sensation stemming from between my thighs sparked a hint of madness in his eyes. 

If I didn’t think the trauma could be any worse, I was wrong. My howling cries of torment served as his energy source, encouraging him to give me more than I could handle.

It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t bring me to an orgasm. But it was made clear in his eyes he didn’t care if I reached one or not; the sex was meant for his pleasure and my absolute destruction.