Page 25 of Two Sides of Sin

Cain’s gaze raked over me, cold and unbothered by my presence on the floor. A dark, smirk pulled at his lips, the look of a man who enjoyed the audience.

“Now,” he hissed, his grip on the choke chain tightening until the metal bit into his palm.

“Unless you intend on joining us, I suggest you get the fuck out—before I make the decision for you.”

The shock finally subsided. “Omg… omg!” I gasped, the words tumbling out in a panicked breath as I slammed my hands over my eyes, desperate to block out the sight of the chains and the depravity unfolding in front of me. “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

I scrambled to my feet and bolted, my feet slipping on the rug, my mind a screaming wreck of what I had just witnessed.

I tripped over the threshold, my hands catching the doorframe as I hauled myself back into the hallway down the stairs and into the garden.

The scent of the roses was thick, almost sickly in the midday heat, hanging in the air like a perfumed shroud. Usually, I loved this corner of the garden, but today the sweetness felt heavy, like it was trying to mask the thick, carnal scent of the office I’d just ran from. My heart was still a frantic mess in my chest, the image of Cain’s relentless body and the repetitive thud-thud-thud of the desk burned into my mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to claw my way out of the memory, but I couldn't escape the picture of him. I struggled to drag the image of his naked body out of my head, but it was impossible when it so perfectly resembled Julian’s.

In every single way, they were identical. They were both... gifted. I would give them that. The realisation made a sick, thrilling heat curl deep in my stomach, and I tried to push the now-spiralling, completely inappropriate thoughts from my mind. It was madness. It was taboo. But staring at the memory of Cain felt exactly like staring at the ghost of Julian, and the line between my saviour and my predator was beginning to blur into something terrifyingly inescapable.

This was supposed to be my sanctuary, the only place where the oppressive energy Cain carried couldn’t reach. Julian and I had spent countless afternoons here, buried in the high grass, building a place of peace we could retreat. And now it felt tainted with my inappropriate thoughts.

A soft meow comes from my right. I’d made it a habit to feed the three stray cats that claimed the manor grounds as their own private kingdom. Cain hated it, protesting they brought “vermin and filth” to the estate. He took a twisted pleasure in scaring them off, but I didn’t care. I kept feeding them anyway. Screw him. He didn’t understand that some things just need a little kindness to survive.

Jasper, the long haired stray, was currently keeping me company. He was a ghost given form, his stark white fur like spun silk as he leaned his weight against my side, purring with a soothing tenderness that regularly grounded me.

I was lying on my stomach, the blades of grass cool and tickling against my skin while the sun baked the back of my legs. I was tracing the silver embossed lines of the Poe book Julian had given me, trying to lose myself in the dark, rhythmic cadence of The Raven. It was a strange comfort. Poe’s words felt more like home than any room in this manor. They understood the beauty in the macabre, the holiness in the ache.

A shadow suddenly stretched across the page, cold and daunting.

Jasper recoiled, backing away with a hiss born out of instinctive terror.

His back arched before he vanished into the rosebushes like smoke. That was my first clue. .

I looked up, a knot of cold dread forming instantly in my throat when I saw Cain looming over me.

He wasn’t like Julian. Julian was a slow burn ache, a fire you wanted to get close to even if it scorched you. Cain was a sudden, freezing draft in a windowless room. He stood there, his hands in his pockets, looking down at me with the same intimidating, detached, clinical focus he’d had while buried inside that blindfolded woman. My skin prickled as I noticed he hadn’t even bothered to change his shirt, a small, dark splash of something—lipstick maybe, marked his collar.

“Uhh, hi,” I said, my voice sounding smaller and more fragile than I wanted. I tried to pull my legs together, feeling suddenly, terrifyingly exposed.

“Waiting for Julian, little bird?” he asked. His voice was smooth but the gravelly edge from his exertion upstairs still lingered underneath. It made me feel instantly uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m definitely not here to see you,” I countered. I managed a half-smirk, though my pulse was still rabbiting. I flipped a page of my book, trying to look busier than I was, but my fingers were trembling.

He let out a dry laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I could only hope to be so lucky as to command your undivided attention, June. Though, I believe I had it quite clearly only a few minutes ago.”

A traitorous heat crawled up my neck, a deep, stinging blush that broadcasted exactly how much of his depravity I’d actually seen.

He stepped closer, the tip of his polished boot inches from my hand. His gaze lingered on the book—Julian’s gift. “You have a penchant for the macabre, June. It’s a dangerous trait for a girl with such… delicate sensibilities. Poe lived a life of ruin. You shouldn’t seek to find yourself in his shadows. The dark has a way of swallowing things that aren’t prepared for the weight of it.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” I bit out, sitting up and hugging the book to my chest like a shield. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at me over that woman’s shoulder—unfazed, unmoving, and dominant.

“Careful, little bird. Curiosity has a price. And in this house, we always collect.”

“Hey, June bug. Sorry I’m late.”

The relief that flooded through me at the sound of Julian’s voice was a physical weight lifting off my chest. I scrambled to my feet as he approached, coming up behind Cain. Julian looked… wrecked. His hair was damp from a recent shower, but his eyes were shadowed, the skin beneath them looking bruised and weary. The split on his lip was almost healed now as he managed a small, forced looking smile for me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Cain didn’t say another word. He just looked between the two of us, his expression unreadable and icy. He gave a slight nod, a silent acknowledgement of a secret I wasn’t privy to, and excused himself. I watched him walk back in the direction of the house, his silhouette stiff and imposing, a dark blot against the vibrant garden.

“He’s such a creep,” I whispered, turning back to Julian.