Page 88 of Two Sides of Sin

Outside my apartment window, The clouds had churned into a mottled purple, looking like a fresh bruise across the face of the world. The first heavy drops of a summer rainstorm began to tap against the glass. It was the perfect, moody backdrop for the storm of emotions raging inside my chest.

I took a deep, shaky breath, hovering the pen over the blank paper. I wanted to be honest. I wanted to match the raw, starving intensity he had given me.

I pressed the pen tip to the paper and let it all pour out.

Julian,

I was dripping wet and freezing in my hallway when the mailman handed me your envelope, and I tore it open right there on the floor. I couldn’t wait. You have no idea what seeing your handwriting just did to me.

How did you know? Annabel Lee is one of my absolute favourite Edgar Allan Poe poems, or rhymes, or verses, whatever the technical term is for it. Seeing those words from you at the bottom of the page completely took my breath away.

I’m safe back home, but I haven’t really been here. My mind is still in that cathedral with you. I haven’t been able to focus on my art, or my new classes, or anything other than the memory of you pinning me against that bus. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single second.

You saved my life, Julian. I’m not afraid of the blood you had to shed to do that, and I am certainly not afraid of you.

Take care of yourself out there. I’ll be waiting for your phone call. And I’m counting the days until I see you again.

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea⁠—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Always,

Sage x

I exhaled a long breath, staring down at the drying ink. It felt incredibly vulnerable to put those words down on paper, to admit that I was completely, hopelessly infatuated with a man I hardly knew.

I folded the heavy paper carefully, sliding it into a crisp white envelope. I copied down the address he had given me, my handwriting looking ordinary compared to the elegant script he used.

I pressed a lingering kiss to the back of the envelope, sending it off with a quiet promise. I didn’t care if it was pouring rain outside, I grabbed my keys and my umbrella, determined to walk down to the post office this exact minute.

Chapter 52

Cain

The water in the oversized marble bathtub was blood-warm and inviting. It was a calculated, controlled perfection, much like my sprawling, pristine penthouse that overlooked the glittering skyline of the city below.

Everything in my life was meticulously ordered. Immaculate. Symmetrical.

Everything except the sloppy, inebriated blonde human currently clinging to my left arm.

“Come on, baby,” she slurred, her voice a high, grating pitch that echoed off the imported Italian tile. She giggled, sending a splash of soapy water over the edge of the tub to stain the dry floor. “You’re so tense. Let me help.”

I stared straight ahead through the floor to ceiling glass, my jaw set so hard my teeth ached. She was a model. Blonde, slim, and objectively attractive by human standards. I had picked her out specifically for her aesthetic symmetry. But right now, with champagne on her breath and her wet, heavy limbs draped over me like a dying animal, she was nothing short of repulsive.

She leaned in, her glossy pink lips puckering as she aimed clumsily for my mouth. I smoothly tilted my head away, letting her lips brush harmlessly against my wet shoulder.

It was a pathetic display. But then again, humanity had always disgusted me.

My mind, as it had done with a sickening, obsessive frequency over the last few decades, drifted back to the Manor. It drifted back to a girl with heavy, dark waves and defiant blue eyes who hadn’t been pathetic at all.

June.

I had spent decades trying to fill a hollow, echoing void in my chest that I vehemently refused to acknowledge was there. I had driven the silver blade into her chest myself to complete the Ritual. I had watched her die. But instead of erasing her from my brother’s soul, I had immortalised her in my own. I had developed a quiet, crawling obsession with the exact shade of her blood, the fire in her eyes before I extinguished it, and the look she gave Julian—as if he were a god."