Born Sinner (Se7en Sinners #1)

  I don’t know what it all means. All I can comprehend in this moment is his sweltering heat. His soothing voice. His smooth, marble skin against my cheek.

  Somewhere in a distant corner of my mind, I remember that I should hate him. Should fear him. But now I fear something else entirely.

  I fear myself.

  Warm sunlight streams through the barred window, painting golden stripes across my face. I press the heels of my palms into gritty eyes and yawn, stretching my stiff, sore joints. L is nowhere to be found, and I’m glad for it. I can’t breathe when he’s around. My thoughts become disjointed words and mumbled sounds whenever he’s near. How I survived last night, I’ll never know. But I know I’m grateful. Having him here, holding me, comforting me—I never knew what that felt like. For someone to tell me it was just a bad dream and that it wasn’t real. I’d learned to swallow my bouts of hysteria a long time ago for fear that someone would think I’m crazy.

  Like her. Like my mother.

  A fresh bundle of clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste and a hairbrush sit in the place where his naked skin had kissed the sheets. Unconsciously, I slide my hand over the soft, crisp cotton, wondering if I could still feel his stifling heat. Being in his arms, my cheek pressed to his firm chest—it had been almost too much. But not just his body temperature. He’s too much. Too intense. Too gruff. Too frightening. Too much of everything all at one time.

  I retreat to the bathroom to shower and change, thankful for hot water and clean clothes. The thought that L had been here—naked…wet—just hours before is not lost on me. I shake the image from my head, frustrated at my own weakness. He showed me a bit of kindness, a smidgen of compassion.

  Big fuckin’ deal. That shouldn’t make him any less of a murderous creep. That doesn’t excuse him for nearly choking me to death and kidnapping me. If anything, it just makes him an even bigger piece of shit, because he actually is capable of knowing right from wrong. He knows what he’s doing. If he was insane, I’d be able to understand it more.

  I bypass the opportunity to look at myself in the mirror. It wouldn’t matter anyway. I’ve always been somewhat proud of my edgy, eccentric look, but I don’t want to see the wild terror swirling in my eyes. I hate that I don’t have control—something I had fought long and hard to grasp most of my life.

  Someone has brought my favorite, faded black denim jeans and my most comfortable sweater. I wonder just how much of my clothing they’ve stolen from my apartment. Maybe my little shoebox of a room has already been packed up and relocated, considering I told Sister that I’m moving. I don’t doubt that they’ve covered all their bases.

  When I exit the bathroom, my blood runs cold, the warmth of the water quickly forgotten. L sits on the bed, on the side I’d slept on. He’s wearing a long sleeved black thermal top cut close to his body, tight enough for me to glimpse shadows of cut muscle. His jeans are also black, as well as his boots. Hands clasped in his lap, making him look somewhat contemplative, he lifts his head to look at me, those silver eyes studying every inch of my frame.

  “Don’t you knock?” I blurt out.

  He lifts a dark, sinister brow. “Knock? To enter my own bedroom?”

  His bedroom. I’ve been sleeping—with him—in his bedroom. This isn’t just a holding room for his captives. It’s his personal living space. I feel the blood drain from my face.

  L scrubs a hand on the back of his neck and frowns. “You look…rested.”

  A compliment? But why does he look like he’s in pain? Whatever. I don’t respond.

  He stands and strides towards the bedroom door. “Come,” he commands, without looking at me.

  He’s letting me out of this room. After almost four days—half of them spent unconscious and drugged—he’s letting me out. Maybe for good? This could be it. My freedom could be waiting on the other side of that door.

  Or maybe something worse. Maybe he’s not leading me to my freedom. Maybe he’s leading me to my death.

  Stealthily, I pat the fork secured on the inside of my jeans. It may not do much, but if it’s my time to go, I’m taking someone with me.

  On shaky legs, I follow him out of the room, which leads to a long hallway. Five doors, all closed, give me no indication of where I’m being held. Are there other girls in those rooms? Has his quest to find Adriel led him to kidnap random women on the street? I’d never heard any screaming, but if the windows were soundproof, I’d imagine the door is too. However, as we get further from the bedroom, I do hear something. Something familiar.

  Music.

  L leads me to a wide, open room that resembles a living room. No, not resembles. It is a living room. And there’s a large kitchen off to the right. I’m in an apartment. And it’s full of killers.

  Lily. Phenex. Jinn.

  The tall blonde man. The samurai. Scarface.

  They’re all walking around, doing regular, normal people things as if they don’t have a care in the world. I don’t know if I should be pissed off or relieved.

  Jinn and Phenex are in the kitchen, and they appear to be cooking a feast. Lily carries platters of scrumptious-smelling food to a long, marble-top table while the blonde man organizes place settings. The scarred guy and the samurai are sprawled out on the floor of the living room. They’re playing video games. Fucking video games! I blink once…twice. Surely I’m seeing things. Murderers don’t play X-Box One. They should be skinning cats or designing necklaces made of ears.

  Without a word, L goes to the living room and flops into the oversized, plush sectional, leaving me to stand in disbelief. I’m in quicksand, being sucked in by the illusion playing out before me. They have the nerve to act normal. Like they’re friends or…family. It has to be a trick—a ploy to get me to trust them. Shit, maybe I’m part of the meal.

  “Hey, Eden!” Lily trills, noticing me at the threshold. She sets a bowl of yogurt dressed with fresh berries on the ornate table and damn near skips over to me, a wide grin on her face.

  Everyone turns to look at me, not one of them wearing a mask of surprise. Like this was all premeditated. The Asian guy even flashes me a wide grin.

  “Hey, Eden. Pretty dope playlists. You’ve got good taste.” He tips his head towards my phone sitting beside a wireless speaker.

  “You went through my phone?” I blurt out, my voice full of annoyance. He has the gall to smile sheepishly and shrug his shoulders before turning back to his video game. The scarred guy takes advantage of the distraction and sends a barrage of bullets to his camo-clad man.

  “Aw shit! You dirty motherfucker!” the Asian guy laughs, his thumbs furiously trying to save what little life he has left. Bizarre.

  “Welcome, Eden,” Phenex says, approaching me. He wipes his hands with a kitchen towel before extending a palm. I simply glance at it before looking up at his seemingly kind face, my own etched in a frown.

  “What is this place?” I ask, my tone demanding.

  Phenex pulls back his hand and waves it around the room. “This is our home. You’re just in time for brunch.”

  “Brunch?”

  “Yes. Since we take shifts, it’s rare that we’re all together. But Tuesdays are our slow days, so we have a mandatory meal.”

  “Jinn is a fabulous cook,” Lily chimes in. “He’s actually a trained chef, which is ridiculous, because he hardly eats anything.”

  Phenex gives her a pointed look but quickly recovers. “Yes. I’m so glad you’ll be joining us. And FYI…I made the mac and cheese. That’s your favorite, right?”

  “Um…yeah?” I fail to keep the wariness from my face, but it doesn’t seem to offend him.

  “Good! I hope you like it. I didn’t want to insult you with the blue box kind. Besides, L has outlawed most processed foods from the apartment.” Before I can yelp and jump back, he dips his head closer and winks conspiratorially. “But if you have any other favorites, don’t hesitate to make a request, and I’ll do my best.”

  “Ok, everyone! Time to eat!” the blonde g
uy announces from the table. A beautiful centerpiece sits in the middle, vibrant with rich golds, reds and ochres. Thanksgiving colors. Expensive looking plates and flatware are expertly placed in front of each of the eight seats. They were expecting me. As if I’m a part of this twisted little game.

  “About damn time,” Scarface bellows, tossing his controller on a nearby chaise. “I’m fucking starving.”

  “Well, we had to wait for Eden,” Lily retorts, grasping my hand and pulling me towards the open dining area. I’d pull away from her hold, but I’m too disturbed when that disfigured thug looks me up and down, and sneers.

  Lily leads me to a seat, the space right beside L, who takes one of the end chairs. Phenex takes the seat across from me, and Lily sits on my other side. I’m grateful. The leering asshole takes the other end chair, flanked by Jinn and the Asian guy. The gorgeous blonde man sits beside Phenex.

  I look around the table, amazed by the amount of food prepared for this one meal. Pancakes, waffles, three different types of eggs, cereals, sliced fruit, freshly baked pastries, every type of breakfast meat imaginable, and of course, macaroni and cheese. It’s more food than I could eat in a month, and more food than I could afford in that time, as well.

  Without warning, Lily slides her palm into mine. Startled, I find that everyone is grasping hands. My focus shifts to L.

  “Please,” he bites out, as if the word pains him. He slides a callused hand towards me, palm side up. An offering. A choice.

  I swallow and divert my gaze to the faces around the table, all staring at me. Last night was a fluke. I don’t need to be touching him. I don’t need to be touching any of them. But there’s something in their earnest gazes—something pleading…encouraging—that has me inching my hand closer to L’s. Even the scary one looks on with anticipation.

  I let my fingers rest atop his, the farthest that I’m willing to go in this ridiculous charade. The heat of his touch sears my skin in a way that sends warmth to the pit of my traitorous belly. I tell myself I’m imagining it. It doesn’t matter. None of it does in the end.

  If they want to pretend all is well—fine. I’ll play along. I’ll act as if everything about this scene isn’t royally fucked up. And once they turn their backs, thinking I’m docile, I’ll act.

  In unison, every head bows and every eye closes—all except mine. They’re…praying. These criminals, these heathens. All silently praying with joined hands. At precisely the same moment, they lift their heads and end with Amen, before filling their plates. I snatch my hands away and shove them in my lap.

  “What’s wrong, Eden?” Lily asks, stacking at least eight waffles onto her plate before drowning them with butter, homemade syrup, fresh whipped cream and plump blueberries. “Not hungry?”

  I gawk at her overflowing plate and look around me. All of them—save for Jinn, who settles for yogurt and plain hot cereal—have more food on their plates than they could possibly eat. More food than anyone could eat.

  “Here,” Lily says around a mouthful of bacon. She takes it upon herself to dish out a heaping portion of mac and cheese onto my plate.

  I open my mouth to thank her but something else entirely comes out. “What the hell is going on?”

  Forks clang onto plates. Mouths stop chewing.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Phenex questions, frowning at L, who couldn’t be bothered to look up from his plate to respond.

  “I thought we could eat first.”

  “Tell me what?” Fuck eating. Even though the piping hot pasta and gooey cheese on my plate smells delicious, I want answers. I’ll eat later.

  “Eden…” Phenex tips his head to one side, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “My brothers and sister and I…we’re not what you think.”

  Killers. Liars. Freaks.

  “Oh? So what in God’s name are you?”

  His brows raise at my brash turn of phrase. “We may have brought you here under false pretenses. I apologize for that.” He shoots a scowl at L who seems oddly engrossed in his mountain of pancakes and sausage. When he looks back at me, his amber eyes are full of warmth and remorse. “Eden…what do you know about the Bible?”

  “What?”

  “The Bible. Specifically, angels and demons.”

  A snicker sounds from the other side of the table. “Not much. My mom was a bit of a fanatic, and we know how well that went. So when I was old enough, I rebelled against it all. It’s bullshit, if you ask me.”

  “Is it?” Phenex lifts a dark brow.

  “I suppose you’ll tell me I’m wrong.” I roll my eyes, and pick up my fork, daring a bite of the mac and cheese. It’s Heaven in my mouth, and it’s a great effort to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head.

  “I won’t say wrong. Misled. I believe your life’s circumstances have guided you to believe otherwise.”

  “And why’s that?” I shovel another forkful into my mouth, and even reach for a strip of bacon from a nearby platter.

  “Because how could angels exist and not help you? Not save you? How could such evil exist in the world without the reprieve of goodness?”

  I try to focus every ounce of my attention on the food in front of me, although my stomach has turned to lead. “I stopped believing in that a long time ago.”

  “That’s sad. So utterly sad.”

  I shrug and force a strained smile on my face. “But it’s true.”

  “I can see why you’d believe that. But you were never alone. I think you knew that too.”

  I look up from my food that has lost its flavor. My mouth fills with ash.

  “What do you mean?”

  The beautiful, ebony man smiles, the movement causing his hazel eyes to spark with radiant gold. “Eden, we are not from this earth. Our origins date back to the beginning of time, long before your world was a sparkle in the Creator’s eye. By origin, we are passengers of the dark—ambassadors of evil. We were forged in fire and filth and the blood of the damned. Eden, we are demons.”

  Flames snake up my neck, scorching my cheeks. My tongue feels heavy. Blood rushes my head, roaring in my ears.

  “What?” I didn’t hear him right. I must’ve misunderstood what he was saying. Demons, as in bad people. Criminals. Not in the literal sense.

  “Demons,” someone says from the other end of the table. I don’t even look to see who it is.

  “But that’s…that’s…” Impossible. Ridiculous. Insane. Terrifying.

  “I know it’s hard for you to digest—

  “Hard?” I swallow thickly, and shake my head. “You think it’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been abducted by….by…” I can’t say it. I won’t say it. Saying it would make it real.

  “Not abducted. Rescued,” Lily chimes in, turning to me. “We rescued you, Eden. Those men at the store weren’t just common thugs. They were Called. Exactly what we were trying to stop from happening to you.”

  Called? Called to what? Or by who?

  Reading the questions splayed across my pale face, she continues her horrifying…lies. “There are those who will be Called. Before they are born, they are chosen to become weapons of evil—serial killers, terrorists, mass shooters. They don’t know it, and once they are activated, they have no control. They’re sole purpose is pain and destruction.”

  I muster my courage, but it’s deflated in my gut. I force the words from my dry throat. “And you’re saying that I am one of these…weapons. Or bred to be.”

  “Yes,” Phenex answers, his gaze full of empathy. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.

  “And you…you want to stop it.”

  “Yes,” he nods.

  “But you’re…” Say it. Just say it. Spit it out and be done with it. “Demons?”

  “We have spent over a century battling our true nature, in hopes of restoring mercy and peace amongst your kind. There’s been too much…too much pain and turmoil. This is not how it was supposed to be. There has to be a balance. The balance has been skewed.”
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  “But we’ve tried to fix it,” Lily adds. “We’ve been hunting those that are chosen, ending them before they are Called. Hoping that by ending one, we will save thousands…millions. Hoping we can save your world.”

  The room spins, blurring light and color into a prismatic smear of painted chaos. It dips and rolls, taking my equilibrium with it. I risk a hazy glance at L, who appears still, even in my vision’s roller coaster.

  “It’s true,” he says, the two words bearing down on me like two-ton boulders.

  “You want to kill me,” I gasp, realization creeping in.

  “Not anymore. We want to save you. We have to save you.”

  Not anymore.

  Not anymore.

  I hear the words but they don’t make sense. They still don’t bring me comfort. I was born to be a weapon. A murderer. And I’m sitting at a table, dining with demons that have made it their mission to kill people like me. People that are otherwise good, innocent humans with no control over what they’ll become.

  With legs too rubbery to be tangible, I struggle to scoot away from the table. I can’t breathe through the tightness in my chest, causing my lungs to scream with effort. I can’t think through the fog of panic in my head, shouting for me to flee. I have to go. I don’t know where, or how, but I have to get out of here.

  “I have to…” I begin, my slurred words foreign to my ears. I heave my leaden body up with numb, sweaty hands. “I have to get some air.”

  I hear a chair screech against the hardwood before I plunge into speckled blackness.

  I wake up in the familiar bed—L’s bed—with the blanket pulled up to my chin. My limbs still heavy with sleep, I do a quick assessment of my frame. I’m fully clothed, and even the fork under my waistband is still intact. There’s a glass of orange juice on the nightstand that I gratefully gulp down. I’m alone, but the bedroom door is open. An invitation.

  I’ve already spent too much time cowering between these four walls. If what they claim is true—if I’m not a prisoner—then I shouldn’t hide any longer. Even if I can’t shake the dread that creeps up my spine every time I think of what they are.