Destruction’s Desire (Broken Souls Trilogy #2)

Chapter 4

Rule four: When surrounded by predators, don’t act like prey.

“M ortal, do you have a death wish?” Sin’s voice is low, and it holds a deadly bite, making me rethink the direction I’m walking in.

It takes me a moment to notice he’s holding something.

My blanket rope.

I guess he isn’t a fan of my craftsmanship.

Too few people value the arts these days.

Sad.

Rosie squeaks and takes to the air at Sin’s voice. It takes just a few beats of her wings before they become blurred streaks of pink, and she’s airborne. “Well, I’ll leave you two to have a chat. See you later, Vivian!”

I’m sad to see her go. But at the same time, I really can’t blame her. Being alone with an angry, uncollared Destroyer seems hazardous.

Briefly, I consider hightailing it after Rosie. But as I glance in the direction she flew off, I catch Sin’s body tensing up in the corner of my eye. It’s impossible to miss the coiling of his muscles as he gets ready to spring. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m with a predator. If I run, I’m certain I’ll set off some kind of prey drive in him.

The thought has me planting my feet and looking him dead in the eye.

I refuse to be prey.

Sin glares down at me, not saying a word. I’m considering matching his silent treatment until I realize he must be waiting for me to answer his question.

Do I have a death wish?

Not particularly. And this monster of a man looks very angry with me.

The smart thing would be to act meek. But already I know I’m an idiot, and acting meek would be prey behavior on my end.

No can do.

Besides, who gave him the right to be the angry one?

He kidnapped me .

A spark of anger ignites in my chest, burning away at my gut reaction to avoid conflict.

Is this personal growth, or am I spiraling?

A depressive spiral checks out.

“I’m fulfilling my obligations as a kidnap victim. It’s my sworn duty to try and escape,” I respond, barely keeping the irritation out of my tone .

Sin doesn’t laugh or give any indication that he might have a sense of humor.

That checks out. I assume being an evil force of destruction really saps the funny out of someone.

Instead, he steps closer, invading my personal space. With him comes the unmistakable scent of woodsmoke. I stiffen, refusing to think about how good he smells.

The enemy is not allowed to smell good. The scent is probably from the last village he pillaged and burned to the ground.

I tilt my head to glare right back at him.

Are all fantasy world men this attractive? I’m starting to think there must be an entry requirement, as in, ‘You must be at least six feet tall and have more muscles than brains to ride this realm.’

He’s trying to intimidate me, and it’s working.

My instincts are screaming at me to take a step back. Only, I’m getting really sick and tired of large men imposing themselves on me. One of the boxes in my head where I store my emotional trauma cracks open at the thought. With it comes a wave of rage.

I take a step forward.

There’s only a hair’s breadth of space between us, and I can feel the heat radiating from him.

It’s a bold move.

Too bad I have no idea where to go from here. My social compass is out of commission. I’m assuming I broke it when I fell out the window. Or, more likely, I’ve never had a functional one.

Sin arches an eyebrow at my proximity. “Tell me then, in your duties as a kidnappee, did you even bother trying your door?” There’s a mocking edge to his tone .

“I – no, of course not. I didn’t want to risk alerting any guards you had on the other side,” I answer, maybe a little defensively.

Sin grins, and the effect is breathtaking. Only it isn’t a kind gesture. The smile is pure cruelty, like a cat smiling at a mouse it’s just caught.

“The door wasn’t locked, mortal. You aren’t a prisoner here.” He talks slowly, enunciating his words like he thinks I’m an idiot.

And if that wasn’t enough of a mic drop moment, the warlord-wannabee has the audacity to walk away from me, taking my blanket rope masterpiece with him.

I’m left gaping at him as a familiar mantra starts to fill my head.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How did I forget to check the door first?

This is why I am not cut out for horror movies – or even adventure movies for that part. I make stupid choices like freeing obsessive men from their ocean prisons and making dramatic prison breaks when I’m allegedly not even locked in.

Sin is almost to the other side of the castle by the time I catch up to him. I know he knows I’m following him, but he doesn’t wait.

Jerk.

Again, I am not surprised.

When I reach his side, I ask, “If I’m not a prisoner, then why did you kidnap me?”

Sin doesn’t even spare me a glance when he answers, “Morgana wants to speak with you. She’d hoped to speak to both you and Leon, but we were informed that things may be deteriorating quickly on that front and that speaking to only you might be a better alternative.”

My eyes widen. “What do you mean, deteriorating?”

Does he know we were asked to kill him? Is he planning to psychologically torture me before killing me?

Sin spares me a glance this time, and I swear his expression softens. “We have eyes everywhere. We were informed you might be in danger from Leon.”

I bristle, not wanting his pity. “I’m fine.”

I’m definitely not fine. When it comes to Leon, I’m the furthest from fine you can get. I don’t want to be near the man and should be livid with him.

The logical part of my brain is angry. But now that I’m not wholly preoccupied with escaping the castle, the twisted, broken edges of my emotions are getting too loud to ignore.

Leon’s outburst was all my fault.

I’m the one who kept secrets. I’m the one who refused to accept the bond. Not to mention, I accidentally blasted him into a wall.

Technically, I threw the first punch.

I grit my teeth at that dark train of thought. I saw the bruises on my skin. I’m not completely blind. I refocus on my rage to quiet the trauma-conditioning. It’s surprisingly effective.

If the best way to shut up the broken, guilt-ridden parts of me is to do things that either spark my adrenaline or rage, then I’m about to take thrill-seeking to an entirely new level.

Sin is back to looking at me like I’m a bit of dog poop he’s tracked into the house .

Does the Shadow Realm have dogs? I could use some pet therapy right about now. It seems unlikely. I’m assuming dogs would immediately sense evil and try to eat Sin.

His disgust suits me just fine.

When people see a gross-looking bug, they typically leave it alone or kill it outright to avoid touching it too much.

Disgust reduces my chances of being tortured.

Shrugging off his revulsion, I decide to rip off the proverbial band-aid. If the mistress of evil wants to speak to me, my anxiety would prefer if we did it right away. “Where is Morgana then? I’d like to speak to her, too.”

I don’t think my talk with Morgana will be a pleasant one. Based on the vibes Sin is throwing out, he seems like a strong contender for ‘bad guy number 1’. But it probably wouldn’t hurt to get both sides of the story. Then I can make an educated decision about what I should do next.

Right now, I’m leaning towards finding out if there’s a realm warded against men, and all we do is read smutty novels under soft blankets.

Maybe I can ask Rosie later.

In retrospect, her asking me nicely to please not get myself killed definitely passes the vibe check.

“Morgana isn’t here,” Sin answers, just as we reach a massive set of double wooden doors. The doors are engraved with what looks like thousands of different runes.

They look heavy, but Sin shoves one open like it weighs nothing. Unsurprisingly, he does not hold it open for me, and I need to dart in behind him to avoid being crushed.

I wait a breath for Sin to elaborate.

Another breath.

Nothing.

The box of repressed rage cracks open a little further. “Then why am I here? Can’t we just bippity-boppity-poof over to her?”

He spits his answer, “She’s on a mission and can’t be reached. This is going to be quite a shock to a Council whore, but you are not, in fact, the centre of the universe, and there are far more important things going on here other than your precious time.”

I’m getting the distinct impression that this man has a grudge against me.

I mean, fair, seeing as I am technically supposed to kill him.

But still, he doesn’t have to be mean about it.

Sin keeps moving and stomps up a long set of stairs.

“Okay, well, when is she going to be back?” I ask, trailing after him.

Reaching the top, Sin walks by a few doors before pausing in front of one. He makes a grand gesture of opening the door. There is a noticeable absence of any exterior lock on it.

It’s my room.

I cross my arms, glaring at him.

Sin arches an eyebrow at my posturing and answers, “No idea.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor.

“What do you mean you have no idea? You can’t just keep me indefinitely!” My voice goes up an octave .

Sin takes a step away from my door, leaving me room to enter.

I don’t budge.

He leans against the wall, eyeing me up and down. His cruel smile is back when he answers, “On the contrary, mortal, I can have you at my mercy for as long as I want.”

I flush at the sexual undertone in his words and immediately hate him even more for it.

“So, I am a prisoner then.”

“Not at all. Leave the castle any time. But no one here will help you leave this realm,” he says smugly.

Well, there goes my hope of being zapped into a no-boys-allowed bookish realm.

Sad.

“What am I supposed to do while I wait for Morgana?” I grit out.

If the bad man wants to keep me here, then I am going to go out of my way to make sure it isn’t a fun experience for him.

That’s a new rule.

Sin pushes off from the wall and approaches me.

“Oh, I can think of a lot of ways to keep you busy, mortal.” His tone is laced with an undertone of dark promises.

At my sharp inhale, he smirks before making a point of walking around me, ensuring his body doesn’t touch mine.

He calls out as he walks back the way he came, “But if you need a hobby, try learning how to tie a knot.”

With that, he heads down the stairs, and I’m left standing in front of my door .

I’ve been dismissed.

I glance into my room, only to realize that he dumped my blanket rope onto the floor.

Oh, I really dislike this man.