Destruction’s Desire (Broken Souls Trilogy #2)

Chapter 20

Rule twenty: When in doubt, flash your enemies.

A n outraged gasp gets caught in my throat as Sin finishes pulling up my underwear. His hands graze my ass, and they feel like a brand.

This is it. I’ve bled out. That’s the only reason I’m enjoying Sin’s hands on me. But then he releases me, snapping me out of the blood-loss daze.

“That’s not your choice,” I snap back.

I’m so over being bossed around by men.

Sin just laughs, and the sound goes straight to my core. I try to kick him with my non-injured leg, but he catches my foot easily as his other hand reaches for the cloth on my injured leg.

“Easy kitten, you’re just going to hurt yourself some more. Do I need to knock you out while I sew you back together?” he asks, his thumb rubbing circles on my calf.

I blanch. “Please don’t.”

Sin frowns. “You need stitches, these are too deep and –”

“Sew me up, but don’t knock me out,” I correct him, trying to ignore my panicked heartbeat.

Sin almost looks hurt as he nods and releases my leg. “I would never–”

“No, no!” I backtrack. “That’s not it at all. I just – I don’t want magic influencing my brain anymore. It scares me,” I admit.

It’s the full truth. The thought that I went days with magic influencing my thoughts still haunts me. It’s not something I ever want to experience again.

Sin nods, understanding.

“This is going to hurt,” he notes as he opens the small case Magnus brought in.

My eyes lock onto the needle and thread, and I swallow. Sin picks up the supplies and glances up at me for permission before starting.

“Do it,” I whisper.

Holy fuck.

I feel sorry for any pants I ever hemmed. The feeling of thread pulling through my skin is nauseating, and I lay back, squeezing my eyes shut. I need a distraction.

“This sucked less when Magnus and Damien were here,” I grumble.

Pissing off Sin is a solid distraction. I peek and notice the faint glow that pulses through Sin’s tattoos.

Mission accomplished.

His gaze hardens, but he says nothing .

“Hey, warlord wannabe, you could at least talk to me,” I huff.

Sin quirks an eyebrow as he pauses from his task to look up at me. My pulse picks up at the sight, and I’m blaming it on my injuries.

“Why would I want to do that?” he asks mildly before going back to sewing me up.

I bite the inside of my cheek at the pain before gritting out, “You kicked out my distractions. You could at least try to take my mind off what you’re doing.”

His mouth quirks up with the hint of a smile. “What do you want to talk about?”

I purse my lips, wondering what to ask him. “What did Morgana want to talk to you about? She seemed a little upset.”

Sin ties off the first set of stitches and gets to work on the second scratch.

It’s very inconsiderate of forsaken to have five fingers.

His voice is low but not angry when he answers, “Morgana has looked after the forsaken for three thousand years. And now they’re gone – who knows where. We checked the forest. There were hundreds of thousands of them spread throughout. They’re all gone. You effectively wiped out the Shadow Realm’s standing army.”

I think of the silver bubble that projected out from me, only to come blasting back. It must have freed them all.

“It serves her right for leaving me in there,” I grumble .

Another scratch is patched, and Sin moves on to the third. “Morgana is very direct. She doesn’t hesitate to do what she thinks is right. When we heard the forest go silent, we apparated to the edge, listening for any signs of distress. You weren’t abandoned, only meant to think you were. It’s brutal but effective.”

I hiss when Sin stabs a little deeper. “Sorry,” he mutters, working on closing the wound.

I go back to squeezing my eyes shut. Every prod of the needle is becoming agonizing. Did this realm not invent those freezing needles?

“So, Morgana has been around for a while,” I note. “Have you both worked together for that long?”

Sin moves on to the fourth scratch. Almost there.

I try to forget about the blood running down my back and my arm.

“I was changed into a Destroyer a little over two thousand five hundred years ago. Morgana has been my Keeper ever since,” he answers.

Sin is focused on his task, and I mull over whether I should ask if they have a lover’s bond. From what Rosie was saying, I don’t think they do. But it might be good to know.

It’s intel gathering. Know your enemy and such.

But I have no idea how to ask without sounding like I’m interested.

“So, are you two together?” I ask.

Smooth, Vivian. Very smooth.

Sin pauses again to look up at me. From the look on his face, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m interested.

I’m definitely going to be needing that time-share in Hell .

“I just want to understand more about the bonds,” I rush out.

His eyebrow does that thing where it quirks up again, and Sin just shakes his head at me, looking like he might laugh, before getting to work on cut number five.

“Morgana is my family. When the Council took me, I wanted to fight, to burn them to the ground for what they’d done. She convinced me to work with her so we could bring them down for good. She reminded me of my older sister, and the role stuck,” he answers.

My brows furrows. “What do you mean, they took you? I thought Destroyers and Creators were prestigious volunteer positions for rich people.”

Sin laughs darkly. “For the Creators, yes. But they didn’t want such noble breeding for their Destroyers. My family lived in one of the lower villages of the Otherworld, well away from the Council. We had a modest life. My parents were farmers, and my sister and I helped out where we could. When we fell into debt, I started working for the black market. I always had a gift for convincing people to do what I wanted.”

He ties off the last stitch and starts adding a bandage over it. “I was away one week on a job, and when I returned, Council soldiers were there, burning my village to the ground. They executed everyone. It turns out rebels had been hiding out nearby, and the Council wanted to send a message. Any village found hiding rebels would burn.”

He finishes bandaging my leg and stands. “My employers from the black market were there, working with the Council guards to ensure their own safety. Once they saw me, they traded me, convincing the guards I had powers of manipulation. And the rest is history,” he says as he places the dirty tools in a bowl.

I gingerly prod at the bandage before standing. I can put weight on it, and I’m grateful. Bracing myself against the lounge chair, I answer, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

I don’t feel pity for Sin; I’m sad for his loss. I hope he sees the difference.

Sin nods brusquely and answers, “It was a long time ago.”

I nod, getting the sense that he probably wants to change the subject. I think about how Conner and Isaac cracked jokes after I almost drowned to lighten the mood. I don’t think a joke would be appropriate right about now, but I could probably distract Sin with more injuries to treat.

My back is still aching from the other scratches, and I start to pull off my shirt, intent on ensuring they don’t need stitches as well.

Sin’s response is immediate. “Kitten, what the fuck,” he growls, stepping forward to grab my hands and yanking my shirt back down.

I fight against him for a second. But he has a firm grip.

My ego is totally okay with the fact that Sin is appalled at the thought of me undressing.

Still, mission accomplished because he doesn’t look sad anymore, and the vibe in the room has completely changed.

Yes, the vibe is sexual harassment. As in, Sin likely thinks I’m sexually harassing him .

I stop fighting him and sigh, “Don’t flatter yourself.” I echo his words right back at him. “There’s another scratch going down my back. I can feel the blood still dripping.” I lock eyes with him, feeling smug at his thunderstruck expression. “Unless you’re ready to send back Magnus and Damien, I’m going to need to take my shirt off.”

Finally.

Finally, I feel like I have the mic drop moment with this man.

Sin doesn’t let me go, but steps closer. Gently, he turns me so I’m facing away from him.

He starts peeling up my shirt, and I bite down the whimper that wants to come out. The fabric is stuck to some of the smaller scratches that have dried up. The cuts open again as Sin slowly takes my shirt off.

He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of him against my thin booty shorts. I clench my thighs together at the sensation, hoping Sin doesn’t notice. He pulls my shirt over my head but doesn’t touch me again.

“Lay down on your stomach.” Sin’s voice comes above my ear, sounding more gruff than usual.

I notice his hands are fisted at his sides as he waits for me to obey. I take a second to look over my shoulder at him, wondering if he’s gone back to being angry. He’s only inches from me, and I have to crane my neck to see his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. My mortal cooties must be driving him crazy .

“You don’t have to keep patching me up. I don’t mind. I’m sure a hot shower will sort me out,” I start, trying to give him a pass out of here.

I like annoying Sin, but I feel bad if he’s this uncomfortable.

At my comment, Sin mutters something about the universe having a sick sense of humor before his hands come around my waist, and he lifts me onto the lounge chair.

I yelp, landing on my hands and knees and quickly lie down to cover myself. Sin lets out another blistering sigh.

“You don’t have to be so upset about it; I’m only trying to help,” I grumble, turning my head to frown at him.

Sin kneels next to the lounge chair, his fingers gently prodding at the scratches. “If you want to help, stop getting beaten up.”

I scoff. “Like it’s my fault.”

Sin reaches for another towel and soaks it in hot water. He starts cleaning the cuts, and I hiss.

“It’s your fault you let yourself be vulnerable to attack,” he mutters, continuing to clean me up.

The sting is fading, and I close my eyes. He finishes cleaning my back and moves to the injuries on my shoulder and arm. His fingers trail over the scars that pepper my skin, causing goosebumps to run down my body.

I fight my immediate urge to cover them up. Whatever, he’s seen them at this point.

If he thinks the scars are hideous, that’s a him problem .

“So, tell me, kitten,” Sin continues cleaning my shoulder, but his other hand trails up to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing a scar just below my ear. “Who did this to you?”

A shiver runs down my back, and I bite my lower lip, wondering how much I want to say. Sin was honest with me about his family, and I also want to be forthcoming. Since we’re going to be working together, we may as well find a way to get along.

I open my eyes to find Sin crouched in front of me, his expression schooled to be mild. But his mask isn’t enough to hide the red glow coming off him. He’s not calm at all.

“I was blamed for a death in my hometown when I was a teenager. In return, some kids tied me to a tree and…” I start, trying to give enough of the story to be honest, but not wanting to go through the pain of remembering that night.

But Sin shakes his head. “That’s not what I asked you. I know what they did to you. I just need to know who.”

I frown at him. “How would you know what they did to me?”

“You already know we were keeping an eye on you to make sure you survived long enough to find Leon,” he answers before squeezing the back of my neck lightly. “Now I want names, kitten.”

I pull away from his grip, and Sin lets me go immediately.

“What do you mean, keeping an eye on me? I thought you only found me when I found Leon. How did you even know I was reborn? And you watched them attack me?” My voice picks up, and I can’t stop the betrayal that bleeds through.

I might not be on the best of terms with Sin, but I thought he was a better man than this. Better than letting a near child suffer that kind of pain.

Sin sees the hurt in my eyes and he looks crestfallen. “I didn’t find you in time to stop them. By the time I found you, it was dark, and you were still tied to the tree.”

My eyes widen, realization dawning. “It was you. The thing that growled in the woods.”

I remember it vividly, the menacing sound that led me to break my thumb in order to slip free from the ropes.

Sin nods. “I was furious. We weren’t supposed to interfere with you unless your life was in danger. I would have untied you, but you freed yourself.”

I’m still frowning as I try to piece it all together. “Who told you not to interfere? How did you find me?”

Sin runs a hand through his hair. “About five years ago, a spirit was sent to Morgana. She brought a message warning us that you’d been reborn. She showed us where to find you. The spirit had already been instructed to watch out for you, but we were asked to watch out for you as well in case you needed extra protection.”

“Why? Why did I need so much protection? And who sent the spirit?”

I don’t need to ask who the spirit was. I already know it was the ghost girl in the odd robes .

Sin continues, “You needed to be protected in case the Council found you. And…” he pauses, trying to find the right words, “the person who sent the spirit to Morgana knew that her sisters would try to kill you. The night you were attacked, the spirit found me and signalled to me that you were in danger. I came immediately.”

I swallow, getting the feeling that I really don’t want to know the answer to my next question.

“Who sent the spirit? Why did a ghost keep trying to save my life?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Sin sighs. “Her name is Clotho.”

I frown, trying to place where I’ve heard the name before, but Sin continues, “But you know her as one of the Fates.”