Make Me Sin (Dark Gods #1)

Chapter 16

I scream as loud as my lungs let me, trying to push Seth off. I don't even care that he's going to kill me. He already killed me a few seconds ago.

My body is rippled by pain from the effort of fighting him so I could get away from his arms, although, for him, I don't seem to pose any kind of difficulty. I feel the way he loves my desperation, feeding off my every whine, cry, and scream that I let out in vain.

In the end, my cries won’t change anything—Nick is gone. Sure, I wanted to stab him myself for what he did to me, but I never thought it would really happen. Now he’s dead. The man I spent the last four years with is just another corpse, adding to the pile on the floor.

“Don't touch me,” I snap at Seth, disregarding any kind of danger, and letting myself be ruled only by grief.

I don't expect him to listen to me, but this time he does. His muscular arms open, letting me fall to the floor.

For a second, I'm more confused than injured by the fall. And by the time my sight rises from the ground to look at him, he's a whole different man. His eyes hold a terrifying darkness. The pitch-black color is back again, and he's focusing on me like I've carried out a crime way worse than just betraying him.

He's glaring at me like he would tear pieces of flesh from my body in the very next second. Somehow he even makes me forget about Nick and everything else surrounding me, while a sense of self-preservation kicks in, replacing all my other thoughts.

He's going to kill me; I feel it from the way his fists tighten and his breath quickens, each exhale sharp and furious, like a steaming dragon that's about to torch me to death. “Stop crying over him!” He barks at me so menacingly that all I can do is let out a few whimpers. I’m trying to stop my tears, even though it feels like it's not in my power to do that anymore. I don't even know if I'm crying because of Nick or out of fear. “Don't test me; I can do really bad things to you when I'm angry, and I think you already know that.”

He roars again, maddened by a force he can barely control himself. “Get out. All of you!” he orders his men, and it seems they can't get out of the room fast enough, almost stumbling into one another. They all know better than to defy him, and so should I.

It feels like he's not even inside his body anymore. Something else is in there—something evil set out to destroy me.

My legs curl closer to my chest, in the most useless self-defense position anyone can have. I'm at his mercy now, although I feel mercy is a quality he lacks completely.

The knife that had been in my hand earlier is now twisting between Seth's fingers. He doesn't even care about the blood that stains its blade; he just plays with it like it's a child’s toy to him. Yet, it's the same blood that's on my hands, and it makes my fingers burn with its burden.

I want to be brave. Still, I can’t help but let a murmured plea slip from my lips. “Seth,” I call out his name, with the last hope that he will shake off the monster inside so I can reason with him.

I'm almost convinced I don't stand a chance, but by some miracle, a frown forms on his forehead, and I notice he’s fighting with heavy breaths to calm himself down. He's looking around the room, like he wants to convince himself that we're all alone, then his gaze stops at me like he's weighing the options of what to do with me.

There is nothing I want more than to look away from him, but I know that if I lose eye contact, I would only make his decision to kill me even easier.

“I'm only going to say this once. So you’d better pay attention,” he groans, and I nod as quickly as I can to confirm that I’m listening to what he has to tell me. “I gave you a chance to walk away, and you refused it against my warnings.”

I gasp, knowing that I’d thrown that option out of the picture.

“I should kill you,” he continues gazing at me like he's not certain yet he won't do it. “But I liked way too much how you purred my name. Therefore, I’ve decided to give you another chance. This time, the final one. I've already gone back on my word for you today. And I never fucking do that!”

My eyes widen, waiting for what he has to say.

And he doesn't leave me in suspense too long. “You can either join Nick...” he glances at Nick’s body lying in the middle of the room, next to the other three men who used to be my team. “Or me.” He turns to look at me, stretching out his hand, to help me up from the floor. “I want you to be mine.”

What?

I feel like I’m having a brain-freeze trying to process the information, but the last functioning cells in my body tell me I don’t have time to waste. I have to decide this moment. He won't wait for me for long, and I've already tested his patience today.

As I come to think about it, I believe that was a sentence that many women would kill to have addressed to them. But I know better than to be fooled by his perfectly sculpted face. He's a monster underneath his seductive appearance, the nightmare that you fear is always hiding under the bed.

If I were to choose the easy way out, I would go for death, but somehow my hand raises to slip into his, and before I know it, I am up from the floor, resting between his arms.

I instantly feel him calm down, like a junkie taking the right pill. Though I'm not his drug of choice—far from it—he's just high on having things done his way.

“Such a shame I have to leave you alone for the night,” he whispers while tracing his hand along the length of my arm as though he’s inspecting the bruises on my body. “You're still not out of the woods for trying to steal something of mine, Ya’amar. But to start things on better terms, I’ll give you three days before I claim you as mine.”

In these moments, I could plunge the knife into his heart, if the weapon was in my hands. But I was the one choosing him over death; the same way, I chose Nick over my freedom. And I'm starting to think I made two mistakes on the same day.

“You didn't have to make me kill him,” I let out my biggest regret. The only problem is I'm sending out a message to deaf ears. Seth doesn't have regrets. Instead, he is ruled by physical lust—that animalistic attraction lying in all of us. His lips crash into mine with a loud groan, like he's been starving for this for a long while.

Despite everything that just happened, his touch is electric, and even if I want my mouth to remain still, it moves against his with the same passion he sends out in every swirl of his tongue. He’s putting on a show of master skill, and I can't help but wonder how it is that kissing a monster feels so much better than when I was kissing my boyfriend.

I feel what seems to be a piece of metal on his tongue. I never noticed before that he had a piercing there, but as the metal slowly slides against my teeth, I sense that sound infiltrating every cell of my body. My head is literally spinning, disorienting me until I barely know what planet I’m on. I want him to stop, but at the same time, I don't really want him to stop. I don't want his lips to leave mine, though I feel there's another part of my body that could be in need of them.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

His tongue invades my mouth, seductively exploring every inch until he manages to extract a small moan from my throat. It's his signal of victory. The way I let him know that even if my mind hates him, my body might succumb to being his.

“I don't want you innocent,” I feel him whisper, his breath hot against my lips. “I want you scarred and with blood coating your hands. I want you to be my perfect match.”

Anger suddenly rushes through me. Did he make me kill Nick just so I could be more like him? “Fuck you.” I can't help myself from cursing him. I don't usually lack self-control. But it's like he's driving me out of my mind. Still, as soon as I hear myself speak out loud, I realize I just broke one of his rules. And the punishment for that doesn't wait to arrive. He bites my tongue so hard that I feel the taste of copper invading my mouth. It’s my blood. I know he feels it too, but doesn't leave. His lips remain joined with mine. He is feeding off me like a vampire, draining the blood and giving me his darkness in return.

There's no going back to the life I once had, and I know it. That's not even what scares me. It's the fact that there are moments when I don't think I want to return to my old life. And that's what makes my heart stop. He doesn't stop though, and continues to kiss me even more fiercely than before. He's the ultimate psychopath, and I just agreed to be his prey.

It feels as if the blood has fired him up. He's devouring me like he's promising me so many more things than just the swirls of our tongues. He wants to possess me, to control me, and every single one of my gestures. Maybe he could have succeeded in doing that a few minutes ago, but by making me kill Nick, he broke something within me. Something that could never be put back together.

“Never... use the... word... fuck again... unless it's when asking me... to get inside you,” he melts the words onto my lips, while his tongue is still dancing inside my mouth.

The thought of him inside me almost scares me, as it sends me back to that night between the sheets, when I touched myself thinking of him. I guess someone should have warned me back then, Be careful what you wish for. It might just come true. Now I’m a victim of my own desire.

He breaks the kiss slowly like he's forcing himself to do it, and I realize that although he's all flared up, he's much calmer than earlier. His anger has melted into passion, and he is just settling himself by licking the traces of my blood from his lips.

“You make it nearly impossible for me to keep my promise. But I have to go,” he says, with regret, then calls out one of his guards that was probably right outside the door this whole time. “Take her upstairs, and put her in the bedroom next to mine.”

“Certainly, boss,” the man immediately helps me walk toward the door. Before I know it, I leave Seth behind, but also the room of horrors. I feel his eyes burning in the back of my neck as I leave the room, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I just let myself be led by the man through the employees' passages, and then to the staff elevator. Having me walk around the hotel, covered in blood, wouldn't be good for the place’s image… that is, of course, if I could walk, as it was by the time we reached the top floor, I could barely keep my eyes open.

I think we stopped at the penthouse, but I can't recall much of the place. I only remember the guard helping me get into bed, then heading straight to the door, leaving me there alone.

I drift off. Everything in my bodyhurt so much that, for a few moments, I was afraid I was going to die. It's like I barely had the power to breathe, slipping in and out of consciousness.

I don't know how long I've been asleep—well, not really asleep, more like I've been drifting on and off. I think I'm alternating between dreaming and reality. For a second, I even thought Seth was here, but when I opened my eyes I realized it was only a dream.

Still, I suddenly wake with a jolt, the unmistakable feeling that I am being watched. For me, it's not waking up from a bad dream any longer; it's waking up into one. I manage to open my eyes and see a woman who's preparing what seems to be an injection. Instantly, I panic and jump—okay, more like crawl from the bed to the other side of the room.

“Hey, it's okay. I'm a doctor,” the woman tries to calm me down, although I don't think I could be calm about anything in these moments.

I try to take a better look at her. She does look old enough to be a doctor. I think she's somewhere in her 50s; her attitude of you should do what I say is definitely doctor-appropriate, but there's no way in hell I'm gonna let her put that needle in me. I don't trust anyone around this place.

“I see you're feeling better than when they first brought you in,” she continues, taking a step in my direction.

“Please stay there,” I warn her, trying to figure out when we met before, because I know I saw her on another occasion. Then it hits me—the room full of people right after the accident. Everything is pretty much blank, but as I put two and two together, I realize that that was some kind of hospital.

Why would Seth send me to the hospital in the first place if he had planned to kill me?

“It's only an antibiotic shot.” She is trying to reason with me, but I prefer to die of sepsis than willingly take any kind of drug in this place.

I am not well, far from it. My feet wobble beneath me, and I'm leaning heavily on the wall behind me to stay upright. “Please leave,” I ask her, feeling myself grow weaker by the second. I don't even care that she's a doctor. As long as she's been hired by Seth, I don't trust her. I don't think I trust anyone anymore, not even myself.

“You're not well. Let me check on some of your wounds and change the bandages.” She takes another look at me, but I think she realizes that I am not going to agree with her touching me, or taking the shot no matter what. “I'll leave you some pills here then. Take one every six hours. The red and white ones are antibiotics, and the pink ones are for pain.” She leaves me the medicine on the nightstand next to the bed. “I'll come back to check on you in a couple of hours, and someone will come and change the sheets in the morning.”

The woman leaves and I turn to look toward the bed. I realize it looks like a murder scene. The sheets soaked in my blood. And that makes me look down at my dress again, but to my surprise, the dress is gone. I realize I'm only in my underwear, and more than a few bandages are running across my body.

I'm not sure how that happened, so I decide to go to the bathroom and take a look at myself in the mirror. Easier said than done. The trip to the bathroom feels endless, like wading through quicksand. It takes me an eternity to get there, but at last, I made it to the mirror, and it seems my reflection is as wrecked as I feel—a walking disaster.

I linger there for a few more minutes, but I'm not able to take a bath yet. I barely make it back to the bed, only this time I lay as far away from the bloody sheets as I can.

They’re a brutal reminder of what happened in that room. And I don't have the power to let my mind go there—not yet.

I don't even know how time flies. I catch glimpses of the doctor coming in and out a few more times, but I don't have it in me to get up anymore. I know she's saying something about me not taking the pills she's been giving me, but there's no way she'd ever convince me.

Another woman comes and goes, bringing various carts with food that I don't touch. I only drink the water she gave me, which is in a brand-new bottle. That way, I know it hasn't been tampered with, because it feels impossible to open the cap. I never thought I’d struggle so much to open a bottle of water.

I think I only come back to my senses after feeling the doctor give me an injection. I don't even know when she got into the room. I just find myself kicking and screaming, running to the same spot in the room where I was a few hours ago.

“It's only an antibiotic and something for the pain, I promise.” Maybe she's right, but my paranoia won't let me take any kind of drug, even if it's for medicinal purposes. “I’ve given you a few shots before, and you're fine. You're beginning to recover.” She tries to convince me, and from what I can see, her syringe is already empty.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I scream, utterly convinced that anything that has to do with Seth Malvagio can't be good news. I don't need her, and I definitely don't need any kind of drug. At least that's what I think now, when, for the first time in maybe days I'm starting to feel more alive than dead.

My outburst seems to be working, and the woman leaves straight through the door. I finally seem to be winning, even though the pain in my body takes me much closer to being a loser than any kind of winner. Jesus, I never thought I would miss the smell of gasoline, but the recent events made me miss even the life I used to have with Nick.

I'm in need of a bath, and judging by how my underwear sticks to my skin from the blood, I'm going to start smelling like a zombie soon if I don't have some water contact.

I force myself to crawl out of bed, and the first thing I do when my feet touch the floor is curse about the royal-size bedroom. After what feels like traveling around the world, I manage to cling to the shower walls and turn on the water. Every drop feels like a punch thrown my way, and the image of the shower floor filling with streaks of dried blood makes me want to curl into the darkest corner.

At least the thought of not seeing Seth around somehow soothes me. I wouldn't want to face him in these moments. He has a special ability to drain the life out of me, and I'm barely clinging to the surface as it is.

My skin feels like it’s burning when I touch it, but not as badly as the knot twisting in my stomach. I feel doomed, and the exhaustion coursing through my veins definitely confirms it.

I don't even manage to wrap a towel around my hair when I’m done. I just drape it over my head, and let the excess water drain on the second towel, which I used to cover my body.

The white, fluffy material reddens slightly from my wounds, but not enough to concern me. I feel like I've already lived through my most critical hours. It's just laying back and waiting for my wounds to heal now.

My bloody dress is still lying on the floor. I haven't changed since Seth brought me in, and how could Ihave, considering I've been almost out most of the time?

I definitely can't put that dress back on, and I’m in no condition to try to wash it. Still, I can't stay in the towel either. I remember seeing a dressing room door back in the room. I decide to go look to see if there are any clothes in there. But before I embark on an expedition, I spot a nightgown on an armchair next to the bed. It's new, so I assume it's for me. Even if it isn't, I'm still gonna put it on. I'm not going to walk around here naked, not that the piece of lingerie I found covers too much. It's an over-the-knee emerald nightie from a luxury brand I used to love back in the good days. Thankfully, it's loose enough not to cling too tightly to my body.

Half-dressed and at least clean, I slip back in between the sheets and notice that they've been changed. Someone's been in the room when I was in the bathroom. The thought unsettles me, but I can't stop myself from drifting back to sleep. My bathroom adventure got the better of me, and my eyes are closing despite my efforts to keep them open. Though my sleep doesn't last long, and just like I've summoned him by thinking of him earlier, the voice of the master of my nightmares breaks through my dreams: “Hello, Serena.”