Make Me Sin (Dark Gods #1)

Chapter 25

We arrive at the hotel parking lot, and I'm almost afraid to get out of the car, but I see the door open, and Seth's hand comes straight at my face, waiting for me to take it. I think I hesitated for a second before I grabbed it, unable to find the strength to go on. I knew this day was too good to be true, and with him, even a day in heaven could end up with a night in hell.

“Don't stress, Ya’amar; this is going to be fun,” he whispers, giving me even more reason to be stressed. His idea of fun usually comes down to a pile of corpses. I raise my eyes to look at him, and I suddenly feel his heavy palm crashing against one of my ass cheeks. “Don't give me that look, or I will fuck it out of you,” he mutters, watching me try to deal with the stinging pain from his palm. It feels as if a thousand needles are pricking my skin while at the same time, I could swear hot lava runs through my eyes and I’m unable to control it. Though it's not how I imagined it would feel. It’s heavy and shortens my breath, yet it awakens something within me—a throb in the pit of my stomach that’s gliding straight to the center of my core.

I stop in the middle of the parking lot, and the bastard smirks as he keeps watching me trying to fight the pain, his grin only growing larger this time. Another slap on the ass follows—lighter and more playful this time, but as consuming as the first. The pain does something to my body.It's like my feet can't go on, and that brings Set right in front of me. “Hmmm, and here I was, trying to focus on business for the day. But you don't want me to do that, Ya'amar, do you?” He lets out a groan as he brings his lips to mine into a rough kiss, biting my lower lip, while claiming my mouth.

I gasp. The pain from his bite seems to settle on top of the heat wave that's already pressing on my core. And the bastard knows it. Sneaking his hand beneath my top and straight on one of my breasts he squeezes it into his palm as his fingers pinch my aroused nipple, only causing further damage to my already bruised ego. I’m not supposed to allow him to have this kind of effect on me.

Trying to keep a part of my sanity, I struggle to get away from his grip, but he keeps me there until my moans slowly drown down his throat as I fight the pain. “Don't come just yet. You have all night to do that in my bed,” he whispers a dangerous promise as he sets me back on my feet. It's only then I realize I had been standing on top of his own two feet. I must’ve done that when we kissed.

I try to even out my breath and make sense of his words as I rearrange my clothes to step into the elevator.

What did he just say? In his bed?

I don't think I'm getting out of this night as easily as I did last night, and even though my mind rejects the thought, that throb in my pussy is anxious for him to follow through on his promise. Treacherous, greedy bitch.

I try to rearrange my ruffled clothes as best as I can and let Set lead me to a conference room where five people are waiting for us—our team. I don't know why, but this time I have much more confidence in them than I had in the people Nick chose to work with.

Set doesn't waste time showing them who's boss, and gets straight to the point, explaining to us that we only have two more days to get things done. It's gonna happen the day after tomorrow. The plan is pretty simple—the team gets most of the job done; I just have to unlock the safe. This time, I'm not playing a part in any kind of charade. The coast will be clear when I get there, and it will be a two-minute job.

The team seems to have met before, including Set, so they already know the backup plans, and what to do if anything goes wrong. A few rigged cars will be set up at the location and will be blown up if shit goes down, distracting the authorities or anyone else who might interfere with our plans, long enough for us to get out.

I am shown a picture of the vault. I have dealt with that model before, and it should cause me no difficulties, especially since the level of security is much lower than the casino’s. National institutions seem to rely more on manpower than technology, and judging by the guards I've seen there, this will be a walk in the park. I do, however, need something to complete the mission. “Set, I will need to get a hold of my contacts.” I briefly pause because I’m not sure he would let me contact anyone I know. But he surprises me this time and opens the drawer of the mahogany desk he’s sitting at, pulling out the phone he gave me when I first came into his penthouse. I haven’t bothered to carry it with me since Set is the only one I have permission to call, and he’s always around when I leave the apartment.

“Here, your contact has already delivered the app that will help you with the vault.” He hands me the phone, so I can check for myself that it's what I need.

Who told him about the way I operate? “How did you—”

“I know everything, Serena; there are no secrets you can keep from me,” he states, praising himself, but also sending me a silent warning. I feel the hidden meaning behind his words—I will never be able to do anything without his knowledge. The thought of someone having so much control over my own life scares me to the point where I'm starting to believe it's not even my own life anymore.

The meeting ends. I’ve got the essentials, and know exactly what I need to do. Strangely enough, I don't feel a bit nervous or excited about breaking in. What can happen to me that’s worse than what already has? But then again, I hear Set reminding me of our plans for the day. “Your gifts await, Ya’amar.”

I really don't want any gifts from him, but I know I can't tell him no. So, shortly after my crew leaves the room, we head straight toward the basement.

Fuck, my breath catches in my throat as he leads me through long, dimly lit corridors until we reach a point where we are surrounded by half a dozen doors. My heart is pounding like it's about to burst out of my chest any second now, and I see Set turning to face me. There’s a strange sparkle in his eyes as he’s leaning in straight toward me—wicked, hungry. His lips merge with the skin of my neck, then kiss their way up to my earlobe, leaving behind my goose-bumped skin.

Fuck, this feels much better than it should. Much better than I want to allow it to . But, as always, his kisses are poisonous, filled with a venom I can’t resist. “You wanted to play with a knife, Ya’amar. And you know how I like to bring all your fantasies to life.” I suddenly feel something cold being slipped into my hand, and my body goes rigid. I know exactly what this is—the knife I used to kill Nick.

“No, please,” I beg him. I don't want to go through that again, but his cold eyes dart to mine, and I instantly know there's no room for bargaining.

A tear rolls down my cheek as he takes my hand and leads me into one of the rooms. The space is dark, and I don't see anything when we get there, but I feel Set right next to me, sneaking a hand around my waist, the same way he did when he got me to face Nick.

The lights suddenly flicker on, and I notice there's a man strapped down to a chair right in the middle of the room. I can’t tell if I've seen him before—he's so beaten up it’s hard to tell if he even has a face anymore.

“What's this?” I quiver as I feel my legs are beginning to fail me.

But Set is there behind me, holding me in place. “Stay calm, Ya’amar. This is your first gift.”

“I don't understand.” How can a man tied to a chair be a gift?

“I will clarify that for you. Doesn't he look familiar?” Set asks, trying to jog my memory.

I’ve been trying to figure out who this man is ever since I set foot into the room, but I can't really recall. “I don't remember… I’ve seen him before. I know I have. I just can't recall from where at this point.”

“It's okay, Ya’amar. He's insignificant anyway. You've met him before, but you don't have any reason to remember him. He used to be one of the men who worked for me. You probably met him on several occasions when you first came to the hotel.” I feel Set's hand helping mine close over the knife’s hilt. “Even if you don't remember him, I'm pretty sure he remembers you. You see, he made a decision regarding your life. This fucker went above my word and thought he could decide your fate in my place.”

I turn my head to look at Set out of the corner of my eye. What is he talking about?

“He was the one who ordered the van you were in be pushed off the road. He's the one who hurt you.” Set whispers, pain, and anger struggling in his words.

“I thought—”

“That I would ever risk hurting you? I must admit, you drove me close to insanity that night, but I’d never do something like that to you. Sure, I love the way pain rushes through your body, but I’m saving that for bedroom purposes only.”

I also have the feeling he knew I wouldn't shoot Nick. All of this was supposed to be a demonstration. Everything that happened was meant to show me the real Nick and break whatever relationship or feelings I had for him. Set took action instead of issuing warnings because if someone had told me but not shown me, I would have never believed Nick was capable of the things he did that night.“I would’ve never risked you getting hurt,” I hear him murmur against my lips, clearing some of the confusion in my mind— that's why he gave me an empty gun . He knew Nick would shoot me, and he didn't want to risk my life.

Set planned this all along; it was all meant so that I would become his.

I don't even feel anger, mostly because I think Set saved me from something far worse than him. And I can't deny that I feel flattered that a man like him went through so much trouble to have me. No one has ever wanted me at this level. Nick sure didn't. The only problem is that I'm resting in the arms of a killer. And he never misses the chance to remind me of that. “Take the knife, and hurt him the same way he hurt you.” He presses my hand harder against the knife's hilt.

I won't lie and tell myself that I'm not angry at the poor bastard sitting in front of me for almost getting me killed, or for the pain he caused me. I thought I was going to die several times during those days, but as I look at the man, I can see that Set has done enough to avenge whatever harm he ever did to me. I don't want to hurt him any more than he already has been. I don’t even know if he deliberately ordered the van to be pushed off the road, or if it was just a rushed decision, but I do know I can't let this man lose his life over it.

“Set, please. Don't make me do this.” I beg him again, and this time, it seems my words are not in vain.

“I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to. It's your decision whether he lives or dies. The same way it was your decision to kill Nick.”

“He'll... he'll live.” It's like I can't get the words out fast enough, and I instantly feel Set taking the knife from my hand, relieving me of its burden.

I get to breathe for a second. But only for a short second, because I see him heading toward the man, holding the knife in his hand.

Set stops right in front of him, examining the poor bastard.”Say thank you because this woman here just saved your life.” Set orders the man, and it's like he can't babble his thanks fast enough. “Look at her. She has the power over your life, never the other way around. The same way I do.” Set goes on, ripping the man's shirt, and exposing his chest. “And this...,” he says, drawing the knife to the man's chest and carving a strange symbol on his skin. “This is a reminder of who owns who,” Set snarls between gritted teeth while his ex-guard is struggling, screaming in pain. “I never want to see you in Vegas again.” He cuts the bonds loose, freeing the almost-fainted man.

“Get him out of here,” Set calls for his guards who hurry to drag the almost unconscious man out. In the next second, I'm left all alone with him in the room—my monster.

By the time he turns to look at me, I'm shaking like a leaf. It felt empowering to be able to save that man, and even more empowering to be able to decide upon his life. But the instant my eyes meet Set's, all of that is washed away—every ounce of power I thought I had.

I can't tell what's going on behind that poker face he just put on. I never know if he is on the verge of happiness or pure insanity. So, I just remain there, looking at him like he's the judge about to give me my verdict. Did I screw things up? And if so, what is he going to do to me?

My mouth goes dry in the seconds he takes to react in any way. I know he’s taking his time on purpose to intimidate me, but that doesn't make him any less scary.

Without warning, his hands seize the backs of my knees, and I’m weightless in his grip as he sweeps me across the room. The sudden shift in control leaves me breathless as he sets me atop a cabinet.

When I truly come to my senses, I find myself with my arms tightly wrapped around his neck. I put them there when he lifted me, and for some reason, they're still clutched onto his broad shoulders, even if I'm sitting down now. I sheepishly try to pull my arms back, but his hands catch them, holding them in place as if reminding me that he alone dictates when I let go. “You did good. You did so, so good,” he groans with gratification, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“You're not mad?” I ask, confused about whether he is for real or just playing with me.

“No, Ya’amar. This was your decision. You were the one that got hurt. You have to be strong enough to decide things like this. It’s exactly what I'm trying to teach you; to have faith in yourself.” His hands suddenly go up on my thighs, and I feel one of them slipping beneath my dress, heading all the way up to play with the border of my panties. “They're wet. You enjoy this,” he cares to make that observation, and my cheeks are suddenly burning with shame. It hits me then—he’s right. This power exchange ignites something deep within me, a thrill I can’t deny, even though every instinct screams that I shouldn’t. And yet, the danger of it coils around me, a silent warning that this pleasure will come at a price.

A deep, guttural grunt escapes him as he pulls me in, our mouths colliding in a feverish kiss, tongues tangling in a rush of need. It's electric, a current racing through my veins, as if the power he granted me had ignited something untamed within me. And I can't help myself from gasping when I feel his mouth straying from my lips to trail down on my body; his hands almost trembling in anticipation as he cups one of my breasts from beneath, pulling the fabric down, and revealing the full-size of the round mound.

“I can barely find the patience.” I hear him snarl, trailing his tongue along my soft skin, then roughly sucking my nipple between his teeth. “I just needed a taste of you.” The voice of a man with an addiction. His fingers dig inside my panties, making me realize I’m so wet that they glide over my skin with incredible ease.

I feel my head fall back, and hit the wall behind me while my senses go completely wild. “Fuck, Set...” I pant, my voice barely a whisper. I beg him for something, but don't know if it's for him to stop or go on.

“You can curse at me now. But be very careful what you throw at me. If you send me to hell, then I'm taking you there with me, and if you say fuck you, then I'll make you fuck me until life will seem to abandon you.”

I suddenly stiffen, trying to arrange myself and cover my breasts since he just took his mouth off of them to speak.I instantly see him cocking his brow, like I just took away his toys. “Those are mine,” he snarls against my lips. “The way this is mine.” His fingers plunging into my pussy, taking the air out of my lungs, and claiming my body like it’s his possession. “The same way you're mine. Forever.” He kisses me again, and an electric rush fights inside my body. I'm trembling not from fear or his unrelenting grip. I’m trembling because what he just said amplifies some kind of sick addiction that I’m beginning to form for him. A twisted craving I can’t resist.

His entire body begins shaking and I feel him fighting himself to break the kiss. “You know,” his voice raw, almost vulnerable, “I never expected this.” His eyes stare into mine, keeping them as his prisoners. “I never expected you.” His breaths heavy. “That's why I wanted you to have this kind of power today. My guard was lucky because you were generous with him. I would have never let him leave after hurting you. I will kill anyone who ever tries to hurt you.” His words clipped and punctuated. “Just remember, the world belongs to you, and you belong to me.” His gaze is far softer now, and I know this isn’t a game; it's a promise. And Set is a man of his word.

“Now, for your next gift,” he continues, his voice fighting to keep steady, “…for your next gift, I need you to be strong. It's something you've wanted for a long time. And I told you I would make all your dreams come true.”

And my nightmares. I don't say it aloud, but my eyes close, preparing for the worst. I never know with Set if I'm heading towards agony or ecstasy. But I’m soon to find out.

Helping me down from the file cabinet, he takes my cut hand, and places it against his lips, kissing my knuckles. I really don't understand this man. I tried to kill him, and he has acted almost human since then. Honestly, I expected to be dead by now, but he began treating me like a queen. And that makes me think that what he has prepared for me could be worse than death.

We exit the room and return to the same lobby where his eyes point to a different door. It takes us a couple of steps to get there, and as we stop right in front of it, a sliver of light spills out, flickering ominously.

“Just remember, Ya’amar. This time, it's your choice,” he tells me, his voice low as he swings the door open to reveal another man strapped down to a chair.

Why am I not surprised?

I approach the man only to notice fresh blood gathering in a puddle on the ground. The light is dim where he is sitting. The shadows obscure him, but Seth makes sure to fix that by aiming a floor lamp that was sitting in the corner of the room straight at him.

Light hits his body and I can’t help from crying out seeing the state the man is in. He’s battered beyond recognition, his face a canvas of bruises—same as the guard. But that’s not what shocks me. Hundreds of recent cuts split his skin, and I can see words carved into his body. On a closer look, I realize they’re names. A few dozen names.

I try to get a better look at him because I know this has to be related to me in some way, but I just can't recognize him.

“I got carried away with this one.” Set moves behind me, drawing his lips to my ear. “But this man took something of yours.”

“Of mine?” I ask confused. What could he possibly take? I don't have that many things. “I don't understand.” I don't want to seem dumb, but my mind is just a blur at this point.

“You will, soon. I just received a text that I missed out on a name.” Set pulls the knife out of his pocket again, approaching the man. I'm certain he wants to carve that weird symbol into him, just like he did to his guard, but instead, he uses the blade to write a name on the tied-up man’s face—Kay. The man barely flinches from having the knife split his skin open. From what I can see, he has so many names written on him that he's probably accustomed to the pain by now. And judging by the way the other names are written, it was also Set who carved every one of them into the man’s skin.

“I'm starting to think you were competing for my record of kills.” My lord of darkness smirks at the man, watching him struggle to find enough oxygen to breathe.

A knot rising from my stomach seems to be pushing up my bile, and I think I'm going to throw up. There's too much blood and open wounds for me to handle. This man needs immediate medical assistance.

But is that what he’ll receive?

“Come, Ya’amar,” Set asks me to join him, but my feet can't move from where I stand. “Come unwrap your gift.” This time, his voice is vibrating with much more authority, and I’m perfectly awareI can't refuse him without consequences. I can feel it in his tone, so I barely drag my feet across the floor until I'm standing next to him. My limbs are trembling like a leaf while the smell of blood is one step away from making me faint. I do my best not to crack at this point, and Set senses it. His arms wrap around me for support while his lips whisper exactly the words I need to hear. “You are so strong. You just don't know it yet.”

I don't particularly enjoy being praised, but coming from him, it hits differently, like receiving supreme gratification, only it’s from a man I don’t want anything to do with.

“The names you see carved on him,” Set’s lips brush my temple as he gets behind me so I can face the man and look him in the eyes while he's explaining things to me. “I put the names there. It's the list of the people he killed, or ordered to be killed.” I freeze, gazing at the countless crimson names decorating his skin. Even though none of them seem familiar, my gut twists, feeling sorry for each one of his victims.

I don't think Set is lying to me. The man in front of me is a killer. I just don't understand what this has to do with me.

“He deserves everything I did and will do to him.” Set goes on, drawing his lips between my hairline right behind my ear. “Open his shirt, and you’ll see your gift.”

I gasp at what he asks of me, yet I also know better than to refuse him. He might be on his best behavior today, but I heard the irritation in his voice earlier when I didn't do what he asked of me. And I don't want to learn what will happen to me if I cross him again.

I approach the man, feeling like I’ll faint the moment I touch him. I'm not even sure how I am supposed to open his shirt because I can't even see the buttons from all that blood, but I suddenly feel Set taking my hand, and opening my palm. He puts a knife there, the same one he gave me earlier. Trembling, I use it to cut the shirt, being careful not to hurt the man further.

“Please,” I hear the tied-up man beg, but there isn’t much I can do to help him. Blood is dripping on the chair from inside his shirt, and I can see some letters where the material falls to the parts. It takes a few seconds for me to rearrange them inside my mind. It's not because I don’t understand them, more like I refuse to read them.

“ Michael, ” I breathe, reading out loud the name carved on his chest.

This has to be a coincidence. It can’t be true.

Then again, there are no coincidences when it comes to Set. All of a sudden, I feel I’m out of air; my heart goes wild inside my chest, and there's an insane level of fear and desperation that engulfs me.

But there’s also a strange relief. Did Set find Michael's killer?

“Set,” I call for him because I just don't know what else to do at this point.

“Shush. It's okay. I will explain everything.” He tries to calm me down. “I know I fucked him up pretty well, but do you remember this man?”

I try to take a closer look, trying to imagine how the man sitting on the chair would look if his eyes weren'tso swollen by bruises, and his face wouldn’t be covered in blood. It's only then that a flashback of a face I've seen before hits me. I think he had shorter hair back then, but judging from his blue eyes, and the old scar he wears across his forehead, I'm starting to think this is one of the detectives who worked on my brother's case. The bastard made sure to wrap up things pretty quickly back then, but then again, my brother was a criminal, and no one was invested to properly investigate his death.