Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
While she was in the bathroom, Rissa had put on a set of clothes, although it was the loosest and baggiest stuff they'd bought.
In Sin's opinion, it was still better than the blue robe and veil she'd always worn before.
Seemingly aware both men were watching her, the former Ingénue headed back to the bed, but she didn't get in it. Instead, she fumbled with the blankets.
"Whatcha need, Riss?" he asked.
She shot him a shy look, refusing to even make eye contact with Trent. "I don't know about these clothes."
"You look fine," he promised. "But if you want to try on a few things, we can step outside."
She shook her head. "No. If your Imperator needs to speak with you, I do not want to be a distraction. My apologies, Legates."
Which meant she'd heard a few things through the bathroom wall. Hopefully, she'd also heard Trent call her "hot as hell." Maybe it would even give her a little more confidence about showing her face. Then again, a lot had happened to her recently.
"Rissa," Sin said gently, trying to reassure her, "you know Trent. There's no reason to be formal right now. He's just catching me up on what we missed last night. Relax, Princess."
Her casual facade vanished with those words. "You should've let me get a hood!" She snatched another selection of clothes and turned for the bathroom.
"You don't need one," Sin called after her.
She just stared at the ground and kept walking, closing the door harder this time.
Trent raised an eyebrow at Sin. "What's that about?"
"Fucking OutLink," Sin growled. "They convinced those girls not to show their faces because their enhancements are so 'disgusting.
' Told them no one would want to see them, that it would bother people, and such.
Even worse, Caleb said something about it before he realized she wasn't a bot.
Now, she's convinced we stare at her because she's ugly. "
"Her?" Trent whispered.
Sin nodded. "I know. If she had her way, she'd be covered from head to toe."
Trent pointed at the door again. "Her?"
"Yes, her. They didn't let her do anything, not even have her own thoughts.
Everything was designed to make the Ingénue completely reliant on the system so they would never try to escape.
" He shrugged. "She's decided I can look at her—which wasn't as easy as you'd think—but evidently that doesn't apply to everyone. "
"Damn." Trent chuckled to himself. "Sin, you are one lucky-ass bastard. You end up with a knock-out girl as your angel, then are forced to bring her home and spend a whole lot of time with her..." He leaned forward. "Which comes back to why I'm here."
"Bad?" Sin asked.
Trent nodded. "You're officially on leave for two weeks. Joshua is pissed about the media circus."
Sin clenched his jaw, holding back a grumble of annoyance. "Then maybe he shouldn't have blown up half the city! I mean, it worked out for Rissa, but you should know things are a lot messier than they seem."
"You know about the Devoted yet?" Trent asked.
Sin gestured to the closed bathroom door again. "She knows everything. Sounds like she hacked their locked forums or something. She also traced Joshua's computer address and thinks he's the one in charge of this fucking mess."
The latch clicked and both men paused. Rissa slowly opened the door, wearing loose jeans and a tight tank with a mesh long sleeve over it. "These are not clothes," she said, standing in the door.
"What's wrong with them?" Trent asked. "You look like every other girl in New Cincinnati."
She pressed her hands to her face for a moment, taking deep breaths. "There's nothing covering me, Sin!"
"Hey." He pulled himself out of the chair, moving to her side. "I have some shirts that are bigger. You want one?"
"I want a veil." She looked up at him with large damp eyes, shifting so he stood between her and Trent. "I don't want people to look at me."
Sin palmed the side of her head, right over her shiny chrome ports. "Rissa, only Ingénues wear veils. You're supposed to be dead." He ran his thumb across her head, soothing her gently. "You don't need to hide behind cloth, ok?"
"But look at me!" She pulled away, reaching up to lift her hair from the sides of her head. "I'm a freak!" A tear broke free. "He keeps staring at me. They're all going to be staring at me."
"Because you're hot," Trent said. "I'm a damned priest, not a eunuch."
Her mouth snapped shut but her lower lip trembled. Sin wiped an oncoming tear away and nodded. "Fourth precept. We can't lie. He's looking at you because you're pretty."
"I'm not pretty," she pouted.
Sin chuckled and leaned a bit closer, whispering in her ear, "He's looking at you the same way you looked at my chest when I got out of the shower last night."
Her teeth closed on that trembling lip, the edges of her mouth tilting up slightly. "That's what that looks like?"
"My chest? You've seen it."
"I mean, the way I looked at..." She wiped at her eye with the back of her hand and tried again. "I mean, you don't mind seeing me?"
"No," Sin promised. "I rather like seeing you."
"Rissa," Trent said from across the room. "He thinks you're hot, too. Just ask him. He can't lie about it."
"Don't let Trent give you shit," he told her.
She looked at him for a moment then nodded, appearing as if she'd given in. Sin walked back to his chair, hoping this would finally convince her to stop worrying about showing her face. But when he sat down, he found Rissa leaning against the wall, watching him with a devious look in her eyes.
"Brother Sin, do you think I'm hot?"
"Fuck," Sin muttered, glaring at Trent. "See what you've started?"
"Answer the question," Trent said.
"Yes." Sin looked between the two of them. "Happy now?"
A shy smile took over her lips. "What happens if you lie?"
"God will punish him," Trent said. "Mainly by stripping his wings. Show her."
Sin sighed and stood again, turning his bare back to the girl before pushing his hair out of the way. He stood there for a few seconds then walked over and grabbed a shirt. "You two happy now?"
"Is that a burn?" Rissa asked.
"Yeah. A brand." Sin shoved his arms into the sleeves, but before he could pull it over his head, she was behind him, her small fingers touching the scars that ran from his shoulder blades down to where his jeans hid the longest marks.
"Did the church brand you?" Her question was so soft it was almost a whisper.
"I branded me." He looked over his shoulder. "It's how we join the Legates, Riss."
Her fingers moved down his spine, the touch sensual and delicate. "It's wings?"
"Yeah." He lifted the shirt, shoving his head through the hole, and pulled it down before her hands could tease him again. "We must prove we're strong enough to take the punishment that comes with being the hand of God."
"They aren't all that clear," Trent said. He shook his head. "No. That's wrong. No one else's is that clear. Most of us flinched."
"But not Sin?"
"Not Sin," Trent agreed. "In order to become a Legate, a priest must prove that he or she can take the pain.
We're put in a room with witnesses and a brand—naked.
There's no shame in stepping out, but if we want the title, we must lay our own skin against the hot metal.
Rumors say he prayed. He never cried out, never screamed, never even jerked from the pain. And it hurts a lot."
"Is that true?" Rissa asked.
Sin shrugged. "I prayed."
"And that," Trent told her, pointing at Sin. "That is how a priest gets out of answering a question. He didn't lie, but he did not tell you what you wanted to know." He chuckled. "Humility is not a vow you took, Brother Sin."
"Comes with the faith, Brother Trent," Sin shot back.
"Wait." Rissa moved closer, standing across from both of them. "So, does that mean he doesn't think I'm pretty?"
"Nah," Trent assured her. "Just means he's phrasing it in the most innocent way he can." He grinned. "Sin? You tell her you jacked off last night in the shower?"
"Nope."
Trent lifted an eyebrow at Rissa. "See?"
She shook her head. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Trent laughed. "Yeah. See, I know Sin well enough to guess he probably jacked off—thinking of you the whole time—so he could pretend to be a perfect gentleman for the entire night. Get it out of his system, no accidental embarrassments, and all that."
Her mouth hung open. "Did you?"
"I had blood in my hair," Sin said, reaching for his Coke. "You might remember that. I shot a few people? Kinda was wearing part of one?"
Trent looked at Rissa again. "See the difference?"
Finally she smiled at Trent, then nodded. "I do. Brother Sin? Did you masturbate while I was in your apartment?"
"I fucking hate you," Sin grumbled, glaring at his friend. "You want another Coke?"
"Answer the question," Trent said.
Sin just headed towards the kitchen, deciding to change the subject. "So, Caleb said Pharmacon was only responsible for the jackings before the data dumps. The ones after were a militia gang called Freex who's working with the Devoted, usually led by a priest from the Legion."
"Answer the question." Trent was grinning from his place on the couch.
Sin just threw up his hands and gave up. "I am not disrespecting a beautiful young lady in my own home. Fuck off, Trent."
Reaching into the fridge he grabbed another Coke, deciding Trent could get his own. He turned around and found Rissa standing in front of him. She grabbed the bottle, blocking his path.
"Did you?"
"We're not talking about what I do in showers. We're not talking about what you do in showers either," he said.
"I've never had a shower." She shrugged. "I also don't know how to masturbate. We were never allowed to do anything like that."
Sin closed his eyes and took a long breath. "What do you want me to say, Riss? Yes, and then you think I'm a pervert? No, and then you think I'm lying when I tell you that you're pretty."
She giggled and shrugged. "I think you answer like an Ingénue."
He tapped her nose. "I'm not that smart. Now come tell Trent what you know."
He tried to leave the kitchen, but she grabbed his arm. "I told you about the kissing thoughts."
Those words were more than just a bribe. She was reminding him she'd bared her soul. Now, it was his turn, and the words came out much too easily.
Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, "Yes. And I was thinking of a girl with beautiful grey eyes. I also love that shirt."
She turned, their faces only inches apart. "Sin?"
"I'm a priest, Rissa."
Her eyes looked into his, saying more than words could. "Can I try a Coke?" They had reached a very tentative agreement it seemed.
"Can I laugh when you burp?" She nodded, but he dropped his head. "It's probably not the easiest thing for your first drink. You want me to see if I can get you something that might work better?"
"Ok." There was a new light in her eyes he hadn't seen since she'd removed the veils. "I trust you. Thank you."
He knew she didn't mean the drink. "Our secret?"
"Yes." She lifted the bottle he'd snagged for himself. "I'll give this to Trent." Which meant she'd accepted him too.