Page 21 of My Kind of Sin
“Stop. There’s no pressure here. You don’t have to say it back—you don’t even have tofeelit back. There are no expectations tied to my love, no limitations or clauses. It justis. Iseeyou, Uly. Let me see you.”
I relaxed a fraction at those words, entirely against my instincts. In my experience, nothing good had come from the words “I love you.” Only lies, betrayal, and heartbreak. And that included from my own flesh and blood. And though I had no blood relatives left on this earth, hadn’t seen my parents since they evicted me from my own homeafter my first accidental purging at the age of 12, that kind of betrayal lingered, far longer than any amount of therapy could erase.
Rue loosened his grip on me a fraction, trying to trust me not to bolt, then he coasted his fingers up my side, and I suddenly became very aware that I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Goosebumps paraded across my skin, nipples peaking, and his eyes zeroed in on them, missing nothing. He knew full well I wasn’t as unaffected as I pretended to be.
“I’ve lived a long life, sin-eater,” he said, his gaze hazy, focused on a time long past. “In all that time, I’ve been fortunate enough to have loved—and lost—so many. But I’ve also learned regret the hard way, with lost chances I will never get back, and for a second last night, I thought you were going to die. So, I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I refuse to restrain my feelings now, just when I’ve finally accepted them for what they are. Love is not a weakness, and it is not some treasure to be hoarded, to be guarded and doled out in minute servings when you deem someone worthy enough, always worried that it will run out. It is a bottomless well, an infinite gift, and in sharing it, it can only grow. And so,” he said firmly, cradling my face between his palms and kissing me sweetly, once, twice. “I love you. And don’t you dare tell me not to, because I’m older and wiser and I know what I’m talking about.”
I wasn’t sure when my vision had gone watery, but when I blinked, it sent tears dripping down my cheek to be soaked into my pillow. “Okay,” I whispered, one of the cracks in my splintered heart healing over.
“Okay?” Rue confirmed, his own eyes frosted with a liquid shine.
I nodded, then quickly sniffed, trying to reel back my emotions and regain some sort of footing. I refused to be left so vulnerable, lying here in Rue’s bed. “Does that mean we can have sex now?” I asked hopefully.
“No, your ribs are broken,” he said without missing a beat.Ah, there it is, the noble act. He kissed me once more with far too much care for my liking.
Not one to give up, I tried, “You know, I’ve heard blowjobs can help with the healing process…”
His laughter was a delicious rich sound. “Tonight,” he promised. “But only if you’re a good boy and let me baby you a little.” And then the bastard teased at the hard-on tightening my pants, and damn him, in that moment, I would’ve promised him the world.
“Fine,” I agreed. I could survive one day with a boner. Right?
Chapter 14
Ruadan
WefoundRebeccaMcKay,age 42, recently divorced mother of three, at the hospital with a broken shoulder I’d given her, with no memory of how she’d been injured—or the bank she’d robbed. Surprise, surprise. It took no time at all to confirm that her husband had left her and the kids high and dry without any financial support, and she’d recently posted a GoFundMe campaign to her social media to help raise money to cover her kids’ sports equipment. With plenty of bills past due, they needed money, and they needed it fast. And not just the sort that could be raised with a crowd-funding campaign. They needed the kind of money people made bad decisions for…
I would’ve preferred for Uly to stay at my house and rest while I went to the hospital to do some undercover work, but he’d insisted on coming. “What if the police catch word that she’s there and try to interrupt your interrogation? I’ll just wait in the lobby, and if I catch sight of them, I’ll stall them.”
There was no telling how he would achieve that, but I couldn’t resist the idea of keeping him close by. The memory of his injury was still fresh, and when it came to Uly, I was apparently reduced to being an overprotective alpha in all ways. And what better way to keep him safe than to keep with me at all times. Was I going overboard? Yes, but I could always be worse. I could’ve handcuffed him to my bed, so if you really thought about it, I was being incredibly reasonable under the circumstances.
After a quick observation of the hospital staff, I’d selected one of Becky’s nurses, a petite brunette in her 30s, so I could check Becky’s chart and see if she had anything interesting to say.
“I’m trying really hard not to find this creepy,” Uly murmured, looking down at my now much-shorter height as we approached the main entrance to the hospital. “You’re all tiny and adorable, but… you still smell like you. You’re really doing a number on my head.”
I cocked my head, my curiosity getting the better of me. “And just what do I smell like?” I asked, my voice now a melodic tinkle. I was used to hearing myself with different voices, but I could tell it unsettled Uly more than he was letting on.
He blushed a little, avoiding my eyes in a way that had me even more curious. “Um, maybe we could talk about that later?” he asked.
“You can count on it,” I vowed.
The hospital’s automatic doors glided open with a whoosh, and we stepped into the large atrium, sunlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I nodded my chin toward a metal bench along the wall. “Sit right there, and don’t move,” I said in what I hoped was a commanding voice, but Uly’s snort told me I’d missed the mark.
“Yes,ma’am,” he sassed, offering me a cheeky wink before he sashayed over to the bench and plunked his cute little butt on it. Ohhh, I would be punishing him for that one later. He pulled out a book andcracked it open, playing the role of someone killing time while they waited.
Spying wasn’t just about having the right disguise. It was also about adopting behavior that wouldn’t be suspicious to anyone. It was acting like I belonged there, all while making sure I wasn’t seen at the same time as my twin. It was a delicate thing, something I’d spent millennia perfecting.
The charge nurse at the desk on the seventh floor was on the phone when I stepped onto the unit, and she offered me a distracted wave. I was just Nurse Debbie, after all. I belonged here. No one asked me why I was back early from my lunch break, and no one stopped me as I checked in with my patient in room 714.
I found Rebecca McKay propped up in bed, staring vaguely past the TV mounted on the wall, muted but displaying some life network home renovation show. She didn’t react at all to my entering the room, and I made a point of fussing over the monitor, pretending to check vitals while I peeked at her from the corner of my eye. She looked rough. It wasn’t just the casts she wore over her broken shoulder or shattered hands, or the bandages, though there were many, some tinted pink with the blood seeping through, but there were deep bags carved under her eyes, hollowing her out and aging her years practically overnight. This was not the same woman we’d faced off against outside the bank. There were no bragging taunts, no overconfidence, and she was staring off in a haunted daze, the kind of look I’d seen on soldiers after war, suffering from PTSD.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, ever the friendly nurse checking in on my patient.
Becky blinked slowly and turned her head to look at me, clawing her way out of her stupor. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound that came out of her was barely more than a distressed wail, suddentears spilling down her cheeks. The sound was chilling, setting my teeth on edge and freezing the breath in my lungs, her terror palpable. And if I didn’t hurry to calm her, she would no doubt bring more staff, checking to see what the ruckus was.
“Shh, you’re okay,” I soothed, and I sat on the edge of the bed and set a hand on her forearm, one of the few places without an injury. I whispered, “You’re safe, no one can hurt you here.”
That seemed to get through to her, and she tried to grip my hand, the cast unbending. But at least she settled a little, leaning stiffly back against the pillows. “It’s just a nightmare,” she rasped, her throat ragged from screaming. “Just a nightmare…”
