He waits, patiently, still kneeling in front of me. “What will it be? Answer the question truthfully, or do I get to commit a sin against you?”
“The sinning part—can be anything you choose?”
He nods, his eyes like fire ready to burn me the second I refuse to answer the question. “Anything except murder.”
I nod. I was right in my understanding of what a sin could be. And I can’t believe I fell for his twisted game. He likes torturing me before he beats and rapes me. It’s more fun to think it’s my fault he’s hurting me than to just fucking do it himself—fucking coward.
This is the easiest question, but also the hardest to admit. We both already know the truth, but I know nodding won’t be enough this time. He wants me to verbalize my feelings. Whether I answer or not, he wins. He either gets me to admit my attraction, which he will use against me, or he gets to rape me.
I grit my teeth in anger at his ridiculous question. He doesn’t care about Julian or getting honest answers from me. He just enjoys the slow torture. I won’t let him win. He doesn’t get to hurt me tonight. I won’t let him. I’ll answer him. Words and teasing won’t hurt me.
“Yes,” I answer, refusing to give Zeke more than a single syllable answer. Luckily, it’s enough to please him.
His face darkens, and I can tell he’s thinking about all the dirty things he wants to do to me.
“Your turn,” he says.
I think for a moment through my red, angry cheeks and grinding teeth. I’m not going to waste my question like Zeke did. Although, from the amount of rage I’m now experiencing, he didn’t waste his question. He got me riled up and unfocused.
“Do you enjoy taking women as your slave?” I spit out in anger. Yes, my question sucks and doesn’t get me any real answers. But I’m pissed. I want him to admit he’s a monster, just like I had to admit I find him attractive.
I tap my fingers hard against the soft fabric of the armrests, wishing my nails could make an annoying tapping sound to unnerve him. I glare at Zeke, demanding an answer. A simple yes will satisfy me, just as I answered him.
“Sin.”
I blink rapidly. Wait…what?
“I won’t answer your question. I choose sin.”
I’m speechless. I gave him an easy question, and rather than answer me truthfully, he’d rather let me commit a sin against him. I search his eyes to see if he set a trap, but I don’t find any there.
My wheels turn, trying to come up with the perfect sin to inflict upon him. After a few moments, I grin slyly when I find the right one. Now to figure out if Zeke will keep to his word and take my wrath.
14
Zeke
Why didn’t I ask her about Julian? Why didn’t I ask the most important question?
I know why. Once I get an answer, this will end. She will go free. She will no longer be mine. Our time together will be over.
I don’t know how I know exactly, but I know. The question is too important. The truth she is hiding is too big. I can see it in her surprised eyes when I didn’t ask the obvious question. By not asking, I got more information about how important the answer is than if I had asked. Sure, I might have gotten to commit a sin if she wasn’t ready to share the answer with me. But once I start committing sins, I won’t be able to stop—not with Siren.
Why did I choose sin instead of answering her question?
Because I had no choice—I either lie or tell her the truth. And even though she thought her question was an easy one, it wasn’t. I’m not the man she thinks I am. I didn’t want to buy her like I would a car, but I had no choice.
Just like I have no choice but to choose sin instead of truth. I can’t tell her the truth, and she would know if I lied—so sin it is.
“What is your sin?” I ask, still kneeling between her legs, staring eye to eye with her. When I first knelt in front of her, it was to get her to trust me; now, it’s tempting me in ways I never imagined. Being so close to her and not being able to touch her, not being able to rip her sweatpants off and devour her sweet pussy—kneeling was definitely a mistake.
“Hmm,” her lips purse as she contemplates her decision. I know she is going to push my limits even further. She knows she is my weakness, and for some reason, I’m not letting myself have her. The lie I told was that I’m going to sell her to make a profit as long as she is untouched. But I’m not sure she bought that lie.
Siren thinks I’m ruthless and cruel, but I’ll protect her with my life. I’ve already moved her into the very limited circle of people who I would defend no matter the cost.
Her eyes darken as they go back in forth in search of finding something in my eyes. But I’m as blank as a sheet of paper. I won’t yield any truths outside the game.
“I’m going to need some real clothes,” she says.
“No, that’s not part of the deal. You get what I decide to give you.”
She frowns and folds her arms over her chest, lifting her legs up into the seat, trying to get as far away from me as possible.
“I knew you were a liar and would go back on our deal.”
“I’m not going back on our deal. You can commit any sin you want. I just don’t have to fund it or supply you with clothes or anything you need to commit the sin.”
She shakes her head. “I have nothing. I own nothing. You’ve given me nothing! How am I supposed to commit a sin when I have nothing to work with?”
I shrug. “That’s not my problem.”
She pouts for a second, then says, “I can use anything I find? Anything I own or lay claim to in order to commit my sin?”
I narrow my eyes and lean forward, not sure where she is going with this. “Yes.”
She hops over the side of the armrest and then starts running through the house.
She’s going to be the death of me; I can feel it.
A second later, I chase after her. I’m fast, but due to my height and weight, I’m not as nimble as she is. She can hop over and dart around the various pieces of broken glass and furniture before I even see them.
She’s out the front door before I get to the foyer. But I’m out the door in two giant leaps. She’s running for my truck—the driver’s side. My keys are still in my pocket; she can’t start the truck. Right? But I don’t stop to recall if the keys are still in my pocket or if I accidentally left them in the truck.
I run to the passenger side.
Siren is sitting on the driver’s side. Her hands are on the wheel, and her seatbelt is already fastened.
“And where do you think you are going without the keys?” I smirk.
She bites her lip, trying to hide her mischievous grin. “I’m not going anywhere without the keys. Thanks for bringing them.”
And with that, she starts the truck and puts her foot on the gas, flooring it.
Damn it, I’m a fucking idiot!
I’m used to older trucks, the kind where you have to put the key into the ignition to start it. But even though this truck has already been beaten to death by the previous owner, it has a key fob. You don’t need to put it into the ignition, but I usually do out of habit. I consider jumping out of the truck, so the key is no longer in the vehicle. But I’m not sure removing the key fob from the car at this point will even shut the truck off. She could drive anywhere. She could get free.