The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

I reduced my screaming to yelling, interspersed with a reluctant, and totally fake, moan and groan. Christopher watched me in rapture as I pretended to give in to his touch.

“Yes,” I breathed, sagging in his arms. “Oh, I forgot how good this was.”

Nausea rolled through me but I needed to be smarter than that if I wanted to get the baby and myself out of there.

“You love it,” he groaned into my ear. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Say my name.”

“I want you, Christopher,” I said. “But I want you properly. I want you to take me for the first time in a bed, not in the back of supply closet.”

He pulled away slightly to look at me suspiciously. I tried to widen my eyes in earnest and ground down on his fingers.

“As much as I want you, I want our first time to be right. Please. There is no rush, you found me. We have forever now.”

I prayed to God that I had been gone long enough for Sinclair to start looking for me.

“You should never have run from me,” Christopher said, his face softening as he brought me into a hug. “I would have taken care of you properly. I would have sent you to whatever art school you wanted to go to. You know I love you.”

I shivered but clung to him tightly to mask my revulsion. That was the thing about Christopher, he really did believe he loved me and he had never been physically violent towards me. The bruises and bite marks he had left me with were more a result of his desire to devour me whole, mark me as his, than from brute physical abuse. It was his sweet persuasiveness, and sometimes, when I was being particularly obstinate, his absolute authoritarianism that had made me succumb to his sexual advances. I was fifteen, the first time he had told me to get on my knees and show him how much I loved him with my mouth. It wasn’t something a fifteen-year-old girl, sheltered as I was, knew how to refuse.

As if prompted by my thoughts, Christopher smoothed a hand down my hair before gently pressing on my shoulders.

“Be a sweet girl and get on your knees.”

My stomach rolled. It was extra sensitive because of my morning sickness and the thought of giving him head amplified it three fold.

“We should go before someone sees us,” I urged.

He smiled softly, petting my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have protection.”

“What?”

I watched him reach behind his back and pull a small handgun from his waistband. I didn’t know what type of gun it was but it struck me that Cosima would know, she had been the one so well versed in the Mafia men that came to visit our house in search of Seamus.

“Why would you bring a gun?” I asked, anything to keep him talking but also because he had never been a gun carrier before.

“Nothing will get in the way of me having you again, Giselle.”

There was calmness in his eyes, a surety that spoke of absolute conviction and total insanity.

“Get on your knees,” he repeated, pushing harder at my shoulders this time.

I swallowed painfully and did as he asked, hoping even as I undid the zip on his pants tooth by tooth that Sinclair would find me.

His pants dropped to the floor and his hand was wrapping one of mine around his shaft but still no Sinclair.

Minutes later, when more things, not the worst that could be happening, but bad, were happening, still no Sinclair.

Christopher’s gun was the hand that held my head to him.

I counted to sixty.

Still no Sinclair.

Christopher was moaning when finally, I heard the door open.

I was pressed to the wall with him in front of me but I could see sudden movement as the newcomer moved swiftly towards us. I braced myself against the wall when a scream tore through the air. Christopher stumbled, falling against me so I was brutally smashed against the wall. But I didn’t care because someone was attacking him.

I rolled to the side when there was enough space and whirled to face the commotion.

Still, there was no Sinclair.

Instead, the body that clung to Christopher’s and pummeled him with furious fists, was my sisters.

Elena continued to yell, a warrior’s cry that pierced the air better than any of my previous screams. She was wrapped around his upper back, landing punches to his neck as he tried to pull her off. She leaned forward and bit savagely into his ear lobe, ripping away with her teeth still clenched. Christopher shrieked in pain as she pulled a large chunk of flesh from him and spit it over her shoulder. He tried to dislodge her by slamming her back against the wall but she used the moment to push off and heave her weight the other way, which disrupted Christopher’s balance. He almost recovered but I scrambled to my hands and knees and threw myself in the way of the foot that sought to secure his equilibrium. I watched as they fell hard to the floor, terrified that she had taken the brunt of the impact before she scrambled over him, straddled his chest with her knee pressed into his neck.