Dark Need (House of Sin 3)

I look away, unable to gaze into her eyes because it makes my heart ache, and I don’t fucking know why. I’ve never felt this kind of pain. Physical pain, that I know well. Blood seeping wounds, scratches, slicing, squeezing, suffocation. I know those kinds of pain all too well.

But this? This is unfamiliar territory for me.

And not knowing what to do makes me antsy.

“The cult that took me captive before they sent me to your House only accepted women if they were virgins,” she says. “No one else. They wanted us for our bodies, to force us to … have sex and marry a man.” She swallows, her eyes searching for a truth she can’t seem to find. “Point is, I was still a virgin, even after I got sent to your damn House.”

She looks me in the eyes, fury hiding behind them. “That was my first time ever, and you took it from me.”

The hurt in her eyes is too much to swallow, too much to bear. I clutch the ax tighter, unable to keep the rage at bay. She wants to blame me, but I am not the one who pulled the trigger.

“You destroyed my belt,” I growl back.

“What?” She scoffs. “Really? I was trying to help you.”

“I didn’t ask,” I retort.

“You were in pain!” she yells in my face.

I take a step closer. “And I warned you not to!”

We’re right in each other’s faces, but she doesn’t seem scared at all, despite the fact that my frame alone should instill fear in the hearts of my captives. “That’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t mean you can just go around and fuck people whenever you want!”

“You were hot for me, woman,” I reply.

A blush creeps onto her cheeks, but it disappears as the fury engulfs her in flames. And suddenly, she slaps me in the face. Hard.

I’m shocked she’d even have the guts.

The sting isn’t painful, but the scornful look in her eyes makes it hard to stomach.

“You deserved that,” she says, pointing at me.

I grumble and grind my teeth.

She slams her fists against my chest. “Motherfucker!”

I let her punch me a few times. Not because I like it, but because maybe, just maybe, it’ll calm her down a little.

“Why don’t you fucking fight back, asshole?!” she yells, still slamming her fists into me. “Why don’t you say something? Coward.”

I grab her wrist and stop her midair.

“I am no coward.”

She makes another face. “Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal human being? Why can’t you just apologize?”

I swallow as the air between us grows thick with tension, my own rage boiling to the surface now. “Because we were punished for it.”

She stops, and her lips part, her jaw dropping slightly.

But none of her surprise makes my anger go away.

Nothing I do or say to her will make this go away.

Nothing will ever quell the filthy, dark needs in my body.

And nothing will ever calm the storm raging in my heart.

So with a roar, I chuck the ax in the tree behind me and then storm off.

Chapter 19

Soren

Age 14

I slam the hammer into the nail, and it hits the boy’s back. Ink spreads underneath his skin, and a cry leaves his mouth. He clutches his legs together while trying to contain himself, but the tears still flow freely across his cheeks. His small frame is barely big enough to handle the needle going into his skin again and again.

Just a little boy, maybe six or seven years old, already made to endure this pain.

I hit the nail again just a little bit farther, and another whimper leaves his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

WHACK!

The whip comes down on my back so fast I hiss from the pain.

“CONTROL YOURSELF,” my trainer barks at me. “Do not speak. And do not say sorry.”

The boy looks at me with tears in his eyes, but I don’t say another word. I don’t fear the pain of the whip because I know pain, but I don’t want to make this last any longer than it has to.

Any word I say will be used to teach me a lesson.

To teach this boy a lesson.

“No one said sorry to you, now did they, Soren?” my trainer quips as she comes to stand beside me, throwing me a look. “No one feels sorry for you, for him, or any other fighter here.”

It’s true.

I remember sitting right on this very bench here when I was just as little, my skin getting punctured with ink by someone else who was the age I am now, accompanied by a trainer watching their every move.

History repeats itself over and over.

Because we must follow the rules.

Because there is no greater thing than our honor and the people we protect.

She bends over, leaning on her knees, and looks at the boy. “Today, you become a man.”