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9

FORGIVABLE SINS

DIYA

I wore a blue dress that hung to my curves like a glove. “How do I look? Good enough to eat?”

“Like you’re ready to be ravished,” Trina said, leaning closer. “But also… like you have already been ravished.”

I licked my bruised lips.

“You… what did you do?” Layne asked, her eyes shining. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“No,” I breathed out. “I came close.” My body flamed whenever I thought of how big he was in my hand… how full.

“Bitch,” Layne chuckled.

“So… who’s this, the one you’re going on a date with?”

“Vincent,” I said. “I met him when he came to investigate.”

“Investigate Asher, you mean? Don’t you think you’re being too reckless?” Trina asked from the screen, her brows knitted together before she looked away. “Carson, don’t fucking dump the entire bottle of salt inside the soup,” she snarled. “I can’t trust any of them. If I let them cook by themselves, the restaurant will be out of business in a day or two.”

“You must be busy,” I said, grabbing a pair of heels and a jacket. “Call you later?”

“It’s okay. So… why Vincent?”

“Because… toys get boring, and these days I feel like…”

“Let me rephrase.” Trina arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. “Why not Ash?”

“Because the bastard wants to kill me.” I grinned.

“He’s one stubborn bastard, then,” Layne said. “You’ll be perfect for each other.”

“We’ll kill each other before we get to fuck each other,” I said, looking at the laptop. “What do you think? Can I get laid in this?”

Layne cocked her head, studying me with a smile. “You can get laid in a burlap sack, and you know it, bitch,” she said. “Keep me posted. My statue can’t wait anymore.”

“Is there someone underneath the statue?” Trina asked, and I leaned in, curious to know more.

“No, it’s nothing special,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Just a boring sculpture of a half-naked woman my client wants to give himself for his birthday. I’ve got to pay for all the travel somehow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly scraping by, Layne. You sell every one of your boring sculptures for a small fortune.”

“Whatever,” Layne said, rolling her eyes. “So… is the sheriff gorgeous?”

“He is. He looks quite good in the uniform, and I think he’d look good out of it too,” I said, imagining Asher’s shirtless body. The tattoos spanning his sculpted chest and his arms were magnificent. “See ya. I have to leave before it turns dark,” I said, looking outside the window and stilled. What the fuck was he doing here? His wild green eyes were on me, and when I met them, he stared. “Oh, fuck. He’s here.”

“The sheriff?” Trina asked.

“No, the crazy bastard.”

Did he come to finish what we started? And why oh fucking why couldn’t I say no when it came to him?

“Asher? Can we say hi?” Layne asked, rubbing her hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Please.”

“You can’t say hi. We aren’t friends, Lay.”

“He’s there anyway,” Layne said with a pout. “Come on. I want to see how he looks.”

“No fucking way. Go sculpt your boring sculpture. I’m hanging up now.”

“You’re such a party pooper, Dee,” she grumbled, and her screen went off. I smiled at Trina, and she blew me a kiss.

“Have fun with the sheriff. You deserve it.”

I quickly logged out and closed my laptop and put it inside my backpack. Grabbing my phone and my bag, I walked out.

“I already know you’re here,” I said with a smirk as I pulled out the second tracker from my backpack, hiding it in my palm. “Did you come to say goodbye?” A low growl came from somewhere behind the cottage. “Don’t be shy, Pussycat. Come on out.”

“Well… I came to warn you.” Asher’s mouth twisted, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, infuriating look as he stalked toward me. “Oh,” he gasped, his eyes on my dress.

His gaze flickered to my lips, the cocky glint shifting to something darker. He gently pushed me until I was pressed up against the tree.

“You’re in no position to warn me, Asher. I’ll break you if you try anything I don’t like.”

He laughed, leaning closer to me.

Grabbing my hands, he pushed them above my head. “You talk a big game for someone so small,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. His fingers slid down my throat until he pressed them against my jumping pulse. “I can end you right now. If I want.”

“I can bite your cock off if I want. Right now.”

I nudged my knee into the bulge in his pants, and a whimper left his lips.

The line between the desire to kill and the desire to fuck had long become blurred for me. I knew it was the same for him.

He raised an eyebrow, licking his lips, his hand loosening around mine. I pulled my hands out of his hold, pursing my lips.

“Do it. Or is that pretty mouth of yours only good for empty threats?”

I dug my finger into his erection, enjoying the sharp intake of his breath, before moving the other to his back, sticking the tracker on his boxers.

His eyes dipped to my lips, and for one long, torturous second, there was nothing but the pounding of my pulse, the heat in his stare. I almost forgot why I started this game now.

When his lips crashed against mine, it was fierce, almost brutal—a mix of need and anger. This wasn’t a kiss; it was a battle. His mouth claimed mine, urgent and hard, his teeth grazing my lips in sharp, stinging bites.

Every kiss, every nip was a mark. He was branding me. He wanted me to remember this—the taste, the pain, the wildness of it—long after it was over. He wanted me to remember him when I was with Vincent.

He moved from my lips, his mouth along my jaw, biting and tasting, before he dipped down lower. To my chin, down my throat… devouring every inch of skin he could reach, leaving me begging for air.

When he pulled back, I closed my eyes, praying my legs wouldn’t give in. I didn’t want to feed his already inflated ego.

And then he took my hand away from his cock, took a step back from me, eyes challenging.

“You need a shrink,” he said with a wink, a maddeningly smug grin tugging at his lips.

“You need a lobotomy,” I snapped.

He shrugged.

“It’s illegal now,” he said with a low chuckle before he strolled off, giving me a wave over his shoulder.

I stared at his ass, flushed and furious, angry and aroused.

“Bastard.”

It took me a while to steady my legs. Cursing Asher and my weak-ass self, I walked toward the outer gate of the Hollowhaven.

Mr. Harken gave me a wrinkled smile as he opened the door.

I turned around, glancing back at the massive building. Shadows clung to it like a dark shroud, creating an ominous feeling, like someone was watching you from the tower. The creepers and vines up and down the old walls looked like they were strangling the building, staining its soul from the inside out.

From where I stood, the asylum looked like a sinister omen, the air thick with unspoken secrets and hidden sins lurking just inside the walls, buried with decades-old bodies.

Asher was here for those secrets.

With a sigh, I unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. I pulled out my phone and opened the tracking app to see Asher was still in the Sanatorium.

I started the car, driving through the winding road. It took me an hour to reach the outskirts of Hollow Heights. I drove straight to the Hollow Inn.

“How are you, Doctor Sharma? It has been a while,” Rexy said, opening the book in front of her.

I stayed in the Inn whenever I came to town. On my days off, I’d spend the whole day by myself, drinking and just walking around the town.

“I’m good. Work’s keeping me busy. How are you? I need two rooms, Rexy.” She shot me a strange look but said nothing as she handed me the keys. “If anyone comes asking for me, this is the room I’m staying in,” I said, pointing to the room number scrawled on the key.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” she asked with a frown.

“It’s fine,” I reassured her. “Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, still perplexed, looking at me like I had lost it. Smiling, I walked down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps muffled by the old, worn carpet.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts when I reached my room. I stepped inside, casting a quick glance around the small space, before locking the door.

Whistling, I unpacked my bag, taking out a small red box with cameras equipped with motion sensors and an audio recorder. I installed them around the place, making sure they were well hidden, but positioned just right to capture the whole room.

Cycling through the camera feeds, I watched with satisfaction as the room appeared on my screen from multiple angles. With a grin, I danced out of the room

And now, we wait.

Taking one last glance at the live feed on my phone, I slipped it into my pocket and drove to the police station.

I’m right outside, Sheriff. I sent Vincent a text.

“Hey there, come inside,” Vincent said, walking toward my car. He opened the door for me and gave me a sweet smile. Any normal woman would have melted for that smile. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Asher and his maddening grin. Something was definitely wrong with my brain. “Give me ten minutes, please. We just got the forensic report back.”

“Take your time,” I said, following him in.

The walls were red bricks, faded and chipped, giving the place an almost haunted look—it looked just as old as the asylum.

A woman sat hunched over her table, a worn paperback clenched in her hands. She stared at the pages with a grim frown, as though the book had offended her.

As I continued to take in the room, my eyes caught something that made me wince—a huge glass terrarium filled with spiders. I nearly yelped as a green and blue spider lunged at the glass right in front of me, its tiny legs poised, almost as if it were sizing me up.

“They’re completely harmless,” a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a tall guy standing there, watching me with a faint smile.

“Jumping spiders,” he said.

“Yours?” I asked.

“No, we’re just looking after them until their owner comes back.”

“Are you telling me… someone keeps them as pets?”

“They’ve got personality. They’re curious.” He flashed me a quick grin. “And they have four eyes. That looks like fun.”

“If you look closer, yu can see they actually have eight eyes.”

Deputy Clark nodded, eyes wide, studying the spiders.

“Right. Eight eyes. Wow.”

“Sorry for the wait,” Vincent said, joining me after a few minutes. “I hope Clark didn’t bore you.”

“No. We were talking about the spiders,” I said. “It’s strange someone keeps them as pets.”

Vincent frowned as he looked at the spiders with a nod before we walked out.

“Something wrong?” I asked. “What about the forensic report?”

“The crime scene is too fucking clean. We found nothing,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. My smile stilled. “Shit, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, you can talk about it if you want,” I said, with a shrug. I was curious to know more.

“Do you like seafood? Is Tide & Table okay?” Vincent asked, opening his car door for me.

“I love seafood,” I answered, getting in.

“Your car will be safe here. Clark promised to keep an eye on it.”

“Clark seems like a good guy,” I said.

“He is.”

“So you don’t have any leads?” I asked as Vincent started the car.

“I already know who—” I waved a hand, cutting him off.

“We can talk about the case, Vincent, but please don’t ask me to assume anything about my patients,” I said with a wince. He gave me an apologetic grin.

“Fine. I won’t ask you to talk about Asher, but please be careful around him. He’s not…” Vincent said, his voice laced with concern. He was worried for my safety, and of course, his worry wasn’t unwarranted. “He’s not harmless.”

“I can deal with him,” I said as the car came to a halt in front of a small wooden shack.

A board hand-painted with the name Tide & Table was hung on the door with a harpoon. I opened the door for Vincent with a bow, and he smiled as we walked in.

Dim lighting cast a golden glow over the rustic wooden tables and chairs. The walls and racks were adorned with anchors, model boats, and black-and-white photographs of men with their fishes. A soft hum of conversation filled the air, and it stopped when we walked in. Every eye was on us—no, on me.

“Oh…”

“Ignore them. They’re nosy as hell,” Vincent said, motioning to the chalkboard filled with today’s special. “Your order, ma’am?”

“The clam chowder sounds good,” I said.

“Good choice,” he said. “Grab a table, Doctor. I’ll get our food.”

I walked over to an empty table and removed my overcoat.

“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” a woman sitting just a few tables over whispered to her friend. “Vince’s so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Stop ogling his date, Lou,” the other girl said with a huff.

I smiled and waved at Lou, and Lou’s eyes widened before she waved back at me.

“I see you’ve met my cousin. She’s a flirt,” Vincent said, before turning to look at Lou. “Stop staring, Louise. Find your own date.”

She huffed, showing a middle finger to Vincent.

“She seems nice.”

“No, she’s the absolute worst, and she once stole my date right around Valentine's Day,” Vincent said with a grunt, placing the bowl in front of me. “Bon appétit, Doctor Sharma.”

The clam chowder was creamy and rich with tender clams and smoked potatoes. “God, it’s delicious,” I said with a moan as I emptied my bowl.

He told me about himself, and the town, and we talked about Doctor Tomlinson and more about his death.

Vincent was easy to talk with.

The music was pleasant and the conversation was great, but I was itching to get away already.

When it was time, Vincent drove me back to the station.

I took a sharp breath when Vincent leaned closer.

Was he going to kiss me?

He stopped when my phone buzzed, breaking the moment. My heart gave a start—fuck. The tracker.

I kissed him on his cheek, and he gave me a wide grin as he walked me to my car.

“Thanks for the dinner, Vincent. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time as well,” he said, closing the door behind me. “Do you want me to follow you?”

“Oh no, I’m good,” I said, starting the engine. He looked like he didn’t want to let me go alone, but I didn’t want the sheriff following me when I knew Asher could be there.

“It’s dark, and I…”

“I’m going to drive straight to the inn, Vincent. It’s fine. Go home,” I said, and he hesitated, looking down at me like he wanted to argue.

“Fine. Just be careful.” He watched as I pulled out of the driveway and waved.

I stopped after ten minutes and pulled my phone up to check the camera feed, and sure enough, there he was. Asher, with a dagger in his hand.

Smiling, I drove straight to the Hollow Inn.

I went to my other room, opened my laptop, and sat down, getting ready for the long night ahead. The feed flickered to life, and there my prey was.

He stood in the center of the room, back rigid, arms crossed, his beautiful lips twisted into a sneer.

He paced once, then stilled, eyes scanning the walls like he sensed something was off but couldn’t place it. He didn’t know it, but the room was his cage, and I had the key.

“Did she go to his place?” he growled, punching the wall. “He isn’t going to satisfy you,” he said. “Not like I could have.”

“But you didn’t come to my room to fuck me, Maddox. You came here to kill me,” I said, glaring at the screen.

He pulled my bag open and sifted through it, his movements sharp and deliberate.

“You came prepared,” he said, eyes narrowing.

Then he threw the bag to the floor and kicked it hard. It hit the wall and the contents spilled out of the gaping bag.

Cursing, he grabbed my lace underwear with one finger, twirling it around, desire darkening his eyes. “What the fuck is this? Is that supposed to cover anything?” Groaning, he sat down with a curse, and pressed my panties to his nose, taking in a deep breath.

“Oh, fuck.”

My body heated in response.

His eyes were hazy as he pulled his pants down, his breath heavy.

Pervy Pussycat.

He moaned louder, cupping his erection through his boxers, pressing my thongs to his face.

This man was so fucking shameless.

So was I. SO WAS I.

Sweat trailed between my breasts, and my throat went dry. Water. I needed water. Grabbing a bottle, I gulped it down, but the heat still raged.

I wanted to beg him to remove the boxers, to show me everything. The need to see him was a violent ache inside me. I jerked back, eyes wide, when he finally removed his boxers.

“Oh…”

He was hard. Big, but not too big. Just perfect. He’d fit me like a puzzle piece.

Placing the laptop on my bed, I leaned against the headboard, panting, moaning as he ran a finger up and down his cock, eyes half closed.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered, crossing my legs, feeling the slick wetness drenching my panties. “Fuck. That… I want that.”

He sat down, his fingers around his cock, his nose buried in the lacy lining, taking my scent in with everything he had. With a soft groan, his fingers began to move.

Cursing, I rubbed my clit, creating a delicious tingle.

He groaned, moving faster, and after a few minutes, cum spurted out of his cock, making a mess on the old carpet. He pressed his cock to my panties… and shuddered, cursing my name over and over. My body reacted to his orgasm, and I came with him, gasping, cursing, whispering his name as he moaned mine.

“Diya. Fuck.”

When he was done, he pulled his pants up and stared at my underwear with glazed eyes, his fingers prodding at his cum stain with a wince.

“Fuck me,” he mouthed, looking startled, like he had finally snapped out of the trance. “You fucking need a brain transplant, Asher,” he hissed, slamming his head against his palm with a groan. “You’ve gone stark raving mad. At this rate, she’ll kill you before you kill her.” Another slam of his head, this time against the pillow.

I watched with a grin as he cleaned my panties with tissues like that would make his cum stain disappear. He fell on the bed, staring at the ceiling, mumbling something under his breath.

After a while, he stood up from the bed.

“Are you going to come back anytime soon?” Cursing, he checked the clock. “You’re lucky I’ve something else to do right now.”

The bastard didn’t know this wasn’t luck. This was a trap.

He put my bag back in place, folded my underwear, and pushed it into the bag, burying it under layers of clothes. After a quick look around the room, he left.

I opened the tracking app and saw him moving in the opposite direction from the sanatorium.

He must be going to meet Hannigan. Getting my purse ready, I stared at myself in the mirror. I already looked like I was ready for a party. I pulled out the mask from inside the bag and put it on.

I just need a willing man to get me into the club, and I’d be all set.

“Let’s play then, Ash.”