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Story: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY
SYDNEY
I follow behind Blake and Ro as they enter the huge house. Blake called it Stonebridge Manor, and a manor is a fitting description. I can’t believe this is Roman and Blake’s home, and I’m confused about the two of them. I thought they were friends. But something tells me I read that wrong—so wrong.
A tall, thin woman greets them, but neither stop to introduce me, leaving me to offer her a small, uncertain smile as I pass and follow along like a lost puppy. My eyes can’t focus on any one thing, jumping from the wide central staircase to the ornate spindle banisters, the wood floor, shiny enough to see my reflection in, and the dark stained doors scattered around the entrance and the hall Blake and Roman are walking down.
The house is old, but despite the nod to its history, it’s bright and airy, modern almost. I nearly slam into the back of Blake when he and Roman pause outside a door.
Roman pushes inside, and as I join them my eyes widen impossibly further when I’m met with a…a medical room. There’s a bed in the centre with cupboards lining most of the other walls, and a counter runs around half the room with all manner of equipment and devices that wouldn’t look out of place in a hospital—I’m certain that’s where they are from.
“Blake,” Ro says, pointing to the bed. Blake hops up onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side, as Roman opens cupboards, collecting supplies.
I open my mouth to speak but close it again when nothing comes out. I’m unsure where to start. I don’t know which questions to ask first, like do I want to know why someone just set fire to my house, essentially trying to kill me, or do I want to know who these two men really are. Because while I’ve suspected for some time that Roman most definitely isn’t a reverend, it means there is a reason they infiltrated my pa’s church.
“Why?” I blurt out as the thought strikes me like a bolt of lightning. That one question is like an avalanche and a multitude of quick-fire questions tumble from me. “Why are you pretending to be a reverend, Roman? Who are you? Why is someone trying to kill me? What do you want with me? Or Pa? “Are you…lovers?” I slap a hand over my mouth to stop myself just as Blake removes his top, revealing a tanned, ripped body. His upper chest is inked with three skulls and a quote across his abs, which I can’t read fully from this position. My body involuntarily carries me forward until I’m standing mere inches away from him while staring intently at his tattoos.
Blake laughs as I find myself bending and leaning forward to get a better look. “You want me to lay down so you can inspect me thoroughly, Syd?”
“Er…oh damn…uh…no, sorry.” My words trip over one another as Blake’s voice brings me back, and I retreat, hitting a solid figure behind me with a yelp.
“Not the time, Blake,” comes Roman’s gruff voice next to my head, his breath blowing in my hair. He places a hand on my hip, gently steering me to the side so he can get to Blake.
I desperately try to ignore the tantalising electric current from Roman’s touch, but it’s incredibly difficult to do as my eyes are drawn back to Blake’s bare upper body.
“It’s a sin,” my mind reminds me.
“I don’t care,” I argue back internally. And I might actually mean it. Maybe having my mortality so blatantly thrown in my face has made me realise how precious life is and how incredibly short lived it can be.
“It’s a through and through. You’re bloody lucky, Blake. I can’t believe how stupid you were,” Roman says, bringing me back to the room, as he begins cleaning the blood from Blake’s shoulder. “They’ll need suturing.”
“Not for first time, Ro,” Blake replies, and for some reason, I’m not at all surprised by that statement. “And I wasn’t stupid, just more interested in protecting someone.” His eyes lift to meet mine, and Roman turns his head, eyeing me over his shoulder.
I feel my cheeks heat at his confession initially, but then guilt wipes that away quickly enough. I’m about to apologise for Blake getting hurt, but Roman’s voice stops me.
“I need your help, Sydney,” he says, waving me forward.
I stand awkwardly at the side of Roman, but with a frustrated huff, he grabs me round the waist and forces me where he wants me to be. Clutching my hands in his, he lifts them, placing them either side of Blake’s shoulder, front and back, to hold the gauze in place.
“Apply pressure. Don’t move,” he instructs.
“I…er…” My words trail off as I avoid making eye contact with Blake, looking everywhere but at him and trying not to think about the fact I’m touching him—not skin to skin but enough to cause my heart to race.
“Relax, Syd,” Blake whispers and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brush over my cheek as he does, and he chuckles as my whole body shivers. “Damn! So receptive.”
The action has me unintentionally pushing a little too hard on his wound, and he omits a groan.
“Sorry,” I say, despite my brain automatically imagining that groan in pleasure and not pain.
“You liked that, huh?” And in the event I didn’t know what he’s referring to he lets out a longer groan, this one rougher and deeper, and I feel the rumble vibrate through his chest, which slowly turns to a chuckle.
“Do you think this is funny? You were shot, Blake. At my house after it was set on fire. And you think it’s amusing to…flirt with me, make fun of me,” I snap, angry at him and myself for letting him affect me in such a way.
He grips my chin, turning my face to him. “I’m not making fun of you, no. Flirting? Yes, one hundred percent.” His grip tightens as I try to look away from him, feeling too vulnerable under his gaze and words. “I’d have to be dead inside not to be attracted to you, Syd.”
I scoff. “Attracted to the idea of me, maybe.” I don’t want to think about how much I dislike the idea of that. But what other possible reason would Blake, and even Roman, have for being attracted to me?
Roman returns, looking between the two of us, his eyes darkening and pupils dilating at Blake’s grip on my chin before placing a suture kit on the bed.
“You can let go now, Sydney. You too, Blake,” he says, and as I release my hold on Blake’s shoulder he lets go of my chin, and I move aside.
I quietly watch Roman stitch Blake’s wounds and marvel at not using any anaesthetic. Other than a few winces, Blake’s expression remains blank, and he doesn’t make a sound. Roman is methodical and clearly knows what he’s doing. Again raising numerous questions, which I seem unable to get answers to.
Once Roman has finished, I follow he and Blake to a kitchen where he grabs two beers from the fridge. After handing one to Blake, he turns to me.
“Beer?” I shake my head. “Okay, something else?”
“No, thanks. Just tell me what on earth is going on?” My frustration at knowing nothing and their casual attitude bleeds through. I don’t think either of them understand how disconcerting it is being in a house miles from home with two men who are not what I thought. Two men who are dangerous in all the wrong ways.
Blake gestures to a small seating area overlooking the expansive dimly lit gardens, and with a sigh, I walk over and take a seat. When Roman joins us, he places a glass of water on the table in front of me.
“Drink. You inhaled a lot of smoke.”
I look from the glass to him, watching as he takes the seat opposite me. “Yeah, that happens when your house it set alight and you’re trapped inside.” I can’t help the contempt in my words. He’s right, irritating me more, but I reluctantly pick up the glass and drink down half of it, my parched throat grateful for the cool liquid. Blake guzzles his beer, and I catch Roman’s small smirk as he sits, bringing his own bottle to his lips.
I cradle my glass and wait for one of them to speak. When it’s obvious neither of them plans to start, too busy drinking and probably working out what lies they can sell me now, I break the silence.
“Talk. Surely the alcohol has loosened your lips enough by now.”
“Maybe you should have a drink, then we can get answers too.” I frown at his cryptic reply, but before I can question what he means, he continues, “What do you want to know?” Roman says unemotionally.
His response takes me by surprise, and now with the opportunity to get the answers I want, I struggle to order my thoughts enough to ask anything.
“Everything,” I state simply. “I want answers about who you are, why you’re pretending to be a reverend, why was my house attacked and Pa too? This all started when you two arrived in our lives, so I want answers.”
Roman scoffs, getting up and grabbing two more beers from the fridge. So I look to Blake for answers.
Table of Contents
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- Page 20 (Reading here)
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