Page 48 of Sins and Virtue

He took a bite of the cotton candy, leftover sugar glistening on his lips, making it distracting to focus on anything else. “Mmhm, you’re not supposed to curse.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. Trust me, she likes you.”

“Oh,” I paused arbitrarily. “She’s probably the first and only one here.”

“I doubt that.” His words were deeply laced with hidden meaning.

Tilting my head as he copied my movement, the loud sounds, rambling children, and bypassers faded into nothingness as I looked at him and wondered what he wanted from me.

His eyes shone with a flicker of possessiveness as it layered with one single word.Everything.

The idea was inconceivable. Prohibited.

Me and him? Only in madness could we indulge in such sin.

I blink, realizing I had stopped in my tracks as he lingered a few feet ahead. Ugh, he did that on purpose. Messing with my head was for his pure amusement.

Fuck him. Still, I couldn’t make a scene, so I nearly had to skip to catch up with him, and in heels, that should have been unforgivable.

“By the way,” he began, licking his fingers as I huffed at the mental foreplay he was trying to get at. “How come you dress like that?”

Casting my eyes down, my fingers ran down, tracing my waist and curves covered with the soft lace I loved to feel against my skin. His gaze followed what he so desperately wanted for himself. “What? Ugly?” I feigned innocence because it was impossible for me to be so; I look at myself like I'm a goddess.

“No.”

“Then?”

“You don’t dress like the others? Why? There’s supposed to be a code.”

“Technically before the first full year of sisterhood at this convent, you can still wear some of your clothes as a way to transition and part with your former life. It’s the last thing I have, that's me.” Explaining at length, as it felt I had opened a piece of my soul with him.

“So underneath that little piteous act, you’re like a gothic Bratz doll.”

His observation made me chuckle. “Something like that. More of a brat than anything.”

“Brats can be tamed, no?”

“No, not until we’re fully satisfied.” I leaned in, holding his hand still, biting off a piece of the cotton candy as I gazed up at him through my lashes.

Time became transfixed before a petrified scream broke the slow-burning tension.

Everyone ran as some vendors hid behind their carts, while others abandoned their stations completely.

“What happened?” We asked at the same time.

Scouring through the massive exiting mob, I spotted my veiled sisters further out, in a partially open field, the Ferris wheel behind them with eyes wide in terror, hands folded in prayer as they appeared to be in a circle, gripping onto the orphans.

“Over there,” I pointed out to him as we ran over and managed to arrive despite the frenzy of pushing and shoving.

Not gripping the context of the situation until my eyes saw the six-year-old brown-eyed, brown-haired boy being held at gunpoint by some scarred sicko.

My heart crumbled, terrified for him.

“Mauricio!” I ran forward before two heavy and controlling arms wrapped around me, a sandalwood musk enveloped me.

My motherly instincts kicked in as I could see the haunting past repeating itself.