Page 15 of Stained In Sin (The Twisted Trilogy #1)

Evelyn

It’s been a week since I stayed over at Dante’s house.

I still struggle to wrap my mind around the overwhelming emotions that ran through me.

Intimacy was always something I held close to my heart, under lock and key.

Only to offer once I found someone special.

I guess my heart decided in that moment that Dante was special to me.

I replayed the events in my head more times than I can admit in the past week.

Asking myself all kinds of questions—why did you get in his car, why did you kneel for him like a servant, why did you let him touch you, why did you let your guard down?

My answer to all of these questions has been the same.

I don’t fucking know. All I know is that my body wanted it.

I felt like I was going to explode if I lost the opportunity.

I am currently lying on the floor in my room, hating my existence.

I haven’t told a soul. I am way too nervous to share anything about him to anyone since he has a highly intimate photo of me on his phone.

It’s best to keep it all to myself. I don’t even want to tell Astra.

She will have her own opinion on the matter, especially since she knows him.

Dante is Lucien’s best friend, which means Astra knows him more than most. She probably knows about all of the terrible things he has done .

Over the past week, I have tried to send him texts, but I have received no response.

He said that we could get dinner sometime this week, and then he ghosts me.

He used you, which is the most irritating thing imaginable.

How can he stalk me for weeks, show up everywhere uninvited— and then ignore me?

He found someone else. Asshole. If he wants to play games, I’ll make my own rules, but first, I need a drink.

* * *

The days seem to be running together. I go to class, come home, drink an entire bottle of wine, and pass out.

I have gotten so fucked up in my head that I was even wishing he would break into my room and take advantage of me again.

At least then I’d know I wasn’t some quick fix.

Granted, we didn’t have sex. Thank god. That still doesn’t ease the ache I have in my chest thinking about how he used me.

He is probably in his room now with a new victim already.

The thought makes me want to throw up. He said he doesn’t bring anyone else there, but I bet that’s a fucking lie.

I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s been twelve days. Twelve days of loathing. Ugh, I hate myself.

My phone starts buzzing beside me. It’s Astra.

“What do you want?” I answer.

“You can’t keep yourself locked in your room forever. I told you to be car—”

“I know what you told me, can you cut the shit. Why are you calling me?”

“I want you to come out with me tonight. We could have so much fun, I miss my fun friend that I met at the bar a few weeks ago, can we have her back pleaseeee.”

“I can’t. I have plans.”

“Staying in your room and binge-watching The Real Housewives is not a plan, Evelyn. Seriously… Pick you up at 8?”

“Fine, but drinks are on you.”

“You got it, see you then.”

I hang up the phone before she asks me any more questions. Nothing is worse than when your best friend guilt trips you about seeing a “dangerous” man when she’s doing the same fucking thing.

* * *

I look around the nightclub and notice it’s mostly people from our college. The lights dance around the room, their bodies moving in sync to the blaring music. I think they are playing music by Deathpact, but all of that music sounds the same to me.

Astra wanted to go out dancing to distract me, but I’m feeling pure annoyance. The couples in the room are grinding on each other as if no one could see them. The single ladies are all dolled up with their tits on full display. It reminds me of him.

I make my way to the bar. I’m wearing a tight, black, long-sleeved shirt with a sheer midsection, and a pair of my favorite ripped jeans, paired with black heels.

I didn’t feel the need to go all out tonight with a dress, so this was good enough.

I order a tequila sunrise, hoping to blackout tonight.

The club we are in has two bars, one on each side of the room, and a huge dance floor in the center.

The lights are flashing, making it difficult to see and walk, for that matter, and the booths on the back wall are all filled with couples.

Some are shoving their tongues down each other’s throats, others are having playful conversations.

I turn to watch the patrons on the dance floor.

“Care to join me?” Astra gives me a devilish smile, pulling me toward the dance floor.

“Looks like you aren’t giving me a choice.” I roll my eyes and follow her to the floor.

I start moving freely, trying to relax and forget about everything.

I notice there are more people down here than I thought.

Astra is moving further from me now, as the crowd is growing.

It’s becoming increasingly complex to move around without bumping into someone.

I feel a stiffening behind me, but it doesn’t stand still. It moves with me.

Instead of panicking, I relax and keep dancing.

Dancing with strangers isn’t worse than what I’ve done with Dante.

Plus, I’m already several drinks in and I’m feeling a very “fuck it” attitude right about now.

I need something to replace the thoughts that have invaded my mind for the last twelve days.

I feel large, strong hands lightly grab my waist. I close my eyes, feeling the music even further.

In my head, I picture Dante. Dante grinding against my ass, with a firm grip on my hips.

He will kill him for touching you . Shaking the thoughts of the Devil from my brain, I focus on the now.

I dance seamlessly to the beat of the music.

I feel the man’s hard length pressing into my lower back.

He’s much taller than I am. I push back, letting him know that I’m here to play. I make the rules now.

Fuck Dante. He should have taken his opportunity seriously. If he wants to treat me like a whore, maybe I should act like one.

I spin around to see the man I’ve been dancing with. He’s gorgeous. He has a buzz cut, a crisp white smile, and dark green eyes like mine. Even with his hair short, he looks charming. Inviting almost. I give him a wink and place my hand on his chest, still holding my drink, as we continue dancing.

* * *

I dance for what feels like an eternity, but I stop needing another drink to reach blackout level successfully. As I sift through the crowd towards the bar, he follows closely behind me.

“What are you drinking?” He asks charmingly.

“A tequila sunrise,” I smile back, knowing I’ve drank too much this evening, but fuck it.

“Oooh, a girl who likes to party. I like it,” he winks at me while he orders our drinks.

“I’m Evelyn,” I introduce myself.

“Tristan Cross,” he says back, giving me his charming smile once more.

“What’s a girl like you out on a Thursday alone for?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Just trying to relax and have some fun, and yourself?” He hands me my drink, and I take a drink as he answers.

“I’m always up for a good time, and my friends are pretty convincing.” He gestures towards a booth filled with men and women on their laps. Some engaging in conversation while others are damn near having sex in the club.

“Do you want me to join you?” I say without thinking. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore, but it seems to be the trend lately.

“I have a better idea,” he reaches out for my hand. My brain is sending up S.O.S signals left and right, but I choose to ignore them. I can make my own choices. Currently, I am choosing to follow this charming man and see where it leads.

I place my hand in his and smile, batting my long, dark lashes at him. He smiles as he guides me to the back entrance of the club. He holds open a door, and I step out into the chilly alleyway. I take a few steps and notice the drinks are hitting me harder than I though t.

I start stumbling, and my vision is doubled. I turn to face Tristan, and my heart races. I feel dizzy, and I am not sure if I’m about to throw up or pass out.

“Dante needs to be more careful about leaving his toy around.” He says with a chuckle.

Everything goes dark. I think I’m dead. I’m almost positive.

* * *

I feel cold. There is a chill in the air that I can only imagine is felt in a hospital where they do autopsies or something. It reeks of ammonia or pungent cleaner. I can’t tell.

I go to yell, but my mouth tastes like fabric.

I’ve been gagged. Panic grips my chest as I begin to sob behind my gag.

I blink my eyes rapidly to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights.

It looks like I am in the basement of a hospital: white, sterile tile lines the room, floor to ceiling.

Drains line the floors where they meet the walls, and a single drain is in the middle of the room I go to stand, but I can’t.

My arms are shackled behind me, and my ankles are shackled to my hands.

I’m hogtied around a poll attached to the wall, perched on my knees.

I glance down, hoping I’m still dressed in the clothes I wore to the club.

Nope. I’ve been stripped down to nothing. I sit here naked, freezing, and afraid. I wish he had killed me. My mind flooded with regret. I should have listened to Astra and stayed away. I also shouldn’t have been so thirsty for revenge.

The door across from me opens slowly, and Tristan enters. He’s wearing black combat boots, black jeans, and no shirt. I regret thinking he was attractive. He watches my body tremble, sobbing uncontrollably. He walks closer.

I keep my head down, hoping he will leave me here to die.

He yanks my head up by my hair to look at him.