Page 21 of The Sins That Bleed

Rotten

VALESKA

T he first rays of the morning sun scratch a path through the bedroom window, threatening to reach out a claw towards where I lay in the bed.

In Rai’s bed.

Shit .

I barely got any sleep as my body mended itself, each tendon stitching back together making me want to climb out of my skin. It’s uncomfortable and painful but not excruciating—nothing is as painful as having a silver dagger tear through you.

Or a husband who abuses you.

I think back to last night. Everything had been planned to make it an easy move. I should have known better, because ever since I made my first move to help Rai and Nico with this case, things have gone wrong.

There’s no way I’d have gone back to Sunny in the state I was in last night. She’d called it when I joked about it being an easy job. She’d have helped me first, but ripped into me once I was healed enough to take it, and then done everything she could to pull the plug on this plan.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t let her worry about me when she’s already been through enough. This is my vendetta, my purpose on this earth to stop the rot of sin wielded by men as they ruin others.

I look over to where Rai is sleeping; he looks so at peace next to me and I can’t help the way my dead heart feels heavier as it makes a useless wish, one where this was my reality.

I take it as my sign to leave before he can ask me any more questions.

I barely hid my eyes from him last night in my weakened state, keeping them closed as much as I could.

I ease myself up. The worst part is healed but I still need more time to recover, and to feed.

If I fed directly from a human I’d be fine by now, but that’s not an option.

I ignore the call from Rai’s life source as the scent permeates the air.

I would rather be eliminated from this world than take it from him. Especially without asking.

I’ll have to settle for a hit on my infuser, the one that’s not in my bag after I convinced myself I’d be in and out of the holding facility. This wasn’t my finest moment, I’ll admit.

I got cocky.

I slip out of the bed, careful not to pull the sheets as I go. The chill of the apartment hits my exposed legs, Rai’s T-shirt barely covers me to mid-thigh. It’s then I remember that my clothes were soaked in blood and he said he would clean up, leaving me with nothing to wear.

I look over my shoulder to his sleeping form. The sheets have slipped down his chest. The hard ridges that make up the sculpted muscles are tempting me to trace them with my tongue. I tear my eyes away so I don’t add fuel to the fire raging in my throat.

He’s still fast asleep, so I tiptoe to the chest of drawers and open each one until I find what I am looking for. I shouldn’t be surprised by the precisely folded clothing, in colour order from lightest to darkest.

There’s not much colour in here, mostly neutrals, but I spot a few knitted cardigans with flowers embroidered on the pockets. I try to imagine the big burly man in such a soft-looking item; it’s difficult to picture it but I somehow know it weirdly suits him.

Rai looking cute is not good for my weary heart.

I grab a grey hoodie and sweats that match. I think about going commando but fuck it, I might as well take the works since I’m already stealing from him. I snag socks and a pair of clean boxers from the top drawer.

I’m giddy at the thought of wearing his clothes. Fuck me, I need to get a hold of myself.

I ignore the strain of the stitches as I slip his clothing on, relying on all of my heightened senses to monitor Rai’s sleeping form.

He snores softly and I freeze in place, my leg half in the joggers as I wait for him to settle again.

He shifts, raising an arm above his head as he lies on his back.

When I’m convinced he isn’t waking up, I continue getting dressed, trying not to tear open my partially healed wounds.

It takes me twice as long as it normally would, but I’m now decent enough to head out.

I forgo putting my shoes back on, not wanting to risk moving through his apartment and giving him a chance to wake.

I swipe my bag from the floor and slink over to the window, sliding it up, and stash the bag outside on the fire escape. I’m about to climb over the ledge but guilt plunders through me. Sneaking out on him after everything he did for me last night feels wrong.

Is this a natural emotion or a side effect of being dickmatised?

The man who hated me but still did everything I asked, took care of me and put me back together after I’d been brutalised. I unfortunately owe him a little more than disappearing in the early hours of the morning. I go back over to him, on his side of the bed this time, peering down at him.

He’s so pretty .

Fuck me, I’m weak. He’s only a man, I need to get a grip on myself.

But he’s so pretty it physically hurts to look at him. Not many men can pull off a moustache and crew cut, but I couldn’t imagine him with anything else. I use the headboard to keep my weight off the bed as I lean down to hover my face over his, ignoring the tugging of my flesh.

I’m going to have to have words with myself later.

The warmth radiating from his skin leaps toward me, as if its sole purpose is to try and repel the cold from mine. I brush the tip of my nose against him and it feels more intimate than any kiss or fuck has ever felt.

How can I be willing to give so much of myself to this man?

Maybe I’m mentally unstable, got dropped as a baby, or all the trauma has finally destroyed my common sense.

I don’t want to want him, but my cards have been dealt and I must play the hand. I’m destined to be ruined by him, but for now, I’ll take whatever he is willing to give me, even if it’s only his hate, his revulsion, and now his care.

When you’ve been starved of love and affection for as long as I have, when it’s been used as a weapon against you, you take anything you can get. I know I should demand better, but we must all pay for our sins.

I plant a light kiss on his lips, the softness of them in complete contrast to the coarseness of his facial hair. I close my eyes, committing the moment to memory like I have all of our other interactions against my will.

I lean back, tracing my finger down his face, along his jaw, and down the column of his neck. My finger lingers on his pulse as his blood sings to me. My nostrils flare as the sweet cinnamon scent floods my lungs, my mouth flooding with saliva.

One little bite…

I rip myself away from him, moving back to the window in record time. I’m on the other side of the wall, snagging my bag and pulling the wicked-looking silver dagger, the one that was plunged into my chest last night, from where I stashed it on the fire escape.

I’ve got some explaining to do to Sunny.

Upset doesn’t even begin to cover Sunny.

Her fury is palpable and stabs into me like a million pins, prickling at my skin as she unleashes herself on me.

Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried ripping off my head.

“I told you this would happen! I begged you to not say those words to me and jinx the mission, but you did it anyway. Why do you continue to put yourself in these situations, V?”

She’s pacing the length of her room in front of me from where I watch, leaning against the door I came through ten minutes ago.

I’d given her a quick run through of what happened, skirting as close to the truth as I could.

I leave out the part about going to Rai’s, but I came clean about my wound. She thinks I cleaned it up myself.

Another lie to add to the list. I’m glad I changed out of his clothes before I came here.

“You didn’t call or text. Nothing! I was worried sick about you and now I know why. You should have come to me, I would have helped you, but no, you continue to fucking baby me and act like I can’t handle it.”

Her emotions flick between livid and upset, but the real emotion is fear. She was scared for me, a concept I still struggle to understand or get used to. I know better than to interrupt her mid-rant, I’ll end up tipping her into a blood rage.

I might enjoy a fight, but we’d both end up feeling guilty.

She’ll regret her actions if that happens, not because I’d punish her for it, but because she will if she tries to attack me. A blood rage removes all reasoning and makes you want to rip into something.

“You expect me to trust you, but then you pull shit like this? Make that make sense, because right now there is nothing that explains the sheer madness of your decision making. Do you like leaving me here to think that you’ll never walk back through these fucking doors?

Do you want me to end up alone again? You might as well have left me for fucking dead; I’d have been better off than dealing with your shit. ”

Fuck, she’s tipping into the blood rage anyway. I’ve truly fucked up, and even though her words sting, I deserve them.

“For someone so smart you’re a stupid fucking bitch sometimes, Valeska! Now get the fuck out of my room before I try and rip your head off.”

Oh, there it is.

She spits the venomous words right at me, having stopped her pacing as her red eyes focus purely on me, assessing me for a sign of weakness as her vampire instincts kick in.

I slip out the door behind me and close it in a blur, the thud of something hitting the door where I had been standing making me flinch. I sigh. She’s right about everything and I abhor myself because of it.

I slink back to my room so I can wallow in hatred for myself in private and intoxicate myself on my infuser.

I throw my bag down, not caring where it lands, as I grab the pipe from the nightstand where I left it.

I open the drawer and pour a vile of the cherry-flavoured blood into it. I keep going until the pipe is full.