Sin Undone

“I don’t try, Sin. I do. Remember that.”


“Whatever,” she muttered, as she did a crisp about-face and strode out of the kitchen. He watched her swaying retreat, which did nothing to cool the heat in his veins. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he turned away and started pawing through the cupboards, which were crammed with canned and boxed goods. The freezer was nearly as packed, but mostly with unidentifiable raw meat. Grimacing, he closed the door. He’d eaten some questionable things in his life, but you never knew what demons considered to be food.

The fridge contained mostly bottles of water, soda, and beer. Con grabbed two Cokes and went back into the living room, where Sin was sitting on the couch.

The scent of blood was thick in the air. Her dermoire was writhing, and a thin laceration in the perfect shape of a Z split a circular symbol at her shoulder in half. Blood beaded along the seam, but it was the six-inch gash just below in her biceps that had his attention.

He dropped the sodas on the massive dining room table and crossed to her. “What did you do?” “Leave me alone.”

Ignoring her, he grabbed her arm and applied pressure. “You’ve got to stop this, Sin. Where’s the knife?” When she didn’t say anything, he barked, “Where’s the fucking knife?”

“There isn’t one!” she shouted, jerking away from him. The laceration grew another inch and widened more, as though it were being cut from the inside. Holy shit. Before she could stop him, he swiped his tongue along the wound, and instantly, it sealed. “You asshole!” Sin shoved to her feet, looked at her arm, and just beneath where the cut had been, another started, growing quickly from a tiny quarter-inch line to a good two inches in length in a matter of seconds.

“What are you doing?” Con grabbed for her, but she sidestepped like a dancer.

“I said, leave me alone.”

Idle down. Just back off. The taste of her was still on his tongue, heightening every one of his senses and emotions, which included anger, and she didn’t need him lashing out. Her stubborn ass would clam up tighter than, well, a clam. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

She looked up at the thick log rafters for a long time before saying softly, “It’s my guilt.” “Your what?”

“It’s how most of my guilt comes out.” She dropped her gaze back to him. “I’ve trained myself not to feel it. Guilt, sorrow, regret. But they need to be released, so they present as pain.” Con drew a sharp breath. He’d heard of that before—manifestation of certain emotions as physical symptoms instead of as true emotion. And if that was what was going on, she was feeling a lot of guilt. Blood streamed down her arm and dripped to the floor, yet she didn’t seem to notice. When he reached for her, she skirted away from him.

Fed up and frustrated, he dove for her, took her down to the couch cushions, yanked her arm up, and once again licked the wound closed.

“Stop it!” She wriggled, jerking her leg up to cause some damage in his fun parts, but he was ready, and he pinned her legs down with his weight.

“Dammit, Sin, you need to feel.” “No, I don’t.” She rocked her head up, trying to bite his arm, but he shifted, and her teeth snapped on empty air. “Do you think I could do my job if I broke down in tears every time I killed someone?”

Fury ripped through him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—judge her for the job she did. He hadn’t been an angel himself. But she was cheating herself, and cheating all the victims of the epidemic she’d started.

“So everyone who’s died because of the disease you caused gets nothing?”

“Nothing?” she asked, incredulous. “I bleed for them.”

“Really?” He looked at her arm, which had cut open again. “Do you think there’s enough blood to cover the deaths of all the wargs who have come through the hospital? How about the child we just saw slaughtered?”

“Shut up,” she rasped.

He swiped his tongue over the blood again, and she bucked, but he didn’t budge. “You’re going to feel it, Sin. I promise you that.” “Fuck you.”

“Feel it,” he said, his voice low and harsher than he intended. “Remember everyone who has died.” “No.”

Her arm split. He licked. “I won’t let you bleed. Feel it.”

“You’re one to talk,” she snapped. “How bad do you feel when you kick your human friends to the curb with lies?” “We aren’t talking about me, Sin.”

“You want me to be miserable?” she yelled. “Do you hate me that much?”

“No!” he shouted back. “I care that much.” He froze, unable to believe he’d just said that.