Sin of Fury

Chapter 7





“Auro.”

The bastard had incredibly sharp hearing, almost as good as Talon’s. It was just a whisper, a soft calling of his name. He knew he didn’t have to wait long before the man would show up.

Although he answered to no one, Talon knew he would come. Because his “pet” had called him, because he never spoke a word to them, because it was his call. Jamie was in the room, her light breathing barely audible. The rapid pulse of her heart filled the room, filled him. She was asleep, blissfully unaware of the door opening.

Talon refused to open it for Auro. The man had caused him enough pain over the months, and now that he had a sliver of freedom he refused to bow before him. The collar, while in the bathtub, had blissfully been gone. The strange magic the thing held angered him, because he knew no one other than Auro and Lyne could see it. Jamie would have known and would have tried to take it off of him, if she had been able to see it.

Soft creaks of the bathroom door opening had him turning, had his gut clenching. He almost puked, almost attacked, almost killed him.

But he couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable of taking down Auro and then Lyne, once the brother found out that his dear sibling was dead.

The sneer that Auro gave him was chilling, disgusting. A deranged scent coming from him had Talon almost gagging.

“My brother and I were busy,” he sneered, stepping farther into the room. The door closed behind him.

Talon was grateful that Jamie had fallen asleep. It had seemed like hours before he had been able to calm down enough to call on Auro. He wanted to rip at his head, wanted to feel the sticky blood of his enemy running through his hand, but knew that he couldn’t.

He said nothing in response to Auro’s words. He felt sick as he realized what the scent coming from him was. Talon turned to look at him fully, tightening the towel around his waist. Still, he said nothing.

“That woman is lucky,” Auro suddenly snapped, the silence of Talon getting to him.

He merely raised a brow, leaning against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He no longer felt like vomiting, but he barely restrained from coldcocking him.

“Will you say nothing to me? You took my from my brothers embrace. I had thought you would be ready to —”

“What, exactly, do you want Jamie and I to do?”

The question drew Auro up short. Talon took the moment to guard himself against the smell of sex, revulsion making the hair on the back of his neck stand. He stared at Auro, taking in his appearance.

He had his familiar dark garb on, his shirt was unbuttoned partially at the top, and his feet were bare. They really must have been at it, he thought with a curl of his lip. Not once had he seen Auro even partially disheveled.

Red marks shown beneath the shirt, the imprints clearly claws.

“I told you, and the woman, what you must do. What more is there to explain?” he asked, cautiously. He placed himself in front of the mirror, pale hands nimbly picking at his buttons and placing them inside the small holes. The damning red marks disappeared, hidden by the dark silk of his shirt.

Talon stared at him. It felt natural, but so natural that it was almost unreal, a dream almost. His nails dug into his biceps, reveling in the pain. “What happens when I f*ck her?”

The blunt question seemed to have startled Auro. Then his lips pressed tightly, his crimson eyes staring at Talon through the mirror. “I don’t reserve the right to tell you.”

Talon’s eyes flashed. A dark brow rose. “So, someone is above you.” He knew the statement would make Auro angry, and that’s exactly what it did. Auro turned on him, his eyes like fire and teeth like daggers.

“I take orders from no one! This is between my brother and you. I refuse to tell someone so lower than me as you about his plans. To do so would sully all he has worked for,” he spat, his hand curling.

Talon waited for the slap, for the sting. His hackles rose, knowing that if Auro laid a hand on him, it would be ripped off...just like the rest of his limbs. Talon’s teeth flashed, snarling. “I will not touch her —”

“You will —”

He held up a hand, snarling, “Unless I am freed.”

Auro’s eyes held an indecision that made Talon feel like there might be hope. He unclenched his hands and set them on the counter, the setting so unreal between them that it almost made him believe it was a dream, once again.

Talon saw an unreadable look come into Auro’s eyes. Then his lips curled into a sneer. “And what about the woman —”

“I could care less. Do with her what you will,” he said, waving a large hand. The color on his neck seemed so heavy, it was like the world was weighing on him. It was a cruel reminder that he could do nothing to Auro.

The shock was quickly hidden by malice. Auro’s hands clasped in front of him. Talon stared at them, his arm pulsing. “Anything?”

Talon shrugged, ignoring the itchy feeling in his throat. “I will be free. She will be no use to me at all.”

“The price of you leaving...” Auro looked at him, a calm facade covering his face. “Alright. You may be free after coupling with her — but you will watch her die before I allow you to leave. Lyne will not know of this,” he said, lip curling dangerously.

Talon shrugged. “Seeing her demise would be no bother to me.” Liar.

“You know the ways of wooing a woman, I presume?” Auro asked, changing the subject. He saw the guarded look in Talon’s eyes. He scoffed. “How do you plan to take her if you cannot woo her? My pet, this would go with much more ease if you did not force her...”

He paused for a second, looking at Talon through the mirror, considering. “If you had more strength, though, you could overcome her weakness and take her...”

Talon may be a murderer, he may be a traitor, he may be whatever Lyne sneered at him, but he was not a rapist. The woman meant nothing to him, and taking her body would not change that. He refused to take an unwilling woman.

“I understand that you are a barbarian. But if you wish to be free, then put on a mask. Pretend that you are someone else. Convince her that you —” he sneered — “love her, or at the most care for her. The sooner you take her, the sooner you will be rid of her, and us.”

The promise of freedom was too much for Talon to pass up. Jamie was nothing but a pawn, a piece in a dangerous game. She would not be a loss to him.

Auro’s smile made his back stiffen.

“You have until tomorrow night to make this happen.” He left like a phantom, his words a whisper against his conscious, his presence as non-existent as a ghost. The air was colder, or at least it seemed like that. Talon slammed his fist on the counter, a great rush falling off his chest.

He slid to the ground, head light. If he weren’t trying so hard to keep his eyes dry, he would have sobbed with relief. He would be free --but with a price.

The price of Jamie’s life, and her ultimate betrayal. Of body, mind, and soul — he would try his hardest to overcome his reserves about touching and feeling, and Jamie would know nothing of it. He planned to use her, to take her, but she would not know.

Talon’s feet carried him to the main room, where Jamie had fallen asleep with such a fright in her mind. He shoved the guilt aside, wondering how he was going to even start this. Talon didn’t want to know what would happen tomorrow if he failed to take Jamie. He should give her time, give her comfort, give her...something.

He growled at himself, sitting on the bed. The towel was around his waist still, the water long dried. As he stared down at her, he wondered what would happen to her, and how he would take to watching her die.

Talon wouldn’t tell her of anything; that would be his gift to her.

Sheets rustled as she turned on her side, facing him. Her hand was curled against his thigh, face nuzzling into the bed. Foreign emotions riled through him — the top of them being regret.





“Jamie, get your coat on,” her mother came into the room, eyes panicked. Her normally cool demeanor was crumbling before her eyes.

She put the coat on without questions, lip trembling. “Mother?”

“Not now, dear. We need to go, we need to go...” Her voice trailed off as she ran from the room, coming back a second later with keys in her slender hands.

Jamie had been in her room, emailing a friend of hers from school. She had put off her homework, believing that talking to her friend about her cheating boyfriend was much more important. The pink walls had always been comforting, her bed as plush as a cloud. The desk was grand, white and full of papers and cassettes.

Her father complained to her often about the clutter, but she paid no heed. He would leave in a fit, and the subject would be dropped till he caught a glimpse of her desk. The only time she bothered to clean was when he had people over, but they didn’t come to her room so it was never that big of a deal to her.

Now, though, she had a feeling that this would be the last time the walls would be a comfort. The pink room, the happy room, was an opposite of what now pounded through her heart.

Trembling, she grabbed hold of her mother’s hand and tugged, even as she slipped into her loafers that sat next to her desk. “What’s happened? Why are we leaving? Mom, I have a test tomorrow,” she said, panic threading her voice, matching her mother's. “We’ll be back, right?”

Her mother didn’t seem to hear her. Clammy hands grabbed onto hers, pulling her through the room. The window was wide open, Spring air rushing around them. Jamie didn’t have time to look back in her room before the door was pulled close and she was being taken down the grand staircase. Alabaster handrails, a sweeping entrance, a noble carpet... It was all the making of a a US Senator.

“Mom!” she pleaded, pulling back her hand. Her mother’s hand was shaking wildly, her whole body following suit. She had a white pull over, her brown slacks elegant on her long legs. Blonde hair was coiled on her head, diamond ear rings dangling from the side of her face. Her cheekbones were high, and normally looked elegant and regal. Right now, though, they looked too pale, sickly, the tears falling from her face completely at odds with her outfit, her normally composed demeanor.

Jamie felt her heart stop at the site of a long car, men on either side of the door that was being held open. Right then, Jamie realized what was happening. She jerked herself from her mother's grip, fighting the urge to cry, to scream.

She held her ground. “I’m not going,” she said, steel lacing her voice. “I won’t leave Dad alone.”

“Baby, you don’t understand... You don’t know.... Please, hurry up and come with me,” her mother begged, reaching for her arm again. Jamie bounded back, feeling heat strike through her as her mother’s hand brushed her skin.

She felt cold. So cold, as if her soul was being torn from her. She was only fifteen, only in high school and still young and pampered enough that she had to rely on her family, but she had learned a few things in her etiquette classes — such as keeping a cool composure, something her mother was dangerously lacking.

“Jamie,” her mother choked, crystalline tears falling from pale blue eyes. “He’s going to come back, he’s going to be furious... Please, you have to listen to me. You don’t understand, Jamie! You don’t know, you need to leave!”

Her desperate cries rang through the room. It seemed as if even the diamond chandelier above their head was trembling. Her head shook, her long pony tail brushing the small of her back. Jamie strived to keep calm, to remember what she had been taught. “I won’t leave him. He’s my father...”

“No!” her mother screeched, the pain in her voice rising. Her head shook veminently, strands of hair falling around her face. “Jamie, you don’t understand,” she sobbed.

“Mother...” she started, voice cracking.

“Please, just get in the car,” she pleaded, the despair in her voice almost making Jamie listen. Instead, she stole herself against the pain in her mothers eyes.

“I won’t,” she said, holding her chin high.

At that moment, her father came through the door that led to the spacious kitchen. His face, strong and hard, was flushed red with fury. His large hands were clenched at his sides. For the first time, Jamie was actually frightened of her father.

She backed away slowly, hands fisting in her pleated skirts. The room was turning hot enough that her socks felt like unsoftened wool against her legs.

Her mother blanched, jerking back. Jamie watched from inside the house as the men in the dark car piled in, leaving her mother there with a furious man and a stubborn daughter. Except, it was more than that. So much more...

Jamie wasn’t prepared for the hard fist that connected with her head, or the shocked cry of her mother and the image of her trying to run to the door. Her knees hit the tile with a sharp slap, elbows barely catching her upper body before her pulsing face hit the ground.

“Trying to leave me?” he shouted, storming to her mother. The only thing Jamie registered besides the hard stomp of his feet on the tile was the sound of their voices. The anger, the panic, the devastation...

Her mother made a choked sound. The ringing sound of a slap pitched around the room. The sound was as brutal as the act.

“I found out what you did,” he hissed. Jamie’s ears rang, blood rushing to her head. She dug her nails into the ground as best as she could, trying to keep from falling down again. “She is not mine!”

His outraged shout hurt Jamie’s ears. It must have hurt her mother’s too, because she whimpered. Jamie refused to look up as pain started to lick along her heart, flirting like hot fire in her soul.

“Let me go,” her mother pleaded, her voice watery. Jamie could only imagine the tears that were trailing down her cheeks. “I will take her, I won’t demand anything from —”

“As if you would have the gall to even ask anything of me! Bitch,” he hissed. The sound of angry stomps coming across the room made Jamie flinch. The flinch turned into a full blown draw back as a fist tangled in her hair.

“Why should I keep her in my house?” he demanded, yanking her to her feet by her hair. Jamie cried out, feeling fear pulse through her with renewed strength. Her father had always been a bit rough, but right now... Her nails dug into his wrist, trying to get him to let go. Right now, it felt as if he really would kill her.

“She’s a curse,” her father spat, ignoring Jamie’s cries of pain.

“She’s just a child! Let her go,” her mother screamed, lunging forward. A large hand wrapped around her neck, almost strangling the breath from her. The door of the house slammed shut, almost on its own accord. Her mother reached for her, despair etched on her already aging face.

“You are not leaving,” he snarled, tightening his grip around her neck, robbing her of precious oxygen. She felt herself start to pale, hands turning numb at how tight they were around her father’s wrists. The floor was no longer under her feet.

It took all of her willpower not to cry out. “Father, what--”

His breath, reeking of whiskey and smoke, feathered over her face. “Don’t call me that, brat.”

Only a couple of hours before, he had called her darling and honey, had been nice and smiling. What had happened to make him this way? Her nails dug in so much that his blood started to trickle down her wrist. What had he found out?

Her mind reeled, her mother’s outraged cries and his angry curses alerting her to something that she hadn’t known, something that had never crossed her mind before.

His furious shout echoed through her mind. She is not mine...

Jamie stared at her mother, realization slamming into her with the force of a semi-truck. “Mother?” she pleaded thinly, her struggles against his hold on her ceasing. “Please...” Jamie had no idea what she was asking for, what she was silently praying for. His hold had tightened so incredibly that her scalp was now turning numb. The delicately painful plucks of her hair, the strands being torn from the root, helped with the numbing — as did the pain in her heart that now settled like a heavy ache.

“James, let her go!” her mother shouted, clawing at him now. The plea in Jamie’s voice must have spurred her on, because she took the hit he gave her with gusto and kept coming at him. The angry cries and shouts echoed in the large reception room. Servants were thankfully absent, their dog in the kennel in the back still. It felt much like a bad movie, Jamie thought.

Her feet finally touched the ground. Her father’s hand left her hair, her body dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

Silence. Stony, intense, horrifying silence. Her mother’s high-pitched scream echoed through the room, the last sound that was heard for what seemed like forever. Jamie curled into a ball, her legs to her chest. Her hand, bloody with her father’s crimson liquid, held her tender head as tears started to roll down her face.

Then the soft hand of her mother touched her. Her father’s polished shoes retreated, silent like a phantom. The door to the manor, the horror house was still closed, the limousine outside long gone.

Jamie had always wondered. Wondered why no one in her family had such dark hair, why no one was as short as she was, why she had always seemed to be...different. But she had wrote it off. There were large portraits made of precious oils, charcole, and anything else that a painter could think of. Scattered around the house, they spoke of a family that came from wealth...and a completely blonde family.

Even her mother’s family had been blonde. And brown eyed. And tall, elegant.

Jamie was none of those, and although her mother promised her that she would be one day, she knew that she was always going to be short, dark haired, and blue eyed. Her skin never tanned, and she could barely walk in heels.

Now she understood why.

A choke came from her closing throat, a sob bubbling its way to her trembling lips. Pain whispered along her heart, her head, her very soul.

The door slammed open, the large mahogany wood seeming to shatter against the wall. Her father’s pounding feet could be heard even from across the room. Her mother tried to drag her to her feet, to the door.

And then the shouting began again — Jamie could do nothing but sob helplessly.





Jamie woke slowly. Painfully. Aching. At first, she thought she was home, or at least in the hotel. But as her surroundings became clear to her, the tears that had already been streaming down her cheeks quickened.

Jamie was shocked, reaching up to touch her cheeks with shaking fingers. The wetness that came away was horrifying, and even more so when she realized that a dark form was sitting beside her.

Her heart stopped.

She met the heated gaze of Talon.

And burst into tears.

The hot rush of them streamed down her cheeks, the tears like cold fire on her skin. The blatant weakness she was showing him frightened her, made her vulnerable, but she could not contain the pain as she recalled the past.

Life had never been the same after that. Soon after, she had moved into an apartment and had visited her mother frequently, but with secrecy. Chris had come along later, and had known her father. For whatever reason, she had not cared. Instead, she had shoved the knowledge out of her mind, and hadn’t realized until he cut her out of her mother’s life completely that their acquaintance had not been a pleasant one.

He had found out about her mother’s visits, their shared trips with adventure and motherly affection to her daughter. The fact that his wife had gone behind his back with such knowledge had enraged him, and he hadn’t minded expressing it.

To both of them.

Chris had only helped with her father’s complete separation of Jamie’s and her mother’s relationship. The betrayal she felt towards her mother afterward had dissipated, but not without reserves. She had demanded that her mother tell her the name of her real father, but had known Jamie’s intentions from the beginning and refused.

It had frightened her beyond her comprehension.

Now, though, as she lay in the large bed with a canopy that was as domineering as her surroundings and the man sitting next to her, she realized how depraved she was of everything. Of family, of love, of safety...She had finally had another chance with her mother, and in an act of complete carelessness, her luck had been ruined and she was no stuck in a situation that seemed unreal and very horrific.

A sob ripped from her throat, hard and loud and devastating. She lost her train of thought, turning from the condemning eyes of Talon. The pillow that cushioned her face was soft, soaking up her tears like her mother’s hand would, tender and caring.

Once upon a time, Jamie had had a small relationship with a friend of hers. It hadn’t had time to grow into anything more than a fling before he had cheated on her with her best friend at the time, the ultimate betrayal to Jamie’s tender, fifteen year old heart. Her mother had come into the room, a tissue in her hand, ready to console her daughter.

At the time, everything had seemed to be crashing down around her. But now, as she sobbed and cried and got snot everywhere she touched, she finally understood the term “complete ruination”.

What was Talon thinking of her now? The thought, and the fact that she cared, caused another sob to break free. It didn’t help when the bed shifted, his weight moving closer to hers causing her heart to stop.

A soft, feathery touch lingered on her shoulder, the feeling that coursed through her like a gentle breeze, a small comparison to how much the act actually meant...and felt.

Jamie’s body convulsed. With pain, with shock, with lingering sobs. She hadn’t known that she had curled into a ball, her trembling arms wrapped weakly around her knees. She hadn’t realized that Talon got so much closer, nor did she realize that he was now leaning over her.

She started to flinch, the pain of her nightmare drawing forth images of Chris and his sadistic moves. She could just picture him, looming over her, one fist raised in the air, the other undoing his jeans. Jamie squelched the scream that built in her throat, trying to remember that it wasn’t her father or Chris, but the man that she was going to rely on for escape.

“Jamie.”

His voice was dark, entrancing, almost...comforting. Talon’s voice was nothing like Chris’s. He had almost had a nasal tone of voice, but when angry... Jamie shuddered. When he had been angry, it had almost been like thunder, rumbling and deep and fear inducing.

“Jamie, stop crying,” he said, a large hand placed on her shoulders. The rough command almost turned her self-pity into anger, but when his thumb began to caress her shoulder in soft-as-light touches, she began to cry again. Chris had never touched her like that, not even in the early stages of their relationship.

The only one to even get close to comforting her had been her mother, and still it had lacked the need to care for her. It had only been to sooth her, to calm her down, and then she would be off. For politics, her job, a hair appointment, an elegant part with her friends — it had never been just to care for her. Just for hushing her.

“I’m not crying,” she hissed, the fake venom that she tried to give off ruined by a hiccup.

His thumb pressed into her shoulder, turning her over so that she could see him — and he her. Feeling her face flame, she started to press her hands over her face, aware that she had snot and God knows what all over herself.

“You are. I want you to stop.” This time his voice was nothing but demand, an order. Her temper flared, and she dropped her hands.

“I probably just saved your life — and you want to order me around?” she asked, incredulous. Her voice was scratchy. She could only guess what sort of sounds she had been making while she slept. Once before she had had the same nightmare, and Chris had shoved her awake, pissed that she had woken him from his sleep. Apparently, she had been screaming like a banshee.

“It wasn’t so hard to listen, was it.” The abrupt statement confused her at first. Then a smile curled her lips.

“Shut up.” Her chagrin statement was met with silence as she sat up, arranging the heavy duvet around her body. Yes, her Columbia was still on, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t freezing her ass off. The chill in the air was abnormal.

It came from him. A burst of frigged air came from his body, the shock of it making it feel like a frost against her skin. Jamie backed away, pressing against the headboard. The look in his eyes was dangerous enough to make a tiger cower.

“You plan on making an escape.” Once again, he said it not as a question but as a statement. Jamie nodded, rubbing her arms.

“I can’t just stay here,” she said, gazing around her. She should have been angry, scared, but the way he had stared down at her flushed away any thoughts of that origin. Her cheeks were still damp with tears, lashes heavy and eyes watery. As she stared at him, she realized she had no reason to be embarrassed.

He must have had his fair share of tears.He might not show it, but she knew that he sure as hell felt it.

“I am to go with you,” he said, nodding. His large, now clean arms, wrapped around his chest. The straining muscle bulged, the fact that he must have lost a large amount of body weight nonexistent.

Jamie answered his question with a nod. “I would really appreciate it if you did,” she said in a murmur.

Talon’s arms loosened around his chest. He stared at her, trying to understand. Something about her screamed determination — but the scream that he had heard from her earlier belied that. She was as weak and broken as he was. He recalled his deal with Auro in distaste. He didn’t want to do this, to betray her. Talon tried telling himself that he didn’t care about her, but... Hell, that was a lie.

The way her eyes looked at him affected him as none other had. There was no fear in their pale blue depths, nothing that said she was repulsed by him. A normal woman would have run screaming, but she stayed — if only because there was no way out. Yet he thought of her plans to help him escape. Adrenline rushed through him as he thought about finally taking in fresh air, of finally feeling the sun on his skin in all its glory. The window in that cage had been a small reminder that he was not meant for freedom.

To feel a full ray of light on his skin would be spiteful to Auro — and he was more than okay with that.

Talon was torn. Her hands were small, delicate, nails clean and dainty. What would he feel as he watched her plead for her life, reaching for him with those very hands? Auro believed that he would not care — but the more Talon thought about it, the stronger the territorial rage in his chest expanded.

Her voice was soft, compliant, undemanding and caring. Would she scream for him, cry for him? Would she rage her betrayal to him after he took her — and Auro held her in his hands? Should he even take her —

“Talon, we need to leave tonight.” Her voice broke him out of his dangerous mindset. Her face was pale, and she had not moved from her spot.

His head shook. The woman was crazy, he would give her that. The strength that she possessed would get her killed in the long run. Only one time had he tried to escape, and his punishment had been traumatic. His eyes turned haunted as he stared at her.

Jamie reached out a hand, hesitating as he started to pull away. “We need to,” she said, conviction in her feminine voice. Tears welled in her pale blue eyes, making his heart turn. He kept a straight face, though, staring at her with dead eyes.

When he spoke, all emotion drained of her face — except one.

Fear.