A Necessary Sin: The Sin Trilogy: Book I

“That’s no shocker.” Laughter erupts from my mouth before I think to turn it off. “I’m sorry but you do remember that I’m aware of who and what you are?”


“The knowledge of you knowing more about me than anyone else in this world never escapes my thoughts,” he says.

“So what have you felt you needed to lie to me about?” I ask.

“It’s not a lie. But I may not have divulged all information about a particular situation. There’s a difference.”

“What is this about?” He looks so troubled. “I know you can’t tell me everything. It’s something I was resigned to when we began seeing one another. I won’t be angry with you.”

“That’s debatable,” he sighs. “There’s something I didn’t tell you about the man who attacked you a few weeks ago. He was one of ours—a brother of The Fellowship.”

I’ve always heard the phrase, “I felt the blood drain from my face,” but I never knew what that meant until this moment. “I killed a brother?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He reaches for my hand. “You didn’t know.”

The realization of my actions sinks in. “I don’t understand. It’s been weeks and nothing has come of it—not a single word said. What does that mean?” Oh God. They’re planning to come for me when I least expect it. That has to be it. They’re going to kill me for retribution. “I have to get out of here.”

Sin squeezes his hand around my wrist, his eyes locked with mine. “You’re not leaving.”

Oh God. It’s Sin—he’s the one who’s going to kill me.

I can’t think of a worse way to die: to be killed by the man I love.

“His name was Malcolm. Abram sent him. He wasn’t there to kill you—only to coerce you into admitting who you’re working for.” I don’t have to ask why.

“You should’ve told me I killed a Fellowship member.” He may have signed my death sentence by keeping this to himself.

“And what would you have done if you’d known?” he asks.

“I’d have gotten out of here while I could.”

“I took care of it. No one knows it was you except my parents. But there’s a reason I’m telling you this now. Abram sent Malcolm because he believes you’re an informant. He still isn’t convinced you’re not, so there’s reason to be concerned for your safety.”

I’m a sitting duck. “Is this your way of telling me I should leave?”

“No. This is me telling you to stay and allow me to protect you.” He squeezes my hand. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

“I do. But I’m scared for both of us.” I don’t know what this means for him. “You’ll be going up against the brotherhood for me. That’s not something they’ll take lightly.”

“This will be me showing them what their next leader is made of. It’s a good move for me and a good lesson for them.”

His words hurt. His actions have nothing to do with his determination to be with me. They’re about proving he won’t bend to them or their rules. This is about changing the game to suit him.

I’ve been needing a good kick to bring me back to reality. Well, here it is, right square in the middle of my ass. Time to finish this mission and get the hell out.

“Of course it’s a good move, but maybe you shouldn’t rock the boat since I won’t be around forever.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just saying I won’t always be here, and this is something your brothers won’t easily forget. They may feel as though you betrayed them for a woman, so maybe you should choose your battles wisely.”

“You’re worth the fight.”

Now I’m confused. I don’t understand his motive. “Is this about you choosing to be with me or showing them you can be if you so choose?”

“Both.” He cradles the side of my face and caresses his thumb down my cheek. “You silly lass. You don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“The extremes I will go to have you.” There it is. The validation I so desperately need to hear. My God! It’s ridiculous how much I love this man but the tragedy is that he’ll never know.

The one person I hate most in this world brought me to the one I love most. Who could have possibly imagined that?





Chapter Twenty-Two





Sinclair Breckenridge




It’s been a week since Bleu and I discussed her place in my life. I can’t tell her I love her so I show her the only way I know how. I possess her—often. I’ve made her mine in every way possible, short of saying those three little words. But she seems content. For now.

She’s in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies. It’s what she does when she’s upset or worried. It somehow brings her comfort.

I sneak up behind her to place a kiss on her neck so I can swipe a piece of dough from the cookie sheet. She slaps at my hand but misses because I’m too fast. “Oh, you are a very naughty boy.”

I pop the dough into my mouth. It’s from scratch, not the store-bought kind, so it’s extra buttery. “Does that mean I need a belting?”