Sinful: A Dark Asylum Bully Romance (The Boys of Chapel Crest Book 5)

I exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled.

A wave of dizziness came over me before slowly dissipating.

I was OK, and I wanted to live my life.

It had been far too long. The days kept weaving onward, and yet nothing was getting better. All I knew was that to get better, I had to be better.

Staying in that damn bed and staring at the ceiling wasn’t fixing my problems. Being weak wasn’t fixing them.

Something dark and angry was coming over me, and I was tired of pushing it off the last few weeks. Maybe I needed to get mad. Maybe it would fix things and put me in charge for once in my life.

But deep down, I was terrified. I would always be that little girl who struggled to get out of the locked box.

I swallowed hard at that memory before pushing my blankets off and getting shakily to my feet. As carefully as possible, I made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Church wasn’t in bed. He usually wasn’t in the mornings. He was typically downstairs or taking turns with Ashes and Stitches on attending classes, so someone was always with me. He’d leave in the middle of the night too. I assumed he was hunting.

I wanted things to get back to normal.

I took a shower, avoiding looking at my body the entire time, before I got out and dressed myself. I fell sideways, a wave of dizziness coming over me again, but I managed to catch myself on the edge of the sink before I could tumble to the floor.

Steadying myself, I finished getting ready, feeling almost human for the first time in weeks.

Slowly, I made my way downstairs to see Church was there, typing something into his phone while he sat in his chair. The smell of his weed hung thick in the air.

I approached him, finally catching his attention as I closed in.

“Specter,” he said, getting to his feet, his green eyes drinking me in. “You look beautiful.”

I felt my face heat at his words and looked down at the pretty sundress I was in. I was a bit cold wearing it, but it made me feel good and reminded me of Cady. By wearing it, I felt better.

He took my hand, pulled me onto his lap, and nuzzled against my neck.

“I love the way you smell,” he said softly, his warm breath sending goosebumps flying over my skin. I closed my eyes as he inhaled deeply, his hand high on my thigh beneath my skirt. “I like that you came downstairs to me. Are you feeling well, baby?”

To answer, I turned to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

He took control immediately, deepening it until I was breathless.

When he broke away, he placed a sweet kiss on my bare shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just missed seeing you this way.”

I rested my hand over his on my thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something.” He stared into my eyes.

I gave him an eager look, which made him chuckle softly.

“OK. I’ll get you something to eat.” He lifted me easily from his lap and placed me on the soft cushion before getting to his feet and going into the kitchen. I watched as he worked quickly at the stove. Before long, the smell of oatmeal hung in the air.

My stomach gave a growl which made me wince.

Quickly, he put my oatmeal into a bowl, grabbed a glass of orange juice, and came back to me. I watched as he placed the items on the table next to his seat before he brought me to my feet and took his place on the cushion again.

He pulled me back onto his lap and grabbed the bowl of oatmeal.

“Open,” he commanded softly.

He was going to feed me.

I parted my lips and allowed him to slip the food against my tongue.

“Eat, baby,” he murmured.

I did as instructed, chewing the oatmeal quickly. It was really good. He had even put blueberries into it. The little berries popped with flavor, making my tastebuds dance with joy.

He continued to feed me until my stomach was fit to burst. I turned my head away from him. I thought he’d fight me on it and make me finish it all, but he downed it himself before grabbing the orange juice and offering it to me. I sipped it and pulled away. He was quick to polish that off, too, and then placed the empty glass back on the side table.

With care, he pulled me against his body and held me. I rested my head in the crook of his neck, enjoying the comfort he brought me. The way he smelled. Like cold, wintery forest. Cedar. Wood. Something distinctly Dante.

“Is there anything you want to do today?”

I remained silent, locked in my prison. More than anything, I wanted to speak, but the words weren’t there. I hated it, but this was me. I wanted to be someone else. Wishing the words would come when I wanted them to didn’t always work. Sometimes I was able to voice them, which was a huge accomplishment for me. Most times, though, I was stuck in silence.

“Do you think you’re ready to return to classes? As much as I enjoy knowing you’re here and safe, it’s getting hard to keep Sully off my ass. Eventually, he’s going to send word to my father. We don’t want that,” he said thickly.

He was right. We didn’t.

I fingered one of the buttons on his dark button-down.

“Sirena?” he called out. “I wish you’d speak to me. I love the way your voice sounds. It’s so. . . pretty and sweet. I dream of it.”

I shifted closer to him.

He gave me a gentle squeeze as my fingers trailed to his wrists and played with all the leather bands he wore. One had a small rabbit on it. I traced the shape, feeling the soft leather.

I was sure it was made from a poor bunny.

I moved to the next bracelet and ran my fingers along the strange leather. It was sewn together in pieces, the leather different colors.

I stared up at him curiously.

“Do you like that one?” he asked in a rough voice.

I bit my bottom lip. I wouldn’t say I liked it. It simply made me curious.

“Would you like to know the story behind it?”

I ran my finger along the leather again, noting that one piece had an intricate design embedded deep within it.

“When I lived at home, my father made me do things for him. Things pretty little girls like you should never have to witness.”

I swallowed, my heart rate picking up.

“This one.” He pointed to the first bit of leather. “This is from a man who owed my father money. He sold flesh for him. He would keep a chunk of cash with each transaction. Father didn’t like that, so he sent me in. It seemed only fitting that I take his flesh as a souvenir.

I shivered at his words, the nausea at what he meant twisting through my guts like an angry serpent. I jerked my hand away from the bracelet, but he captured my fingers and pressed them back against it.

“The second piece is from a man who ate. . . things he shouldn’t,” he said in that rough voice. He slid my fingers to the next piece.

“This is from a man who tried to touch me.”

Another piece.

“This is from a woman who fucked my father while he was married to my mother. I do not tolerate betrayal. I was able to get to her. My father’s time will come someday as well.”

Another piece.

“This is from someone who tried to buy my mother from my father. My father watched me do this one. He laughed the entire time I hacked the man to bits.”

He continued on, telling me the story of each piece of leather until we reached the last piece. It was a band connected to the others but was solid and wasn’t Frankensteined together like the rest were.

“And this,” he said softly, his voice wobbling. “This is my mother.”

My breath came in a shaky gasp at his words.

“Calista,” he continued in a whisper. “The queen of the Underground.”

He paused. “I’ve never told you the story of my mother, have I? Of my story and how I came to be this way. I know you’re aware of Ashes, Stitches, and Sin’s stories, but mine has alluded you.”

I trembled on his lap. He ran his knuckles along my jaw and turned my face so I was staring into his moss-green eyes.

“I am no saint, Sirena. I’m a very bad man.” He thumbed my bottom lip. “If you leave me, I’ll find you and weave you into my mother’s bracelet.”

I shook at his words.

“Whether you like it or not, you belong to me. I never let go of things that are mine. And nothing that ever hurts what belongs to me gets to live for long.”

I turned my face from him, fear washing over me.

“Look at me,” he commanded, turning my face back to his with a firm hold.

I stared into his eyes, my breath held.

“I will find the person who caused you harm, specter. When I do, I will deliver him to you. I will watch you carve him to pieces if that is your wish, but I swear on my life, you will have your revenge if it is what you seek. For you, I’d give the world. I’d give you your own heaven.”

The darkness I’d been trying to keep at bay peeked out from the shadows, eager to get to work. The fear washed away, replaced by excitement.

I licked my lips, the numbness of this new part of my soul coming out to look around.

“What if I want hell, Dante? Should you deliver it?”

His eyes darted to my lips, where I had the bottom one pulled between my teeth.

“I would deliver hell and all its fucking demons anywhere you’d like, my love. For you, I’d do anything. Kill anyone. All you need to do is give the command, and it will be yours.”

“Promise?” I leaned in.

He exhaled and closed his eyes briefly. I studied his peaceful face. So beautiful. So flawless. Such a beautiful, perfect monster.

His lashes fluttered for a moment before he opened his eyes.

“I vow it. Yours. All of it. Anything. You are my reason for everything now. Both my sanity and insanity. You drive them. Steer them well, my specter, because once I let go, I really will unleash a hell you couldn’t even fathom in that pretty little head of yours. So call my name. I will come to you and go to my knees, then await your command. I am yours, Sirena. Forever.”

I let my eyelids close, relishing his words. This darkness within me adored them. The light feared them.

Who I was, I didn’t know, and that scared me.

But not as much as Dante Church did.

“Tell me your story, Dante,” I demanded softly, not reeling in the darkness. Maybe if I let the darkness out, it would keep me safe. It would protect me.

I wanted to be safe inside my body.

He cradled my cheek when I opened my eyes.

“You may never look at me the same way again,” he murmured.

I pressed my lips to his. He immediately kissed me back, dragging the breath from my body.

“I am not myself,” I whispered against his lips between kisses.

“I know,” he answered in a trembling voice. “We all snap in here. You are no exception.”

I nipped his bottom lip, earning a soft groan from him.

“Tell me your story,” I commanded again.

His lips trailed down my neck. I loved the way it felt. So firm and in charge. So. . . Dante.

His lips left my skin and was replaced by his hand in a firm hold around my neck. He gave it a squeeze, making me gasp out.

“If you try to leave me after hearing it—”

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his neck before squeezing like he did to me.

“Then we will both die,” I whispered.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He crushed his lips to mine in a fierce kiss. All senses left my head as he took control of my body.

“Tell me who owns you.”

“You do,” I choked out.

He sucked against the sensitive skin of my neck, releasing his hold on me. I moaned softly as he cradled my breast.

“You’re not my specter,” he whispered into my ear after trailing kisses and bites along my jaw.

“I am. I’m just a different version.”

“I want her right now. She needs to hear my words. Bring her back. I want my sweetheart, not her monster.”

“No.”

“Bring her back to me,” he commanded, pulling away and glaring down at me. “Now.”

I blinked rapidly, heat sweeping through me. Dizziness. Nausea. Confusion.

I stared up at him, wondering how we’d gotten into the position we were in. Why I’d snapped the way I had. It was the darkness inside me. I was sure of it. I was her. She was me. A demon sent from my own personal hell. One meant to protect me from the bad men in our world.

The lines were blurred. We were all bad here it seemed.

“There you are,” he murmured, cradling my cheek. “Specter.”

A tear worked its way down my cheek. Fear blanketed me. Something was wrong. Really wrong.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

But it felt so right. So safe.

“It’s OK. We’re all a little crazy here, baby.” He kissed me sweetly before pulling away. “You were asking about my story. Do you still want to hear it, or would you like to save it for our next walk through the cemetery at midnight?”

With a shaky hand, I reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Now,” he confirmed. “So be it. Just don’t run. There’s nowhere you could ever go that I wouldn’t find you. Understand?”

I stared back at him, knowing exactly what it meant. He was scared he’d lose me by telling his story.

He wouldn’t, though. I’d stay.

“Your eyes are so expressive,” he said in a gentle voice. “If I stared long enough into them, I could know the secrets to the universe.”

He brushed his lips against mine. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

I exhaled and gave a slight nod of my head.

That seemed good enough for him because he began speaking.

“My mother’s name was Calista, and she was beautiful.’