Sinners 01 - Branded (28 page)

“Could it be Wilson?”

“I don’t know. It’s always a state-held secret.” Cole finishes his last piece and
scratches his head while thinking.

I put the granola bar down on the table after only nibbling on it. I suddenly lost
my appetite. My father’s face, while always smiling at me, carried the weight of the
world in his wrinkles. Sadness lurked behind his turquoise eyes and now I understand
why. It was only inevitable that he’d be taken away—inevitable that he’d become a
martyr for what he believed.

Cole kneels down beside me and takes my hands into his warm grip. “I take my duties
seriously, but I can’t ignore all this hatred I have tucked inside any longer. You
showed me what it’s like to really care about a person for the first time in my life,
and now that I have you, I’m not going to let you go.”

Zeus pushes Cole’s hands away from mine and swipes Cole’s cheek with his tongue. I
laugh, although my heart’s in my throat, overwhelmed with emotion. I have no idea
where it came from and never realized I felt this way until my lips move.

“I love you,” I say.

Before I can say it again, I’m caught between the wall and Cole. His hands trace my
silhouette, stopping at my hips, and he pulls them into him.

I’m trembling. I’m trembling from wanting him so desperately it’s taken over my body.

He’s breathing faster, leaning into me, kissing my forehead, my temples, and my cheeks.
He runs his lips down to my ear and whispers. “I love you too.”

For a second I’m frozen, my heart skips a thousand beats, and I’m swimming in ecstasy.
“Kiss me—please—kiss me,” I say.

He takes my face between his hands, gently tracing my lips with his thumb.

“Please,” I beg.

His hungry eyes search me like he’s trying to read my mind—wanting to know exactly
what I need from him. He leans his head down and I part my lips. His warm tongue lightly
strokes mine. He moves his right arm to my waist and holds the back of my head with
his left hand. Grabbing my hair, he pulls my head toward my shoulder, giving me kisses
along my neck, shoulder, and across my collarbone. His touch is intoxicating.

I reach over, guiding his face back to mine. He sucks in my lower lip, caressing it
with his tongue while staring into my eyes.

He’s so gentle. So gentle it drives me crazy.

I’m struggling for oxygen as his hands run down my arms. I don’t want to move an inch,
afraid of breaking apart. I never want to break apart. His hands linger, his touch
like feathers as he makes his way to the hem of my shirt. I lift up my arms and he
pulls my shirt up over my head and tosses it. Zeus growls and that’s when I feel my
straps slide off my shoulders.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me away from the wall and turning my back toward
the bed. He unhooks my bra and I let it drop.

“Take off your shirt,” I say.

He lifts his T-shirt up over his head and chucks it behind him. He swallows hard and
his words are soft and shaky. “Lexi,” he says, “I want you… all of you. I want nothing
but you. It’s making me insane.”

Smiling, I say, “You have me. I’m right here. I’m yours.”

“Are you okay with me touching you like this? If not, I can just hold you and kiss
you.” His fingers stroke the side of my face as he looks into my eyes for approval.

“I’m more than okay—trust me.”

He kisses me again, this time harder, longer, without coming up for air. I don’t want
him to stop—I never want it to stop. He pulls me into his arms, picks me up, and carries
me to the bed. He gently lays me down and straddles my hips. I shove his pillow onto
the floor.

“I want to kiss your brand… if that’s all right?”

“I’d love that.”

And that’s exactly what he does. He gently kisses every millimeter of my brand. He
rolls me onto my left side, my right side, and my stomach trying to heal my emotional
wounds with the touch of his lips. And that, right there, is the best part about him—he
cares.

“Come here!” I wrap my arms around his waist and bring his body down on the bed so
he’s lying on top of me. He moves his right arm down to my thigh and grabs on, pulling
my leg over his. I lean into him and he moans with desire. One hand strokes my hip
while the other grabs my thigh. I guide his hand from my thigh and rest it on my lower
back. I feel his heart racing as he breathes heavily into my ear.

“Oh God,” he says. He sits up and pulls me to the center of the bed. I yank him back
down on top of me, kissing him. And we kiss each other as if we’ll never be satisfied.
Again and again.

He pulls away. “Can you handle this?” I nod even though I never want to stop. He takes
my face in his warm, large hands. “Should I stop?”

“You better not.”

“Whew, thank God, because I definitely don’t want to.” His lips press mine with such
intensity I’m losing control.

“You feel amazing,” I whisper in his ear. He groans loudly. I push him off. His eyes
are unfocused and eager. I place both my hands on his chest.

“Lay on your back. I need to feel you,” I say. He lies down, unsure. I swing my leg
over and straddle him, running my fingertips over his perfect muscles.
Is this really happening? Is he really mine?
He places his hands on my lower back and pulls me down to him.

I don’t fight him. I won’t fight him. I’ve never felt this way before. He kisses me
deeply as we rock together. He runs his hand down my spine and pulls my hips into
him. I sit up.

I close my eyes. “Tell me this is real. Please tell me you really want me because…”

“Lexi,” he says. “It’s real. I’m real. We’re real. Everything’s real.”

He brings me back down, unties my ponytail, and runs his hands through my hair, rolling
me back over and pressing his pelvis into mine. I open my eyes and he’s staring at
me with so much passion. A tear runs down my face and he wipes it away with his thumb.

“Babe, let’s take it slow. I don’t want to move too fast… I don’t just want to make
love. I want to make our love last.”

“How am I supposed to argue with that?” I reason between kisses, trying to catch my
breath.

“I need to tell you something. I need you to believe me. No matter what… you have
to believe me.”

“Okay, I promise—I’ll believe you,” I say, pulling away from him.

“I love you.”

My heart skips a thousand beats and I smile.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he says.

His eyes fill up with tears as mine spill over and I start to sob. He holds me as
tight as he possibly can without crushing me, and I dig my face into his shoulder.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I get a chance to utter a word, Cole continues.
“Stop. I don’t ever want you to question it. I love you. I’d give my life to save
yours. That’s how much I love you. Don’t you dare ever doubt that… If something happens
to me and I’m not here—”

“Cole, don’t say that. You can’t say that to me—ever. You’re not allowed to leave
me. If you die, I die—right?”

A tear lands on my cheek. His tear.

I wrap my arms around his back and he squeezes me tighter. I don’t ever want him to
let me go. Ever.

The knock on the door makes us bump heads. Cole yanks the sheets off and pulls his
shirt on. “Well… that felt great,” he says. “You have a hard head.” He throws my clothes
to me.

“So I’ve heard.” I smirk at him.

I get dressed in a flash and call Zeus onto the bed. He smells the sheets and makes
that awful sound he makes when he eats too fast. I rush into my room, bracing myself
for the visitor, and peek around the doorjamb.

Cole opens the door and Bruno stands there with his arms crossed, holding a small,
paper-bagged lunch. He looks ridiculous.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be or did you forget already?” Bruno asks. He
frowns at Cole.

“What are you doing here?” Cole says.

“Your building’s on lockdown, so I’ll stay here with her. But unfortunately for you—you’re
still mandated to show up, sucker!” Bruno waves hello and I wave back as I cross back
into Cole’s room.
Please don’t notice my rumpled clothes or frazzled expression.

“Fine. Just give me five minutes, and I’m outta here.” He throws on his uniform, straps
on his guns, and all but sprints out the door with Zeus scampering behind him. With
Cole gone, Bruno and I have some business to take care of.

“Morning,” Bruno says. “What do you say we get some training out of the way?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say as I pull my hair back into a ponytail.

“Okay, let’s start with a warm-up and then we can get down to business.” He drops
his bag in the doorway and pulls out two long wraps. He opens his large hands and
begins to weave them intricately through his fingers. When he finishes, he pulls out
two more. I remove my ring and place it on the counter, away from the sink. I hope
he didn’t notice.

“Let me show you something. First of all, if you want to protect your hands and wrists
from an injury, you’ll have to wrap them a certain way. When we’re done with that
we’re going at it full force—no holding back. If you can’t hang with us big boys,
we have a serious problem.”

I hold out my hands, spreading my fingers as he loops the cloth through. When he’s
done, both hands are tightly wrapped. I turn them over and admire them.

“You mean I’ll have a serious problem?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I hope I remember how to do this.”

“What’s that old quote they used to say?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, ‘practice makes
perfect.’ And we’ll be doing it over and over until it’s ingrained into your brain
and then it will become second nature.”

And so we begin doing push-ups, jumping jacks, and sprints across the room. Next,
he shows me how to punch. He drills me like a soldier. “Jab, cross, uppercut,” he
says over and over.

My arms feel like Jell-O, so he decides to show me some kicks. I learn front kicks
and back kicks. I feel like an anchor has been attached to each of my limbs by the
end.

“Well, you aren’t barfing today, so that’s good,” he says with a smile.

“This is true, but I still feel weak. I just want to get stronger.”

“Then you’re in good hands. I’ve been training since I was sixteen. I live and breathe
this stuff.” He starts to unravel his hands. “In our training, we don’t use wraps
anymore—too unrealistic. But for you, it’s wise to start with them until you get used
to the grind.”

“Works for me. The last thing I need are broken wrists.” I follow his cue and begin
to unroll my wraps as well. They fall to the floor, snakelike, in a pile.

“I think you’re doing just fine. Give yourself some credit.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

He takes a drink of water and offers me some. It’s quiet long enough to hear the
pop, pop, popping
echoing through the streets outside. I run to the window and look but can’t see anything
but heavily armored tanks parked out front and guards directing limited personnel
through the checkpoint.

When I get out of the shower, I feel refreshed. I brush my hair and place my ring
back on my left hand where it belongs. Training makes me feel capable. It gives me
what little confidence I need to survive, to feel good about myself, and grow stronger.
And I need to grow stronger if I ever want to break free.

But just when I feel content, a loud banging on Cole’s door reverberates through my
being. Bruno jumps up, startled, and cracks it open. I hear the terrifying, high pitch
of a familiar voice and panic rises in my throat.
Could it be? Why would he come here after we made a deal?

I sit on my mattress and hug my legs while waiting for the inevitable appearance of
Wilson. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He struts in like a king, looking immaculate in his fresh-pressed, stiff uniform.
His knee-high boots shine with a new coat of polish. He scans the room, resting his
callous eyes on me.

I blink away the smell of his heavy cologne and stand. “Wilson, what a pleasure.”

“Don’t patronize me, girl. I have news for you. Bad news,” he says. He narrows his
eyes and places his hand on the hilt of his gun. “It must be genetic, you know. The
fact that you can complicate things when already complicated.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” My mouth turns down in a puzzled expression.
I feel so vulnerable without Cole here.

“You’ve been accused—again,” he says. “Tell me something—do you honestly find pleasure
being a whore?” Wilson whips out his gun and presses it to my forehead in one quick
motion. “Are you trying to make me look like a fool in front of my men—in front of
everyone? If you think for one minute I won’t pull this trigger because you think
I need you, you’re wrong. I’m quite capable of finding another way to get to Keegan.”
As he holds the gun to my head, he scans the room, taking in the drawings and finally
resting on my ring.

I want to scream and beg but can barely breathe with the cold metal digging into my
brow. How is it possible to be accused, not once, but twice? I’ve been so careful
not to flaunt my love for Cole. I just don’t understand.

He lowers his pistol and then suddenly hits me across the face with it.

I crumple to the floor, holding my cheek and crying. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about! I’ve done nothing wrong!” I’m lying. But there’s no way he could possibly know
about us—right?

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a slut!” Wilson screams into my face.

Bruno walks in the door after hearing the commotion, his face a mask of confusion
and horror. But he can do nothing but stand by and watch.

Blood trickles down my face from a cut in my cheekbone. I can already feel it swelling
through my agony. My hands shake. My body tremors with fear.

“Any other sinner would be executed for what you’ve done!” Wilson pulls me up by my
hair and pushes me against the wall. “But I can’t do that. The commander ordered me
to give you one more chance. He seems to believe you’re the only one who can bring
us Keegan.” His hot breath and heavy cologne coupled with my injury make my head pound
with a ferocious headache. His eyes search mine with an evil glint and a wicked smile.
Then his opposite hand puts away his gun and touches me. He kisses my neck and slobbers
on my collarbone. He moans with delight as he runs his hands over my shirt and I close
my eyes. My insides crawl with disgust and humiliation.