7. Rain
M y heart was racing. Emotions were flowing freely, and my eyes watered.
Scared.
I’ve never been scared of him before. But today, I was.
E’s face was red as his nostrils flared. Loud yells of terror echoed in our bedroom. Initially, I blamed myself. I made him mad. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.
But then I realized, I was completely right in my actions and response. He was wrong, and he needs to learn how to handle that.
But instead, he reacted and I was fucking scared. He didn’t blink once as he threw the lamp across the room. Or when his hand went through the drywall.
His knuckles are scraped, bound to be bruised surely. And a part of me was worried he would hurt me next.
I put my fear aside, for him. Sacrificed my sanity to save him. To bring him back to me.
It worked. My touch, my voice, and my presence. Slowly, he came back. As he took in the state of the space, he looked confused.
I wasn’t scared anymore. Instead. Now.
I am just really pissed off.
This is almost as bad as when he casually changed my name to his when we first met.
At the same time, I am completely aware that this isn’t fully his fault. He is unaware of how unacceptable this shit is. It’s a part of his DNA and it will never change. So, I slowly inhale and exhale as I work myself through what just occurred.
The violence in our home is new. This goes to show how fucking on edge my sweet boy is.
After I brought him back, he even looked slightly mortified by his actions. The destruction, not the clit piercing. I then excused myself. We don’t have much time left until The Reckoning begins.
I’m in the bathroom, getting ready. The sun has set and night has arrived.
“Elijah!” I shout toward the bedroom, hoping he can hear me from wherever he is in the house.
It takes a few moments, but his heavy footsteps make their way toward me.
Looking back in the mirror, I finish tying the bow in my hair, which I have left down, flowing over my shoulders. My ribbon is white and stands out perfectly.
I feel him.
Shifting my eyes, I see him behind me in the mirror, standing in the doorframe. His beautiful eyes take me in. I look down at his hand, his knuckles are still red. He needs to fucking ice them.
“I will after tonight.” He reads my mind effortlessly, but I change the subject, not wanting to dwell.
“You said your dad was worse than mine. But so far, I don’t get it.”
Shaking his head, the corner of his lip lifts in amusement. “Your dad ran a cult. And wasn’t shy about it. He made each move known. Loudly. My dad is calculated. You can never tell what’s going on behind his eyes. That’s what makes him more dangerous than yours. Flip of a coin, everything can change. With your dad. You saw his moves from miles away and I would just wait for him to play his card. My dad? You see his move just before he cuts your head off. And you wonder, how the fuck did I get here?” He pauses before continuing, “That is why my dad is more fucked. You like him, you trust him. You fucking shouldn’t if you’re not a Sinclair. Because one minute you're laughing with him, and the next your life is in shambles or you’re bleeding out on the carpet. And you never saw it fucking coming.”
Digesting his words, it makes sense. People knew what my father did and what he was capable of. But to be scared of the unknown is worse. A psychological game is far more terrifying. It makes you question yourself and your instincts. Paranoia would be your own demise and he didn’t even have to lift a finger. I think I almost prefer that tactic.
“And now that I am back, it adds another layer, not only for my dad but The Exodus. I have an invisible collar around my neck and he holds my leash. The unpredictability of when he will let go of it places the fear of Satan in those around us.”
“Where does that leave me?” The question is genuine. What is my role in all of this?
Chuckling, his tongue brushes against his perfectly white top teeth. “What people don’t know yet? Where there is me, is also you. We have the element of surprise, for now. And tonight we will use this to our advantage with my cousin.”
Another thought crosses my mind, sending me into a slight panic. “If we are officially part of this group, The Exodus, after tonight, does that mean we belong to them? You promised we could still go back to North Carolina to see my mom.”
E walks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my bare waist, and looks into my eyes through the mirror. “We still make our own fucking rules. No one is ever going to keep you from your mom. My dad, knows not to restrict or limit me and now you. You are a fucking Sinclair, we do what we want, when we want. So stop worrying. We will always have Blackwood.”
My fingertips dance along the light stone countertop, rolling my black eyeliner pencil back and forth. “Do my face?” I ask him shyly.
Spinning me around, his hands grip my waist as he lifts me up to sit on the counter. My legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. His hard cock grinds against my heat, which is even more sensitive now with the piercing. This fucking man.
“So fucking beautiful, little bat,” his lips whisper against mine as we continue to tease each other.
Feeling cheeky, I taunt him more. “It’s too bad your cock is on a pussy ban currently. Isn’t it?”
His strong hand grips my neck. “The fuck you talking about? I own this pussy.”
My lip curves, unaffected by his reactions. “Bad boys get punished. And you have been a very bad, bad boy.”
His breathing is heavy and warm on my face as our eyes remain in contact. “And so do bad girls. I can play too, little bat.”
My pussy continues to grind against him, taunting him further. His mouth moves next to my ear, whispering, “Keep doing that. If I can’t cum, neither can you.”
Then he’s gone. The warmth from his breath disappears as he pulls back. Eyeliner in hand, he takes the cap off and rubs the tip between his fingers before beginning.
As he works, I watch his face. His eyes concentrated as his teeth play with his lip ring. E’s free hand tilts my head as he continues his design.
These intimate moments are some of my favorites. Where it’s just us. In complete silence, just being with one another, unapologetically ourselves. No matter where we are, we will always have these times. The one constant thing that will never change.
He turns my head slightly again as his eyes roam my face, squinting slightly as he analyzes his work. E adds the final touches before placing the eye pencil back down next to me.
Satisfied with his work, before stepping out of my hold, my legs remain wrapped around him the entire time, as I sit here naked while he turns my face into art. His lips connect with mine. A spark, a tingle, electrifies my body. Breathing him in, his familiar musky scent and knowing that I own him causes my pussy to drip. I need him desperately. His fingers go to my breast, rubbing them with his thumb before gripping my hard nipples and pinching them hard, causing my body to react against his. My hands rub against his covered chest, making their way up his neck then reaching his dark, thick locks of hair. I grip it and pull slightly. He growls into my mouth as a result.
Our tongues dance, battling for dominance.
Then I flip the script and pull back, my voice rasping as I speak. “Bad boys get punished.”
His fist pounds next to me, mumbling under his breath, “Motherfucker.” Which causes me to giggle.
“But I do have something for you, move and I’ll get it.” Pushing him back as I jump down, my bare feet hit the tile floors. E steps aside, letting me scurry into our bedroom, which still has the broken lamp in pieces on the floor. Stepping around it and hopping into the closet, I push some of my clothes aside on the shelf and grab the tiny velvet box.
The fabric is soft against my fingers, and I smile with excitement as I rush back to him in the bathroom. He hasn’t moved.
This is like Blackwood, the night we took my father down, but this time the roles are reversed. I wonder if he’s realized? Thankfully the situation is vastly different, and we are joining his dad in something that appears to be incredibly important to E. Even if he hasn’t said it, he also hasn’t tried to fight it.
Nights like these signify important events in our lives, and it’s good to celebrate and commemorate them. He collared me, and now I have something for him.
Holding my hands out, the box looking so large in my tiny palms, I wait for him to take it. He looks confused but intrigued as he takes the box.
Still holding it, he looks at me as I encourage him, “Open it.”
Slowly, the lid opens and his eyes widen, with his head slightly shaking in disbelief. “When? How?”
I love giving gifts, and watching their reactions when they open them is the best thing.
“I had them made back home, in Blackwood. And brought them with me here, not knowing what was to come, but wanted them here just in case. Do you like them?”
Walking to the mirror, he places the box down and grabs the first fang out and places it over his natural fang tooth, but the ones I had made are longer and sharper. Checking it out once it’s on, he takes the other and slides it on too. A giant smile forms on his face, showcasing his new accessories. My pussy throbs.
The fangs, with his face tattoo, are doing things to me. Fuck.
He winks at me through the mirror, knowing exactly what he is doing to me. “What a shame, we are both being punished. Otherwise, I would be teasing your sensitive inner thighs right now, letting my teeth tickle you as your cunt drips on my face.”
My nostrils flare. I need his cock inside of me, stretching me to fit him.
Fuck.
E leaves the box on the counter and walks to me. His thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple, which causes my body to react.
“Finish getting ready. It’s almost time,” is all he says before leaving me alone.
Well played, fuck.
Turning, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
E has drawn exaggerated eyelashes under my bottom lid, along with my signature broken doll cracks. Smiling, I like it. It’s perfect.
My outfit for this evening is hanging behind me. I put on the white crop top with thick shoulder straps and a square neckline. Next I slip on my high-waist white skirt, which is flowy and hangs barely mid-thigh. I contemplated underwear but realized my clit is too sensitive to have fabric against it. Lastly, I slide on my high-top sneakers, which are also white.
I take one last fit check in the mirror, satisfied with what I see, then go to grab my phone and head out.
Just as I pick it up, it vibrates in my hand. Looking down, an unknown number flashes across my screen. Hesitantly, I answer.
“Um, hello?”
A familiar, older, deep voice speaks from the other end. “Rogers heard a commotion earlier from the master suite, are you okay?”
I’m confused—Rogers is here?
“Uh, yeah. Everything is okay. I’m okay. He is just confused, on edge. It’s so much change at once, he doesn’t know how to feel. But it’s okay. I got him, I promise.”
The line goes silent. I look at the phone screen, thinking his dad has hung up on me, but it’s still active.
“I know. In the past, it’s always been only me who understood him. Who worried and helped. It’s good he has you, Rain. I’m proud to have you in this family. He looks for you. I noticed that in my office earlier. He’s changed, it’s nice to see. But remember, I am here for you both. Anything. Please just call.”
My chest warms with emotion. This man only just met me and has accepted me into his family, his home, and approves of me and his son. He understands E and never shames him. It makes me proud to be a Sinclair.
“Thank you.” Is all I can muster up without rambling as this overwhelming feeling of happiness spreads.
“Have fun tonight.”
Then the call ends.
It’s caught me off guard. Then I think back to what E said—is he being kind to throw me off? My eyes water at the thought. No, he’s a good man. I am a Sinclair. He won’t hurt me.
“Rain! Let’s go. It’s time.” E’s loud voice brings me back. Clearing my throat, I slide my phone into my skirt pocket and head toward the front door.
Let The Reckoning begin.