Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (e book reader pc TXT) 📕

“You'd think for the prices those assholes charge, they'd stock better stuff.”

I crumpled the wrapper, and threw it into the fire. The flames crackled, embers drifting up into the inky black night, the cellophane curling in on itself. Which, for some reason, was fascinating.

“I'm impressed, chica. You know how to make fire. Where'd you learn how?”

Sofia didn't say a word. At first. She was staring at me, snuffling back her tears, and man oh man, the glow of the fire made her look ten times prettier. There's something about the light of a fire that paints a face in the perfect picture of seduction. In the most beautiful ambers, and the most magnificent golds.

“Girl Scouts,” she replied.

“Hah! No shit? Thought they just showed you how to sew, and knit and stupid crap like that.”

Her big brown eyes narrowed. She hated me so much, and now, now, I'd finally be able to find out why. The interrogation process would be great, I reckoned.

I took another big swig of water. I'd prefer it to be colder. At least it was wet.

“So, Sofee...” I began, twirling the half-empty bottle, watching the water swirl inside it. A tiny little vortex, in my hand, the light of the fire reflecting in the liquid, creating a reddish yellow whirlpool. It was beautiful. “I'm sort of confused, babe. Shouldn't you be running away? I mean, I'm the bad guy. The big bad bad guy, and you know… you know what I'm gonna do. To you.”

She shrugged. “Nowhere to run.”

“Mmm. That's for true. But, seriously, why don't you like me?”

My head leaned against the trunk of the palm tree. My eyelids felt heavy.

I wasn't the most outdoorsy guy in the world, but I really should be able to keep it together better than this. I sat up, and the fire kept glowing in my bottle. Because we were on an island.

“What's wrong? Babe?” she asked.

“I'm good,” I smiled. It didn't hurt to smile this time. “Don't run away, Sofia. I'll have to tie you up if you do.”

“You'd do that anyway.”

I chuckled and tried to nod in agreement, but it felt like if I nodded my head, it might roll off my neck. It felt heavy. And big. Probably all the trauma I'd been through. Hit my noggin a lot lately. Today. Yesterday, too? And, god, I was so effing tired.

I looked across the fire at the lovely Sofia.

She was smiling, too.

Chapter Fourteen

SOFIA

Up until very recently, I was always the good girl. Did all the right things, ruffled no feathers, kept to the appropriate path and stayed on the straight and narrow.

Each time I did that – made the proper choices, acted on the principles and pointed my moral compass due north, life slapped me sideways.

I never cheated on tests. I never changed lanes without using my turn signal. I donated to all the right charities and relief efforts. I didn't need nor want big houses or cars, spa treatments and a billion dollar wardrobe. I wanted to pay it forward. I wanted to do that fantastical, magical, right thing.

If I were to ever strike it really rich, I had my sights set on establishing a non-profit – a combination Make A Wish Foundation with the ASPCA. The idea being that homeless, abandoned animals would help to ease the hells that kids and their families go through when wracked by terminal disease. In turn, the animals' chance at a forever home was ten fold. Win-win.

My little niece died before she ever had the opportunity to pet a puppy, or hold a kitten. Rebecca soon followed her daughter to the great beyond, while leaving me alone with a staggering mountain of medical bills, a foreclosed house, and holding the reins of a dead company.

It was Maddox who'd pulled the rug out from under my life, and he didn't even care. He wasn't even a person. He was just a corporate symbol. And when the darkness clouded my mind completely, the only fair and just choice left to be made was to make sure he'd never hurt anybody again. Murder was suddenly very, very attractive.

When the thought first hit me, I practically rejoiced. It was exciting, a rush of blatant eagerness. Thinking of him dead made me feel alive for the first time in months.

In essence, it felt right.

I spent weeks marinating on it, concerning myself more with the whys than the hows. It was more than bizarre, asking God for a helping hand as I contemplated taking a life. This was where being raised a Catholic got super complicated.

My parents had raised us in a casually religious atmosphere. No Bible thumping or hellfire repentance or anything like that. We were more of the Christmas Catholic variety, taught to respect the church, take a confession once in a while, and try not to be a jerk.

After Leslie's death, and subsequently Rebecca's, all I wanted to do was follow them.

Suicide was a one-way ticket to hell, according to the good book. I disagreed. Part of me admired Rebecca for taking that route – it was the ultimate act of faith. She felt she had no choice. Her life was over, so why continue walking about the planet when you're dead? Seemed a waste. And even though your father warned you not to do it, (the holy guy up in the cosmos, allegedly) you did it anyway and by golly, he should still love you, right? And it wasn't a Big Ten commandment or anything.

I didn't have the guts. I was the ultimate coward. I loved my sister, she was my hero, and when she was gone I didn't have the balls enough to follow her lead. I couldn't bring myself to kill myself, but what I could do is go one better.

Thou Shalt Not