The Alpha's Sin

Chapter 5: My Stepfather, My Sin

THE EAST WING was silent as a grave.

Maybe it was my heart that was silent — my mind corrupted by the heat — my darkest soul, empty from any feel except the burning fire that was slowly turning my limbs, bones, and guts into ash.

Poetic.

Almost.

Dark, yes.

But I ached.

Oh, I ached so much.

I ached for him — even when the dreams were dark and void.

I ached for him — even when I did not lust after him anymore.

He stayed away — Icarus Duskbane. My stepfather. My sin.

He thought this distance would save us. That hiding me in the cold belly of his house would starve the heat clawing inside my body. But the bond did not starve.

It festered.

Every minute apart, it grew teeth.

I felt the hollowness of this room. The walls. The cold.

I yearned.

Not for freedom — I realized.

It was for him.

It was at this moment that I knew, that it became clear to me, that I admitted — this burning, — it was a desire for my stepfather.

~ ~ ~

I sensed him like it was my next breath. I began to feel him before I heard him. A ripple under my skin. A throb behind my ribs. His scent — even in this dampened room, this hollow space — smelled so clear. Damp earth and smoke. Bleeding through the threshold like a storm on the horizon. His presence was near, he was here, I could feel every part of him like it beat for me.

I shoot upright in bed.

He was coming.

Footsteps echoed down the east corridor. I did not know what time it was. The moonlight sliced through the window like a blade, silver and silent. I tried to calm my heart, but it was beating too quickly. Too erratic.

Then — he was there.

Towering. Shadowed. Breathing hard like he ran here. Or fought not to.

I thought about the latter.

“Icarus,” I whispered, feeling my heart go lump. It was him, there, in here, truly. In the flesh. My hands longed to touch him. It was so urging that I was surprised at myself. I thought about giving him a look. But then the thought of sin made me draw back — and I stopped myself.

This felt forbidden.

It was forbidden.

Yesterday, now, tomorrow — whenever. Our past would always bind us that way.

His name tasted like ash in my mouth. He was — in so many other ways — was forbidden.

His eyes flickered to me — wild, unmoored. Hungry. Hungry? Hungry. I swallowed hard when he looked at me like that. It woke up something inside of me. Something that made me feel like I was going to die from this sickness.

“Were you out?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Were you out?”

“I was — for a while. I wanted some fresh air —“

“The hallway smells like you. I almost —“ he stopped himself. His voice was smoke. Disappearing into thin air. The corner of his eye squinted at me. Icarus had too much self-control. It was no joke. “Why didn’t you stay in your room?”

“You said I’m not a prisoner.”

“But I —“ he stopped again. Sighing. The muscles on his skin strained. He licked his lips at me. “I told you to move here because you it keeps you safe.”

“From what —“

“From me.”

My breath stuttered. “I wanted fresh air. It was cold.”

“You’re not cold. You’re burning.”

“I’m alone. You don’t know that.”

“I know,” he growled low in his throat like something just beneath the surface was straining to be freed.

“Soraya, I swear to the Moon above —“

“Do it,” I whispered. “Swear. Curse. Come in.”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

The room trembled.

My body sang.

“I’m not made of glass. If my mother was here, she’d give me something to ease the pain. She’d take care of me. She’d keep me safe. I don’t wish for you to be like her — but keeping me here, suffering, and not doing anything? If you know how to help me, then why are you just standing there?” I rose from the bed. The nightgown was thin, and useless. His gaze dragged down my body like a sin. He did not move. “Do you think this is better? The pain is dulled, yes, but it was there anyway and I’m most aware of it. I am rotting in here. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I —“ I paused.

Was telling him the truth safe?

But I was frustrated. My body was aching. I pointed a finger at him. “This sickness is because of you. For some reason I — I crave you —“ I whimpered from the humiliation and the shame. I looked away, swallowing down the lump in my throat, thinking that this was the reason why the world must hate me. These sinful thoughts I had. These forbidden desires. This must be why the universe was punishing me. To hurt like this. “I don’t know why, but the pain — it is because I need you. You must think I’m crazy but —“

“I know,” he snarled. “Do you think I don’t feel it? Your scent is everywhere. It’s like you’re in the walls. In my blood.”

My breath caught. He was shaking.

Was he?

“Whispers say you’re someone that we don’t want to mess with. There are tales about you. They say you’re cruel. You never go out and when you do, you run with the Wolves. They say you stare at the Moon. They say you’re a —“ I caught myself.

“Say it.”

I clamped my jaw hard.

“Say it,” he hissed.

“You’re a monster.”

“Am I, Soraya?”

“I —“ Was he? He was cruel, yes. He locked me in here. He knew of my sickness but he did not offer help. He—he left my mother still tied to him in marriage. He abandoned us. He was — he was a bad man. But he was not a monster.

“Am I?”

“You’re something else,” I said. “Something that I don’t know yet.”

“I’m your mother’s husband,” he said, and I could have sworn my heart snapped in half. I was broken and I was devastated right then and there.

“She’s dead.”

The words felt hollow in my heart.

“You’re my daughter.”

“I’m not your blood,” I lashed out.

Icarus was stunned. The thunder rolled outside. We were standing in darkness all of a sudden. Then the bit of light flickered from an unmatched candle. I stopped breathing altogether. Staring. Fearing. The air around us thickened. It was eerie — the silence, the cold air, and the way his eyes were the only thing glowing in the middle of this pitch blackness.

“You’re mine.”

The words cracked the air like the thunder.

My lips parted.

He stalked forward, pinning me with his eyes. His voice was low, coarse, unraveling.

“I wake up with your name on my tongue. I want to taste you so badly it makes me sick. I want to bite you, mark you —“ he paused, cursing to the heavens, clenching his fists. “— until I know nothing but the sound of your begging, of pleasure. There. Is that what you want to hear from me?”

“This thing between us — what is it?” I trembled.

“Is there something between us?”

“You just said —“

“I said what you want to hear — but was I being honest?”

“Stop toying with me!”

“There is a reason why I don’t live with you and your mother. There is a reason why you end up here. There is a reason for your sickness. There is a reason for why you are in this pain.”

“Tell me.”

“You won’t understand.”

“Tell me!”

“You’re my —“

“We are not blood bound,” I growled.

Icarus stepped back, smiling. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

“Tell me what you will do to me if you’re not thinking about the past.”

“It’s not the past —“

“My mother is dead and you were never there, Icarus. I barely knew you until a little over a week ago.” I snapped.

Icarus locked his jaw.

“What were you going to say? Use me, mark me, and then what?” I stepped forward, challenging him.

“Breed you.”

My heart stopped. I was not expecting that at all. But oddly enough, the ache, the pain — it stopped too. Just at the thought of it, the burning pain disappeared. It made me greedy. I chased the medicine which was his confession like a girl stranded in a desert.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop. You will carry my child before the sun rises. I will ruin you for anyone else.”

I took another step.

Gods — the fire was extinguished.

“Then ruin me.”

He lunged — fists pounding the wall beside my head — but he did not touch me. His breath scalded my skin. His nose grazed my throat and it made me whimper. “You think I haven’t imagined it?” he growled. “Your legs spread for me. That sweet, untouched part of you, milking me dry. You crying, clawing at my shoulders while I Knot you so deep you will keep screaming —“

“Knot?” I frowned, confused.

Icarus growled, nearly collapsing. But he still had not touched me. Just like that, he shuddered, pulling away like the scent of me burned him. “I should leave.”

“No. No. Not again.”

“I’m not strong enough for this —“

“No! Stay! Save me from this pain!”

“Forget everything I said. It’s disgusting. I shouldn’t be saying that to you.” He swallowed hard. Shame crossed his face.

Icarus’s chest rose and fell. A drop of sweat slid down his temple. He looked like a great mountain crumbling.

“Don’t make me beg again,” I whispered.

“Get some rest,” he rasped.

“Icarus —“

“It will disappear, you know. The sickness. Maybe in another week or so. Hang in there.”

“No. You can’t —“

But he was already opening the door and for a moment, the moonlight from outside touched his face.

He looked monstrous with longing.

He was gone.

I fell to the floor the second he left, trembling, shaking, aching in every part of my body.

My lips burned from the heat of his breath.

I swore to myself then, when he came back — and he would — I would not let him leave again.