Skin of a Sinner

by Avina St. Graves

"I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured." - Catullus

“I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to wake you.” It’s him. He’s here. He’s back.

“You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” “I prefer the term ‘artist,’”

“You fucked with my girl.” Roman chuckles darkly, glancing at me before saying, “And you should never fuck with my girl.”

We never used to be able to high-five without one or both of us flinching, so when she hugged me for the very first time two years ago on my birthday, it was like I saw the light. Then, when she hugged me last year, I’m pretty sure I understood why people find religion.

“You’re being a very naughty girl, Bella.”

“No amount of blood spilled will ever be too much for you.” “When will it end?” He smirks. “When I’m in a grave, and even then, Hell won’t keep me from you.”

“Don’t worry. If you break, I’ll put you back together. If you run, I’m running right behind you. If you burn, I’ll burn with you.”

“You will never be alone again. I swear on my life. Wherever you go, I’ll be right there. We’ll always find each other. I’m not going anywhere. It’s a promise. We’re forever, Princess, and nothing will ever come between us. Do you understand?”

“The alternative is leaving the phone on the entire night so I can hear if that fucker comes in. Don’t say I don’t give you options.”

“What’s wrong?” His hands are on me within a matter of seconds, tugging my sleeves up and turning my face to check me over. The second he spots the mark on my chin, he erupts. “Who the fuck did this?”

“The next time something happens, you call me. Even if it’s just to ask which shirt you should wear or if you're out of snacks. I don’t give a shit if I’m working, sleeping, or half-dead; you grab that phone, and you call me. I’ll pick up whatever you need, even if I’m six feet under, Bella. There isn’t a god in existence that could stop me from getting to you. So you pick up that phone and call me before you even think about calling the cops. Got it?”

“You’d get on your knees for me if I asked. Does that make me your god, Princess?”

“No, hey. No, I’m sorry. Breathe. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you; it’s just—I—" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, they’re softer than I’ve ever seen, yet lined with guilt, grief, and fear. “I can’t lose you. You know those cliché sayings that you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and my last thought when I fall asleep? It’s true.

“Actually, cover the ankles, too. There isn’t an inch on you that doesn’t do it for me. I’ll control myself, don’t you worry. But if someone looks at you?” He whistles. “If you thought I was crazy before, you have no idea what you’ve just unlocked.”

"Run." His chest rumbles while his deep, darkened gaze locks with mine, descending goosebumps along my skin. “I’ll give you a head start. But know, I will catch you. Every time. You’ll scream, beg, and fight, but there will be nothing stopping me from claiming you.” I draw in a shuddering breath when his lips brush the shell of my ear, his voice a silky whisper. “Run. I dare you.”

I had to put my foot down when he tried to make us match. That’s too much, even by my standards. He reluctantly agreed, then shoved a red shirt into his duffle bag when he thought I wasn’t looking. The little shit.

I want takeout with you at midnight. Sleep-ins and sleepless nights. I want you crying, and I want you smiling, no matter the reason for either of those two things. I just want you, Isabella, whether it’s on an unmade bed or the forest floor. You’re all I need.”