- Birth of a Sin Vol. 1: A Beautiful Lie
- Birth of a Sin Vol. 2: Pleasure in Pain
- Birth of a Sin Vol. 3: Wrath and Lust
- Letters Between Sex and Violence
- Birth of a Sin
When Love is War, Only Wreckage is Left.
“I love you…I know you don’t believe me but I do…I’ll prove it to you.”
Yeah, right.
Tristan didn’t believe her.
How could he?
Ira was the woman who kidnapped him, imprisoned him, tortured him, and forced him to become a genetic abomination. She is a ticking time bomb. A monster that feeds on death and fear.
Yet the longer he spends in her gilded cage, the more he sees through the Wrath and madness. The longer he spends with her, the more she exposes her mutilated heart.
There was no one more powerful, more beautiful, more rich than Ira Dante. And she wanted to give him everything.
So he was going to take it. Every single inch she offered, he will possess a mile.
She wanted to turn him into a monster, just like her.
Will a new sin be born, just as she planned?
Or will her wish tear them both into pieces?
Her hand went back onto the bed, nails tearing through stained sheets, sinking into the mattress as if it was flesh.
When a palm touched her back, she suddenly stood up, twisting her head to glare back at Tristan.
He swallowed heavily, realizing that they were alone again, and his earlier insults and proclamations fueled the fire that was Ira.
He licked his bottom lip and looked down, his ignored erection dripping with excitement on the bed while his body trembled in fear.
She closed her eyes and took another breath, her head tilted up to the ceiling and her body swaying side to side. “…I don’t care, Tristan.”
Tristan bit down on that lip, curling inwards.
READ MORE“I don’t care if you hate me.” Her shoulders slouched, the drums weakening, fading into crackling dust. “I don’t care if you’re afraid of me. Why wouldn’t you be?” She was exhausted, eyes heavy as she lowered her gaze away from his, staring at the floor. “I know you’re afraid of me…and you hate me. I don’t care.”
She sniffed, the swaying stopped. “Hate me all you want. Hate me if that makes you happy. You are not the first and won’t be the last!”
“Ira…” He pulled himself up, palms digging into the mattress, fingers gripping the sheets.
Her brow furrowed and she grit her teeth before she finally roared. “I love you, and I don’t care what anyone says! If you hate me, fine! As long as I have you!”
She closed her mouth and bent forward, gasping as those words sucked the air out of her lungs and shattered heart. “As long as I have…as long as it makes you happy, you can hate me.”
She sniffed again, her teeth bared while her brow furrowed into a tight, agonizing knot. “I have to handle some things. I can’t stay here.” She turned her body away from him, taking a step forward.
Away from him.
He heard those words before.
The night outside the row home. Evie’s screeching violin. She was screaming, raging—her inner hell swallowing her. She sat on a spiked throne, shackled to her anguish and forever seeking to share it with anyone who crossed her path.
Except for him.
She forced him to wear her symbols of torture, only to regret it.
Now, she was going to leave?!
COLLAPSE
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