I twist away from him, clenching my palms so he can't see the way they quiver. I have to remind myself to turn the betrayal churning in the pit in my stomach into something more useful, like anger. The words make too much sense for them not to be true.

"I don't get it. Why?"

His fingers wrap around my wrist, sending a warm tingle up my arm as he tugs me closer to him. His propped knees nudge my stomach as his hand reaches out to brush the hair from my face.

"Why does anyone do anything manipulative and twisted?" The rough pads of his fingertips skim over the skin of my cheek. "Why am I guilty of doing the same?"

I shrug, too transfixed on the way his fingers dip to trace the outline of my lips.

"Greed. Power." His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. "I told you I'm not a good man, angel. I like killing people if that means building my empire. I like money. I like when people quiver in fear at the sight of me."

The words fall out before I have a chance to think better of them. "Are you going to use me too?"

He smiles. "Well. Not in the same way you're thinking."

"I—" My mouth snaps shut as I glance away from the suggestive gleam in his eyes. "Jesus."

He laughs. "Trust me, angel. That's the last name you'll be saying when I'm done with you."

I frown at the way his eyes take in the reddening state of my face with an unusual sort of hunger. "You know, you weren't being so forward earlier."

"Wasn't I?" His fingers trail down my cheek to the cut of my jaw, gently turning my face into his. "I told you that you weren't ready. Don't misinterpret me, Calli."

My hand cups his wrist as I think about pushing him away. It would be the smart thing to do, but I don't. What do I have to lose anymore?

Only your heart.

I scowl at the thought, pushing it away as soon as it rises. I'm in a bad place now, one that I doubt I'll ever escape. Sinclair's arms are just a poisonous method of comfort, a bad habit. Nothing different than all my other unhealthy coping mechanisms, like how I binge ice cream when I cry.

"I thought you didn't fuck virgins," I murmur, studying the full shape of his lips as they near mine, noting the nearly feminine shape. The memory of their softness pushes its way into the forefront of my mind.

"I never said it was a promise," he says, softly brushing his mouth over mine.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, contrary to the way his hand digs into the curve of my ass.

Sin leans back, eyes gentle as they take in my face. He widens his legs, tugging me into the space between them and presses my body flush with his. My fingers find their way into his dark hair, tangling in the silky locks.

It feels strangely natural. Familiar. Almost as if his body is meant to fit into mine.

The thick tension festering between our bodies is cut abruptly as a rustle sounds behind us.

I attempt to jump back, whipping my hands away from the thick strands to push against his broad chest but his hands stay fixed around my waist. When I try and stumble backward, he only pulls me closer to his chest.

"Theodore," Sinclair says, the calmness in his voice making gooseflesh rise on my arms. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I turn my head, blinking as Theo plucks an orange from a bowl behind the bar and slices into the skin with a pairing knife. A grimace stretches over my face when I realize it's the same one that lay on the floor next to the dead body moments prior, blade wiped clean of the freshly drawn blood.

Christ. Did I really almost mount him next to a dead body? What is this man turning me into?

"What?" He pops an orange slice in his mouth, one side of his mouth curling. A dimple indents his cheek at the small movement. "My job, right? Besides, didn't think you'd mind if I popped in for a snack. Not like I haven't seen you fuck chicks before."

I sigh, a scowl stretching across my face at the reminder.

"Oh. Is it because she's a girl with standards? Seems like the type." He winks at me, popping another slice in his mouth. I try not to focus on the fact that a smudge of the dead man's blood covers a portion of his finger. "Sorry, Calliope. Didn't mean to interrupt your bang fest."

I wince. I knew I was going to regret telling him my full name but it was the only way he'd agree to give me information about Sinclair. An odd yet simple request, but in the moment seemed doable.

"Calliope," Sin murmurs thoughtfully, fingers tightening over my waist. "You told him your real name?"

"It's not like I was trying to hide it." Well, sort of. I've never been a fan of my name but I guess there are worse ones to have. "You never asked."

"Sounds like caterpillar," Theo says, leaning his forearms against the bar top, unfazed by the way splatters of blood soaks onto his forearm. "I like it."

Hence why I don't often make the knowledge of my full name widely known. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

He grins at me. "Not really."

Sinclair sighs, pulling up his shirt to grab the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans and laying it on the counter behind us. It's not exactly a threat but it's close enough. "Your presence isn't needed right now."

"Wait a minute." I squint at the weapon, the worn handle strangely familiar. "Is that my gun?"

He turns his eyes back upon me, face carefully blank of emotion. "Yes."

"Seriously? You've had it all this time? I thought I lost it that night." I move to grab it but he blocks me with the massive width of his chest. My eyes narrow. "Hand it over, Black."

"Uh oh," Theo murmurs, the clink of the knife against the counter alerting me he's already moved on to cutting another piece of citrus instead of leaving. "You know it's about to get good when she starts throwing around last names."

I ignore him. "Seriously. I want it back."

"No."

I stare at him in disbelief. "No?"

"I'll buy you a new one," he says, shifting his weight so his back presses over the bar where the gun lies, blocking any chances of my reach.

I slap an irritated hand over his chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him that I'm pissed enough to aim the next one at his face. "You can't just take things that aren't yours when the desire hits you. It's mine, dickwad."

He shrugs, smiling crookedly at me. The action is so shocking that for a moment I forget to be angry. I've seen cold grins, mocking smirks. Nothing close to emitting actual warmth. Impossibly, it makes him even more breathtakingly handsome.

"Never stopped me before, angel. Not when I first took over this empire. Not when I took you. And definitely not when I decided to keep your shitty little gun."

"She's not shitty, she's small and reliable. Saved my ass more times than I can count." A frown tugs at my lips as I cross my arms over my chest. "If you can't appreciate her, what's the point?"

He looks away, the indifferent mask slowly solidifying on his face again. "Because I can."

"God, you're an entitled shithead."

He snorts. "I've been called worse."

"So," Theo says around a mouthful of food, "why's one of Capponi's men on the floor?"

"He annoyed me," Sinclair says, detangling himself from my body and sticking the gun back in his jeans.

"So you shot him?"

"Yes."

"Huh," Theo frowns. "You've been a real moody bastard lately, Sin."

"Theodore."

"Yeah, boss?"

"Make yourself scarce before my next bullet finds its way in your forehead."

"Geez," he mutters, making no attempt to move from where he slumps comfortably over the bar. "Didn't you promise me a game of cards if I watched your chick?"

Sinclair sends him a glare so heated I'm surprised he doesn't wither under the ferocity. "Does it look like I want to play cards with you right now?"

Theo squints at him, cocking his head like a confused puppy. "Yes?"

I have to press my lips together to hold in the laugh that threatens to spill out as Sin stills in exasperation, running a hand through his disheveled hair before turning toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Theo calls after him.

"I need to burn off some steam. Don't ask me again tonight. I mean it." He slams the door behind him, face contorted in a way that screams he's barely holding in the impulse to tear the other demon apart limb from limb.

Theo and I exchange looks.

"You know," I say, laughing at the image of the bloodthirsty expression crossing his face, an unfamiliar light feeling in my stomach. "That's the most patient I've ever seen him be with anyone. You're lucky you made it out alive."

He scoffs. "Me? I've never seen someone call Sinclair Black an entitled shithead and live to tell the tale."

((a/n: Did we fr just make it to 100k in a month? Holy shit, guys. When I came back to this abandoned acc in the summer I never thought I'd make it this far. I'm so grateful to have all of you as my readers, all of you are amazing and ily so much