The Seven Sinners Book 2

EVENING 2,580

XINIA

Xinia was walking into her therapy appointment when she was bumped into by a curly-haired woman. Xinia could feel her iced coffee go down her chest. She was covered in the other woman’s drink.

The girl looked up, and blushed. “I’m so sorry! I’m just such a klutz.”

“No worries.” Xinia smiled politely, going to move past her when the other woman stepped in her way.

“Wait, I feel so bad. I ruined your top. Listen, I have another shirt in my car. Would you like it? It might be a little big on you, but it’s better than wearing a wet shirt.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s no big deal—”

“I insist, really.”

It was hard to resist the woman before her. She nodded her head, and the other woman smiled, taking her hand. “It’s this way.”

As they neared the Rover, the woman opened her trunk and went into her duffel bag, pulling out a few articles of clothing. “I have a short-sleeve and a long-sleeve. Which do you prefer?”

“Long-sleeve, please.”

“Girl, it’s like a thousand degrees out, but I gotchu. Here.” She threw Xinia the shirt and she smiled in return.

“Thank you.”

“Here, you can climb inside and change if you feel better there.”

Xinia shook her head. She had numerous scars; she didn’t want Adrasteia to see them. “I will change inside. I really have to go, but here’s five dollars for your coffee. I’m sorry we ran into each other again.”

“Wait. Your name?”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m Xinia.”

“Adrasteia.”

“Thanks, Adrasteia!”

As Xinia entered the office, she shuddered from the desire just to go home. She quickly went to the bathroom to change, realizing that she didn’t know how to contact Adrasteia to return the shirt. She would figure it out later.

She walked into the waiting room and sat for a few seconds before a young man came to her. He smiled softly.

“Are you ready, Xinia?”

She nodded and followed him back to his office where she sat down on the couch in front of him. Her hands nervously tangled with themselves between her legs. She hated this. Hated this EDMR shit.

He moved his chair closer to her. She had chosen a male specifically because it made her so uneasy.

Not all men were monsters, but that didn’t mean she felt safe around all of them. He was aware of this and made sure to keep his distance.

“Are you ready to begin?”

She nodded, but on the inside, she was freaking out.

“All right,” he said softly. He always lowered his voice to attempt to calm her. “What would you like to work on today?”

“I hate being around men,” she whispered. “I hate being around people in general.”

“Social phobias, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Close your eyes. Give me a time when you experienced the utmost anxiety in regards to social interaction.”

“There are many times,” she said softly. “But the thing that gives me the most anxiety right now is this beloved ceremony coming up.”

All her therapists were also vampyres, so she didn’t have to worry about revealing something to them.

“I understand. They are very…taxing. You do not have to go if you do not want to.”

“I’m playing for them. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to please everyone, Xinia, you know this. We have worked together on this. It’s still a struggle for you. I understand. So this ceremony…why does it make you anxious?”

“There are going to be so many people there.” Her hands were sweaty. “So many people talking to me, asking about how I am, sad for me, touching me.” She shivered.

“Your emotions are valid and understandable,” he said with empathy. “However, we must work so that they do not control you.

“You will not be able to control everyone’s actions around you, but you can control your internal response to them. When people touch you, we want to teach your body how to think that it’s not an act of violence.

“On a scale of one to ten, how anxious are you at this moment thinking about the ceremony?”

“Nine.”

“What do you think is an achievable number?”

“Maybe a six.”

“Excellent. Close your eyes. Focus on the ceremony. Focus on why it worries you so much. Now open.”

As she did, he held up one finger, slowly waving it across her field of vision. When he was done, he slowly relaxed his hand back down.

“What do you feel?”

“I just…” she began, shaking her head. “What if someone says something?”

“About the people who hurt you?”

“Yes. What if I hear their little remarks?”

“You cannot control them, Xinia. If you hear someone say something or bring something up, you need to bring yourself back to reality. Do you remember the calming actions I told you about?”

“Yes.”

“Do they work?”

“At times.”

“Close your eyes again. Open them.” His finger went back up and waved across her face. When he stopped, he asked, “What gives you the most anxiety about the ceremony?”

“I’ve told you.”

“Yes, but people talk around you about you all the time. What specifically puts you on edge? The touching?”

“I don’t like being touched.”

“Understandable.”

She waited for him to speak more, and when he didn’t, she continued. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Someone continuously forced you into intimate events. Close your eyes again. Open.”

Again with the finger. When he stopped, she was crying and she shook her head, standing up.

“What did you just think of?”

“I’m scared of crowds.”

“Because?”

“Because I was taken in one.” She suddenly couldn’t be in this room with him. Her heart was racing in her chest, her vision was tunneling, her breathing was getting harder.

“Xinia.”

She heard him but couldn’t respond. She opened the door and ran out, going into the bathroom. She watched herself in the mirror.

She was having a panic attack. It was nothing new. She counted five things she could see. Five things she could smell. Five things she could touch.

And when she came down, she crashed hard. She was exhausted. She left her appointment early.

ADRASTEIA

Adrasteia walked back into the compound quickly. She found the brotherhood sitting in the living room, enjoying some time together.

“Where were you?”

“Shopping,” she responded to Quillian.

He chuckled. “You’re a bad liar.”

She pinched her eyes shut and groaned internally. As she made her way out, she locked eyes with Zanthus. He grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“I do not want her, Adrasteia.”

“I know,” she responded. “And it breaks my heart.” She removed her arm from his grip and excused herself. Xinia seemed so…wounded. Adrasteia wouldn’t ask what had happened to her, but she was curious.

That building was for psychiatrists specifically for vampyres. She seemed so sad yet so stubborn.

Adrasteia sighed and fell onto her bed. She was adamant about seeing Xinia again. She wanted to become her friend, even if Zanthus didn’t want her. Adra somehow knew she needed someone.

ZANTHUS

On the other side of the house, Zanthus stood and left. He grabbed his car keys and drove to his old home. He walked in, going to her sewing room. He stayed there for hours, speaking to her as if she were still alive.

Everything about Camila still called to him. Her dark skin, her dark hair, her curvy figure…her loudness. She was perfect for him and, when they were together, he could never imagine himself with anyone else.

He was faithful to her, unlike some mated males. Of course they had their ups and downs, but he always returned to her, ready to apologize or fight for her.

She was his other half, and you only got one true love. She was his. And she was gone. He got off the floor and walked to their bedroom. Inside her closet was her ceremonial dress.

She never got rid of it even though her blood stained it. He took it out and laid it on the bed, climbing beside it. He would never see her smile. Never hear her laugh.

His fingertips lightly caressed the neckline of the gown.

He would never have her arms around his neck. He would never see her doing yoga in the morning.

His hand trailed over the sleeves.

He would never feel her breasts under his fingertips or run his tongue over her nipples.

He trailed over to the chest of the dress.

He would never feel her smooth stomach against his palm. He would never…

His hand trailed to the waist of the gown.

He would never feel her tightness around him. Never hear her moan for him as he pleasured her. He would never fill her.

He would never touch another woman again. He would never have sex. He would never betray his Camila like that.

Even if he did have another beloved, he would never touch her, never want her. That was the ultimate sign of betrayal to him.

But he didn’t have another soulmate. He only had one and she was dead. He got off the bed, leaving the dress, and went back to his car.

He went to the same liquor place, but this time chose a different hard spirit to consume. He returned to the compound, drinking until he couldn’t stand. He drank until he couldn’t feel.

And when he woke up the next morning, he cried once again, realizing that he would never truly be happy.