The Seven Sinners

“Tua est dolor tuus intellectus clauditur ex percussione heres posset, ut testae duritiem contrahat.”

ADRASTEIA

Adra shifted in her seat as they drove under the lights of the highway. Her eyes were so sensitive to the blurring colors, and her ears were hurting from the noises around her.

Lycidas reached up to the sunglasses holder and handed her a pair of blacked-out glasses. “They’ll help with the light. There are a pair of earplugs in your door. They’ll help with the headache.”

“Will the sensitivity go away?”

“You’ll learn how to deal with it. After a while, it won’t bother you as much.”

“As much? It still bothers you?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” she said, putting on the glasses and undoing the packaging of the earplugs. “So can you tell me about your other brothers?”

“We aren’t biological brothers. Over the years, we grew closer from our shared responsibilities. Demedicus serves as our clan leader, though we all hold the same weight, politically.

“Quillian is boisterous. Caine is fucked up. Zanthus is controlling. Kieran is deaf. Athanasius is the oldest.”

“You’re a man of few words, I see.”

He didn’t respond to her quip about him. Instead, he turned on his turn signal and got off the highway.

He looked through his rearview, noticing one car that got off with him. He was constantly on edge, looking for his next fight. He was always prepared.

“When we arrive, you’ll meet them again. I know you met them once, but given your emotional state at the time, I should warn you. Caine has a nasty scar on his face. He doesn’t appreciate staring.”

“I won’t.”

“In the compound, you’re my responsibility. Whatever you do is a reflection of me. You're allowed to go into any public space, but not into the brothers’ rooms.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t unless I was invited.”

“Zanthus lost his beloved a long time ago. Don’t talk about it.”

She exhaled deeply. No wonder he was apparently so fucked up. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t apologize to me or to him. It is what it is.”

“How—”

“Does it matter?”

She guessed not. The loss of a beloved was often a death sentence. For the few who could live through it, the pain was unimaginable. From what she knew, the pain never ceased but could dull from time.

She didn’t know how someone could live after their soulmate died. She didn’t think she would be able to. She just shook away the question.

As the car drove up the darkened driveway, she became apprehensive about her appearance here. The Council wasn’t exactly known to be inviting. They were nice to her before. Maybe they would be now as well.

She got out of the car and went to the trunk to get her bag. Lycidas beat her to it. He was already throwing it on his shoulder and shutting the trunk.

“You’re going to need more things.”

“I can buy more.” She could also go to her house and get more, but she didn’t want to go there.

He looked at her as if he understood. He nodded before walking up the cobblestone path to the door. He pushed it open—apparently, they didn’t use keys—and allowed her to walk in first.

“Wow,” she commented.

“Didn’t expect us to live in a house?”

“Well”—she stopped—“no, actually. I thought you’d live in a metal gym or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s actually a relief.”

She watched as the rest of the brothers came down the steps. Demedicus was the first to arrive, and then behind him was a blond. The other men walked down the stairs but stood in the living room.

The guy with the scar, Caine, made an active effort to stand farthest away, near the entrance to the kitchen.

“Welcome, Adrasteia.”

“Thanks, Demedicus. Thank you for having me.”

“We haven’t had a hot girl living in this house in years,” Quillian chimed in. He clapped his hands, stepping toward her. Lycidas stepped in front of her.

“Back off.”

Quillian held his hands up in surrender. “Possessive much,” he muttered.

Lycidas put his hand on her back, forcing her away from the crowd. They went up the stairs and down the hall to the second door on the left.

As he opened the door, he stood away from her. He was always so far from her. She wished he would come closer to her.

She walked in, glancing around the large room. She knew that the house was large from being outside, but once she got into his room, she realized that each male probably had their own quarters.

His room was nothing like she imagined. He was so closed off in person—around people, around her—but his room was so…intimate.

It was like this was the only place he could be free. It was his, for lack of a better word, safe space.

There was a stack of movies near a flat-screen. Below the TV, a video console and a few books that she guessed were his favorites sat on a little counter.

On the other end was a door that she assumed led to a closet because the other door led to a full bathroom. His bed was unmade, but his comforter was a dark blue with white plush pillows near the dark headboard.

She watched as he walked in and set her bag on his bed.

He turned to her, uncertain as to what to say. “You’ll stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You don’t have to. I can sleep on the floor.”

He looked at her with a stern stare, and she held her hands up, dropping it.

“I have to take a shower. Will you be okay?”

She nodded. “Go get clean.”

She watched his form retreat through the other door. Once he was gone, she went over to his stack of books. She grinned at his book selection. Evicted, Frankenstein, Anna Karenina, Great Expectations…classics.

She moved away from his books to his favorite games. She hardly recognized any of them.

She heard the shower turn on. Instinctually, she turned around. She closed her eyes, reveling in her newly heightened senses. She could hear every individual droplet hit the walls of the shower.

She could smell his clothing as he undressed and threw them on the floor. Her nose wrinkled, smelling something distinctly salty.

She opened her eyes and felt her fangs trying to get out of her gums. She took her pointer finger and touched one of them. They were so sharp it pierced her skin and she bled.

She could still taste his blood on the tip of her tongue, and she longed for more. She thought that after feeding for the first time, the hunger would stay away for longer.

She shook the thought away. It was too soon.

As Lycidas came out of the bathroom, she felt her fangs shoot down. His towel was wrapped around his waist. She could so clearly see the beads of water dripping down his flat stomach.

He was by no means out of shape, but he didn’t have washboard abs. She liked that, actually. She preferred it.

The moment she saw him, the blood lust hit her hard. She looked down at the ground and stood impossibly still.

Her hair must have fallen in her face because he went to his dresser, dropped the towel, and put on a pair of shorts.

He must have sensed something was wrong because he quietly came to her. “Adrasteia?”

She looked up, and he took a step back. Her eyes were bright gold, and her lips were a light red. Her skin was paler than before.

“You’re hungry.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d—”

“You should have said something.” He grabbed her arm, and she hissed from the touch. He pulled her to his bed and sat down.

He pointed to the floor between his legs, and she sat down, looking at him with such a ferocious hunger. He held up his arm in front of her face, and she looked at it before looking at him again.

“Drink.”

She didn’t need much more encouragement. She grabbed his arm and pierced his skin, sucking greedily. She fed less than last time. When she was finished, she pulled away, wiping the blood off her lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d get so hungry so quickly. Is that normal?”

“Fledglings do get more thirsty more often but being as thirsty as you are so soon is strange.”

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he responded. He stood up and went into the bathroom, washing his arm of the excess blood.

When he came out, Adra was sitting on the bed. Her eyes followed him everywhere he went. He stopped, seeing her eyes flicker.

“What is it?”

“I can tell you’re hungry. Why haven’t you asked to drink from me?”

“I’m not allowed to drink from you.”

Oh, right. The Council wasn’t allowed to drink from anyone other than their priestess or beloved. It was a way to keep them from drinking from multiple partners.

They were practically royalty, so it was necessary not to blood share.

“Nor would I ever ask to.”

“Who do you drink from?”

“My priestess.”

“I know…what’s her name?”

“Antionette.”

Why did she feel so much anger? She’d never even met her. She always knew about how the Council fed. It never bothered her before.

But now thinking about Lycidas coupling with someone else made her sick.

She stuffed it down though and watched as he went into his closet and took out a blanket. He laid it on the floor and then took a pillow from his bed. She watched as he sat down.

“No, this is your room. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. I’ll take it.”

“No.”

She sighed, watching him lie down and shut his eyes.

“Why don’t we both sleep in the bed? It’s not like it’s any more intimate than coupling.”

He must have realized her logic because he stood and turned off the lights. He came over to the bed and lifted the comforter, sliding in. She sat on top with her legs pulled to her chest.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”

He grunted, and she took that as an approval. She went into her bag and grabbed pajamas to wear. She wasn’t expecting to share a room, so she’d just brought her big shirt.

Once she had her soap, hairbrush, razor, and conditioner, she grabbed her satin hair bonnet and walked into the bathroom.

When she was in the shower, she finally realized how she felt. She felt…better. Still sad, still traumatized, still hopeless, but less so now.

She felt the soft caress of water down her back, and she sat on the floor, hoping he couldn’t hear her crying.

She felt so guilty. If she had never left, maybe she could have saved them. Or maybe she wouldn’t be here to miss them.