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Sin
Di Erin Lee, Alice La Roux e Sara Schoen
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggere- Editore:
- Crazy Ink
- Pubblicato:
- Nov 15, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9781386639879
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
Cardinal sins, they vary by person, but seven always seem to make the list.
Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.
These are said to be obvious, everyday sins, but something about them isn't so ordinary.
What happens when these excessive desires become more than a craving, but a way of life?
Prepare to meet the embodiment of each.
Seven authors present seven deadly sins and what happens when you give in to temptation.
Forgive us, for we have sinned...and we will do it again and again.
Informazioni sul libro
Sin
Di Erin Lee, Alice La Roux e Sara Schoen
Descrizione
Cardinal sins, they vary by person, but seven always seem to make the list.
Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.
These are said to be obvious, everyday sins, but something about them isn't so ordinary.
What happens when these excessive desires become more than a craving, but a way of life?
Prepare to meet the embodiment of each.
Seven authors present seven deadly sins and what happens when you give in to temptation.
Forgive us, for we have sinned...and we will do it again and again.
- Editore:
- Crazy Ink
- Pubblicato:
- Nov 15, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9781386639879
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Correlati a Sin
Anteprima del libro
Sin - Erin Lee
Envious
For the saints.
Featuring:
Soul Eater
by Alice La Roux – Gluttony
It’s Never Enough
by Sara Schoen – Greed
The Spotting Point
by Erin Lee – Pride
Off the Wall
by Caitlin L. McCulloch – Sloth
Destroying Eden
by BeBe Harlow – Lust
Vengeance Reborn
by Mila Waters – Wrath
Envious
by Taylor Henderson - Envy
ALICE LA ROUX
Soul Eater
Chapter One
Lux
I CRAWL THROUGH THE small tear, not quite a fully formed portal, on my hands and knees. A thrill shoots through me. I’ve never left my circle of Hell before, let alone escaped into the human world.
My hands touch something wet and gritty; it gets under my nails as I keep moving forward. It hurts my knees, grazing the skin, and I think I can feel it rip open, small little gashes as stones cut into the flesh. I can smell blood. What kind of world is this? I’m finally through and push myself to my feet. I’m in an alleyway at night-time, I think. I brush the gravel and tiny shards of glass from my hands and knees. What a shithole. Is this really the mortal realm?
What’ve we got here?
A voice comes from behind me. There’s an edge to it I don’t like and I turn.
Are you lost, hun?
A second voice chimes in as two men step out from the shadows.
Their faces are partially obscured by the poor lighting, but I recognise the gleam in their eyes―it’s greed and desire.
They look me up and down hungrily, and I feel underdressed. My crimson wrap skirt fastened with a gold clasp at my hip and matching wrap bra with gold embellishment seem extravagant compared to the dark, dull clothes they're wearing. Their eyes are glued to my exposed skin, and it makes me feel sick as they stare at my stomach and my breasts so openly. While my attire is normal for my domain, I make a mental note to dress more appropriately here. This attention is making me uneasy.
I turn and begin to walk away; I want nothing to do with these men. One of them makes the mistake of grabbing my arm and pulling me back.
Heyyyy baby, what’s the rush?
he asks. His face is too close to mine and his breath smells like alcohol.
Don’t you want to have some fun?
the other asks as he strokes my inky black hair.
Where are you headed? Some sort of Cosplay thing? Nice horns.
My hand gingerly touches the tip of one of my horns. They’re only small and black, a marker of my rank more than anything. What the hell is Cosplay, I think to myself as I try to breathe through the sensations taking over my body.
The fool with his hand on me is making me hungry; he shouldn’t have touched me. The second his skin made contact with mine, my powers kicked in. Every single sin he’s ever committed is laid bare to me, every lie he’s ever told, every penny he’s ever pinched―all of it running through my mind as I slowly drain his sins from his soul. It’s gradual at first, so he doesn’t notice, but after a minute or two his skin starts to turn grey. He's finally realised something is wrong, but it's too late.
Woah,
he says as he lets go and tries to take a step back.
Hey baby,
I whisper as I move forward and place my palms either side of his face. What’s the rush?
What the fuck?
the second asshole asks, shuffling away, not sure what’s happening as his friend falls to his knees.
I take it all as he screams. Every dirty little deed and I can’t stop, sucking out every guilty feeling until there’s nothing left, just a hollowed out husk where this petty criminal used to be. I let go and he stares blankly ahead. There’s nothing worth saving in there anymore, he’s gone.
Bob, what did she do to you? Bob?
His friend shouts, but it’s no use. Bob is nothing more than a breathing shell. In Hell this is where he would be taken away, tortured a little and then disposed of. But here on Earth no one comes to collect him and I leave him, rocking on the floor.
Fuck! Bob man, get up! We need to get outta here,
the second sleaze says as he tries to pull his friend up by the arm, but he doesn’t move.
I’m still hungry as my belly rumbles, it seems that his soul wasn’t enough to satiate me tonight, moving between the dimensions must have taken it out of me.
The man falls as he tries to scramble away from me; he’s on his stomach in the mud attempting to crawl away but it’s no use. It’s a dead end. The same dead end they were going to use to trap me. I saw it in Bob’s head. I saw everything they planned to do to me. Each sordid image was burned onto my brain and for that I show him no mercy as I grab his ankle and drag him towards me. Mortals are weak creatures, flesh and bone and not much else. I lower myself down onto his back, legs either side of his squirming body as he tries to buck me off. My hands slide up his shoulders and around his neck, his sins are greater than Bob’s surprisingly. He’s a coward and a liar with a penchant for young girls. I push aside my disgust as I drain him, cracking his soul open like a coconut to devour the sweet juice inside. His fight dies out as I reach the depths of his wickedness, the root of his evil, and it fills me like a three course meal. He’s completely still now, nothing more than a fleshy tool between my thighs as I dismount. I turn him over and he blinks at me, his breaths slow and even as his body adjusts to being soulless.
I don’t kill them you see, I simply take their souls―their very essence. They’ll probably be carted away to a mental institute or hospitalised here on the human realm, but in Hell we would dispose of them in other ways. I’m what is called a Soul Eater. Gluttony is not in my vocabulary. Avarice. Greed. Excess. These words mean nothing, I have my role and I fulfil it. As a daemon in the Third Circle of Hell, I don’t abide by these mortal conceptions, ideas of such rigidity. Sinners are brought on their knees before my brethren and I to be punished, to be tortured for their transgressions. I consume their wickedness, feed off it until my belly is so full I’m almost sick. Why you ask? Because it gives me power. Because it is addictive. Because I want to.
That was, until I tasted him. I remember the day they brought him into my chamber, his body was filthy and broken as he crawled on his knees to stop at my feet. Leaning down, his forehead rested on my bare skin. It was then for the first time that I tasted innocence, sweet, divine innocence. It was then I became addicted to a mortal man I knew nothing of.
I drank my fill, my lips locked with his as I slowly consumed everything he gave, and when they came to take him away I was left confused. He was mine. They stole him. But now I’m here to get him back.
Chapter Two
I take Bob’s dark green jacket and throw it on over my clothes; obviously there’s something wrong with the way I’m dressed and I don’t want to draw any more attention just yet. My feet are bare, but I can’t take his shoes; they’re too big. I walk through the city for a few hours, keeping to the shadows and the dark corners, watching as the humans go about their lives. I have seen countless humans before. The sinners come to me daily in Hell and through their memories I know what certain things and places are, but I still feel out of place. I need more information, more memories, but my stomach also aches. Devouring sins is not as simple as eating a meal and being done, it’s an insatiable hunger that gnaws at you.
It’s almost time to feed again but I’m too exposed out in the open. I see a flashing neon sign down a back street and watch for a few moments as a group of young girls, wearing less clothes than I, enter the building. I can hear music pumping out and I feel the vibrations in the air moving through my body. It’s a den of vice, a perfect place to feed.
I walk past the burly man guarding the door; he barely glances my way and is careful not to come into contact with me. Smart man. I follow the corridor down to where a woman seems to want my jacket; I hand it to her, our fingers touching for a brief moment. Her sins are minimal, not enough to feed off, and so I ignore her smile and keep going down a set of stairs. The smell of transgressions permeates the atmosphere down here and it’s making my mouth water. Lights flash and flicker over sweaty bodies as they dance, grinding against each other in the darkness. The music moves through me, I can feel every beat in my chest as if it were my heart. I move slowly through the crowd, fingertips brushing against bare skin here and there so I can get a read on who surrounds me. Liars, thieves, whores, and one murderer. That one almost makes me want to strip naked and revel in him, but there’s no rush. I follow a trio of girls into the bathroom, the scent of sex and sins drawing me to them. It doesn’t take me long to drain them, steal their clothes, and stuff their zombie like shells into an empty cubicle.
I stand by the bar watching, waiting, when a fight nearby breaks out—two drunk men going for each other over a small woman with large breasts. I decide to devour her first, she’s enjoying the rage too much; she finds glee in inflicting pain on those around her. I can taste satisfaction in the air as blood from the punches being thrown splatters on the floor near my foot. Moving like a predator, I come up behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. She turns and grins at me before bringing her mouth against mine. Stupid human. Pride and vanity are her downfall as she deepens the kiss, thinking she is irresistible to me. Too late does she notice that she feels sick, I can almost hear her thoughts out loud as she regrets doing coke in the bathroom earlier. I grin against her mouth as my hand snakes under her crop top and further up her back. The more skin exposed, the better. Once I’m done with her I move onto other bystanders distracted by the fight; the club is quiet tonight and when the fight broke out a few more people left, including my murderer, but there was still plenty for me to gorge on. I wouldn’t leave here hungry.
Chapter Three
It takes me an hour or so to work my way around the room. How these stupid humans never noticed what was going on in the dark was beyond me. They probably blamed it on a bad batch of drugs or something equally simplistic. I’m now focusing on the humans seated in booths. It’s not hard to get their attention; they invite me with sly smiles into their folds, expecting me to be an easy target while their hands are only too eager to reach out and touch my flesh. Foolish mortals. Greedy mortals. I pause, I’m hungry, more so than usual. Could it be a side effect of the human realm? Could their gluttony be infectious? I shake away the thought as I smile at yet another faceless man, his sins calling to me. His wife was at home nursing a black eye and a broken arm. He was exactly what I needed.
As I finish draining another yet another lecherous human, I sense a presence nearby. I can’t see anything, but I finish my feed alert and waiting for them to reveal themselves. My food gives one final groan before falling back into his seat. I’m still straddling him as I see something in the corner of my eye. There is a man stood behind me in a smart navy suit, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in his hand. He’s devilishly handsome, with golden blonde hair and deep grey eyes. The energy surrounding him is compelling, inviting you near, but I recognise it for what it is―a predator seducing his prey; he would no doubt swallow me whole if I got too close.
Well, if it isn’t the baby Soul Eater I was looking for,
he drawls, swirling the amber liquid in the glass.
I slide off the lap of my last meal and stand with my hands on my hips. I am not a child, do not address me so.
He scoffs, How old are you? 100?
125.
I pout. Why is he here? What does he want?
Still a baby.
He finally takes a sip from that damn glass and I’m mesmerised by the movement of his throat as he swallows. He’s an attractive daemon, dangerously so.
I snarl, Watch your mouth Daemon Broker. I can smell your sins from here.
He gives me the once over. I’m wearing a black corset I stole from one of the girls earlier that night, teamed with some skin tight leather trousers I took from another and black heeled boots from a third. I have a knife that I’d found in Bob’s coat pocket tucked into one of my shoes―the human realm is more dangerous than I had predicted; I was learning to be prepared. My long black hair is tied up with a red ribbon to hide my horns but it still manages to fall halfway down my back. He arches a brow at me, as though he’s not impressed, and I feel indignant.
What’s a level three daemon like you doing on the mortal realm?
he asks smoothly.
I don’t trust him; I’m not a fool. I’m looking for something.
He steps over a body and saunters towards me. Well, you’re not going to find it if you keep feeding recklessly. You’re drawing attention to yourself.
I cross my arms, pushing my breasts out. I do not care.
He grins. You will when you’re dead. Daemon hunters are real. I imagine The Legion is even out looking for you by now...
He takes a seat and crosses one leg over the other then takes another sip of his drink. He’s angling for something. Daemon Brokers have notorious reputations, even in Hell. They are tricksters, slippery bastards who manipulate everyone around them. Mentioning The Legion is a scare tactic. They are Samiel’s―or as he’s more commonly known―Satan’s personal army, the best of the best, or should that be the worst of the worst? They are the punishers, the merciless, and they maintain order in Hell.
I narrow my eyes at him. What are you after?
He