Chapter 191 Imprint of Sin
“We don’t need to hide anymore, Mama. We can do it now,” Revelation said, her chest heaving as she paced her room. With every no that came from her mother, her anger coiled tighter. The plan had been simple: Red would come to the Blackwood Estate, and together they would reveal the truth to Genesis. But after the massacre with Takeshi’s men in the Estate, Red had hesitated.
“We don’t need to follow the plan exactly,” Revelation pressed. “But we do need to tell her.”
Red was quiet, her voice finally breaking the silence. “You’ve never told me what this thing is between you and Knight. Aside from the fact that he’s a two-faced, ruthless bastard. And even then, are we really so far from the same thing?”
Revelation snarled. “We are nothing like him.”
Red let the silence stretch, then asked softly, “This is personal to you, mija, isn’t it?”
Revelation sighed, pacing harder. “It’s not personal. Nothing’s personal to me.” Her throat caught. “Though maybe it is. Because he’s in her head. He’s twisting her. And now, now she knows his other side. He even took her to that damn Academy. What if he makes her like him?”
Red laughed.
“What’s so funny, Mama?”
“You,” Red said, amusement lacing her tone.
Revelation stiffened. “Explain.”
“You see your sister every day,” Red’s voice softened, calm and steady, the kind of calm that always set Revelation’s teeth on edge. “And yet you didn’t realize it.”
“Realize what?”
Red’s tone dropped, almost reverent. “For the first time in twenty-three years, I saw her live. And in those beautiful green eyes, Revelation, I saw pain.”
Revelation froze, her breath stuck in her chest.
“Pain,” Red continued. “The kind that doesn’t fade. The kind that burns you, reshapes you. Pain can make her strong. Dangerous. But she will never become him. Not Knight. No matter how hard you believe he’s poisoning her, Genesis is not built like him.”
Revelation’s lips twisted bitterly. “And you believe that? You believe he won’t twist her into a reflection of himself?”
“I believe she’s already stronger than you think, mija.”
The line went dead.
Revelation stared at her phone, her chest rising and falling too fast. Strong? No. Genesis was soft. Fragile. And Knight would devour that softness, bleed it out of her, until there was nothing left but his shadow.
Her fists curled so tight her nails cut her palms. She needed air.
The garden was silent at this hour, shadows stretching long across manicured hedges. Roses hung heavy on their stems, their sweetness biting into her lungs as she paced. Hatred burned hotter with every breath. She hated that man. Hated him with a rage she couldn’t even name. It wasn’t just Genesis. No, something deeper lived there. A memory. Broken. Ugly. One she refused to let surface.
And then…
“Che bella,” a voice drawled, deep and smooth as sin.
Her body stiffened.
She turned and there he was. Damon. Leaning against the stone archway, dark eyes glinting with hunger and that smug, infuriating amusement.
Her hands fisted instantly. “Stay away from me.”
Damon smirked, pushing off the archway, his stride lazy, dangerous. “Still pretending you didn’t like it?” His gaze lingered on her mouth. “The kiss.”
Her blood boiled. “You drugged me.”
His grin sharpened, wolfish. “Had to happen.”
Her jaw locked. “You had no right.”
“Maybe not.” His voice dropped, darker, deliberate. “But if I hadn’t, you’d be dead. And you know it.”
Her pulse jumped despite herself. Rage flared hotter because he wasn’t right and because he thought she was just some orphaned maid forced to play along. She hated that more than anything.
“You think I owe you for that?” she hissed, stepping closer.
“No.” His tone thickened, rich with heat. “But you owe me another taste.”
Her breath caught, fury and something unwanted tangling in her chest. “You’re disgusting.”
Damon’s smile curled slow, dangerous. “And yet…” His gaze dragged down, lingering deliberately before snapping back to her face. “Your body remembers me.”
Her cheeks flamed, not with shame but white-hot rage. She shoved at him, but he caught her wrist, yanking her against his chest. His breath ghosted over her ear, his words low and lethal.
“You hate me, tesoro mio. I can taste it.” His lips brushed her ear, sending an unwanted tremor through her. “But that hate? It makes you mine.”
She yanked at her wrist, her snarl raw. “You’ll never own me.”
He chuckled, releasing her only to tilt her chin with two fingers, forcing her eyes up into his burning stare.
“Careful,” Damon murmured, lips curling in that maddening half-smile. “Keep saying never, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you wrong.”
Her teeth ground together. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in you?”
His smirk deepened. “Then prove it.”
Before she could react, he spun her, pressing her down into the grassy knoll, his weight pinning her.
“What the hell are you doing? Get off me, you’re heavy!” She shoved at his shoulders, but his hand slid to her throat, firm, possessive.
“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “I want my imprint around your throat.”
At the raw desire in his tone, her stomach flipped, damned traitorous body betraying her rage.
And then his hand moved down, inching close to her pussy.
“And here too.”
She shivered, his fingers hovering just enough to make her twitch.
“Tesoro…” His voice was calm, too calm. “Do you know why I like this part?”
Her jaw clenched. She refused to answer.
“Because it’s where you forget to lie.” His mouth curved, not into a smile but something sharper, crueler. “Here, your body betrays you. Every twitch, every breath… it tells me the truth.”
He dragged his thumb, slow and deliberate, over her hipbone.
“And the truth is, no matter how many times you spit my name like a curse, you still give me this.”
Genesis couldn’t sleep. The restlessness clawed at her, keeping her eyes wide open. With a soft sigh, she carefully untangled herself from Knight’s hold. Each step she took toward the kitchen, she counted under her breath, waiting for the moment Knight would come rushing after her.
A smirk tugged at her lips. If he had his way, he would cuff them together just to keep her from slipping out of his sight.
But the smirk faded as she reached the kitchen door. A low, rough cough echoed from the other side. She froze, frowning, before pushing it open.
Relief flickered when she saw Donald Blackwood, but it vanished just as quickly when the coughing grew harsher, painful, almost tearing through him.
“Father, are you okay?” Her voice cut through the stillness.
Donald jerked around, eyes wide, just as heavy stomps pounded down the hall. Knight.
She had only counted eighteen steps from the bedroom to the kitchen door.
But she didn’t care about Knight right now. Her eyes were locked on the napkin in Donald’s hand, stained dark with blood, caught in the pale glow of the single lightbulb above.
Her voice trembled when she spoke, just as Knight reached her side, breathless.
“Is that… blood?”