Inviting the Sinner Home
Lily · Completed · 6.6k Words
Introduction
With only ten days left to live, I was desperate. Then I met Julian. He gently paid off my crushing debts with a smile so warm, I almost thought I’d met an angel.
Until he leaned in close. Beneath his expensive woodsy cologne, I caught the heavy, undeniable stench of fresh women's blood.
I lowered my head, hiding the sudden thrill in my eyes.
I had finally found my monster.
Chapter 1
I am a Kitsune exiled from the East.
Every twenty years, the cycle demanded a soul replacement.
We didn't take normal lives. To survive and grow a new tail, the body required a sacrifice soaked in pure sin.
My time was running out.
Ten days. If I didn’t feed by then, the fox fire would consume me entirely.
I needed a monster. Fast.
——
An hour later, Julian sat across me, adjusting his cuffs.
"A remarkable piece, Miss Vance," he said.
He was the city’s premier art appraiser.
He lowered his jeweler's loupe and placed my fabricated family antique carefully on the velvet mat.
"A girl as young as you shouldn't carry such oppressive debt alone. "
"The creditors are threatening you, I assume?"
"I have nowhere else to turn," I sobbed.
He stood up, walked around the desk, and handed me a handkerchief.
"You don't need to be afraid anymore. I'm going to help you."
He smiled.
That was when the smell hit me.
Beneath his cologne, a heavy metallic stench crawled straight into my sinuses.
Blood. Fresh blood. A woman's.
The hunger tore at my ribs into a violent cramp.
I pressed the handkerchief to my face to hide my reaction.
For the next week, he proved just how perfect he could be.
He didn't push boundaries.
He opened car doors and pulled out my chair.
When a sudden downpour caught us outside a restaurant, he held his umbrella entirely over me, letting the rain ruin the shoulder of his suit just so my hair would stay dry.
On Thursday, a homeless man shivered outside a Chelsea gallery, sitting beside a stack of amateur water-damaged canvases.
Julian gave him a stack of hundred-dollar bills.
"Don't stop painting."
When he stood back up, his eyes were genuinely wet. "Their talent is eaten alive by starvation. It’s simply unbearable."
He looked so kind. If not for the sickening stench of blood, I would have fallen in love with him right there.
Under my coat, a new patch of blue sparks gnawed at my ribs. I smiled at him, swallowing down the blinding pain.
Night seven.
We sat in a private, heavily soundproofed VIP booth above the city.
Julian slid a crystal tumbler across the table.
"To your debts." He raised his own glass. "I bypassed the auction house and secured a private buyer. Your slate is clean. You are entirely free."
"Julian... I don't know what to say." I picked up the glass.
My hand was shaking—mostly from the fox fire burning my nerves.
"Drink." He clinked his glass against mine. "Tonight, I will show you true art."
I tipped my head back and swallowed the dark liquor.
Three seconds.
The glass slipped through my fingers. It hit the heavy carpet without breaking.
The city lights outside the window smeared into jagged neon streaks.
The muscles in my neck failed. I slumped back into the corner of the booth.
Julian didn't rush to catch me.
He calmly placed his drink on the table and then he pulled out the phone.
"Bring the truck around to the freight elevator."
Total darkness.
The aggressive reek of industrial bleach and formalin choked my lungs.
I couldn't move.
The belts bit deeply into my wrists and ankles.
A thick layer of moisture-barrier plastic wrapped tightly around my torso, pinning my arms.
Wide medical tape sealed my mouth shut.
Voices drifted from the driver's cab.
"Supply is never an issue," Julian's voice came through the speaker.
"I told you I found a perfect material. Total isolation. Sinking in debt."
"The Russian buyer specifically requested a young, live prep," Julian’s tone turned heavy with naked greed. "With this bone structure, I am billing him two million. Wire the deposit before I make the first incision."
The engine died.
Freezing wind tore into the cargo hold as the doors swung open.
Adirondack mountains. Miles from anyone.
Julian climbed into the back.
He snapped a pair of crisp white surgical gloves over his wrists. He grabbed my jaw and ripped the tape off my mouth.
"Julian... please," I choked out. "Just let me go."
"Let you go?"
He crouched. He scraped his gloved thumb hard against my cheek.
"Why would I throw away a masterpiece?" He reached to his belt and pulled out a heavy-duty skinning knife.
"Soon, you will be the most beautiful live specimen in a billionaire's living room."
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