Seed of Sin (The House of Creed Book 2) Read online

  Seed of Sin

  The House of Creed Series

  D.M. Burns

  Copyright @ 2020 by D.M. Burns

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locale, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About this book

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  D.M Burns Note

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with D.M. Burns

  Preview of Creed Creation.

  Brealyn Mia Winters

  Something instead of nothing, friends…

  That’s what he said. The blank walls within that bland box he placed us in is maddening. When I’m near him it sure feels like a lot more than just a friendly interlude. In theory, walking away from Brogan Creed seems like the smart thing to do. The warning signs are there. I should be put off, but I’m so far from that resolve. My mind refuses that conclusion. My place in this world involves this man. That much I’m sure of. His key role in my life is not that of a friend either.

  Weirdly enough, he’s always in sync with my thoughts. My inner secrets don’t even feel as though they belong to me anymore. When I’m alone I sense him. I feel him all around me. I can even smell him. My mental stability is hanging on by a thin thread.

  Brogan believes that some kind of a curse hangs over his head. Giving in to what we both want will somehow damn me. What he fails to understand is that without him, I feel like a plague is slowly migrating its way viciously throughout my bloodstream. He’s not protecting me, no. He’s only contributing to the source of my pain. Prolonging it would be a more accurate assessment too.

  Without effort, the Wallstreet God owns me. Body, heart, and soul. Nothing will ever change that.

  Brogan Malic Creed

  That’s her future… DEATH.

  Of course, my twisted brother’s words are my psyches go to anytime I get near her. Always from a distance. Not within or out of arm’s length, a guarded guide. A fine balance of need versus necessity. Silently stealing her mind mysteries and lurking in the dark shadows to be closer to her is my new way of life now.

  My senses soar with distrust mixed with disgust for my shared DNA. But becoming the boardroom boss was not an achievement reached by trusting those enemies that gather at the round table, oh no. My worries are not consumed with that of the family tree anyway.

  There’s only one flaw to the overall plan here. Brealyn Winters is not own by no one, no-no… She holds the power. Make no mistake in the fact that I am irrevocably held captive by a delicate, untouchable, and forbidden butterfly. One that I intend on protecting.

  This book is dedicated to those that are confused by the curves that life takes you down. Hold tight and know that with time everything will become crystal clear. Our paths were drawn out with care before we got here. Faith is key…

  There Are No Mistakes For Which God Makes.

  The Creator Will Never Ruin What He Doesn’t Intend To Rebuild Remarkably.

  SEED:

  The condition or stage of bearing seed.

  SIN:

  An offense against religious or moral law. An action that is or is felt to be highly reprehensible. Transgression of the law of God.

  chapter 1

  brealyn

  I’ve often wondered what God’s purpose in this world is for me. Does he have a place carved out with my name in bold letters? A home just for me… Does he have one big worldly map laid out on a massive golden desk in the heavens above with a beautiful landmark picked out already? Is it marked off with a golden pin to remind him of where I’m supposed to be? Will it have a loving foundation filled with warmth and invite me in upon arrival? When do I get to have that life?

  My sweetest little grandmother says that it’s a sin to question God’s plan. But I never really looked at my inquiring mindset in that manner, no. I’m not questioning it so much. Simply put, I’m just curious. There’s a big difference, right?

  Several years back, my heart tugged at me when I happened across a television interview that featured him; those eyes took me by surprise. Never in my life did I expect to feel so overwhelmed by the mere sighting of another. It was as if God himself reached down from the gates of glory up above, and lightly tapped me on the shoulder then pointed my attention in his direction. Something deep within called out at me. Whispering for me to hold tight, that wonderful things were in the making for me.

  I’m finding myself clinging to my faith that my grandmother made sure was firmly installed from such a young age. Our presence was front row seating every Sunday with me, my gramps, and grammy all decked out in our finest church attire. I loved hearing the choir perform and even though I couldn’t hold a tune, I gave it my best shot. My gramps would pat my head and give me a wink encouraging me to howl out like I was pitch perfect.

  My beliefs are what cements me with a sturdy foundation. Giving me a sense of who I am and where I came from. But here lately, I find myself completely confused and off centered. It’s new territory for me but true none the less. I’ve lived most of my life not allowing anything to shake my core values or muddle my mindset. I was doing good.

  Or at least I was until Brogan Creed. That man has taken over my conscious thoughts managing to filter over and invade my dreams. Either my dreams are torturing me with an unhappily ever after with Brogan being within reach but untouchable, or that nameless little blonde-haired boy is blazing the New York City landscape down around me. Those searing iced over eyes carry a lethal amount of hellfire within them that’s next level scary.

  Not all my dreams are off the wall though. Sometimes I dream of Brogan and I together, walking across a massive lawn toward another little boy. The boy looks like a replica of the one in my nightmares. But I’m uncertain because his back is facing us, and he never turns around so I can’t see his eyes.

  My heart tells me it’s not the same little boy and I always wake up right before I make it to him. In my mind, I know it’s only sandman nightly encounters and not real in the slightest but my anxiety is very much real. My entire reaction is crazy, borderline insane.

  And all of that is successfully throwing me off my paved highway onto uneven ground. It’s as though someone has violently jarred my body, rattling my heart lose from its rightful place behind my breastbone. I can’t seem to get control over my emotions long enough to make sense of anything. Between the sleepless nights and my body rejecting the taste of food, I’m a walking zombie living o
ff my coffee intake. Hoping for the numbness to sweep in dulling all my senses.

  Brogan’s touch has become my greatest haunting. A familiar century-old house that contains a nightly ghost with a reluctant and random appearance. Filtering through the hallways of my psyche. Keeping tabs on my whereabouts and delighting in the thriller show. Acting out in the most horrible ways; taunting and teasing me. Tearing down my mental stability with unspoken promises of return. Ultimately leaving me to question if I’m slowly losing my sanity as well as everything I was ever taught about faith.

  I bite down on my bottom lip as I weave in between the sidewalk bodies surrounding me trying to hold the tears back from falling. As my grandmother would say, this too shall pass young lady-just believe.

  Leaving that New Year’s Eve party with shaky limbs and an unstable grasp on my mental stability pretty much sums up how I’m feeling at this moment. My go-to cure can be found at the nearest convenient store though. I’m going to stock myself up with some Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia and bring in this New Year with an additional five pounds on my rear end. My resolution will be to have a Badonkadonk. Oh, crap… The lyrics “I like big butts and I cannot lie” is playing out in my head now… Whatever…

  “Hey, sunshine… Brealyn… Wait up.”

  When I hear that voice over my shoulder. I freeze in my tracks. This is great. JUST FREAKING GREAT. Slightly defeated, I turn and come face to face with a larger but more laidback version of a thawed-out Brogan Creed. Like I needed that reminder right now. Heck, his finger impressions are still fresh and felt on each side of my hips. Plus, the whisper of his lips on mine tingles with a faint everlasting aftereffect.

  I’m beginning to believe that at some point, it’d be best if I could go numb. Sorta like the cold winter weather here in New York is turning my limbs right about now. My hands, nose, and toes feel like ice cubes. Could it move to the core of my heart?

  Channing’s smile is widespread and a much-welcomed balm to my rejected heart though. Immediately, I retract my country kitten claws replacing it with a fake smile. Reminding myself that it’s not Channing’s fault that his brother is an ignorant butthole with crap-tastic taste in selecting frigid females looking to climb his money tree while stroking his main branch.

  “Hey… You look really nice.” I motion my hand up and down at his fancy attire.

  Channing is a seriously beefed-up beautiful business decision. Half the women in passing are turning their heads over their shoulders to get a second glance at the sexy he exudes. I don’t blame them. The man is fancy but refined with a side of trickery lacing his features. His body reminds me of Gerard Butler in the movie 300 but on steroids, yeah-that.

  “Nothing even close to the vision in front of me. By the way, thanks for the dozen cupcakes you left for me on Christmas day. Those tasty treats from the Cupcake Café can’t be topped and I annihilated them in one go.” He flashes me a wink. I knew he’d appreciate the scrumptious cakes. The guy likes food, a lot. The wind decides to pick up cutting straight through to my bones and I inch my coat tighter around my body.

  “Well, I wanted you to know you were thought of,” I say between my chattering teeth.

  His eyes crinkle at the corners slightly and he studies me a moment before speaking again. I hate that he and Brogan are so stubborn when it comes to mending the brotherly bridge. They just need a little bit of help crossing over. I should mind my own business, but I know in my heart that they just need a loving shove in the right direction.

  “What I can’t figure out is how you knew where I lived?”

  “Well, it wasn’t hard to put together. You like your privacy so, anything listed under the name of Creed would generate media, so that was out. That’s not your style.” I point my trigger finger at him then poke his coat covered chest. He smirks and tilts his head to the side. “But honestly, I had my friend do some digging and voila. I found out that your primary residence is listed under that Malone dude, your former employer.”

  “Your good.” He chuckles. “Why didn’t you call up? Hell, Chevy Chase was on my big screen girl. We could’ve watched Christmas crap until ya little southern heart was content.”

  “I had some other places to stop off at,” I say. It’s probably best that I hold onto that little tidbit where I ran into a real-life boozed out Creed Grinch less the furry green body hair.

  “Where you headed tonight?” He asks.

  “Uhm, well… I was just about to land a deadly visit to the ice cream aisle at the convenient store down from my loft. My intentions are to clear out the shelves then head home.” I shrug.

  One of the sidewalk street hustlers comes barreling by me clipping my shoulder forcing me to stumble forward into Channing’s body wall. Without hesitation, he anchors one arm around my waist and immediately swings his large palm out chest checking the guilty perpetrator to a complete stop.

  “Manners motherfucker.” Channing growls while pinning the guy with an evil glare that would have anyone shying away. My eyes go wide because I’ve never seen this side of him. It’s much like flipping the switch on in a dark room only to find a snarling demon ready to attack. Heck, Channing even seems to grow in size with each syllable that he grits out.

  The soon to be sidewalk victim looks like he wants to strike out for a fraction of a second. Thankfully, the guy lets his eyes do some homework, taking in Channing’s sizeable frame and evil demeanor. After assessing the angry brutal beating that surely awaits him should he open his mouth in a harsh way, the guy nods his head and mumbles an apology then continues down the street.

  “Uhm, thanks.” I slap my hand on his chest and those dark chambers snap back to me softening upon touchdown. “But let’s try not to bring in the New Year’s with some jail time, yeah?” I smile and nod my head which has Channing nodding his too. His grip on me isn’t lessening in the least. I need to climb down from this mountain.

  “It’d be a small price to pay, but I’ll tell you how you can repay me for defending your honor.” He smiles wide. When I try to pull away from him, he shakes his head slowly no and his hot palm sprawls out over my coat covered back causing waves of heated tingles to course up my spine instantly warming me. “Since it’s a sin to kill Miss. Winters, I’m going to save the ice cream aisle from your punishing shopping spree. Come with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I can’t help it; I giggle.

  “What? No, hot date to bring in the New Year’s with, Mr. Creed?” Saying that tings something in the middle of my chest. It makes me think of Brogan. I bite the inside of my cheek while trying to push those thoughts out of my mind. I focus on Channing’s bloodred scarf hanging around his trench coat.

  “I don’t know. I’m waiting for an answer. So, what do you say?” He reaches up placing his index finger under my chin and luring my eyes back to him. “Say yes, sunshine.”

  Maybe it’s the confusion rushing through my mind or it could be the hurt I’m feeling toward Brogan because I nod yes. I’d like to think it’s the simple fact that this guy is a kind friend and makes me feel warm, literally. Channing doesn’t give me time to rethink my decision either. He drops his hold on me only to wrap his bear claw around my hand leading us off into the upcoming New Year festivities.

  My face hurts from the perpetual smile that’s been a fixture on my face ever since Channing swooped in for a sidewalk save. I can’t even bring myself to feel bad for agreeing to come, nope. It’s a wonderful reprieve from the sinking soul onslaught that I was suffering from earlier at the Sky Lounge.

  The trifold ceiling above our heads has thousands of circular LED lights casting out a spotlight glow to every inch of LaCarino’s ballroom. It’s a well-known member’s only club where the elite mingle and celebrate. I allow my eyes to roam past our front row table view that’s just a few feet from the romantic slow swaying bodies moving about on the white diamond-shaped dance floor.

  Silently, I wish that I were wrapped up with Brogan out there. Dancing closely. Hearing and feeling his heart thum
p as I rest my head against his chest. I wonder what he’s doing. Is he thinking of me?

  Why can’t Brogan and I fall into a safe and comfortable closeness that seems to come so easy for me and his brother? My eyes move back to Channing and those gunmetal edged globes are fixated on me. The guilt I feel from having those thoughts is real and I swallow that down. I smile but lower my focus to the bright white tablecloth underneath my hands, acting as if I’m smoothing out non-existent wrinkles.

  “Can you do me a favor?” He asks.

  Peering back up, Channing is relaxed in his seat tilting ever so slightly with his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. He devested himself of his blazer as soon as we were seated. The top two buttons of his midnight black-dressed shirt are loose, and his sleeves are rolled up past his massive forearms showcasing a sparkling watch that no doubt costs more than his Bugatti. This man has a commanding air about himself that silently persuades everyone near him to adhere too. Voiding the room of any and all others seeking attention. Forcing you to concentrate on him.

  “Sure, I’ll try.” I smile.

  Channing leans forward bracing his elbows on the table. He looks down at my hands. My eyes follow his movements as he picks my hand up from the tabletop. His strong capable hand easily makes two of mine in comparison. He lightly smooths his thumb back and forth as his brows knit together in deep thought. Those dark holes with the silver outline come back to me.

  “Please leave him out of this tonight. He doesn’t belong here with us, not tonight.”

  “Uhm, I’m… Channing… We’re just friends, remember?” I whisper on a plea. Do I really need to remind him of this fact? This guy has become a good friend and I like his company, but I won’t lead him on either. Please for the love of God, I don’t want to lose my friend in him.

  “If you think over my exact words, I never really agreed to that just friend’s clause you’ve invoked on us. But know this, I plan on converting you over to the dark side that is me.” He says with a side smirk.