Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) by Jianne Carlo

second, even when she’d grasped the extent of his rage. Her father had backhanded her when he lost his temper—shouted, bellowed, and roared. Linc had gone quieter and quieter, his voice calm, nonthreatening.
    Her knees buckled, and she leaned on the wooden wall.
    I'm insane.
    I've slept with a stranger. Let him do things I've never dreamed of doing.
    Who the hell am I kidding?
    I've more than dreamed of…of… I've become my stripper name. Sara Parker is a façade.
    Why did I take out the passport in my real name? I've been Sara Parker for as long as I can remember. Why am I behaving like a slut? Why do I crave Linc?
    You're an idiot.
    Grow up.
    Grow some balls.
    Cripes, who could have predicted the events? A small, rectangular window above the freezer reluctantly allowed watery sunlight to filter into the long, narrow alcove. Flakes fell fast and furious past the frosted glass. Some insane impulse had driven her to submit her real birth certificate to the Lincolnton Station Post Office when she'd learned of the pending trip to Alaska via Canada.
    Lincolnton Station? Had it started then? This swift decline into insanity?
    Destiny sighed, straightened, and trudged into the main cabin.
    Linc was nowhere in sight, but she heard smothered noises coming from the bedroom. She shuffled to the sofa, sat, and winced when her bare bottom encountered chilled upholstery. Seven logs glowed burnt orange and canary yellow in the fireplace. Chin propped on vertical palms, she stared at one spot, which sputtered a flickering flame every few seconds.
    What had just happened? Was Linc… jealous?
    Couldn't be. She shook her head. What nonsense.
    She'd never had a boyfriend who'd showed even a hint of jealousy. Maybe the thought of his friend touching her had pissed him off. The way he'd grown calmer and calmer as he'd asked questions had caused her scalp to tingle, her fingertips to prickle, because she knew his fury had grown exponentially as his voice gentled.
    A blast of frigid air whipped her hair to one side, and the cabin door slammed shut. Bounding to her feet, she stared at the patches of snow covering the mat and masking the red Welcome inscribed on the bubbled rubber.
    Was he leaving? Because Lorcan McGuillycuddy had tried to feel her up? But why? Oh God. He thought she was Lorcan's leftovers.
    Destiny buried her face in her hands.
    Were they now even?
    Her stomach growled. Well, if he'd left, he'd left.
    She squared her shoulders and marched to the bedroom.
    Men always left. Always lied.
    What a rat. Running out like that. Leaving her all alone. If he thought she couldn't cope with a little snow and a little cold, he didn't know Destiny Driven.
    She rummaged in the dresser drawer, found the lone pair of sweatpants she'd packed and her version of a comfort blanket, her fluffy pink flamingo slippers. The black beaks on the fuzzy pink shoes bobbed and weaved when she stomped through the cabin.
    You are not going to look out the window. You are not.
    Destiny repeated the two phrases as she gathered all the materials necessary for eggs Benedict. Cooking calmed her. She loved the aroma of onions sautéing, the sound of the ham sizzling in the cast-iron frying pan, and he way the egg whites fluffed as they poached, becoming little cumulus clouds surrounding a sunny yolk.
    Bitterness coated her tongue and fisted in her throat. Moisture slicked her lashes, and she gritted her teeth.
    I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. It was a one-night stand. He's a stranger. That's why you did it, Destiny Driven. What did you expect? Love at first sight?
    “Ha!” she spat, then slammed the flexible spatula on the counter.
    The door banged shut, and she stumbled, stubbing one big toe on the stove's clawed foot when she spun around, her heart battling the containment of her ribs.
    Linc carried a pine tree that topped his height by about six inches. The evergreen's leaves danced and leaked snowflakes when he placed the trunk against the coat