Page 97 of Callum

Several moments of total silence pass, and I look around cautiously. I’ve always loved churches, but my relationship with what they stand for has gone through it in the last few years. I didn’t know much about religion growing up, with my birth father hiding me away from everyone and everything. Then I “moved in” with Jericho, and I wasn’t allowed to know much of anything beyond the four walls of my room. It wasn’t until I was old enough for Jericho to start “allowing me” to have “visitors” that I learned anything of value.

I was ten when I met the Priest. He would preach the whole time we were together, never to me, just generally at and about me. It was always in-depth reminders of eternal damnation, the old-school fire and brimstone, and never any of the gentle stuff. That shrimp dick had me convinced I was the one going to Hell.

My tenuous relationship with God was shattered when I lost the baby. I spent all those months praying. I prayed for Callum to come back, for the baby to be safe, and for her to have someone better than me to help her through life. I’ve spent the last three years thinking my prayers had gone unanswered, but kneeling in this church, I realize that isn’t true.

Callum came back, and my baby has been safe with someone better equipped to raise her. “Better” being a loose term, Grim is still a violent criminal by any standard.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not allowed to say that one in a church.” Callum chuckles, his eyes still locked on the altar. “You figure out what you want to say to God, kitten?”

“Maybe.” It’s an unintelligible mumble, but Callum seems to get the gist.

His head turns toward me, but I avoid his gaze until his fingers press into the underside of my chin, tipping my face up to his. “Tell me.”

“Violet was safe.”

“The whole time,” he agrees. His eyes are hidden by the shadows of the darkened church around us, but I can feel them tracing the lines of my face.

“Grim saved me.” Callum doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information. I never told him about Grim finding me in that brothel and giving me a way out. It was the first time anyone treated me like a person and not someone’s possession.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“No.”

“What do you want, kitten?”

“I want to have done better.”

“I already told you there wasn’t anything you could have done differently. You were not responsible for what happened to our daughter.”

My head shakes enough to break his hold on my chin. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, you and I. Us.” I mimic his tone from the night he told me our daughter was alive, and I swear I feel his eyes narrowing on me.

“Watch your mouth, Red. I have no issues with punishing you in God’s house.”

A shiver races up my spine at the idea, and I hear Callum’s dark chuckle fill the air between us.

I want that. I want him to punish me for not trusting him before. I want him to see how much I trust him now.

The thought has barely formed in my brain before I’m acting on it. My feet clear the top of the pew in front of us, and I stumble on the landing but force myself to keep moving even as Callum snaps from behind me.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I chirp, running toward the altar. I don’t hear him move, but his voice is suddenly directly behind me.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re running from me, Red.”

“No,” I assure him, even as I slide around the far side of the altar. My foot slips on the hard stone tiles, and it takes me too long to correct myself. Callum’s hand closes in the back of my shirt before I can make it another step.

“I told you never to run from me again.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” I snark back, slamming my heel into the top of his foot. He sinks his teeth into my shoulder in retaliation, making me gasp in surprise.

One large hand runs up the front of my body, coming to rest against the base of my throat. “Are you looking to get punished, kitten?”

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