Page 6 of Unholy

“What do you want me to say?” I ask him, looking up at those dark eyes of his.

“Nothing. Get out of my space,” he orders, nodding toward the stairs.

“Would you paint me something if I paid you?” He laughs now. It’s a loud, dark laugh.

“Hell no.”

“Why?”

“You think I’m going to paint your Godly shit? You want a pretty little cross with a rose?” he taunts me. I shake my head and step back away from him, heading for the stairs and rushing up them. As I close the door, I hear the music come back on.

I rest my back against the door and close my eyes, willing the visions of him to go away.

“Ash?”

“Yes?”

“Time to pray,” my dad calls out. A small wince escapes me before I right myself and walk up to my room.

Chapter 3

Tristan

Oh, Little Nun. Little does she know I’ve been down here painting her all fucking day. I can’t get her face out of my head, and that’s a bad, bad thing. I know I can’t touch her. I don’t want to either, but fuck is she gorgeous and tempting as hell.

I spin the painting around and set it back up on my easel, then step back and take a look at it. It’s perfect. Same pouty lips. Same dark hair. Same face I want to ruin, but I won’t. Mom’s happy, and that’s all I could ask for. That’s all I ever wanted for her. A religious husband? Yeah, that wasn’t on my bingo card, but as long as he treats her right, that’s all I care about, and so far, he has.

I stare at her picture far longer than I should before putting the finishing touches on it. A little black rose in her hand, and it’s complete.

I see Ash. I see she’s hiding things from everyone around her. I would know a wounded soul when I see one. I’ve had one for a very long time.

I finish what I’m doing and clean up before grabbing a shirt and heading up the stairs. I lock the basement door behind me so no one goes down there and sees what I’ve done. It’s none of their fucking business.

I head out the door, grab my helmet, jump on my bike, and take off. I weave through the streets and down the back alleys to get to the party. When I arrive, I’m greeted by my best friend, Rod.

“You made it.”

“Don’t I always,” I tell him. He laughs, and we fist bump before I follow him inside. This weekend is all about having fun, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

We walk down the dark staircase until we reach the bottom. That’s where the party picks up. Lights are flashing, people are dancing, and the music is thumping. It’s not my typical music, but I like all kinds.

I follow Rod to the back, where a few of our other friends sit and join them.

“How’s the married life?” Andy chuckles.

“I wouldn’t know. They aren’t married yet. Two weeks. But the house is pretty nice,” I reply.

“Not with you in it,” Rod adds, causing me to laugh.

“Already started on the basement,” I tell him.

“No shit? What’d you paint?”

“The same thing.” They all know my love of fallen angels.

“So, the new sister?” Andy asks as he passes me the joint. I bring it to my lips and inhale.

“She isn’t bad looking. Bible thumper,” I answer.

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