Page 87 of Priest and his Anarchist

“Luna!”

She doesn’t stop this time. I cuss under my breath, ignoring Vaden’s loud laugh from the other side.

“What are you doing?” she asks, almost colliding with me when I block her path. Good question. What the fuck am I doing, and why do I protect her any time she is around.

Her mouth flatlines. “Nope.”

She tries to sidestep away, but my hand flies out and lands on her chin, cupping the lower half of her face.

Halen’s shadow moves past us, eyes narrowed. “Watching you, dear brother.”

I flip her off with my other hand. “Fuck you.”

Luna whacks at it, but I tighten my grip and step closer into her space. From here, she’s more beautiful than I remember. I hate it.

The tension in her shoulders weakens, her defense crumbling in my hand. “We were forced to be married. Sure. But it’d be great if you didn’t parade girls around at every party—dead or?—”

Fuck it.

I swipe her up by her legs and throw her over my shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,wife, or you’ll be the next one off that cliff.”

Eyes move over us, but not one person whispers a word as I move us through the living room. They’re at least smart in that aspect.

“Priest!” Luna yelps, much like you’d imagine a chihuahua to sound. It’d be cute if she was, but she isn’t.

I need to remember that she isn’t.

We hit the top of the staircase, bypassing the art she's tried looking at so often, before shoving her through my bedroom door.

I drag her body down against mine until she’s at eye level. With my hand on her throat, I slam her against the door to close it. Her chest rises and falls, the hatred brewing deep. Time has magnified her beauty, but there’s something else. Even in rage, something more primal rocks every exchange we have.

Loosening my grip, I lower her to the floor.

“Why the fuck did you come tonight?” That something has always been a distraction, and now it's become undeniable with her in my face constantly.

Her lips part, but she pauses, unsure what to say. “I don’t know. I was with the girls.”

“Oh, is that right?” I raise my brows, my sarcasm barely noticeable. “And who invited you?”

Her gaze flicks between my face and chest, a painful tune of silence that only seems to charge the tension. Too locked in the tempestuous storm in her eyes, I don’t notice her moving until the heat of her palm sends currents of electricity over my chest. Her fingers spider over my skin, as if weaving her own web. A growl forms deep in my chest, but she must feel it anyway because she focuses back on me. The longer we’re near one another, the more dangerous we become. As if threatening to bear the wounds that all the sharp words we’ve exchanged over the years caused.

I stop her hand before it reaches the side of my neck, reminded why I’m here and who she is.

“Jesus.” Her words are soft. “What is wrong with you.”

My hand slides down the wall, bringing our bodies close until her nipples harden against my chest. Such a fucking tiny thing. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t care anymor—” I force her up the door by the back of her neck until her legs dangle in the air. She doesn’t fight, but her expression lies flat and unreadable. So fucking stubborn.

The tip of my nose skims hers as I hold her up by her ass. “Remember what happened the last time we fucked, Madness?” My lips brush hers when I lean forward. The fragility of her softness is suffocating. “Relax, Madness. Did I kill you?”

“Almost.” she feeds me her words, teasing what she tasted like that night. No panic. No fear.

My cock hardens against my zipper.

I kiss the words over hers. “Almost isn’t yes.”

Her mouth parts, her tongue caressing my lower lip’s edge. I laugh softly. Where most would run, she presses closer, her bodymeeting mine and shattering the last of my fragile restraint. “We shouldn’t do this. People get hurt when we’re together.”

---