Page 107 of Priest and his Anarchist

It’s no secret that this is a marriage of convenience. That the mere thought of Priest being married is ridiculous, but that for whatever reason, forces wanted us together. Maybe that’s the question we should be asking.

No one will come near me, not that I’m interested, while he gets to continue to flaunt his toys around as if every day is playtime in Priest’s dollhouse.

He shoves me away. “There is no clause in our marriage. If a man so much as touches you, I’ll end his bloodline and everyone who ever knew him. The cute little lady down the street with the yapping dog? Dead. The local convenience store worker who greets him every morning? Dead. The?—”

“—I get it!” I snap, sliding my phone in my pocket. “You and I both know I wasn’t with anyone. But if you keep parading naked dead girls around parties, I’ll start doing the same, except I like mine alive.” I pause, batting my lashes up at him. “After all, I couldn’t fuck a flacid co—”He’s back in my face, his snarl pointed directly down at me. Anyone else would flinch, run scared, scream…but I know those things will only make him worse, so I stay frozen, shoulders back and eyes pinned on his in challenge.

“What’s the matter?” I challenge. May as well hang the red flag in front of the bull. “Don’t want to play my game?”

I want this.

To play a game that only he knows the rules to. Remind him why he shouldn’t have hurt me all those years ago. Why he should have kept me with him, and then maybe I will tell him everything about me.

I want to remind him that I deserve to be at the table, his wife or not, but I can’t. I can’t because if I do, and when I do, I know that I’m igniting a war between the two of us that neither of us will survive. The kind that turns everything around us to ruins, including the world our parents built. I can’t because despite how much I want to, I’ve been trained by the best and I have a job to do.

I can’t because I’d lose him forever.

But that tiny bit of myself wants nothing more than to wreak havoc among the chess board and knock all his pawns over.

“Get in my car.” He turns over his shoulder, where his shiny GTR sits low to the ground. He’s dressed in casual jeans and a relaxed Prada shirt. Everything he owns embodies who Priest is to his core. Unpolished yet deliberately dapper.

“I can’t. Halen’s picking me up.”

“Fuck Halen.” He pauses as if giving me a moment to argue. I don’t. After tonight, I don’t have the energy to entertain an argument with him. “Text her and tell her you’re coming with me.”

Jesus. What the fuck is his problem.

“Fine.” I swipe up my bag that’s filled with a change of clothes and carry it with me to the passenger side of his car. With the sins of my night brushed through my hair, I need to fix what I can ASAP. “I need to grab my bag out of my car.”

His eyes land on the oat-white Maserati parked beside my bike, lingering a second too long before he backs up to his car.

Shoving the door away, I push my way through the front, sliding the barrel of my gun further under the driver’s seat when I notice it sticking out. Working quickly, I grab my makeup bag from the middle, hairbrush, a random dress thrown into the back seat, and dry shampoo, before shoving everything into my Neverfull handbag.

The scream of his engine echoes through the underground parking, and I fight my eye roll at Priest’s obvious way of telling me to hurry up. Crawling backward and swiping my Doc Martens on my way out, the engine cackles before finally setting to a deep idle that like its owner, is a reminder of the beast that lingers beneath. My hair curls around my shoulders as I fumble everything in my hand, biting down on the ribbon in my mouth as I run to the waiting car.

I slip into the low-set bucket seat, dumping everything to the floor in front of my. When we still don’t move, I turn to Priest, only to find him staring at me.

“Seriously?”

“What?” I tuck one side of my hair behind my ear. “You rushed me!”

He revs the car a couple times to full throttle, before the pitched snarl climbs to a redline and he shifts into first gear, boosting us out from the parking garage.

The streets of Riverside are louder tonight. With the convenience of having the main road blocked off from traffic, it allows little food huts and bars to display their own style of eateries down the main street. Laughter of happy families filters through the live band that’s playing near the main park. The Elite Kings may be many things but keeping their people safe has always been a priority to them, above all. If there’s anything to give them credit for that doesn’t include their uncanny ability to kill, terrify, torment, and fuck, it’s that.

I hadn’t realized the car had slowed until the faces of people become clearer. Of course, they all move out of his way, but I don’t miss the looks on their faces when they see who’s behind the wheel.

Bishop was worshipped among his people, he always had been, but Priest…Priest is feared. Ever since he’s taken the gavel, I’ve noticed the streets emptier than usual. Were people that terrified that they’d up and move away from the safety of their homes? Being a King offers protection, sure, but if you remove yourself from the family and village, you’re a fish swimming in unknown waters, and as much as the Kings are feared and respected, they’re also hated. An enemy to one, is an enemy to all, after all.

A passing sign catches my eye, carved in brilliant cursive white.Happy Winter Solstice.

I notice it now. The candles, decorations of pine cones and holly, the sprinkling of mistletoe, and the large yule tree prodding out through the middle of the street.

Priest drives us around it, and I turn to him. “You guys celebrate winter solstice?” My distraction runs rogue when my eyes land on the three statues in front of the cathedral, frozen in time, as if preserving their triumphs and reminding everyone exactly who they belong to.

Hayes, Vitiosis, and Malum.

“Yeah, it was something Dad signed off on. Brantley’s wife, my aunty, I don’t know if you remember her”—white hair, would steal her clothes, gentle smile, it’s hard not to—“she’s kind of a witch, in a way. She made some changes and brought it forward to the family that this be added into the event calendar. It kind of stuck after the first one, gave a lot of small businesses the chance to have a weekend of the year to create, release, and let go.”

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