Page 15 of Priest and his Anarchist

I fall into him.

Into the rabbit hole.

Into the unknown.

How? What… All the times I’d teased Mom about the Midnight Mayhem “tricks” seem more believable. “Drink.” He damn well gave me poison.

I reach forward, this time fighting against the heaviness of my body. My fingers find loose strands of hair, my grip tightening as I pull him into my face. Those same lips graze mine. Using my tongue, I chase his as my legs hook around the first hard body they find. My back hits the sofa with a thud, knocking the wind from my lungs. The wild strands of my hair itch at my collarbone from being sprawled out everywhere, and I try once more to move my head to the side when the furniture triples. Mumbling, talking, but nothing else.

“Priest…” I whisper but don’t finish my sentence before he kisses me again. The movements are slow, harsh, and cold, but I yearn for the touch of whoever it is. Soft lips nibble on the curve of my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to give him more access when my eyes land on the dark ones on the other side of the room. Priest sits perched against the bar, a bottle of his signature whiskey dangling between his fingers. He’s tense. Lifeless, bored eyes sharpen the hollow edges of his cheekbones.

Who am I kissing if not Priest?

My fingers find hair once more, and I force his face up to mine. The variegated spheres of a Vitiosis fix down at me,enclosed by his signature dark lashes. They were known for their ink-black hair, pale skin, and, despite not being twins, their shared mismatched colored eyes. Vaden’s one blue and one dark, reflecting the duality of his soul. A battle he’ll never share.

The back of his fingers brush the edge of my breast, and I shudder, my vision blurring. “I’ve not…I’m…”

Vaden’s smile widens as he peers back at Priest over his shoulder. “Think she’s a virgin.”

Priest’s eyes land on mine. “For now.”

Vaden lifts himself from the sofa, taking my hand in his.

I roll the top of my jacket over my shoulder. “You don’t want to be my first?”

Vaden snickers, dragging his hand over his cheek. “Think there’s more to this one than you give credit for, Big Dawg.”

When Priest doesn’t reply, I glance up at him. I don’t know why I care how he answers, but I do.

He blinks, his face an impassive reminder of the monster before me. “There’s more ways to fuck you than getting you wet, Madness, and we’ve just begun.”

“Why am I here, Priest?” I ask, despite knowing deep down, he isn’t about to answer.

His head tilts as if considering his words. “Every family in the EKC has a job to do, but the main families, the three families, have the most important of them all.” I don’t bother telling him I already know this part, so he continues without my snide input. “Mine is to carry the fold. War’s is to run the school—” He pauses, as if stopping himself from spilling a secret. “But Vaden here?” He gestures to him with his thumb. “Well. Vaden is a Vitiosis, and they come from a long line of brutality, abuse, and…” The music is a slow Slipknot song. “Trauma.”

The heaviness of my head makes it difficult for me to stay awake. I try to place the cup on the coffee table, but my grip failsand it falls to the floor in slow motion, landing with a spray of crimson and spice.

Laughter echoes through the room in waves.

A shadow obscures my view of Priest and I try to further force my eyes open, desperate to find out why I’m feeling the way I do. Is it the drink? It has to be.

Rough hands rest on my thighs, and they part open.

“What—what’s happening?”

My body dissolves into the sofa in a pillow of rainbows, contentment blooming in my belly when the warmth I’d craved before hits me. Lips skim the side of my neck and hands move up my inner thigh.

My breathing becomes more difficult as the air around me turns heavy.

I can’t breathe.

Why can’t I breathe….

The room flips upside down in a haze of color, and before being carried up the stairs, Priest rounds the corner, a glass to his lips and his body leaning against the pillar. It’s the last image I see before everything goes black.

My fingers skim the gouges in the wood of my desk. I’d lost track after twenty-six days. I’d missed my birthday without even realizing.

How many birthdays will I spend by myself? I’ve never enjoyed birthdays but skipping one entirely may have changed that. I’ve not seen anyone since Vaden carried my drunk ass up the stairs that night. Food arrives when I’m either asleep or washing up, and between that, bathroom necessities are restocked with fresh linens. My first night here wasn’t great. I didn’t sleep, afraid that if I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t wake.

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