Page 19 of Priest and his Anarchist

Priest glares at Vaden again, but Vaden only replies with his signature Cheshire grin. As if they’re sharing some weird joke. This is probably all a game.

“You once asked what you were doing here.” He bends down and slides out a satin box from beneath the bed, before pushing it toward me with his foot.

“I did.” I look between him and the box, before lowering myself down. Velvet meets my palm as I run my hand over it.

He hunches down to my eye level, hooking his finger beneath my chin. “And what is it that you think you’re doing here? Does it anger you that you don’t know? Are you bored?”

Anticipation has his pupils ballooning wide.

“Bored? Yes. Angry? No.”

His eyes narrow, his shoulders turning stiff. Is he disappointed with my answer?

I lose myself in the vein that travels up the side of his neck and disappears beneath his jawline. He slowly raises to his full height while keeping his eyes on me. “For the years that you’re here, you simply will not exist. Vaden…”

“What do you mean?”

He ignores me, moving to the other side of the room. A cold draft prickles down my spine, and I look between them both.

“You didn’t tell me what happens!” I call out past the swell of my throat. I don’t have time to be sad. I have time to be anything else but sad.

Vaden’s expression is like a punch to the gut. His usual flirtatious smirk and playful energy vaporizing as more seconds pass. It’s bad.

I fall backwards, landing on my butt as Vaden disappears through the open bedroom door. Priest stares back at me, his distance as clear as ever. Reality shifts around me. What if this is all a trap for me? The bed. The clock above the bed. Beehive. The window. The fucking carpet! This room is here for me. Only for me.

This is bad.

My shoulders straighten as I lift my eyes back to Priest. A face too beautiful to cover a soul so dark. Is it true what River said? Will he kill me? I don’t know anything about Priest, only that he’s the quietest one in the group.

He takes three steps toward me, placing his hand out between us. Am I willing to find out and get lost with him? Will it still be an adventure if I lose a part of myself on the way, or would it just be a tragedy…

I take his hand like a lamb being led to slaughter, and he uses it to gently lift me from the floor. A kindling of fire bristles against my veins and my heart stutters in my chest.

This is pure madness.

Chapter Five

luna

year two

His hand feels unfamiliar, yet it’s strangely comforting as he guides me down the hall that leads to the stairs. There are two, both facing each other and on opposite sides of the house. Art pieces pass with every step. They’ve changed over the year that I’ve been locked away.

A single teacup and a black sunflower. The rest of the frames still empty.

I turn for one last look, but the music drifting through the air distracts me. Slipknot.

He twitches, and I look down at our connecting hands, noticing how his fingers wrap

around the entirety of my own. It’s a strange picture. A promise of what’s coming.

He pauses, releasing me. The absence of his touch leaving me hollow. I shove my hands back into myself to keep them warm.

When he touches me, there are no sparks. There’s no fire.

There’s just ice. The kind that glaciates everything it comes close to. So why am I cold now, without him touching me?

Now knowing that I hadn’t seen them for an entire year, I notice the changes in him. His hair is longer on the top, but maintained, and although his skin remains flawless, the edges around his features have hardened. I could never understand how he could be so beautiful, even if I never wanted to admit it.

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