Page 181 of Priest and his Anarchist

There’s a slight pause before the leather of his chair rustles and his footsteps pad across the carpet. He leans down to my level, placing his glass beside me. “You once asked me why I hated you.”

“I did?” I lean against the door, staring up at him. The lighting above him is lit dim, offering a casting of shadows over his face. I fell for the monster, so why am I expecting the prince?

“Yeah. You did. And I didn’t answer then, but I’m gonna now.”

The air in my lungs disappears. I’m afraid I’ll miss anything he says, so I remain still. Motionless. Shackled by his torment and darkness.

“I hated you because I couldn’t hate you. I hated that I couldn’t kill you. I hated that any time that I saw you, I felt shit that I’d never felt before. I hated that I was the one who always had control.”

I sit with his words, searching the dark pits of his eyes. Reaching up, I shift part of his hair away from his forehead, my eyes crossing when I try to trace the strands.

“Me, Luna. I was the one who held it together. The Club, Halen, Vaden—fucking everyone. They could never rely on me for the things they could with each other, but the one thing I had that I’d always be able to give them was security in knowing that I’d always be in control. I’d never make irrational choices out of emotion because I simply had none.” He snickers, swiping hislip. “Can’t believe I’m saying this shit right now, but I need you to hear it.”

The pounding of my heart is all I hear as I replay the words he just said. Shaking my head, the disbelief settles back in when the reality comes back.

“I had to share you, Priest. With Darling. How do you know you weren’t in love with her and not me?”

He hangs his head low, shaking it side to side. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m trying.” It’s probably the most honest we’ve ever been with each other. “I just…”

“Luna.” He pins me with a stare that has my thighs clenching. “That day in Aspen.” His mouth closes, and opens, and closes.

“You can’t do that,” I snap at him, pulling away. “You can’t say all of that and close up when you’re about to be honest with me, Priest.”

“This is by far the most fucked up marriage ever.”

I don’t argue with that.

He shakes his head before raising it back on me. Moments pass before he says the next words. “I planned to kill her that day.”

I pause. “What?”

“Not for the same reasons I’ve thought about killing you—multiple times—” he mutters. “But for real. She was deceitful, untrustworthy, and would fuck shit up for us down the track. She had no moral compass, and any chance she got, she was trying to kill the girls out of pure jealousy. She wasn’t a King. She was rage and anger and would cost lives, if not our own. I knew no one else would be able to do it, so I got close to her. Drew her in enough for her to think she was safe. That day…”

He pauses. His eyes narrow a moment before he continues. “That day, I was confused when I saw you. All that time and work I put into killing her evaporated when I saw Corbin withyou, and you looked at me with—” He pauses again. “Well, that. I couldn’t. I just fucking couldn’t do it. I spent years going back and forth with myself to reason as to why. Why couldn’t I fucking kill you now?”

He stands back to his feet and moves to the bed, lowering onto the end. “I tried, though. I tried everything I had to entice the same feelings I did before I found you with Corbin. I never could. Any time you fucking looked at me, I just couldn’t. Do you know how crazy that feels for someone like me, Madness? A fuckinglook.”

I crawl to my feet and close the distance between us, bringing my hand to his hair and running it down the back of his neck. He looks up at me like a wounded god, and in this moment, this very moment, I realize we’re not much different to the parents downstairs, that in every day we live, I want to be with him. Enough to risk my life.

He swallows and his neck flexes. I catch the ribbon tattooed over his shoulder and up the side of his neck.He tattooed my hair ribbon.“I do, Madness.”

“You do what?” I ask, lowering my forehead to his and burying my fingers in his hair.

“Love you.”

The words cut deep and I drop my lips onto his to stop the pain from erupting inside. He buries his hands beneath my skirt, forcing me over his lap while not breaking our kiss. Like a tangible hot wire of promises, he flips me over onto my back, tearing off my shirt and pausing, staring down at me for a moment. I wriggle off his jeans before reaching between us and catching the heaviness of his cock in the palm of my hand. All this life and the next, I’ve wanted this. Needed this. Lived in a fantasy that would never happen.

My thumb glides over the rim of his cock, and he hisses, biting my bottom lip into his mouth and tucking back.

“About to fuck you like I should have killed you, Madness.”

My hips buck upward, and he rolls saliva between his tongue, spitting on his cock. The weight of him is back as he slides inside. My body tightens, my hips rolling up to meet him. Full. Thick.So mine.

He kisses me, his tongue lapping with my own. Turning his head to the side as he slowly draws out before driving back in again. We’ve had sex before, many times at least, but never like this. Never missionary, never slow, and never with his arm over my head, pulled deep into his chest. In this moment, I’m safe. In this moment, it’s perfect. In this moment…

His fingers spread over the side of my neck as he picks up the pace. The building tension in my core threatening to explode. I grab him by the side of his neck as my breathing heightens.

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