Page 28 of Priest and his Anarchist

The Hermes logo on his belt glistens against the flamed hue, and every step closer feels like a heartbeat in my chest. I dip my head between my shoulders, unsure what will happen tonight. It’s not until his boots come into view that I realize I’ve lowered like a coward.

He’s gentle as he angles my head, catching me off guard. This is unfamiliar territory. I quite like familiar ground since the last time I decided to explore the unknown, I found myself here. In Dracula’s castle.

“You haven’t cried.”

I blink. “Because I’m no longer sad.”

His jaw tightens as he glides his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re a problem, Madness.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, my gaze dropping to his mouth. “But I’m one you created.”

His shoulders relax as he steps closer. My brain short-circuits when his chest brushes my nipples, but the muffled sound of someone moving in the background distracts me. Not enough to pull away because I’m too entrapped by him to do that.

“Is that right?” He turns back to the sofa, lowering himself down slowly while swiping the bottle of whiskey and resting it on top of his thigh. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it bursts out of me.

His eyes shift over my shoulder. “Thoughts on that, V?” Resting his bottle against his lips, his tone is lighter than usual.

“Where’s my credit?” Vaden’s question leaves a ghost of goosebumps over the nape of my neck. They’re both playing with me. That much is obvious. I have to decide which hand I want to be dealt with today.

Priest holds me frozen in place without so much as a single touch. “Happy hunting.”

With a clap of three, darkness fills the room. The gentle simmering of fire reignites in my belly as I ball my fists. I want to scream and yell and tell them it doesn’t matter how many times we play this game, that I’ll always be found, someone will always die, and I’ll always end up with fresh cuts on my body. But it doesn’t matter. I’d be wasting my breath.

I don’t want anyone to die tonight. I don’t want people to die any night.

Priest will always get what he wants, and the only thing he’s ever wanted is blood.

Chapter Seven

luna

year three

Winter bites her way into the colder months, which means we’re heading toward the end of the year.

I should probably start tracking time again.

“You know they’re going to continue to do this until your legs give out, right?” River murmurs, checking the barrel of her gun. I don’t bother asking why she’s out of rounds.

“I don’t understand the meaning of it all.” I load up and rest the semi on my shoulder, looking through the scope. “And yes, I know there’s meaning. I just don’t know what it is.” In a swirl of black, white, and red, the bulls eye teases us from afar.

I pull the trigger and the gun hammers against me with every blow until I’m out.

I straighten. “I don’t think I like guns.”

“What is wrong with you!” River snatches the machine from me as if I don’t deserve it.

“Which part? Would you like the list?” Frost leaves my lips as I shuffle my gloves back on.

“I will say,” she adds with a chuckle. “He sure knows how to dress you.”

A flimsy pale cotton sundress that’s long at the arms and flowy, dipping between my breasts. I managed to find a black corset that I tied around my waist in a sad attempt at keeping warm since the asshole hadn’t given me any jackets.

River sink her teeth into her lip to stop her smirk. I know she’s about to say something smart. “It’s very…Juliette.”

That isn’t so bad. Maybe she’s getting better as she ages.

She shrugs. “If you know, if Romeo was a gangster.”

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