Page 82 of Priest and his Anarchist

The side of Vaden’s face doesn’t move when he reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigar. He clips the end with a cutter, plucking the leftover tobacco out and flicking it onto the ground.

“No.” He flashes me a lazy smirk. “She felt fucking incredible.”

His words turn to ash, and it’s not until the tension in my neck cramps that I realize I’m glaring at him for too long.

I drown whatever the fuck that was with two fingers of whiskey as movement catches in the corner.

Her pale gown trails behind her as she sashays through the swamp of people. It’s tight around her waist, allowing her ass to round out before flowing to the pool of her lies at her feet. She walks with intent, as if she knows exactly where she’s going and why she’s here.

When she stops near a table in the far corner, everyone else in the room disappears.

“Him being here,” Vaden asks, leaning into me. “This part of that Hayes shit you showed me?”

“No.” I put him out of his misery.

Hallen drops down on the seat beside me. “You want to tell me why I get the feeling you’re about to start a war during one of the most important events of the year?”

With her back turned, it’s the perfect opportunity to admire the curves of a body I’ve felt come undone in my hands, but she leans further into Archer to whisper in his ear. My thoughts sharpen the same way they do when handling business. It’s why I am who I am, because of my ability to take on any room the same way every Hayes man has previously, but there’s one issue this time.

Luna isn’t business.

The heaviness is an intruder in the night. With one hand around my throat and the other buried in my chest, the sharp caress of its talons over the slow beating of my heart is enough to cause the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.

I lift my glass to my lips, bending my neck until the bones in it crack. “No. Relax.”

She drops it, but her silence is where she tells the most secrets. The warmth of her touch on my thigh snaps my attention to her. “Priest. What is happening?”

“What do you want me to say, Halen? That I didn’t invite him? That now, I want nothing more than to put a bullet right between his eyes?”

Her face falls. I’ve spent my whole life disappointing my sister and the fake idea she has of the world we live in. She was raised in the life, sure, but she’s been protected from the ugliness of it because it isn’t for her. Because as much as the girls want to sit around the table, and they will, they’ll never know the underbelly of what it takes to run a society like ours.

“Priest. I thought Dad said we weren’t to start anything tonight. If he’s here, it’s surely because Dad?—”

“—fuck Dad.”

She flinches as if I’d slapped her, and Vaden chokes on his drink.

Staying locked on her is good. It distracts me enough for the moment. “I’m fucking serious, Halen. Fuck Dad. It’s mine now, and you don’t know shit about what I’ve been doing. You stay to your side, and I’ll stay to mine, and if you forget your place, little sister, I have no problem reminding you exactly where it is.”

Shoving up from her chair, she disappears through the small crowds of people.

“Are you being mean?” Her voice is what I’d imagine swallowing acid to feel like, especially after watching her chat with Archer as if they didn’t have the last four years together. Asif I don’t know that he was most likely keeping her well-fucked as much as he was well-fed.

Silk and lace cling to her tight body. White has always been the color of purity, likened to angels and everything I fucking despise. It was all bullshit.

The dress dips in at her waist, clinging to every inch until a heart-shaped corset dips between her tits. I don’t stop fucking her from across the room until I pass the delicate column of her neck and the angled cut of her jaw.

It's her scent that irks me most. It takes me right back to every moment I’ve shared with her. I don’t want to be reminded of all the ways she’s proven how valuable or strong she is.

She kept her hair pulled back from her face, only sharpening her high cheekbones. Obsidian smoke magnifies the hint of lavender and translucent gray of her eyes, a fucking softness about her that punctures my soul every time.

“Why are you here?” All of which she’ll never know.

“You know why I’m here.” Her fingers wrap around my glass as she plucks it from me. Curving her lips around it, the liquid disappears down her throat.

It’s the second time she’s distracted me tonight.

“Do it.” Her words bring me back down. As if she could read the thoughts racing through my head.

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