Page 35 of Priest

“With my fiancé, the man who loves me,” I answered, telling a tale that my mind nor my heart believed.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know. He’s not out to use me. At least he knows my worth and plans to treat me accordingly. He’s a real man, Priest. Not someone playing little boy games,” I replied spitefully.

He climbed off the bike and pulled his helmet off his head. When he turned to look at me, there was an edge to him. I wasn’t sure if my statement had offended him or not, but I didn’t like being brought here to “hang out.” I would rather have stayed back at the cabin alone in the room I had been stuck in. I could have slept, watched TV, or maybe even tried to escape.

I glanced away from his judgmental gaze and checked out the others who watched us closely.

“Did I say something to offend you?” I asked sarcastically.

He mugged me, snatched my helmet out of my hands, and placed it on his bike. When he turned and headed to the clubhouse without saying another word, I quickly followed him. The last thing that I wanted was to be left alone with the men who stared at me like I was either a piece of meat they wanted to consume or make me the latest toy in their orgy.

These men scared the hell out of me. They looked a lot like the men who had assaulted my mother several years ago. Every time I came around them, trepidation paralyzed me, and all I wanted was to escape.

“Priest, what am I supposed to do while we’re here?” I asked once we stepped inside the club. There were people everywhere. Some people were shooting pool, others sitting around drinking and smoking, a couple of girls were twerking on each other in the corner, men were throwing money at them, and in another corner, a girl was giving a blowjob in plain view of everyone. Noone seemed to be surprised or even pay attention. It was as if it were normal behavior.

Priest grabbed me by my arm and pulled me away. “Quit staring. Chill until it’s time to go,” he demanded and pointed at the couch I’d sat on the last time that I was here.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some business to take care of,” he answered and turned away from me as a light brown-skinned, hippy woman walked in his direction. Although she walked toward him, she was mugging the shit out of me. If looks could kill, shit, my ass would probably be six feet under the ground. Then I remembered. She was the one who hung all over him when I saw him at the tattoo shop the day he kidnapped me.

Priest stopped, turned back, looked at me, and warned, “Don’t get no ideas, princess. You’re being watched.”

I knew that he was thinking about me running away, and the idea had crossed my mind. At the moment, I wasn’t concerned about that. I was more concerned about why the woman who’d been glaring at me was wrapping her arm around his, and Priest wasn’t doing anything to dissuade her. Who was she? His girlfriend? A club whore?

Yeah, that was more like it based on the way that she was dressed, which wasn’t much different than how I’d been dressed at the house, except her short shorts literally showed off her ass cheeks, only covering the tops of her cheeks. I glanced enviously at the woman’s large breasts, shapely curves, and golden, almost flawless skin. I was a bad bitch myself, but her curves were full, grown woman ass curves.

I saw the smirk on her lips as she rolled her eyes at me before she turned her attention to Priest. She considered me her competition. Well, she could have him all to herself again soon. It had been two weeks since Priest had kidnapped me from myhome. I had just over two weeks left before I could return home. He would be all hers again.

An unexpected sadness washed over me with that thought.

“Hey, take one of these. It’ll help you feel better,” a short, thick, medium-brown woman commented. She sat next to me and held out a tray of cookies. She wore her hair pulled back in a big, curly afro puff.

“Don’t listen to her ass. You’ll be high off your ass and have Priest pissed at everybody in this damn place,” another light-skinned woman with light brown braids that hung to the middle of her back warned. She sat on the other side of me.

“They’re just cookies,” I responded.

“They’re notjustcookies,” she replied.

I looked at the woman who offered them. “Are those edibles?”

“They are, and don’t nobody make ’em like me. I’m Kyte, by the way. And this hater over here is my friend, Bell.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m September.”

“Yeah, we know who you are,” Kyte replied. She bit into one of her cookies and smirked. “The only woman to ever pass through here and have Cheekz’s ass up in arms.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The Beyoncé wannabe,” Bell answered around the cookie she munched on.

I couldn’t help but wonder how high she’d be in a minute with the way she went at that cookie. She already had her eye on a second one in the pack.

“Oh, you mean the one with the platinum blonde braids?”

“Yeah. The one with her ass on display. You can say it because I know you wanted to,” Kyte observed.

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