Page 83 of Unholy Obsession

I stop her the only way I can. I dip down and kiss her, cutting her words off. My hands slide up the sides of her body until I’m cupping the back of her precious head when I finally pull away.

“That’s nonsense,” I say, pressing another gentle kiss. A line from all that useless Shakespear I learned in school suddenly returns to me:Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

“Don’t you understand, love? You’re not the sinner here, and I’m not the saint. You’ve got it backward.”

She just shakes her head, looking confused.

“Come with me,” I whisper suddenly. I drop my hands down and thread my fingers through hers.

Because I can’t stand another second without her, and I need her to understand what I see so clearly.

THIRTY-TWO

MOIRA

“What are we doing?”I ask as Bane pulls me back into the church, his hand wrapped around mine like it belongs there.

The heavy doors shut behind us, sealing us inside the warmth and shutting out the cold. The church air feels different now that we’re all alone.

“Wait here,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, and then hurries off to the front of the church.

The warmth seeps into my frozen limbs, but my insides stay brittle, ice tucked beneath my ribs because?—

Oh, right.

That still happened.

The alley.

His father.

The checkbook ready like I’m a whore who can be bought.

I should tell Bane. The words rise in my throat like bile.

Hey, so funny story—ran into your dad tonight. He tried to buy me off like I’m a stain on the family name he thinks he canbleach out. And then his goons shoved me up against the wall and scared the shit out of me.

My mouth even opens.

But nothing comes out.

Because—what do I say?Howdo I say it?

Bane’s never even mentioned his father. Are they close? Estranged? Somewhere in the middle, where it’s just awkward family reunions and suppressed childhood trauma?

If theyareclose, dropping this on him would be like tossing a grenade into the middle of their relationship.

If they’renotclose… well, same grenade, different shrapnel.

And honestly?

There’s a part of me—a dark, ugly little part—that thinks…of courseBane has a father.

A real, living, breathing father who gives a shit about him. One who’s willing to throw stacks of cash at me to protect his son. From me.

And here’s the kicker: he’s not wrong.

If I were Bane’s dad, I’d pay me off, too. Hell, I’d throw in a bonus just to make sure I stayed gone.

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