Page 100 of Turn That River Red

The blade flashes out, as bright as starlight.

“With my blood, Mercy. I’m not letting you leave this house until I’ve bathed you in my fucking blood.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

MERCY

Iknew what he was going to say, but hearing it still sends frissons of fear snaking through my body. I look past the knife to Ambrose’s face, half-expecting to see a demon there, but of course I don’t.

It’s Ambrose. My protector, in his way. My savior.

My pussy throbs with a sudden, violent pulse.

“If you want me to kill those pieces of shit,” Ambrose says softly, still holding the knife. “Then I’m gonna have to use you as bait to lure them away from the compound. And I’m not doing that?—”

He steps closer to me, pushes the hair away from my face.

“—Unless I’ve claimed you as mine.”

I look Ambrose straight in the eye.“‘For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed,’” I whisper. “‘He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood abideth in me, and I in him.’”

Ambrose runs his thumb along my lips. “Exactly.” Then he steps back and orders, “On the floor. I’m going to drench that gorgeous body with my blood.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes me dizzy. Not withdisgust, which is the only thing I think I should be feeling. But with desire. With—affection. Warmth.

I look at him again.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near Gunner or Sullivan otherwise,” he says.

I take a deep breath. My clit throbs again, and I drop my hand down to touch it with slow circles. Ambrose notices, because he smiles a little.

“When you do this,” I whisper, working through my thoughts, which feel thick and strange. “When you do this, it’ll bring me into a new church. A new faith.”

Ambrose’s eyes bore into me as he touches himself over his clothes. He’s getting hard again, which seems like it should be impossible, but then?—

He’s not human.

“And what faith is that, humanita?”

“You,” I whisper, still touching my clit as I slide off the bed, my movements shaky and uncertain. My behind hits the cool hardwood floor, and I scoot forward so that I’m angled toward him.

Ambrose kneels between my spread thighs. Takes my hand away from my clit. Looks me dead in the eye.

“When I do this,” he murmurs. “You’ll belong to me. Is that what you want?”

My body pulses with desire. “Why did you say you wanted to turn Reverend Gunner and Pastor Sullivan into a wedding feast?”

Ambrose tilts his head and leans closer. “Because I’ll belong to you, too.”

Then he kisses me, soft and sweet, and I melt into it, my body screaming for him. Screaming forthis, this blasphemy. This darkness.

“Do it,” I whisper against his rough lips. “Baptize me.”

Ambrose lets out a sharp, shuddering sigh. “Touch yourself,” he breathes.

Then he stands. I lift my gaze to meet his and slide my hand down to rub my clit, stoking my fire even further. Ambrose’s expression is deadly serious, and his eyes never leave mine.

“No other man will ever touch you again,” he says darkly. “Do you understand?”

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