Page 9 of Of Angels & Absolution

Ignoring the Sinners entirely, I lead Mercy towards her dorm. There’s always something to pay for, some new injury in the latest brawl. We’re always out to get each other with escalating violence. That’s what happens when you have rival gangs on the same campus. The Skull and Crossbones were here first, and we bring a lot of benefit to this town. If every Disciple disappeared from Faulkner tomorrow, no one would lose any sleep over it. They’re nothing but trouble.

“Are you okay?” I ask Mercy as we reach the steps of her dorm. “Did she hurt you?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. I can tell she’s trying to be brave, and even though I can’t tell for sure if the wetness on her face is just rain, I think she might be crying.

“Let me come in,” I say. “I’ll get you fixed up.”

“I’m fine,” she says, her lips tightening. The motion sends a fat drop of bright blood oozing from her broken skin, and she winces.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, striding up the steps and waiting at the door for her to unlock it with her keycard. There’s no way I’m going to let her go back to her room and sit there alone, beaten and shaken. Fighting takes a lot out of a person, not just physically. There’s a psychological toll to violence that I know all too well, and even if Mercy doesn’t, that’s all the more reason for me to be with her right now and help her process her emotions.

She looks like she’s debating whether to argue further, but she must see that my mind is made up, because she sighs and unlocks the door. We hurry inside, ducking our heads so the nunat the front desk won’t see that we’re both battered and bleeding. Fighting is strictly forbidden on the Thorncrown campus. Some bullshit about Jesus turning the other cheek.

I know better. If my mom had turned the other cheek to a Disciple, they would have slashed that one too.

“You weren’t half bad back there,” I say, watching Mercy from the corner of my eye as we climb the stairs. “Not even sure you needed my help. You might’ve polished off all seven Sinners if I hadn’t intervened.”

She scoffs. “Beginner’s luck. They weren’t expecting me to fight back. I just took them by surprise, that’s all.”

“Hard to get the jump on seven people.”

“Well, luckily you did intervene,” she says, stopping at her door and turning to me. “Thank you.”

“Don’t act like this is goodbye,” I say, tipping my head toward her door. “Let me in.”

“Angel…”

“Mercy,” I say, stepping closer and lowering my voice. I smile down at her, my fingers ghosting over her waist. With her shirt plastered to her from the rain, I can see all her curves, the beautiful womanly figure that she tries to hide. All I can think about is peeling those clothes from her body, tasting her skin, her nipples, her cunt. If it takes all day and night, hell, all my life, I will kneel before her and worship her like the goddess she is until she stops pretending otherwise.

“What are you doing?” she asks, a tremor in her voice.

“Just making sure you’re okay,” I say. “When I’m sure you are, I’ll leave, no questions asked.”

“I’m okay.”

“I need proof,” I say. “Sometimes it takes a minute for the aftereffects to kick in. We’ll just hang out until then.”

“Aftereffects?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” I say. “When people are the victims of random violence like that, it can make you feel… A lot of emotion. Anger, fear… I’ve heard of people getting attacked once and they literally were scared to leave their house in case it happened again, and they became this total recluse. Can’t let that happen to my little M, can I?”

“I’m not going to become a recluse because of that,” she mutters, like I’m silly to even suggest it, but she unlocks her door, and that was the goal anyway.

Inside, I push the door closed behind her and pull her close.

“It’s our job to protect you,” I say. “We promised we would if you came to the chapel, and you did. We’ve already failed you today. We didn’t realize you needed a guard around you at all times, but now I’m thinking you do.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, trying to pull away.

I pull her back and start undoing her buttons. “Obviously, you’re not. Look at you. You’re covered in dirt and blood, your shirt is torn, your lip is busted, your throat is bruised… We didn’t protect you, but we’re going to do better from now on. Let me make it up to you.”

“This isn’t—I’m fine, really,” she says, but there’s another tremor in her voice.

The adrenaline must be leaving her, and I’d bet money she’s going to start crying at any moment.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” I say, peeling her wet shirt open. Goosebumps sweep over the exposed globes of her breasts above her bra, and all the blood in my head rushes to my dick. It’s all I can do not to drop to my knees and worship them.

“Angel,” she whispers, her breaths coming quicker, which only makes her tits heave, which makes my dick harder and my head emptier.

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