Page 36 of The Preacher's Pet

Will he be receptive to my message or will he be angry with me the way Mal was?

I grab a sweater and throw it on over my gray t-shirt. I push my feet into my old, worn sneakers and grab my phone and the key for the water tower and head for the door. I might go to our tower after a walk in the woods. Perhaps it is time to use some magic, to get help from the world through the veil. Advice on how to ignore my newfound lust, for example, or to ask for help dealing with my friends. I have locks of their hair, taken from them when they were drunk one night. It’s an insurance policy in case I ever need help dealing with them, and that time might have come.

Sighing, I open my door and peer out into the empty hallway. I don’t want to bump into anyone right now. The mood I’m in stinks, and people get on my last nerve at the best of times. I pat my front pocket and feel the reassuring outline of my folded knife. You never know when violence might descend here at Verona Falls. Some days it strikes me that it’s more like an insane asylum than a college. Things happen here that would get other places closed down.

I take the side door to the outside, so I can avoid anyone hanging around the front of the college, and jog past the parked cars, before veering left into the woods. Once I’m among the trees, I find myself relaxing. Birds are singing, and there’s a fresh breeze.

I breathe deeply and stroll through the woods, stopping to admire a huge mushroom growing out of a dead tree.

I cross over the stream that cuts through this part of the woods and stroll into the clearing a few feet ahead. The sun is shining, and I smile as I look up at the clear, deep blue sky. When I glance back to the earth again, I frown.Oh, hell, no.

Sitting in the clearing, by the opposite tree line, with a sketchpad on his lap and looking right at me, is Saint. I detest this guy and have no desire to talk with him.

He gives me a big smile, suspiciously big. I don’t trust Saint as far as I can throw him, and his smile puts me on edge.

I turn to go, but his voice stops me.

“I’m surprised to see you taking a nice stroll as if you don’t have a care in the world after what went down in the bar the other night.”

His words have me pausing, against my better judgement. “What do you mean?”

“It’s none of my business, but Vani says it’s bad that your man is messing about with that new girl. She’s already damaged. She doesn’t need to spend time with you freaks. It will only make her worse.”

My mind immediately goes to Cain, but Saint isn’t finished. That smug smile curves one corner of his lips higher.

“From your expression, I’m guessing you haven’t heard.”

I grit my teeth. “Just fucking spit it out, Saint. It’s obvious that you can’t wait to tell me.”

He gives a low chuckle. “You’re right, I’m enjoying this moment too much. Maybe I should keep this to myself.”

My mind is spinning. What went down in the bar? Who is messing with the new girl? It must be Cain he’s talking about, right? Has he been screwing around with Ophelia? To my surprise, a stab of jealousy goes through me. It’s a betrayal, but I’m not sure if I’m jealous of her messing around with my friend, or worse, jealous of him messing about with her.

“Cain,” I growl, wanting to get in before Saint has the chance to lord it over me. “I know what he’s been up to.”

But Saint raises his eyebrows, and his eyes widen in seemingly genuine surprise. “No, not Cain, or at least not as faras I saw, but maybe he’s dicking her as well. It was Malachi who I saw locking lips with Ophelia in the bar the other night.”

Something in my chest tightens. Malachi.Fucking Malachi—after I’d told him to stay away from Ophelia, too. No wonder the asshole has been avoiding me. He must have known this little piece of information was going to get back to me at some point. Does Cain know, too? Have the two of them been conspiring against me?

My hand goes to my flick knife in my pocket. I’m just about ready to cut out Saint’s tongue for the information he’s just fed me. They say don’t blame the messenger, but I’m looking for any excuse to hurt him.

Saint grins. “What’s wrong? Have Cain and Malachi been fucking the new girl without you?”

With a growl, I yank the knife from my pocket and lunge at him. He rears back, planting his hands on the ground behind him, and kicking out with one leg. His boot connects with the hand holding the knife, and it flies out of my grip. He seems to consider going for it but then changes his mind and scrambles to his feet.

“Fucking psycho,” Saint spits at me as he gathers his things together.

He must have decided I’m not worth getting stabbed over, as he turns and jogs away, laughing and flipping the bird over one shoulder. Asshole. I don’t go after him. I don’t really want to get thrown out of college for knifing another student. I’m still biding my time here and putting plans into place. Anyway, I think I made my point.Don’t fucking mess with me.

Unfortunately, my fellow Preachers don’t seem to have gotten that message.

They say jealousy is green, but right now it’s white hot and burning its way through me.

Malachi had kissed her. What had her lips felt like? Soft and willing. What had her breath tasted like? How pliable had her body been, pressed up against his? Why did she choose him? Isn’t she supposed to be fragile? Innocent? Like Saint says, she shouldn’t be messing around with freaks like us, but did she like it?

Was she wet?

Fuck, I’m getting hard again. How the hell am I going to control this with her around?

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