Page 42 of The Preacher's Pet

What the hell? What have I just done?

I’ve made things worse, not better. My instincts were right; this girl is going to mess everything up.

22

CAIN

I reachthe tower with some relief.

It’s been a few days, but I’m still hurting after Titus mangled me in the fight, and I want to apply some more of the healing balm we have here. The stuff actually works. I want to use some of the arnica we have, too, because my bruises look bad and I don’t wish for them to freak Ophelia out. I’m not done talking to the girl yet. She’s a mystery I need to break open.

Perhaps I will leave it another day or two before I approach her again, though. Let my bruising mellow and give myself time to think about how to get her to tell me what the hell happened to her. It’s a driving need within me to know.

After all, the last time I saw Ophelia, my life changed for the worse, too. I’d left my little brother Samuel alone when I’d gone to her house. I normally didn’t worry too much when I did, because Samuel was so much younger and our father seemed to think the sun shone from his yellow curls. He was the proverbial golden child, and he didn’t get the same harsh treatment as me. Or he never had, until that day. The day when Father finally lost his patience with his childish questions and hit him so hard, he damaged him for life.

That had been the last time I’d seen Ophelia—her family had left for Texas on vacation the following day—and the guilt that I hadn’t been around to defend Samuel has remained with me forever. The fact she disappeared after that has always seemed portentous to me, and I tried to find out what happened to her, but to no avail. Now, she’s here at the college, and my need to know is tearing me up inside.

Pushing open the tower’s door, I stop dead in shock. Roman is pacing the floor like a caged animal. He mutters to himself as, every now and again, he hits his chest, hard, with his fist.

“Jesus, Rome, go easy! You’ll hurt yourself.” I step into the tower and take him in.

His hair is disheveled, and his cheeks hold color as if he’s getting a fever.

“What the fuck’s going on?” I ask.

He turns to me, his eyes green fire, and spits out, “That girl will ruin everything.”

I blow out my breath and shake my head. “Roman, you’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got her all wrong.”

He smiles, and it’s twisted and nasty. “Oh, I have, have I?” He strides right up to me, and watches me closely, when he speaks next. “So, I guess you’re okay with her and Malachi getting it on in front of the entire bar?”

“What?” Ice fills my chest at his words. Feelings I hadn’t expected over Ophelia flood me, jealousy being the most prominent. Why him and not me? “Fuck you, she did not.”

“Oh, she did. Saint saw. Everyone did.” He laughs. “Interesting, you didn’t know.”

“No, I fucking didn’t. What’s he playing at? She’s innocent. She’s been hurt.”

He shakes his head. “You think she’s innocent? You’re an idiot, Cain. You’re blinded by your past with her. That girl isn’t quite the naïve little creature she appears.”

“She is,” I insist. “Christ, Rome, you only have to look at her.”

“Well, she’s certainly acting strangely for some supposedly innocent woman. Kissing Mal, and …” He pauses, but then with a dark, twisted smile, carries on. “She didn’t seem innocent when she was busy getting on her knees for me.”

I don’t have time to analyze what he’s saying before my body reacts. My fist drives into his jaw, and he staggers back. He roars and comes at me, taking me into the wall behind us.

“You made her dothat?” I demand as I grab his throat.

I turn us, using my size and brute strength to control him, as I push him against the wall. I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze. It must fucking hurt, but he’s still smiling.

“Do what?” he wheezes. “She didn’tdowhat you’re thinking, with your filthy mind, and fuck you for thinking that of me, Cain. You ought to know better. She just kneeled in the grass for me, like my perfect, submissive, little lamb.”

Somehow that is even worse. That shows some weird emotional connection. Why would she do such a thing? Roman must have coerced her.

“She’s not your anything, and if you touch her again, I’ll rip your throat out.”

He shoves me so hard, I let go and stumble back.

“See?” he demands. “Do you see now?” He laughs, dark and bitter. “This is what I’ve been trying to say. This is why we need her to go. To leave. She’s going to tear us apart. It seems that each of us has some sort of feelings for her, no matter how fucked up they may be. So how do we work that out, huh? Share her? I can see that working well.”

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