Page 25 of The Sinner and the Scholar
“Again,” he adds dryly.
Rage simmers in my blood. My spectacles slip down my nose, but I refuse to push them up. He breaks eye contact first and inspects my work.
I cover the papers. “Is there something you need?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. He looks me squarely in the eyes. “There are things I can teach you. If you let me.”
Maybe it’s Mary’s words telling me we’re all made of the same stuff, or maybe it’s the ease I feel around books, but his deep, cultured voice messes with my mood. I’m transported to that moment in the bathroom, to when his hands flexed on my hips and his scent permeated my lungs.
There are things I can teach you.
Suddenly, I’m not thinking about books and scholarly papers. I’m not even thinking he’s the last person I want lessons from. I’m thinking about his mouth and how it would feel against my lips. Which is wrong. So wrong.
I clear my throat and feign interest in a book at my table. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
He drags over a chair from another desk and sits.
“Sure,” I drawl. “Take a seat. Why not?”
He smirks at my sarcasm, which makes my insides boil. The lamp blinks, and he knocks it until it settles. The man makes himself at home at my desk. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s what they’re all doing in the abbey.
Dom has taken over specific machines in the gym—setting all the weights to his liking. Cisco has moved furniture in the sacristy and snooped in the reliquary. Zeke is more secretive, but he’s in the kitchen daily, chatting up the nuns and trying to get them to break their vow of silence. When Mercy told me that last one, I grew particularly peeved.
Team Saint shouldn’t cause trouble. They’re supposed to be the good guys, but they’re thorns in our crowns.
“Right,” Wesley says, returning his attention to me. “I know what you’re probably thinking. These incredibly attractive lads are swooping in to steal your thunder, but I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Incrediblyattractive? I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But…” His long lashes lift, and he meets my gaze. This close to him, I feel the impact in my chest. I want to gasp, hold my breath, and force my heart to slow down. It takes everything I have to pretend the way he’s looking at me has no effect. “The last thing we want to do is step on anyone’s toes. Believe me, we want to learn from you as much as teach you. We’re not the enemy, Thea. The demons are. Souls and lives are at stake.”
Great.
Now I feel like a bitch.
My shoulder itches, and I rub it. I don’t realize what I’m doing until Wesley’s attention lands there. It’s the spot that was marked. I snatch my hand back and tap my thumb on the leather binding of a book.
“If you’d joined us today,” he continues, “I would have explained the meaning of that mark you carved.”
“The mark on the severed hand? Or the one I carved?”
“Both.”
They were similar but not quite the same.
Did I want his help? No.
Did I need it? Maybe.
Those stupid honey eyes look at me expectantly. I can’t exactly spend weeks combing through the library when one conversation with him will be faster.
Fine. I need him.
“What is it?”
“You… actually want to know?” His voice cracks in surprise.
“Don’t overthink it.” I squirm in my seat.
