Page 57 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“He’s confessing his sins to Father Paul.”

I choke on the smoke and join the collective laughter echoing in the night, the birds flying up in the sky and rustling leaves at the sound, not happy about our intrusion.

“The fucker really thinks it will clean his soul and God will stop us from killing him, granting him atonement.” Remi muses, “Stupidity sadly is one disease no medication can cure.”

Father Paul is a dear friend of my parents, one of the reasons they sponsored this church where he had a shelter for a lot of abused kids who didn’t want to go back into the system. He gave them a safe home, and in exchange they worked around the land, studied in school, and stuff.

Not legal by any means, but it worked as long as no one started trouble. Dad sends monthly checks to those families who were supposed to foster the kids, so Father Paul continues his actions.

“This marriage,” Octavius says, snapping me out of my thoughts as I raise my gaze to him. “How should we perceive it?”

“Good question.” Florian taps on his cigarette, the ash falling on the ground. “Is she the bride or the bait?”

“Difference being…?” Remi trails off, waiting for Florian to clarify, and he does.

“How should we act toward her?”

“So it’s like an equation. The constant changes depend on the variable.” Remi points at Florian. “Good one.”

“Or a medical verdict,” Octavius pitches in. “You can get an entirely different diagnosis with one little change.”

“Like jewels.” Florian grins. “You change the stone and the price of it either goes up or down.”

Counting mentally to ten so I won’t stab my friends who intentionally drive me insane with their talk gauging my reaction, I drop the butt on the ground, twisting it with the tip of my shoe. “She’s both.”

My bride because…

Briseis has quickly become my obsession, the desire to possess her and fill her soul with nothing but me almost unbearable as it shakes the foundation of my ironclad control that took decades to build. I need my marks of ownership drawn on her skin, my ring on her finger, so every male within close proximity of her knows he’ll have to deal with me if anyone as much as breathes wrong in her direction.

Madness that’s her consumes me so much it’s not fucking normal, and I hate every part of this deep need almost commanding me to take her and never let go, wrap her in my darkness so much she’ll never find a way out of it. Instead, it will dirty her enough to stay with me in my hell forever, no longer fitting in with the saints of this world.

I’ve had sex with so many women over the years I’ve lost count. Faceless, nameless, and emotionless encounters bringing me relief and control, temporarily wiping away voices whispering into my ear about the horrendous past.

Never bedded anyone more than once.

With Briseis?

I fucking crave tying her to my bed and learning everything that makes her tick, so she’ll become so addicted to my touch she won’t be able to live without it.

Hate and lust are a powerful combination that can attach a person to you, because you become the only one who can give them the satisfaction they seek.

But she’s my bait, because…

Marrying her assures Andreas will come out of hiding, so I can end him when he tries to steal her from under my nose.

Rage erupts inside me like a volcano at the idea of him getting his greedy hands on her, putting her in danger even with my constant presence by her side. The knowledge I can’t do anything to stop it drives me even more insane.

I want to rip myself in two from all these conflicting emotions rapidly growing, because none of them have a place in my revenge.

Lust is a sin.

So is madness.

Once upon a time, I vowed to never, ever love anyone.

Because my love brings only destruction.

Ironically, this marriage puts an end to my dilemma, allowing me to think with a clear head without madness and lust clouding my every decision.

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