“Fuck!” Eric cursed.
“Priest.” My voice was heavy, so heavy it stayed his questing, blade-wielding hand. “Stop this. Eric did not have anything to do with this. He’s my friend. A good man and a good Christian. Please, put him down.”
“You think just ’cause he prays to God, he’s a good man?” Priest questioned icily. “Religion teaches you to sin and worry ’bout the consequences later. Teaches you to ask for a forgiveness that will always be givin’ by the grace of His goodness no matter the crime. Repent, repent. Sin, sin.”
Priest snapped his teeth so close to Eric’s face, it looked like he might chomp off a piece of him. Eric trembled so hard, his shoulders and head knocked loudly against the wall.
Downstairs, there was a loud commotion, and I figured they’d heard my scream, called the police, and they were on their way up. That or, hopefully, Lion was coming.
“You’re right,” Priest concluded on a low, menacing purr. “Asshole doesn’t have the balls for somethin’ like this. But he coulda helped whoever did this. And I’m gonna find out.”
“Priest.” I tried again, stepping forward to place a hand on his back.
He stared at me over his shoulder, eyes a swirling mass of green-tinged violence. He was gone to the darkness inside him, so ready to kill Eric, it was almost a foregone conclusion. I shivered lightly as I moved my hand over the leather of his cut, feeling the quilted, iron-hard muscles tensed in his back.
“Priest,” I whispered softly as boots thundered up the stairs down the hall. “Violence isn’t justice unless you can prove it’s founded.”
He cocked his head sharply to the side, that gesture that made him seem so inhuman. “What do I care about justice? He scared you, touched you. Even if he didn’t do this, which is a fuckin’ long shot, I still want him to suffer.”
“I don’t,” I asserted, stroking up his back into the ends of his hair so I could give it a tug, hoping to ground him with my affection. “Let him go, please. I just want to go home. With you.”
Priest hesitated, his entire big body thrumming with indecision as he battled his impulses. Eric barely breathed, eyes wide and gone to black with fear.
Finally, after an indefinite moment, Priest turned back to Eric, studied his face, and then reared back to headbutt him in the face.
I gasped as he stepped away, Eric collapsing against the wall, holding his broken nose as blood gushed down his front. He was swearing, the words distorted by the blood in his mouth.
I looked up at Priest who was watching me for a reaction, his breathing calm and even, his face in repose, but his eyes gleaming like the edge of a blade in firelight.
Being with Priest was like adopting a wild animal. I could try to domesticate him, train him, even love him, but at the end of the day, he was still a wild animal with vicious teeth and claws. It was in his nature to use them.
And it was in mine, I found, to let him.
I held out my hand for him in answer to his unspoken question. He stared at it, then brushed it aside as he lifted his own to wrap around my throat and bring me close. His forehead pressed to mine, his breath soft and clove scented against my face.
I relaxed.
Against all odds, with a severed head secured under my desk by a crazy person and my friend bleeding beside me, I relaxed against Priest and let myself feel soothed by the presence of someone who was a monster to everyone, but a man for me.
When Lion, Bat, Dane, Boner, and Wrath appeared in the doorway, we didn’t move.
They gaped for a moment, struck dumb by the tenderness of Priest against me.
I saw Boner look from us to Eric. “At least there’s blood,” he said in a stage whisper to Bat. “Otherwise, I’d think somethin’ possessed the bastard.”
“I’m thinkin’ somethin’ has,” Bat murmured back, his black eyes thoughtful under furrowed brows.
“Enough with the PDA,” Wrath grunted as he finally shoved farther into the room. “The fuckin’ cavalry’s here. Let’s get to work.”
Priest pulled away, pushing me behind him as he seemed wont to do. “Take that one.” He jerked his head at Eric. “I’m thinkin’ he needs a little talkin’-to. Someone get to Mrs. Appleton and Catherine Prescott. We’re gettin’ answers about this fuck fest today.”
Priest
November was always a bitch. Howling winds raced over the ocean, collecting frigid water and speed before they dumped it all on the coastline, dousing us in fog, rain, and sometimes, pelting hail.
It was one of those nights. The sky was close-stitched with quilted iron-grey clouds, the air filled with needlepoint drops of icy rain. It was too cold, too wet for a man to spend the night outside essentially sleeping on the beach.