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She draped her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him down toward her lips. Their lips touched gently in a light kiss before progressing into a heavy passion. Priest's cold fingertips trailed up her smooth thighs as their lips moved in unison.

The contact his hands made with her skin evoked a delicate moan from her while her lips were still pressed against his.He parted from the kiss, gazing down at her, mesmerized. "Are you a traditionalist?" Priest asked sporadically, causing the heat and passion that had overcome her body to immediately diminish.

Her perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion as she screwed her face up. "Way to kill the mood, Kanaz," she sighed deeply.

He laughed in amusement, not realizing until then that he killed the vibe. "My bad," he apologized while licking his lips. "But answer the question."

She pushed him off her lightly, causing Priest to land beside her on the bed. She rested her head on his chest as she tossedher leg across his waist. "Are you trying to ask me who I voted for?" She jokingly narrowed her eyes as she tilted her head in confusion.

Priest let out another laugh while shaking his head. "Gioia,I'm serious."

"I think it all depends, P. I have traditional beliefs, but there are things I disagree with when it comes to the traditionalist lifestyle," she enlightened him.He and Britain were one and the same. "Why'd you ask?" she inquired.

Dismissively, he shrugged his shoulders. "I was just wondering,Gioia."

Skeptically, Britain hiked her brow up higher. "You trying to turn me into a housewife?"

Laughter poured from Priest once more as he shook his head. "You would drive yourself crazy if I even tried."

"I'm glad you know."

"I definitely don't have plans on making you housewife, but I eventually do want to make a home somewhere," Priest asserted, causing Britain’s lips to curl into a smile. He sounded so innocent and pure, the complete opposite of everything the world portrayed and made him out to be. These were the moments she enjoyed the most with him, when he got over the stereotypical thug persona everyone expected out of him. This was the Priest Justice the world would never get to see, no matter how hard they tried to get it out of him.

"Elaborate, P," she encouraged him.

"I don't know. I just never really had a home. I always felt like I put myself in these temporary situations so I can always reflect on how well I've elevated from my past. Nothing has ever been solid or comfortable," he expressed. It seemed as though it had taken him a while to reach this understanding for himself and now that he finally had, he sounded a bit disappointed that it took him so long.

"Why is that?"

Priest cleared his throat as he shifted around a bit. It never really bothered him how well Britain could pick his mind and get more and more out of him; however, now, it felt different. These were feelings and thoughts even he had a hard time registering and understanding.

"I don't know how," he admitted. He never really had a home structure or guidance. He wasn't sure how the hell he was going to achieve something he'd never experienced or felt his entire life, hence the fact that he was unsure about having children of his own. Priest didn't want to be a repeat of the awful parents he had. As much as people assured him that he wouldn't, he couldn't just take their word and run with it.

With Priest, the issue was that he had craved a home and stability since he was a child. He just didn’t know how to give it to himself. He built a life of luxury for himself where his people would never have to want for a thing. He surrounded himself with the best of the best and a huge staff that cared for him just as much as he cared for them. He'd always tried to build a family and had never tried to make a family. His wires got crossed between what he wanted in life and what he actually needed. He supplemented his craving for a home and stability with all these temporary things and fixes, and now he was just completely fucking lost.

She could hear his disappointment and shame in his tone. She let out a little breath before lifting herself up and straddling his waist. Her small delicate hands made their way to his chest as her padded fingertips graced around the tattoos that inked his skin. She was gathering her thoughts for a response. Priest searched her eyes, awaiting whatever she was about to tell him. "P, you have to let it go."

"Let what go, Brit?" he asked as his hands rested on her sides.

"Everything. The past, your mother, your father. It's crippling the way you are supposed to evolve as a person, P. You're afraid to mess up and make mistakes because you don't want to become your mother or your father. You're content with being the fixer and the person everyone runs to for a home while you've never given one to yourself. You break yourself down, giving everyone what you've always wanted because you think you don't deserve it."

His dark eyes shifted away from her. She was hitting the nail on the head, and it was beginning to feel suffocating. "Look at me, P," her soft voice drifted through the canals of his ears. He obliged, trailing his orbs back to hers.

In deep contemplation, he bit down on his bottom lip. He wanted to ask her a question; however, he didn't want to come off as if he was unsure of himself. To her, he always portrayed himself as a sure and confident man who knew his worth and what he wanted out of life. His question was bound to showcase all the deep inner issues he struggled with as a child. "I will never judge you, P," she assured him in a soothing and consoling voice.

He cleared his throat before nodding his head. She watched as a questioning look panned his face as his brows furrowed slightly."Do I deserve it?" he asked.

Britain expected the question, but she could never get used to him sounding so unsure of himself. He was Priest Kanaz Justice! How could someone who embodied so much authority, greatness, and manpower all alone ever be unsure of themselves and what they deserve?

"You deserve it and so much more, P," she affirmed, causing the look of question to leave his handsome face.

"Britain, I'm not the saint you're making me out to be. I've done things and said things that will always be held against me, no matter how much I've repented for them.”

"Your conscience, your compassion, your ability to openly forgive no matter how many times you've been burned is what determines your worth. You can't keep seeking all this validation from a world that's wronged you, a world whose wrongs resulted in you wronging it. You give out what you've been given, Priest. You can't crucify yourself for not being able to turn your harsh reality into a fairy tale." Britain knew her words may have sounded a bit biased to Priest since she really thought he could do no wrong, but she meant everything she was saying. He was rushed into a life he wasn't ready for. He'd always had to choose between two ways of life, the survival of the fittest or fight or flight. There was really no in-between for him.

How could anyone decide whether he deserved the home and stability he'd always wanted as a child when they never put him in the position to receive it? No one should have the power to take away something they never provided or attempted to provide for him, especially when they were all expecting him to provide it for himself.

Because she knew where Priest had come from and all that he overcame, it always vexed Britain that everyone on the outside looking in judged him to be this nuisance out in these New York streets. He made better for himself and for as many people around him as he could. His adversities were thrown in front of him before he got the chance to live life. It seemed as though the world was just upset that he found his way and did it in such a short amount of time.