Page 13

"Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you."

Priest was glaring at me because he had told me he loved me, and I hadn’t said it back.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

"I’m not fucking walking away. I’m standing right fucking here," I yelled back.

"You’re overreacting—yet again."

I sighed long and hard. All we seemed to do was fuck and fight.

He moved like a storm. In three strides, I was caged against the wall, one of his hands on my throat, the other digging into my hip hard enough to bruise. His chest was flush against mine, heat and fury rolling off him in waves.

"I tell you I love you," he snarled, lips brushing mine, "and you say nothing. "

I tilted my chin.

"I didn’t ask for your love. You’ve got a whole wife, remember?"

I was exhausted. Life with Priest was a goddamn rollercoaster on fire. But for the life of me, I couldn’t end it. Not that he would even let me.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"136 times."

I blinked. "What?"

He leaned closer, his voice a rasp, like something inside him was breaking.

"That’s how many times I’ve been inside you in six months."

His grip tightened.

"Don’t pretend that doesn’t mean something, Lil Saint."

His forehead touched mine, breath ragged.

"You take me raw."

A thumb brushed my pulse point, feeling it jump.

"You ride me like you’re starving for it."

His teeth grazed my earlobe.

"You scream my name like it’s the only word you know."

I tried to shove him off, but he slammed me back into the wall, knocking the air from my lungs.

"How many times have you almost said it?" he whispered.

"How many times has it been right there—on the tip of your fucking tongue?"

"Sex isn’t love," I hissed, though it had been on the tip of my tongue more than a few times.

I’d been doing everything to talk myself out of loving him—but I already did.

I just wasn’t stupid enough to let him know.

He didn’t need any more power over me than he already had. He was a dangerous, obsessive man who’d burn the whole world down just to keep me already, those three words would turn him diabolical.

If I gave him my love, he would twist it, weaponize it, bleed it dry.

He already did it with sex.

And deep down, I don’t think he’d know how to take being loved. Not really. Not without ruining it.

I clamped my lips together tighter, just in case.

He jerked my face to his, fingers digging into my jaw.

"Liar."

His eyes burned like black fire—the type that was hard to put out.

"When you cum, you hold me like you’re afraid I’ll disappear. When I put my dick in you, you whimper like it’s the only thing that keeps you alive."

I shook my head, shaking his hand loose.

"What exactly do you want from me, Priest?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Besides sex and peace? That’s all you said you wanted in the beginning—sex and somewhere quiet you could sleep without one eye open. I’ve given you that."

I realized this was a question I should have asked when he threw that duffle bag on my bed.

He didn’t answer right away.

He stepped back and just stood there in the dim light of my kitchen, his black button-up half undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his chest rising and falling like something was caged inside him trying to get out.

Then he smiled, but not a real smile.

"I want you to forget who you were before I touched you. I want your mind, your body, your loyalty, your fucking soul, Miyori. I want to be the last thing you think about when you fall asleep and the first thing you see when you wake up. "

His eyes narrowed.

"It was never about sex."

His hand lifted, knuckles grazing my jaw.

"I could fuck anyone. But you—"

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"You made the mistake of making me feel something. Now I want everything from you."

I didn’t know what to say.

My mouth opened, then closed. No words came.

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

He watched me like he was waiting for me to run.

Or to surrender.

Before I could do either, his phone buzzed violently on the counter.

He didn’t move.

I reached around him and hit the speaker.

He glared at me but answered.

"What?" he snapped.

"Come home. Now."

The voice was ice, and I recognized it as his father-in-law.

"Why?" Priest asked.

"She’s threatening to jump off the balcony. Screaming that she’s lonely. If you don’t get your ass here tonight..."

A pause. "I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head."

The line went dead.

Priest didn’t blink.

Then slowly, he stepped back and let me go.

"We’re not done," he said.

"Don’t pretend we are."

He grabbed his coat from the counter chair, eyes still locked on mine.

"Think about what I said. And think carefully, little saint." he warned before he walked away.

The door slammed behind him.

He didn’t come back. Four weeks passed with nothing.

No call. No text. No knock on my door.

Just silence.