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I could tell Sabbath was anxious and attempting to keep Foster calm. Like the kid was on the verge of popping. “And you should be proud, Foster.”

“I’m the heir to the church!” Sabbath tried to calm the boy. “Me! You don’t get to tell me what to do, Sabbath!” He tried to shush him. “No! You’re not the boss of me! I’m the boss! Mother says you have to listen to me! Me!” Foster began to throw a tantrum.

Sabbath carefully grabbed Foster’s face. “Hey,” he whispered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not the boss. You are.” Foster groaned. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” What the hell? Why was he asking his younger brother for forgiveness? “Please, Foster?”

The boy glared at Sabbath. “Can I use the Sapling?”

Sabbath glanced over at me, as if the boy had said something he shouldn’t. He then looked back at Foster and nodded. “Yes. Yes, you can use the Sapling. But just this once, okay? Mother doesn’t want you using that thing until you're older. And she’s right. It’s too much for someone your age.”

Foster’s face beamed, and he smiled at Sabbath before jumping forward and giving him the biggest hug. “Then I forgive you!” The two embraced for a brief moment before Foster stood with the Sapling in his hand. It looked more like a twig figure. “Where are your campers at, big sis?”

I had to process the crazy amount of information before I could speak. “Uhh, they’re down at the lake, swimming with Solomon and Kaila.”

“Can I go too, Sabbath? Please?” Foster begged him.

Sabbath sighed. “I guess.” The boy shouted in excitement. “You go on ahead. I’m going to talk to Rosie for a bit, okay?” Foster nodded and ran from the cabin and out towards the lake. Sabbath exhaled. He seemed exhausted and drained. “That kid is going to be the death of me one day.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Bit dramatic, don't you think?”

Sabbath looked at me. His black hair hung in front of his eyes. “Considering he’s my replacement, no. I don’t think it’s dramatic to say.”

His replacement?

Sabbath stood and stretched. “Why aren’t you at the lake with everyone else?”

Oh shit.

“Fuck!” I turned towards the door. “I’m supposed to be cleaning up the woodshop and locking up for Solomon.” I ran to the other cabin and groaned at the giant mess. “I’m never letting these kids paint again.”

Sabbath whistled next to me. He nearly scared the shit out of me. “Damn. Those campers sure know how to have fun.” He stepped inside and picked up a paintbrush, examining it closely. “Got to say, I’m a little jealous.”

I watched him walk around and touch the birdhouses. “Oh? Why’s that?” I asked.

He turned and looked at me over his shoulder.

“Foster doesn’t exactly mesh well with the other kids.

He’s… different. Thisbe thought it would be best to isolate him a bit.

So, naturally, we don’t get to participate in all the camp activities.

Such as painting.” He stopped and looked around.

“It sucks. I’ve always enjoyed painting. ”

“You do?” I asked. Sabbath nodded, and a strange idea floated into my mind. “Well, in that case.” I grabbed a brush and dipped it into some paint. Sabbath watched me as I approached him. I couldn’t help but smile at the childish thing I was about to suggest. “Why not paint now?”

He raised a brow and plucked the paintbrush from my fingers. “Okay, spitfire. But what am I painting?” I looked around. There really wasn’t much to choose from. “What about—” I looked at the geometric tattoo on my hand. “This.”

Sabbath stared at my hand. He gently raised it and admired the delicate linework. “You’ve really added to your collection, haven’t you?” He softly ran the tip of the paintbrush along my flesh and painted in the tattoo.

He was so oddly delicate, and the way he behaved made my skin prickle.

I had to control myself as a weird sensation began to stir within me.

“Yes, well, tattoos have kind of become therapeutic for me.” His eyes raised.

“I’d be lying if I said you didn’t fuck me up, Sabbath.

” I noticed his muscles tighten. “But the pain helps. It makes me forget the hole you left inside me. Even for just a small moment in time.”

Sabbath stopped and lowered his head. “I wish tattoos could give me that same momentary release.” He grabbed a different paintbrush and leaned forward as he began to paint a rose tattoo inked along my forearm. “I’d give anything to have even a minute to breathe and just exist.”

I watched him paint my skin. He was so focused and looked more relaxed than he had this whole time. But you could sense a heavy sadness buried within him. Something he kept locked away. I wanted to know what it was.

“What did Foster mean when he said he was your replacement?” Sabbath froze. “I thought you said you were the next head of your church?” He lowered his arm and admired his work. I looked down and realized most of my left arm was now painted. And it was beautiful.

“You heard that, did you?” I nodded, and Sabbath smiled. “Tell you what. Since you seem to have so many damn questions, I’ll make a deal with you. For every painted tattoo, I’ll answer one question.”

I looked at my arm and counted. “Okay. So that’s, what, at least four questions?”

Sabbath shook his head. “Not those tattoos.” He then carefully peeled his camp t-shirt off and stretched his arms out along the small workshop table. My eyes immediately fell to his bare chest. Not only was it extremely tattooed, but there was more ink than skin. “These.” He pointed to his chest.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I crossed my arm and groaned. “You would find some dumb ass way to get your shirt off.” Sabbath laughed. “So let me get this straight. I need to paint your tattoos if I want to ask you a question.” He nodded. “Seriously? Can we not have a simple conversation like two adults?”

“There’s nothing simple about us, Rosie. Why start now?”

My head ached from him.

I dropped my head into my hands and groaned loudly. “You are so fucking annoying, Sabbath.” My head rose, and he was holding a paintbrush out to me with the biggest fucking grin.

Fine. If this is the only way to get you to answer my questions, then so be it. I’m going to paint your whole fucking chest if I have to!

I snatched it and stepped forward. Sabbath stopped me. “What?” I snapped.

“It’ll be easier for both of us if you paint on your knees.” I raised a brow. “Trust me.” His eyes flickered.

God damn pervert.

I reluctantly fell to my knees and watched him adjust his posture.

He slumped further back and spread his legs wide as I inched closer.

By the looks of it, he was enjoying the view a little too much.

Especially considering I had to lean forward to even reach his chest. I tossed my long hair over my shoulders and arched my back.

If I was having to do this just to get answers, I might as well have some fun of my own.

My heart fluttered a bit as I adjusted myself between his legs.

He bit his lower lip and then let out a soft moan as I steadied myself, roughly pressing my hand against him.

One way or another, he’s going to answer every single one of my questions.

I silently painted in a small tattoo at the base of his neck as he played with my hair. It took everything in me to stay focused on trying to breathe normally. “There.” I smiled up at him. “One down. Now, answer my question.”

He made a face. “You would paint the smallest tattoo I have first.” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yes, I was the next head of my church. Was . That all changed when my dad died.”

“You mean when you killed him?”

Sabbath glared at me. “Yes,” he snarled.

“When I killed him. My mother regained her position, but I was stripped of mine. Punishment for carrying the blood of my father, even if it was mixed with sacred blood. And for saving you. My mother was hysterical. Without me to take over when it came time, the church would have no choice but to choose a new heir. One from a different family.” Sabbath scoffed.

“My mother refused to lose the power her family had carried for generations. So, she decided the only way to keep that power was to create a new heir.”

“Foster.”

He nodded. “Took her a few years, mostly because of her age. But also because it was a risk for both her and the father. Men didn’t exactly line up to be with her.”

“Why the father?”

Sabbath shook his head. “That’s a different question, Rosie. I already gave you a free one.” He winked.

“Oh, come on. You didn’t even technically answer my first question.” He shrugged and flexed his pecs. “Ugh. Fine.” I looked down and mumbled to myself as I painted another tattoo. “Should’ve known you’d find a way to fucking cheat.”

Sabbath laughed as I finished. “It’s not cheating.

You asked a new question.” I rolled my eyes and pointed to the painted tattoo.

“Fine. It’s a risk to the father, because if my mother birthed a daughter, then his family would take control.

Not many men wanted that kind of sudden responsibility.

Power? Yes. But the burden that came with it?

No. Whereas if she birthed a son, then she would remain in control until the son was of age.

” His religion sounded so ridiculously complicated.

“Eventually, she found someone dumb enough to impregnate her, and soon, Foster was born. All her fears and worries disappeared the moment he took his first breath, and the Sequoya name retained its sacred position.” He sounded bitter.

“Sequoya? But you said that was your mother’s maiden name.

Wouldn’t Foster inherit his father’s name?

” Sabbath tapped his chest. “Oh, fuck this!” I grabbed a small tray of paint and dumped it all over his chest before using my hands to smear the paint in every direction.

“There! Your entire chest is painted! Now, answer my question.”