CHAPTER NINE

AMbrOSE

I wake up the next morning to harsh sunlight falling across my eyes and Max’s big sloppy tongue slurping against my cheek. “Yeah, I know, I know,” I mutter, tackling him into a hug. Roxi sits patiently by the door, thumping her tail against the tile. “Well, I’m up now. Give me a second and I’ll feed you.”

As soon as Max hears the word feed , he’s off like a shot, skittering into the kitchen. He’s gonna be disappointed, though, since they’re getting dry grocery store kibble and not their usual chopped-up organ meats.

I drag myself out of bed, splash some water on my face, and try to ignore Mercy’s lingering scent on my fingers. I showered last night, but I’ve got a Hunter’s heightened senses, and I can still smell her all over my hand—sweet and musky, like dried roses. I had to jerk myself off as soon as she left, the memory of her moans and thrusts and the horny, horrified expression she gave me when I told her to just piss on my hand seeing me through to completion.

The dogs follow me around as I pour the kibble into the bowls—Roxi gives me a baleful look when she sees it, although Max dives right in. I put on a pot of coffee and lean against the counter, trying to get myself back into preacher mode. I let it slip last night when I dragged Mercy back here, and although she clearly doesn’t suspect I’m the one who killed Raul Alvarez—she would have been much more afraid—it was still stupid. I’m being stupid, honestly. I’m not here to get laid. I’m here to get those fucking adoption records for Charlotte and then get out.

But fuck, Mercy squirmed so deliciously while I stroked her to orgasm. And I can’t get over the shock on her face after she came for the first time. And before that, too, while she was in the middle of it. Her eyes rolled back and she arched her back and her cunt fluttered furiously around my finger, like a butterfly desperate to get free. The crimson flush above her breasts. Her bright eyes staring at me like she had just seen God.

And I did that to her. Gunner has been using her for his own pleasure for fuck knows how long, but I’m the one that made her come. Helpmeet, my ass.

An orphan, too. God sent me to him , she said, and I wonder how old she was when that happened. She changed the subject real quick when I brought up her being adopted.

And then there was shit about how he “shared” her with his right-hand man, Sullivan. Gunner is lending her around like a library book, a thought that makes my stomach clench up and the void surge up in my throat?—

I’d love to dismember the fucker limb by limb and smoke his thighs like a brisket.

The coffee machine gurgles, and a soft wet nose nudges against my calf—Max, drawing me out of his bloodlust. I take a deep breath and reach down to rub between his silky ears. It’s a good thing I kill regularly. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from going after Gunner. I’m fighting the urge enough as it is. Wanting to fuck and wanting to kill have always felt the same to me, so Mercy’s presence, however intoxicating it may be, is complicating my little mission.

“Thanks, buddy,” I tell Max, who barks and wags his tail and nudges against me again before trotting into the living room and settling down next to the door like a good guard dog. Roxi just watches me. She’s more ruthless, and I bet she felt the spike in my blood. I bet she’s waiting for instructions to attack.

“Not today, girl,” I tell her as I fix my coffee. “Today, you’re a pastor’s dog.”

She has nothing to say about that. I take my coffee over to the front window and peer out through the curtains. The little courtyard in front of the houses is empty and quiet, the grass yellowing from the heat despite the rain we’ve had. There’s a spray of wild sunflowers bursting along the walkway, heads tilted toward the east.

I need to get ready. Mercy will be here soon enough, and I’ve got to keep this preacher ruse up for a little while longer.

Assuming I haven’t blown my cover enough already.

Rap rap rap .

Max immediately starts barking, claws scrabbling over the tiles. I slick my hair back with some water and go to pull the door open.

There she is.

She’s wearing another one of those shapeless cotton dresses, the skirt voluminous enough that it hides her big hips and soft thighs and the entrance to Heaven nestled between them, and her hair’s up in braids again, a style that makes her eyes seem even more soft and doe-like. She gives me a shy little smile and says, “Sorry. I know I’m early.”

“That’s just fine. You want to come in? ”

She gives me a strange look. “I really shouldn’t. I’m not supposed to be alone in a man’s home.”

That makes me want to drag her into the cabin, throw her on that pitiful excuse for a bed, and fuck her until she’s screaming her savior’s name. Because how the hell can she follow a rule like that when Sterling Gunner’s treating her like his own private sex toy?

I keep my mouth shut, though. Preacher. I’m supposed to be a goddamned preacher, and Mercy is clearly trying to pretend last night didn’t happen. And honestly, I probably should, too. I’ve got no business getting mixed up with a human woman, much less a Christian.

“Right,” I say. “Of course.” I flash her a grin, trying to disarm her. “What about dogs, though? Can you be alone with them?”

Mercy smiles. A genuine smile, one that reaches all the way up into her eyes. “Of course.”

“Good. You can keep these two out of my hair while I finish getting ready.” I whistle, and Roxi and Max come bounding out, tails wagging and tongues lolling. We’ve got a whole language of whistles worked out between us. That one means, Play nice .

And they do, running around Mercy and nosing at her hands until she pets them. I leave the door open when I go back inside, and I can hear laughter drifting in from the courtyard.

I finish getting ready—throw on a tie for good measure, work some gel through my hair so it’ll stay put, slap on some cologne. Mercy’s giggles trail in through the open door as I take one last look at myself in the tiny bathroom mirror. It’s been a hundred years at least since I last played preacher, but I think I look convincing. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but that just makes it easier to lean into the aw-shucks backwoods shit that always puts my prey at ease.

“Having fun?” I ask as I step out onto the little cement patio. Mercy has plopped down in the yellowing grass, her skirt flared out around her, as Max—always the charmer—keeps trying to lick her cheek. Roxi watches the whole thing with her usual bored detachment. She doesn’t like the play nice command as much as Max does.

“Your dogs are so adorable.” Mercy fights past Max to stand up, and he keeps nipping around her ankles, his tail a blur. I think he actually likes her, which warms my heart a bit, even though it shouldn’t.

“Yeah, I know. That one can be a pain in the butt, though.” I nod at Max, then whistle to him: Come here. Both of them trot over to me.

“They’re well-trained,” she says.

“Gotta be,” I answer smoothly. “They’re around strangers all the time. They’re a key part of my ministry.”

That, of course, is not the real reason they’re well-trained, but it sounds good.

Mercy flashes me a sweet little smile, kind of shy and soft. I latch both dogs up on their leashes, then squint up at Mercy through the sun. It’s already hot as hell, and it’s not even 9 AM yet. And unfortunately, I have to wear long sleeves to cover up my tattoos.

“So are you going to show me what we talked about?”

A shadow passes over Mercy’s face. I know damn well she didn’t forget about it; I’m not scheduled to show up at the meeting hall until 10. She’s actually very early. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she might want to see me.

“Well, yes,” she says, her shoulders stiffening. “It’s on the other side of the campus, though. I can get a golf cart if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I pat Max’s head again. “These two need a walk anyway.”

“It’s just so hot,” she says. “And you’ve got a tie and everything?—”

“I’m happy to walk.” I move up beside her, and we set off down the sandy pathway. “Assuming you won’t get in trouble for being alone with me.”

She blushes bright red, and my cock stirs because it’s the same shade she turned last night before I made her come.

“Not out in public like this,” she says softly. “And I already told Reverend Gunner that I was going to give you a tour of the grounds before your prayer session.”

“Clever.” And I mean it. Gunner might have her under some fucked up kind of control, but she’s working with what she’s got. I admire that in a human.

We fall into step together, the dogs sniffing the path as we walk. It is hot as hell, but there’s a bit of a morning breeze. I wouldn’t call it cool, exactly, but it stirs everything around.

“This is the residential area,” Mercy says, gesturing toward the houses rising up on either side of us, all bigger and somewhat more elaborate versions of the prefab cabin they put me up in. “About 200 people live on the campus. Of course, Reverend Gunner’s followers are much more numerous than that. We have nearly 7,000 members across the United States, with satellite campuses in Florida, California, and Tenn?—”

“I don’t need the official tour,” I turn toward her, and she’s blushing again. It’s dangerous, that blush. Reminds me of the blood pumping through her body and how much I might like to see it outside of her. “I knew all that before I came here, anyway.”

Mercy’s blush deepens. “Of course, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just used to?—”

“No need to apologize.” I put my hand on her arm without thinking about it, and I immediately feel her muscles tense. But she doesn’t try to shrug me away. “Tell me what you think people are looking for from the prayer sessions today.”

I know I’m laying it on a little thick, but I need to make up for my serious lapse in judgment last night. Make sure she doesn’t suspect I’m anything but a horny preacher .

“Oh, any guidance you can provide would be wonderful.” She sighs and gazes blankly up ahead. The houses have given way to the administrative buildings I was trying to investigate last night before I got distracted by her scent. “And your prayers—you do have God’s touch.”

I sense the shift in her heartbeat as she realizes what she’s said. God’s touch, indeed. I certainly helped her see God last night.

“Grief is hard,” I tell her, “but it also can’t be rushed. God might work through me to help, but it is God in the end.”

She looks sideways. I wonder if she thinks my bullshit is as gibberish nonsense as I do. “Of course. I felt God working through you. I felt—” Her voice fades, and all her systems quicken. Her heart, her breath. She’s nervous. Not afraid —that has a much different rhythm to it, and one I’d like to experience from her again. But I do find her nervousness endearing.

“It felt good,” she says in a very, very low voice. “What you did to me. I felt—“ She takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Roxi tugs on her leash, moving to investigate something in a flowerbed beside a bland brick building. I use that as an excuse to stop, letting her leash out as I turn to Mercy. She looks up at me, her lips parted and her eyes bright.

She’s definitely not talking about my prayers.

I can smell her arousal, sweet and dark and musky. The scent goes straight to my cock, which is probably why I say what I say next, even though it’s foolish as hell, given she’s a human and I’m a Hunter and it’s really not my place to fuck her kind, but to kill them.

Still, the words slip out anyway.

“If you never need release like that again—” I stop closer to her, and her eyes follow me, dark with lust. “You know where to find me.”