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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AMbrOSE

M y kind don’t really have to sleep. It’s a good idea if you’ve been really busted up, or if you really need your wits about you for a kill, but for the most part, sleeping is more of a want than a need. Unfortunately, with this whole damn compound on lockdown thanks to my handiwork, that leaves me restless and bored in my cabin.

I can only jerk off to the thought of Mercy’s gasping face and trembling tits so many times. And I shouldn’t even be doing that, truth be told. She’s a fucking human woman, and she about had a breakdown when she saw my work.

Two hundred years old and I’ve managed to catch feelings like a goddamn teenager.

I’ve got to figure something out, though. I need to get those birth records and get the hell out of here before I mire myself deeper in with her. There’s a reason I haven’t fucked her properly yet, and it’s not just because I want to take my time.

I mean, that’s part of it. But I also know better than to fuck human women. I’m not Sawyer.

My point is that by the time the sun rises, two days after I killed Burl, I’m going a little stir-crazy. Back in my traveling preacher days I never stayed in one place too long. I said my spell, left them wanting more, and then slashed them down while they were too God-struck to notice.

Wish I could do that here. But I promised Charlotte I’d get her the names of her birth parents and going on a killing spree won’t make that any easier.

And, yeah, maybe I want another go with Mercy, too.

I’m actually thinking about that, about what I’d like to do to her next, when someone raps on my door. My nerves are a little on edge, but then I smell her through the walls. Sweet and musky. A little afraid.

What has my human seen this time? Certainly nothing I’ve done. I was a good boy last night.

Max is waiting at the door by the time I get over there, tail wagging and thumping, his ears perked up. “Don’t get too attached, boy,” I mutter to him right before I pull the door open.

I know it’s Mercy, but my body still reacts at the sight of her standing there, looking rumpled and not quite put-together. Her long hair’s loose again, not in those fussy braids.

“Can I come in?” she says urgently. “Before someone sees me?”

I just step aside in response, then shut the door once she’s safely inside. Part of me wants to tell her there’s no one around, but then she’ll want to know how I know, and I can’t have her suspect that I’m anything other than a lascivious human preacher.

“Is everything all right?” When I turn around, I find her smiling and petting Max, who’s lapping it all up. Damn dog. At least Roxi has the good sense to keep her distance and not fall in love. “There hasn’t been another—attack, has there?”

Of course I already know the answer is no, but I’m playing a role here.

“No, nothing like that.” Mercy gives Max one last scritch between his ears and straightens up. She’s nervous, though, another thing I can’t tell her I sense it. She tries to cover it up with a shy smile. “I, um, I brought you something.”

I blink, surprised—I’m used to people being afraid around me. That goes with the territory. This is different, though. She’s acting more like a schoolgirl who got caught breaking the rules.

“Brought me what?” I step closer to her, relishing the way her biorhythms change, her heart and breath speeding up. She lifts her eyes to meet mine, her lips parted. I’m not a mind reader, but I know what she’s thinking. My heightened senses tell me exactly how my closeness affects her.

And since I’m a fool who loves having this power over her, I step closer. She doesn’t step back.

“What’d you bring me, Mercy?”

She slips her hand into the big pocket of her dress and pulls out a square of yellow paper. “I had to go to Reverend Gunner last night.”

Jealousy flares in my chest, hot and burning. I’m surprised by how intense it is.

God, I want to cut that man’s dick off.

“I um…” Her cheeks turn bright red, and she looks down at the paper, squeezing it in her hands. “I thought about you while he was...”

Oh, that goes straight to my head. And my cock.

“Did you now?” I grab her chin and guide her gaze up to meet mine. The way she yields to me, the wide, submissive gaze in her eyes—it drives me wild. Even though it’s so, so dangerous. “Did you come, thinking about me?”

Her blush deepens. “After he left. I—I touched myself the way you—the way you showed me.”

I slide my fingers around her throat, smiling at the spike of her fear and her lust. Then I pull her up to me and kiss her, slow and deep. She relents for a few seconds, then jerks away, her gorgeous tits heaving beneath that baggy dress. “And then I got you this,” she mutters, not looking at me as she shoves the yellow paper to my chest.

I catch her wrist, then fold her hand in mine. She lifts her gaze, and I want her on her knees for me. I want her eating my body. Not just my cum. I want to feed her my literal flesh, thin delicate strips of it. And then I want to consume her in kind, bite by fucking bite.

“It’s the code to the bunker,” she says breathlessly.

That jerks me out of my fantasies. “What? How?” I unfold the paper and stare at the six numbers written out in Mercy’s neat, feminine hand. “I thought you said you don’t have access to it.”

“I don’t.” She sounds sheepish. “I just didn’t tell you that Reverend Gunner writes all his passwords down. I figured this one would be, too, but…” Her cheeks turn bright red. “But I didn’t really have a way to get it. I knew it would be in his home office?—”

“And you had a sleepover last night?” I hear the sharpness in my words. The idea of that piece of shit touching her, touching what’s mine, is too damn much, even if I did baptize her. Even if she was thinking about me the whole time.

“He made me stay in the suite afterwards,” she says. “Because of the killer.”

Damn. Well, I’ve got no one to blame but myself for that one, I suppose.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she continues. “And I was thinking about you, and?—”

She blushes again, and I wonder what exactly she was thinking about. I wonder how filthy my little human can get.

“I thought it was worth a try.” She shrugs, then peers up at me. Her hair glints around her like a halo, and somehow it just makes her eyes darker, two deep pools I’d be willing to drown in a thousand times over.

You really are being a fool, Ambrose .

“And it paid off.” I fold the paper back into a square and then slide it into my wallet for safekeeping. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s not safe,” she says, worrying her hands. “But if you’re going to go, it should be at night. I just don’t—” The earnestness in her expression nearly undoes me. “I just don’t want you to be the next?—”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Part of me wishes I could tell her why, if only to hear her melodious scream again. But if I do that, I can forget fucking her. Me and the dogs’ll be on the lam. Or I’d have to kill her, which is not something I’m terribly interested in doing. She’s more fun to me alive.

“You don’t know that,” she says.

“I do, actually.” I smile at her, wondering if she’ll put the connection together. I doubt it; even if some part of her subconscious has figured it out, she doesn’t want it to be true, so she won’t see it. Not until there’s hard evidence.

And, if all things go right, I can protect her from that. I can get my files, fuck her proper the one time, and be on my way. Down south to Big Bend, a handful of delicious new memories to use whenever I want to fuck my hand. And I’ll leave her with a handful of memories, too.

“Why?” she asks. “Because of God?”

For a moment, I have no idea what she’s talking about. But then my false identity kicks into place. “Exactly,” I say, then pull out a Bible quote: “‘Fear thou not, for I am with thee.’”

Mercy smiles a little, although I don’t think she believes me.

“I’ll go tonight,” I say. “Midnight.”

Then I step close to her and wind my arm around her waist. She doesn’t try to push me away, and when I nuzzle her neck, she sighs softly and puts her hands delicately on my chest. I speak into her skin.

“And you’re going to come with me.”

Mercy jerks away with a jolt of fear. It’s not true terror, although it’s close enough that my cock strains against my pants and I breathe the scent in deep. Mercy stares at me.

“Why do you want me to go with you?”

I look at her, considering all the ways I can answer that question. I go with the most practical. “So you can help me find the right files.”

But also because I want to make sure I see her one last time before I sneak out of this fucked-up church and back to my normal life. Because even though I shouldn’t, I really, really want to fuck her. It surprises me, honestly, how badly I want it. How much I’ve needed to get her sweet fear out of my system since I heard her scream down at the Concho River.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“Don’t worry.” I can’t stop myself from coiling my fingers around her throat—gently, of course. Not that it bothers her. I can sense everything about her body’s reaction. The way her fear melts away and is replaced with a warm, pulsing lust. I run my thumb along her trachea, into the hollow at the base of her throat, and when she swallows, I feel the movement. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That, at least, is a promise I can keep.

Mercy lays her head against my chest like she wants to listen to my heartbeat the way I like to listen to hers. “The woman you’re doing this for,” she says softly. “Who is she to you? Really?”

Is that a twinge of jealousy I hear from her? I squeeze her shoulders a little, pressing her into me.

“She’s the girlfriend of a long-time friend of mine,” I say honestly, and immediately, the tension slips out of Mercy’s shoulders. “She needs to know the identity of her birth parents for a—a medical reason.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Mercy pulls away from me. “What’s her name? ”

“Charlotte Careta.” I smooth Mercy’s hair back, smiling down at her. “I think you two would get along.”

It’s the right thing to say, and it’s not even a lie. Mercy smiles, although there’s a sadness to it. “I feel like all the women here hate me,” she says. “Because I’m—” She stops and bites her lower lip, but she doesn’t need to say anything more. Because I get it. Sterling Gunner pitted her against the wives. Mercy represents their biggest fear, doesn’t she?

“That’s not your fault,” I say softly. “Because there’s nothing hateable about you, Mercy.”

She smiles and falls back into my arms. I pull her close, and I’ll admit this position is strange to me. Holding her without intending to fuck her. Just comforting her. Making her feel safe. That’s not what the boogeyman is supposed to do.

“When do you want to go to the bunker?” she asks.

I press my nose into her hair to breathe in her scent. I can’t put this off. I’m digging myself into a hole with her, and if I don’t get out soon, I don’t think I ever will.

“Tonight,” I tell her. “We’ll go tonight.”

“You’re a terrible influence for a preacher.”

Oh, if you only knew, darling . But the only response I give her is another kiss, a promise of what I’m going to do to her.