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“Let’s get him downstairs,” I said. “You grab up here. I’ll get his legs.” I had to step over Rocco’s unconscious form to get to his feet, while Ezekiel walked around the front of the pew and entered the row from the opposite side.
Rocco was a man similar to Miguel in that he needed to be shown that he was not in charge. The next time he’d wake up, he’d be tied down and helpless—and that’s when it would really hit him: he would die here, in this church, and in doing so he’d get exactly what he deserved.
This was a city of sinners. I was ready to embrace it, to accept the darkness and welcome it. Being a good girl, doing what I was told… look at where I ended up: thrown out like trash because, due to circumstances that weren’t my fault at all, I was not Miguel Santos’s daughter.
It was time for me to turn into a havoc-wreaking angel of death, and Rocco would be my first target.
Rocco was anything but light and feathery as Ezekiel and I labored to bring him around the altar, to the side door at the front of the church. Down the steps we went, one by one, until we emerged into the basement portion of the church, where Ezekiel lived. His torture room was smack-dab in the middle, soundproof, and an empty chair with thick leather straps was waiting for Rocco.
Once he was on the chair, Ezekiel worked on fastening him in. I stood back and watched, a memory flashing in my head, so bright and vivid, it was like it happened yesterday: Ezekiel bringing me down here, showing me what was left of a Serpent. How he’d claimed to have done it for me, how he spoke so matter-of-factly about it, as if he was simply taking out the trash and not, you know, slowly dismembering someone piece by piece.
The last strap done, Rocco was now tied down, as helpless as a man could be. Ezekiel moved around the chair, coming to stand near me. His blue eyes rested on me, studying me as he asked, “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” I spoke the truth. “I’m fine. I meant everything I told him. His words have no effect on me anymore.” I turned away from Rocco to face Ezekiel. “I spent years wishing I was dead because of him. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this day.”
“And in doing so, you’re pulling a pawn off Miguel’s board.”
I nodded. A pawn. That’s what I was to Miguel for so long, and that’s what Rocco was now. Of course, Rocco probably believed otherwise, but to a man like Miguel, everyone else in the world was either a useful pawn or useless trash. There was never any in between. It was only what you could do for him, never the other way around.
Ezekiel took my hand and led me to the back corner of the room, where a counter sat fixed to the wall, beside an old refrigerator. A towel rested on the counter, which he then yanked to reveal what was hidden beneath.
“I put together a little kit for you while I was waiting for you to arrive,” Ezekiel said, gesturing to the numerous shiny instruments of torture he’d lined up for me. All clean and blemish-free, sharp stainless steel ready to be put to use.
“Awe, how sweet. You didn’t have to do this,” I said, slow to bring my eyes away from the killer display to the handsome face of a man who, at one point in time, had made me feel uneasy. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”
When I’d first met him, I’d known something was off about him, but there was no way in hell I could’ve known just how vicious this priest could be. The sheer depravity of what he did to that Serpent, and he acted as though it was nothing—and let’s not forget that any sin he committed, he believed he’d have his God’s forgiveness, because that’s what God did.
People sinned and God forgave.
“Oh, but I did. I would do anything for you, Giselle.” Ezekiel pushed some of my hair behind an ear, the gesture far too gentle and tender for a man of his brutal capabilities. “I would burn this city down, if you asked me to.”
“Would you leave the church?” The words were out of me before I could take them back, before I even realized what they meant. I wanted to take them back, but I couldn’t. Asking Ezekiel to leave the church… it wouldn’t be like asking him to help me nab Rocco. Leaving the church would be permanent.
Ezekiel did not so much as blink at the question, but he had his own reply ready: “Are you asking me to?”
Cade had helped me overcome the anxiety, the PTSD, the fear of having a man’s hands and other body parts on me. Ezekiel had helped me in a different way, opened my eyes to show that, as much as the world could hurt us, we could bounce right back and be stronger. Live. Survive. Do it all in spite of the world’s horrors. We could be our own guardian angels.
“I… I don’t know,” I muttered, a small sliver of truth amongst the confusion warring within me. I didn’t know what I was asking of Ezekiel. The only thing I knew was that I needed him. He helped ground me.
A priest. A killer. A lover. Could a man remain all three?
His hands cupped my face, angling my head back as his body moved to pin mine against the counter with the torture utensils. I sucked in a hard breath at the suddenness of it all. Just like that, it was like we were alone in this room, and Rocco’s body wasn’t a few feet away.
“Giselle, when I said I would do anything for you, I meant it,” Ezekiel breathed out, his forehead leaning against mine, nose grazing the tip of mine. He was so close my eyes couldn’t focus on him, so I let them flutter shut. “I meant every word. So, yes, if you asked me to leave the church, then that’s what I’d do. I would leave it in a heartbeat. I am your servant now, Giselle, so do with me whatever you wish.”
What the heck was a girl supposed to say to a declaration like that? Words failed me—and they seemed to fail Ezekiel right then too, because the next thing I felt was his lips on mine, heated and eager, backing up everything he’d said with the way he took charge of me. Hard, almost bruising, yet gentle at the same time, never taking more than I gave. The kiss warmed me to my core, and I grabbed at his shoulders, at his collar, needing more.
“You have become everything to me,” Ezekiel whispered against my lips before kissing me again. “If you wanted me to move to the desert with you, I would. If you told me to dig to the center of the earth, I would dig with my bare hands until they’re nothing but bone… and then I’d dig more. I would do everything for you.”
I said the only words I could: “I believe you.”
That was all Ezekiel needed to hear. He kissed me again, igniting a fire inside me. He pushed aside the little torture kit he’d assembled for me, the sounds of knives of various sizes clinking in the air as he moved the towel to the right as he cleared a space for me. His arms were steel as he hoisted me up and set my ass on the edge of the counter, spreading my legs so he could stand directly between them.
Ezekiel kissed me like he needed the air in my lungs. He held onto me like I was his lifeline, as if I was the one keeping him sane and not vice versa. His hands roamed over my hips, digging into my sides and drawing out a moan from me. He swallowed the sound, and it did nothing more than fuel his passion.
He had to step back to take off everything below my waist. My ankle-high boots, my leggings, everything that hindered his path to my core. By the time Ezekiel retook his position between my open legs, his cock was rock hard and pressing against his black pants.
Ragged breathing was all I could hear as he hurried to undo his belt. Anticipation ran thick in my veins. I waited for him to free his cock with a needy, almost anguished desire to have him inside me right this second.
