Page 21 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

Eventually, Cisco lifts his shadowed eyes to meet mine and says, “Last night I felt evil.”

Well, shit.

“You can really sense evil?”

He nods once. Like it cost him. I have the sense that if I push the topic, he’ll shut down, so I shift to the threat.

“Demonic?” I ask.

Relief drops his shoulders. “Sì. Something old and … I’m not sure, but it’s gone.”

“You told them it was an infestation, but do you think it’s Famine?”

Another short nod. “Abnormal decay in the garden. Pest activity. Nothing remains. Ezekiel and I purged the infestation.”

At face value, it seems Cisco is sharing more information with the Sinners than with the Vatican. My fingers twitch to scroll back through his text conversation and verify his implied evidence that we’re on the same side. For a moment, it feels like he’ll let me. Like the world stops turning.

That’s when I realize what the fucked-up tug in my chest is, the one giving me the warm and fuzzies. I feel it when one of my babes leans on me, and I let myself believe, for half a second, that I’m part of a family. That’s when I finally get to Hell, at least I’ll have company.

A wave of hot, prickling panic rises across my skin, quickening my breath. Wanting to fuck a hot priest as a dirty rebellion against everything Catholic and clean is one thing. But this … this soft, stupid, gooey feeling inside me because he showed me his phone is another. It’s not me. It’s the thing my mother dressed up in a swimsuit and called Jezebel. It’s the prophecy reaching into my chest, rearranging my organs and telling me I was always going to fall, that nothing has ever been by choice. Not what was done to me. Not what I did to take back that power.

It’s saying Mercy isn’t real.

They can’t help themselves around you, Joan.

And it’s not even just the prophecy. It’s him. The blush. The “please.” The way he doesn’t deny being Entity or try to spin me. He just stands there, holding eye contact like a man who knows he doesn’t deserve to look away.

Cisco’s supposed to be the hypocritical judgment I sneer at, the wolf I poke with my stick. Instead, he’s kind, tortured, and coming apart at the seams. He’s a walking contradiction in a tight black shirt, and he’s exactly the kind of thing that gets girls like me killed. I know what comes next.

Little Jezebel. Don’t come crying to me when you get it.

If I keep dropping these walls of mine, if I let myself believe a man can stay … and I finally get “It,” then death is around the corner. Love only ever gets people buried. I learned that at eleven.

So no. Not today, Padre.

“Fine.” I slap the phone into his palm. “Let’s say I believe you. Don’t think for a fucking second that I’ll be your prophecy scapegoat. If you’re looking for the holiest of holes to poke your virginal stick into, you’re looking at the wrong Sinner.”

He stiffens. “Speak plainly.”

“You want me to say it in Italian, to spell it out?” I switch to his native language. “I’m certain your saintly boy, Dom, is destined for Raven. I can see their eye-fucking from across the abbey. And going by how you hid from Tawny, she’s not the one who will make you break your vows. That leaves only one Sinner.” I point both thumbs at my well-endowed chest. “For one Saint.” I point two finger guns at him and shoot. Pow.

He rubs his chest where the fake bullets hit, eyes narrowing at me with a dare. “You think you will make me break my vows?”

I cock my hip and toss my hair. “What, like it’s hard?”

“I am a priest!”

“You won’t be my first.”

He blinks. “I just had you against the door.”

“Exactly.” I gesture at my body. Even in dusty gym clothes, I look amazing. It’s a curse. “You had this pressed hard against the door, nice and close.”

“That was not my meaning.” His brows slam down. He gestures between us and then at the door. “I am the one who dominated you.”

His competitive streak is kind of cute. But he’s wrong.

“Oh, honey,” I purr, sidling up to him. I smooth my palms over his chest until I reach his Roman collar. Not plastic. Cotton. Old-school. “If you thought that was submission, you really haven’t been paying attention.”