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“You’re…what?”
“A priest,” he says. “And I try to stick to my vows—includingmy vow of celibacy, so you don’t need to worry about being made into my ‘wolfy wife.’”
“That doesn’t do enough to explain it,” I insist, still reeling over the fact that this man is a fucking priest. “I don’t get it.”
“You were running away. You’d given up on attacking me. And when you were bleeding out on that forest floor, well…I couldn’t just watch you die.”
“And if you’d caught me and I’d stabbed you in the ribs?” I ask, challenging him.
“Well,” he says. “That isn’t what happened. So we don’t have to worry about that.”
“But if I had—”
“Tilda, stop,” he says.
I shut my mouth, once again obedient as a trained pet. Ihatethis.
“I have to get going,” he says. “Things to take care of. I just wanted to make sure that you made it through the night, so I stayed with you.”
“Wait,” I say. “Through the night? What time is it?”
He looks over at his bedside table, and I realize there’s an old, battery-powered digital clock there. The little piece of antique technology is at odds with the otherwise archaic decor. “Looks like it’s about ten in the morning,” he says. “Already missed breakfast.”
“Shit,” I curse. “Enid is going to be worried sick.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, even though I’ve been trained not to let my enemies know about my weaknesses. And Enid is the first and foremost of them all, the person I would give up anything for.
Reyes doesn’t gloat about me letting it slip, though. Instead, he looks sad, his brow crinkling. “You have family,” he says.
I cross my arms, tapping my foot on the ground. “Well…yeah,” I say. “And she’s probably losing her mind with worry right now, which is why you shouldlet me go.”
“But you know why I can’t do that, right?”
I take a deep breath, then give him a tight nod. “I get it,” I say. “And if I were in your shoes…well, you would probably already be dead.”
He blinks, laughing under his breath. “Wow—that honesty again.”
“It doesn’t really ever turn off,” I confess.
“Should make for an easy interrogation,” he says.
I glare at him, but he raises his hands. “Kidding,” he says. “Anyway—I do have to get going, but I can’t just leave you here.”
“Why not?” I ask. “This isn’t a cell…?”
“No,” he says. “It’s my room. I live here.”
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry.”
This is theweirdestconversation I’ve ever had.
“I take it from your tone that youdon’tlive in a cave,” he says.
“Can’t say I do.”
Reyes chuckles and moves to a big wooden cabinet by the door, opening it and pulling out a white t-shirt. He keeps the cross on his chest under the shirt, only the silver chain visible around his thick neck. The shirt doeswondersfor his muscles, straining around his massive biceps.
The guy is seriously huge, and even if I was going to kill him, I can’t deny that he’s much prettier up close.
