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CHAPTERNINE
Zane/Chaos
Their priest. Her words ring like a bell clanging against each side of my skull, rattling my brain.
“They would bring him here.” She points to the front of the house. “There weren’t windows in my room.” Lead fills my boots. Every fiber of my being roars with hatred for these strangers.
“No one could hear me cry.”
Fuck. I grip her upper arms, my gaze boring deep into her haunted eyes. “You’re the only one who will hear him scream when I kill him.” Releasing her, I nod my head. “Okay?”
She throws her arms around my neck, jerking me back a step at the force. Before I can register what’s happening, her lips crash against mine, hard, punishing, perfect. Then, just as fast, she walks away, back to the truck, leaving me breathless.
Scars are forever, and we’re both littered with them, but maybe we can find healing together.
I jog back to the truck and climb in. “Where does he live?”
Her knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. She starts the engine and drives three minutes down the road in silence, pulling up across the street from a church. My mother was religious, but I could never find faith in anything. If there are gods, why do they allow us to suffer so brutally?
“He lives in a house adjacent to the church around the back.” She bites on her lip, picking at thread on her jeans.
“Alone?” I ask. Is it priests who have to remain celibate?
“I assume so. I’ve never seen anyone else come and go.”
“How often do you come here?”
“Too often.” She begins tapping her foot. “I’ve killed other people, Zane. We had club business, and it came as easy as pouring myself a drink. But him…” She covers her face with her hands. “Why can’t I just do it?”
“Because he fucking traumatized you and we have a natural flight instinct when faced with the perpetrator of that trauma.” I grab the bottle of Jack and twist the lid off, handing it to her. “I can’t be in the same room as my mother. My skin crawls and rage churns inside me,” I grit out. She can’t look at me either.
Taking the lid from my hand, she screws the cap back on and chucks the bottle into the backseat before climbing into my lap.
“What are you doing?” I ask, taken aback. Her thighs spread over mine, her pussy grinding down against my cock.
“Let’s do something for us. No one controls us.” She pants, grasping my face, capturing my lips in her teeth, biting down then sucking. Grabbing her hips, I kiss her back, sweeping my tongue into her mouth and tasting her. Her scent, sweet and mixed with floral notes, invades my senses. She’s all around me, intoxicating, then she’s gone, back in her seat, mouth red, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.
What the fuck?
“That was nice.” She giggles, and I smile over at her, adjusting my hard-on.
“You’re a wild one.”
“I think you can handle me. Let’s get out of here.”
“You sure? I can go in right now and end this.” I have a blade and a gun in this truck.
“Let’s not give him the mercy of a quick kill.” There’s determination in her eyes.
Fuck. I think I love her.
Starting up the truck, she drives us back to Kirby’s without another word. Parking next to her car, she pulls the keys from the engine and drops them in my palm.
“Why haven’t you sold the place?”
Her lips thin as she shakes her head. “Because it’s evil.
My prison. No one should have to live there.”
