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“Where did he go?” Pru asked.
I cursed and peered through the spray of water coming from above but could hardly see Pru, who was only an arm’s length away.
“I don’t know, but I can’t protect us here,” I said, struggling to inhale without collapsing from pain. “Pru, please.”
I held out my arm, and she looked back to where Alessio had been sprawled out. After a long, contemplative pause, she tucked into my side and helped me walk out to the front archway.
Alessio seemed to have been close to death, but not nearly close enough. And if he truly did manage to live to see another day, it would be a new game of cat and church mouse.
13
Pru
I’d killed someone.
Hadn’t I?
I didn’t feel guilty.
Did that make me a bad person? Ezra didn’t seem to think so, or at least he didn’t seem to acknowledge that it was a reality.
We made it outside and onto Ezra’s motorcycle before the police and fire department showed up. I’d never know how he’d managed to drive us back to the hotel, but he was walking upright by the time we’d made it to his room.
“I owe you an explanation,” he said, pulling off his wet clothes and letting them fall to the floor.
In nothing but his boxer briefs, he took a step toward me. The bruises that had been dark purple were now merely shadows in the spaces between inked skin. I held up the book that I’d been holding on to for dear life. Immediately, he stopped.
“What is this?” My hands shook.
That crazy man had talked about demons, spells, and angels. I hadn’t believed any of it until I saw Ezra on the floor of the church being bent into a pretzel by nothing but the priest’s words.
“Was what he said true?” My voice cracked. I couldn’t believe what I was asking. “Are you some kind of monster?”
How could that be possible?
“He’s a very sick man.” Ezra held his hands up. The dried blood from his nose and mouth had stained his skin inky black.
His demeanor was too calm. His arms had been twisted grotesquely, and his torso had looked battered and crushed, but he was now standing in front of me like it had never happened.
If my own hands weren’t covered in blood, I would say I’d dreamed it.
“Don’t you dare try to gaslight me, Ezra. Or should I be calling you Prince Gaap?”
His jaw clenched at the title the priest used. In the blink of an eye, his fingers wrapped around the column of my neck. “That name from your lips will only bring you pain. You couldn’t even begin to understand the implications of my title to the human race.”
He was deadly; I knew that.
The murderous look in his eyes had been terrifying, and it wasn’t even directed at me. If it hadn’t been for the book that I was clutching close to my chest, I believed Ezra would have torn the priest limb from limb without a second thought. And though the hand around my throat made my heart race, he had shown that he would have done unspeakable things to save my life.
I gave him a challenging smirk through my lashes. “If that’s true, then why do I feel more powerful when I say it? Like it demands your surrender.”
His eyes fell to my lips and his grip loosened, but he didn’t step away. “Is that what you need from me, Pru? Surrender?”
I swallowed hard at that image. “I want the truth. I want to hear you say it and not make me sound like I’ve lost my mind.”
His voice dipped and took my stomach with it. “You don’t need to use my true name to get that.”
The long pause between us was filled with anger, mistrust, and charged emotions that were sure to gain momentum. Only the sound of my heart beating and our shared breath filled the void between us.
