Priest and his Anarchist

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

luna

“ L una…” He intrudes my thoughts. Clean shaven, deep-blue eyes, and a hollowness to his soul that can only be found from someone like him.

I hated him a lot throughout my life. More than I do Priest right now.

If he hadn’t left me this morning, I wouldn’t have called my mom in a panic. She wouldn’t be here right now, with my two dads, sitting with me in my living room like it’s a damn therapy session.

“Yes?” My lashes hit my cheekbones every time I blink, but I keep my focus on the clock in front of me.

“Stay on the clock, Luna. It reminds you that you’re still here.”

“I’m doing that,” I grumble, images of last night still fresh on my mind. Why’d he leave me there anyway? And if he didn’t care, why’d he fucking butterfly-stitch me up in my sleep? A storm of confusion is all he ever is.

“How long?” the voice asks, and my focus moves from the boring clock.

He’s aged since I last saw him, which wasn’t often. Being a Brother of Kiznitch, Killian Cornelii was the mastermind behind all mind trickery in Midnight Mayhem. Not as good as my mother, which is why it always confused me why he was here and why he stared at me with the same kind of hatred I’d seen from his wife.

“How long, what?” I keep my tone level, but my fingers flex in my palm.

“What was the last thing you remember?”

Is he insane? Actually, I already know he is.

I push up from my sofa. “I shouldn’t have called you.” I turn to look over my shoulder to where my mom stands with both of my fathers. “I was annoyed with myself for slipping again.”

“This is not good…” Killian murmurs from behind me. “We shouldn’t have her here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Shut up, Cornelii.” Dad turns to Mom, and I see the silent argument between them. “Why the fuck did you bring him? He can’t do anything that you can’t do, and he’s too close.”

“Close?” Killian’s voice is louder now. He clucks his tongue. “That’s one way of putting it. She needs to be away from this place, and all of them. None of it, or us, can help her.”

Darkness forms around Father when he draws in close, burying his hand in his pocket. “Leave, Killian. We won’t make this mistake again.” He doesn’t answer when he leaves, the door slamming behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” My eyes bounce off all three of them, my throat swelling. “No, seriously, what was that? I’d not seen him since—I can’t even remember!” My hands are flailing around the room. “I call Mom for girl advice, and I open the door to all of you, plus the psycho Cornelii!” I finally blink, a single tear escaping.

“Luna,” Dad whispers, his hand coming to my arm. He catches the tear with his thumb, and my legs shake beneath me.

“I’ve always done as I was told. I belong here, with all of them. Because I fucked the Devil incarnate out of pure stupidity doesn’t warrant this!”

“Look, baby, we need to talk.” Mom’s steps are careful, but it’s too late, I don’t want to hear whatever they all have to say.

I step out of Dad’s touch, the betrayal too raw. “No. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve never been honest with me. I never needed much from any of you growing up but being kept in the dark made me who I am today.” I straighten my shoulders, swiping at the tears. “I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.”

“Luna,” my mom snaps. “We are your parents and there is not a single person walking this earth who loves you more than us.”

“Lilith, that’s not fucking helping,” Father says, stepping between us. With the mountain of him in front of me, the same darkness that has always trailed him caresses me in ways none of them physically could.

He levels his eyes on mine, his hands warm on my cheeks. “You do whatever you’ve got to do, baby. No one, nothing, none of that shit matters. If it’s chaos that feeds you,” his pupils dilate. “Then eat.”

“—Kyrin!” Mom snaps at him, but he doesn’t shift.

Straightening back, he smirks a little. “Your mother seems to have forgotten how it is.”

“She needs us now, Kyrin!”

The faint sound of my door opening behind me forces through the tears strolling down my cheeks.

“She’s not needed us in a long time, Lilith. Wake up. This—you—are making her worse.” Father’s eyes snap to Dad. “And you shouldn’t have allowed her to interfere the way she has.”

“Well, if it isn’t exactly what I thought.”

Nate?

Spinning around to find him, arms catch my waist. The pounding of my heart races through my ears, tears streaming down my face when my eyes finally land on Nate.

Ignoring the heated argument behind me, his brows pull together as worry lines carve into his face. “You’re all right, Lulu. Remember who you are.”

His shoulders straighten. The softness in his eyes evaporates when they slide above my shoulder, landing on the person behind me. I never knew there was tension between both families.

Shadows dance over his face like a nightmarish tale, and he takes yet another step forward, in time for Bishop’s hand to stop him.

“Easy…”

Nate’s mouth slams closed, and his eyes drop down to me. His finger slips beneath my chin as he lifts my eyes up to him, inspecting me as if I were one of his projects.

In a way, I am. “You good?”

Tension in my muscles releases, turning my legs to jelly.

In a house, there was a door. On that door, there was a handle—no. No, no…that’s not it. In a house, there was a couch, and on that couch—Shit. The knots in my stomach tighten the more I stand here. The air turns thick, my palms slick with sweat.

Oh no…

A single finger hooks onto mine. My legs give out, but instead of hitting the floor, I’m pulled into something hard. Spiced honey, earth, and gasoline.

I bury myself deeper into the hoodie of who caught me. Arms as big as my body lock around me, holding me in place and turning the voices in the background to mumbles.

I don’t care anymore. About any of it. About trying to figure out why everyone in Midnight Mayhem seemed to hate me, or that no one helped me the way they wanted to help my mother. Whether I was crazy like her, unhinged like Father, or a joker like Dad.

I don’t care. I don’t want to exist anywhere outside of the people I’ve spent most of my time being with. Mom always said I didn’t have to have one without the other, but she was wrong. They’re two worlds charged by the same energy force, so one will always lack.

“Priest—” I hear someone say in the background, but arms swoop beneath my legs, and I’m being carried away. I don’t have time to turn around. I don’t have the fuel to see who is still there, fatigue refusing to let me go. How could I turn so weak the second I’m around Midnight Mayhem? As if what they thought of me truly became who I thought I was.

“Don’t take this shit to heart, Madness.” His lips brush against my head. “I hate to see you cry.”

He places me carefully into the back seat of a car, his familiar scent coating the leather. The back door closes, and my eyes fly to the rearview mirror.

Moose’s smile spreads warmth through my chest. “Getting in trouble, kiddo?”

I laugh, sniffing before the other car door opens and Priest slips in beside me. “Unfortunately, not the fun kind this time.”

With his hoodie hiding everything but the tip of his chin, the light of his phone does nothing to show his face. I want to ask him why he was here and why the Fathers brought him, but I know him well enough to know it’s wasted breath.

“Don’t,” he snaps without looking, typing out a text. “I won’t answer you anyway.”

“You knew and you kept it to yourself?” I’ve spent all my life balancing between my age and what I’ve been trained to do, but at this moment, that small girl who exists inside a carefully crafted weapon needs to be just that. A girl. But the waters I tread are a reminder I gave up that privilege a long time ago, some would even say the moment I was born.

His fingers stop moving.

If I was smart, I’d be afraid.

He turns his head slowly until the light from his phone switches off, and I’m left with nothing but the shading of his marbled jaw and polished skin as it reflects through the setting sun of tinted windows.

“You know more than most already.” His lips move around each word with precision. “Why would I show you my hand when I don’t know what’s in yours, Madness? Hmmm?” He shifts his body toward me, and now that I have his undivided attention, I’m not sure that I want it. I’ve seen what happens to girls who do.

I haven’t figured out why he hasn’t done the same to me yet. I used to think it was because he answered to a higher hand, his dad, but now that he is the higher hand, it’s only left me confused.

Right now, he’s implying that I’ve kept more from him than he has of me, and maybe it’s true, but unfortunately, those same hands that raised him did me. Maybe it’s the vulnerability of emotions that are still raw from the argument with my parents, or maybe it’s from ignoring everything that happened between us last night, or maybe it’s that small girl that he always manages to bring out every time we’re together.

“I wasn’t with Archer Thorn.” My mouth snaps shut. Shit.

“I know.” His tone is leveled and controlled. He’s staring between my mouth and my eyes, that same furrow buried between his brows. I’m so lost in my opiate state I miss his words.

“Wait, what?” The weight of where this conversation could go holds me in place, but the fragile pulse of my heart rate slows me.

As if questioning his own words, he watches me closely, and each second his eyes roam my face feels calculated. “I don’t know where you were. Wanna fill me in?”

I clear my throat, but it’s like swallowing razor blades. My hands land on my neck, the pendant burning my palm. This is the hopeless kind of sadness that poets write about.

“And if I said I can’t?”

He holds my stare. “Then I’d tell you that I know everything you think I don’t. That I know the kind of training that goes into building the side of this society that is never talked about, and I’d finally say that you better pray I don’t find out that that’s where you learned to throw those fucking stars, or I’ll start a war.”

“You’d rather I was with Archer Thorn all those years than be with people who cared about me?” Like the wound on my thigh, I can’t seem to gain control of my emotions.

“Care?” Priest rears his head back. He’s about to answer when his face falls. “So you were?”

“No!” My answer is clipped, and I fold my arms in front of myself. “No.”

“And the hit last week? Which, if I even need to mention, was not sent by me.”

My eyes close. Fuck. I forgot about that. Who sent him to collect that night? I hadn’t even had a moment to talk to Nate. “I was trained, yes, but not as you’re implying.”

His phone lights up in his hand again and I see a name flash over the screen when he answers.

My mouth turns dry, and suddenly, I want nothing more than to crawl back into the hole I came out of. I focus on the flurry of greenery. This is a marriage of convenience. Worse than that. A marriage of survival. But I’ve spent my whole life walking along a desolate path. I know what comes from what I do, and I’ve always understood. Even when I signed the marriage certificate before I could understand its importance, I knew what would always be expected of me.

“What?” His tone is cold. Nothing at all like the one he used moments ago. “When? Why didn’t he call me?” He cusses under his breath, kicking his foot up to rest against the chair opposite us. “Little late for that now. But you can tell him that she had a pretty view all the way down to the bottom of the cliff I threw her off of.” His arm brushes mine when he lowers it.

I lean my head back against the chair. My eyes barely close when his fingers force my head toward his, keeping his phone pressed against his ear.

I stop breathing. The hold he has on me too strong.

With a gentle swipe of his thumb, he returns to the caller. “I told them I didn’t want one, nor do I need one—” He pauses. Goose bumps spread over my skin, my hand scrubs at my arms to warm them.

“Fine. For now.” He must end the call because the car falls silent.

I should probably text my parents. It’s not their fault. This world balances on all lines, testing every inch of whatever you have to give.

“Madness…” The strain in his tone has my eyes snapping to him, that same prickling of fear rolling through me.

I shuffle up my chair. “What is it?”

He doesn’t turn, so my fingers curl around the edge of his hoodie, part of me afraid he’ll stop my movements. When he doesn’t, I lower it to the back of his neck, bringing my hand to his cheek and forcing his eyes onto me, and my breath hitches. So many thoughts racing through his head, none of them bringing him peace but more war.

“Where were you?”

My throat swells, the guilt suffocating. “A safe place. I wasn’t anywhere bad.”

Seconds pass, and when I don’t think he’s going to answer and I’m going to pass out by the tight invisible hold he has on me, he lifts his hand to my face, the cushion of his thumb kindling the edge of my lip. “If you’re not with me, Madness, everywhere is bad.”

The world as I know tilts by the power of his words. How can darkness be so hauntingly sweet? As if death himself needed a reason to breathe.

“They’re words, Madness…” he whispers, snapping me out of my trance. Am I weakening that much around him that I can’t even hide my emotions? His fingers crawl to the back of my neck. “They don’t mean anything.”

I don’t kiss him back when his lips brush mine. Not when he nibbles along the edge of my jaw, but when his hand finds my thigh and the linen of my dress slides between us, my legs part slightly, my tongue swiping against his.

The skin on the back of my neck tightens as he forces me further into his kiss. It’s a torturous ballad, one that rhymes with death and love. Lifting me by my hips, he places me on top of his lap, my knees sinking into the leather as I chase the hard line of his shaft. Images of last night flick behind my eyes as his touch stings the same way it did then. Butterflies explode in my belly as if they’ve swallowed gunpowder, leaving the taste of coins stuck to my throat.

“See this?” I almost moan, that’s how good it feels to hear the laze of his voice. With a circle, he plays with the new cut beneath my skirt. The one he so bravely made last night. “You know what it means?”

He’s so close that I taste every word against my lips. The chisel of his features distracts from the beast that lurks beneath the surface.

I shake my head.

He smirks, sending quivers down my spine. “It means you’re mine. Madness and all.” Before I can say another word, he catches my lips with his and deepens the kiss with a turn of his face.

Burying my hand into the thick mane of his hair, I force it back until his lips are off mine. It’s bittersweet because he’s an addiction I never want to cure. In a natural hue of candy pink, his lips curve, setting fire to every organ inside my body.

Focus. I must stay focused.

I smile sweetly, shifting the loose strand that falls over his forehead. “If you’re going to start announcing me as your wife, you don’t get to play with your little toys anymore.”

His head hits an angle that accentuates all the pretty angles the Devil decided to grace him with.

“The girl from the party?” His brow rises. “Answer me something.” He turns serious a moment, his hands disappearing from my body. “Is she still alive?”

“No.”

I’m confused. And I don’t like the way my chest squeezes all the air out of my lungs every second his hands aren’t on me.

They land back on my thigh, and I relax.

Ridiculous.

He leaves a trail of fire in his path when he slides them up further. “So you’ve answered your own question.”

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore…” I say the words before I can shove them back down my throat.

“Oh?” He’s mocking me. “How so?”

My stomach dips when I notice the way he’s looking at me. “Because I am too.”

He rolls his eyes, his fingers dipping beneath my underwear. “You don’t count.”

“How so?” He directs my hips over the bulge in his jeans the same way I’d ride him.

He clears his throat and rests against his chair. As if relishing in my torment, there’s a deliberate slowness in the time it takes for him to answer.

“Because you’re the canvas, Luna. No longer the artist.” His mouth is back on mine, the strap to my dress sailing over my shoulder. My heart doesn’t know what to do as it rattles against the cage in my chest.

Sucking my nipple into his mouth, I don’t notice him untying the ribbon from my hair until it’s looped around my throat.

Tugging him out of his jeans, the shiver that rolls through me is potent enough to make my head spin when my fingers curl around his smooth skin.

He jerks on the ribbon, gesturing to his cock. “Spit.”

I lean back, saliva rolling over my tongue, before aiming my spit down at him. Using my thumb, I circle it over the rim while being careful to watch his cues. In all my years of knowing this man, I’ve never seen him more normal than he looks right now.

“Ride me.” His words set fire to my world as I roll my hips over him, gasping when he fills me to the brim. Inch by inch, my body takes him as if made to do so.

I sink my teeth into his neck to bury my groans, his fingers at my hips as he takes control, using my body as his own fuck toy.

Sweat leaves a trail down my spine as the pressure of his thrusts burns through my clit, my orgasm ripping through my body in desperate waves.

He catches my moans with his lips, sweat-slicked over my cheek. He looks up, and my heart flatlines when I’m met with velvet green instead of torment. The color reminds me of earth. The kind he most likely dug his way through when he crawled his way out of hell.

The unexpected shock of uncovering even a shadow of the man that resides beneath the darkness leaves my heart in pieces. It’s magnetic, and at this very moment, I’m not only obsessed with him.

I’m in love with him.

A sob chokes me on its way up my throat, but he catches it by kissing me again. His hand cups my face to hold me in place as he empties himself inside of me.

I’m screwed. I’m so damn screwed.

Cleaning the edge of my lip, he chuckles. “Put this on.” Removing his hoodie, he slips it over my head, leaving my hair tucked inside.

“I have a dress.” I raise a brow at him.

“Had.” He lifts the piece of linen with his finger, and with his head turned to the side, I get a clear view of the regal cut of his features. “Fuck. This the one I bought you back in summer several years ago?”

When I don’t answer, his eyes are back on me, and the seriousness of his question dissolves into a smirk when he notices me staring. “Looking at me like that will get you fucked again, and I’m pretty sure our friends are already pissed that we’re late.”

With my shoes clutched in my hand, I close the door behind with my back, trying to catch my breath. Priest’s hoodie falls above my knees, an aromatic reminder of the feelings I’d squashed moments ago. I can’t have them. We weren’t married to be husband and wife, we were married to be partners. Both sides of a scale needing the other to balance it.

My phone lights in my hand as I drop my shoes near his dresser.

Mom: I’m sorry. Are you okay?

I reread her words. This is the life I’ve known—one that I once prayed for. I don’t think I could ever be angry enough at my mother to not talk to her. She’s made mistakes, but they were only because she tried everything she possibly could.

Yes. I’m sorry too.

You won’t have to see him anymore, or anyone. I should have listened to your father. I’m sorry I’ve made this so hard on you. It’s why I thought allowing you to be with the Kings would make you realize how important you are.

I pause, lowering onto the edge of the tub.

I’ve always felt important when I was with you and Dads, and you don’t have to apologize for allowing me to live the side of my life that I belong in. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you—tell Dad and Father I love them too.

After her quick response, my phone blares in my hand. Nate’s wide grin fills my screen. Easter—I can’t remember what year. He’d taken a selfie on my phone after I’d been given a bunny teddy from someone. He managed to snap my disgust while hanging it by the ears.

“Yes?”

His face fills the screen when I accept his FaceTime, finally pulling the long strands of my hair out from my hoodie. I regret it when his head tilts to the side and his eyes fly around my face.

I know a lecture is coming, or a question. River saves my ass when her doll face fills the screen, her smile as wide as her father’s was in his contact photo.

“Trouble!”

I bite back my laugh. “Trouble!”

Nate breathes out a heavy sigh at the use of the nicknames that he gave us. Trouble Twins. It stuck. We only use it when he’s listening because it reminds him to count his blessings that we aren’t sisters instead.

“You’re both going to put me in an early grave, I hope you know that.”

River ruffles his hair. “Aw, Daddy. You’ll live.”

“That will never happen again.” Whacking his daughter out of the way gently, I don’t recognize the switch-up of tone until his words die off. I know he means it, but he can’t always be there to protect me.

“It will,” I whisper, relaxing against the headboard of Priest’s bed. My head rests against the cement, attempting to calm myself by memorizing the elaborate craftsmanship carved into the ceiling. “I have to get used to it if I want this life; if I’m following this life, then I have to share the same gratitude for that side too. I hate that it includes the witchy woo-woo shit I don’t believe in.”

Nate’s attention shifts over my shoulder, realization widening over his mouth. “I know that bed.”

After following his sight, River’s face fills the phone when I return.

River clears her throat, a perched brow. “I mean, not that I needed to recheck, but I also know that bed.”

“Our intention was to leave Priest with the gavel and allow him the space he needs to do that, but day two into our trip and we all realized that we needed to be back, not just for the opening—” His words turn soft. “—But for you, too.”

I start plucking satin off the velvet. “I’m fine. It’s just Priest, you know.”

Nate’s lips curl between his teeth as if holding in his laugh. “Yes, I believe I know.” This would be the perfect time to mention the girl from the party, but I hold it in. I’d known about the grandfathers’ lack of loyalty to their wives, but the fathers didn’t walk around, or be seen with any side girls. The mere thought of them even indulging didn’t seem to be part of this realm.

“I’m curious though.” I cross my legs. “Priest did the collection for me last week. He knows ab?—”

“Luna.” Bishop’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I look back into the camera to see him staring back at me. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“You know what happened this morning, it isn’t a reflection of your parents or you. It’s the complexities of this world—of both of our worlds.”

“I appreciate that.” My smile doesn’t reach my eyes.

The bedroom door widens on Priest. He notices my phone, pushing away from the wall.

“Dad?” He kicks off his boots and makes his way to me, gesturing for me to give him my phone.

He cups my hand with his when I’m about to pass it, forcing my eyes back up to his.

With his loudest voice, he tenses my hand to look back at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why do you all think something is wrong?”

“Because I know when you aren’t. This about the dead Huntress you saw me fucking with?”

“Huntress!” I hear River screech through the phone. “Those bitches reall?—”

“—Jesus, Riv, seriously.”

The noise of muffles on the other side of the phone.

I widen my eyes at Priest. “Big mouth!”

“You didn’t complain about my mouth an hour ago…” He rolls his eyes, falling onto his bed. He’s unhinged, confusing, and utterly insane.

I shut the bathroom door behind myself, inhaling a deep breath. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I swipe open a text to Nate.

I should tell him about me at Del Morts.

Speech bubbles swell over the screen and then disappear. I’ve lost hope for his reply when another one comes through.

We may need to anyway.

I pause. Why would we need to? The fifth concord is that we aren’t to disclose who, what, where we are. Even to the holder of hammer. What could have possibly happened to make that change?

Why?

Because I’m pretty sure he already knows.