Chapter 9
9
E lodie
I lay in bed, icing my ankle. Since Atticus’s visit a few days ago, the swelling has gone way down, but I’m still taking pain meds and icing it. Keeping to the routine and staying off of it so I can heal.
There isn’t much else for me to do. With Margot and the kids safe, I don’t have to scramble to survive. I’m so used to going from one crisis to the next that I have no idea what to do with myself except worry about me and Jaeger.
You’re my woman. Just like that, I belong to him.
What would it be like to be so certain? So sure?
We’ve settled into an uneasy truce. He seems to sense I need time to digest this. He’s left me alone to eat delicious food—he has some sort of meal service set up for his penthouse because whatever I’m in the mood for shows up on a covered tray within minutes—and lounge around the cozy living room watching rom-coms.
The ring sparkles on my hand. Every time I look at it, I want to hyperventilate, but I don’t take it off.
This can’t last. Men always leave. I might as well get what I can out of this crazy arrangement before he gets tired of having me around.
If that makes me a gold digger, so be it.
Jaeger disappears for most of the day, which I’m grateful for at first but also resent. He doesn’t have a traditional nine-to-five sort of day job but lurks around, taking phone calls, then coming and going at all hours. It leaves me to wonder what he’s up to. What does he do for Fraternitas? All the evidence points to him being an enforcer for the brotherhood, which means blood and violence. I spiral on this before telling myself I don’t want to know.
He does take every opportunity to kiss, eat, or fuck me. To the point where I get wet when he walks into the room.
This afternoon is no exception. I wake from a nap to the door opening.
“Honey, I’m home.” Jaeger prowls to my side and kisses me before I realize I’m not dreaming about a Viking marauder breaking into my fantasy hygge home to ravage me. His golden stubble scrapes my cheeks, and the prickly sensation wakes me up.
Before I know it, I’m wrapping my arms around him and sliding my hands under his shirt and up his back. There’s a rough edge under my palm. His brand. I realize what I’m touching and yank my hand away.
“Where were you?” I ask before I remember that’s not a great question to ask a mafia thug.
“Out. Did you eat?” He sifts through the remnants of my lunch and frowns when he finds a whole club sandwich. I nibbled on one piece of bacon and ate the tomato soup and chips instead.
“You’re not eating enough,” he accuses me and wolfs down half the sandwich in one bite.
I brush crumbs off my sweatshirt so I don’t completely look like a poster child for depression. “I’m fine.”
“You need your strength.” He studies my ankle and squeezes my bare knee. I’ve taken to wearing skirts and dresses to make it easy to dress and undress. At his innocuous touch, heat runs up my bare leg, and my pussy begins to throb. “You need all your strength to handle me.”
My body is heating up, ready to handle him.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“No?” He finishes the sandwich and gives me a wolfish smile that makes my breasts swell.
To hide my reaction, I growl at him.
“Grumpy bunny.” He climbs over me, pressing me into the couch cushions and nuzzling my face. My hips rise automatically to meet him. “It’s okay. I know how to make you sweet.” He’s going to fuck me again and leave me dazed and pliant from orgasms. And my body is ready for it.
I push at his shoulder. “Stop.”
He grabs my palm and kisses it. “You don’t want me to fuck you? To suck your clit until you’re screaming my name?”
I suck in a breath. I do want all that. I’ve had it before, earlier today and three times yesterday, and my clit remembers it fondly. He fights dirty.
He props himself up, his hips still pressing into my pulsing core. His weight is delicious, and I want more, but he takes a moment to cup my cheek in one huge hand. “You like me, bunny. Why do you resist this?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his skull ring. I’m used to seeing it, and I shouldn’t be. It should still inspire a thrill of fear.
I bite my lip.
“Are you stressed?” He’s peering at me.
“Of course, I’m stressed. I’m twenty-two and have spent most of my life completely broke. What broke twenty-something isn’t a stress bucket?”
“Can I fix it?”
I sigh. “Not today.” Especially because he’s what I’m worried about.
“Okay, bunny.” He kisses my nose and lifts off of me. The loss of him makes me dizzy.
He walks to the kitchen, like everything’s normal. I hit play on the movie I was watching before I paused it to take a nap. A minute later, Jaeger’s back with a jumbo tin that turns out to be filled with three types of fancy popcorn.
He offers the tin to me first, and I take a handful, but I tense up when he settles on the couch next to me. I’m halfway through a bonkers rom-com set in a small town that celebrates Christmas all year. If Jaeger’s like any of my old boyfriends, he’s five seconds away from grabbing the remote and changing the channel so he can watch sportsball.
A minute passes. I hold my breath. On-screen, the winner of the Snow Queen beauty pageant is making a speech about saving the town.
Jaeger munches on popcorn, his blue eyes fixed on the screen. “Is this the one with the gingerbread-making contest?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“The movie. Is this the one with the gingerbread-making contest to save the small town? Or the one with the long-lost prince and widow?”
I look from him to the TV screen and back again. He seems serious. “There’s one with a long-lost prince and a widow?”
“You haven’t seen that one?” He points to the screen where a rugged lumberjack is yelling at a trio of kids dressed like elves, telling them that he hates Christmas. “That’s the actor who plays the prince. They just had him shave his beard and dye his hair blond.”
“Really?” The lumberjack looks good with his wild-man beard. I try to picture him as a clean-shaven blond, and the result is pretty bland. “Ugh.”
“Yeah. He looks better like this.” Jaeger takes another handful of popcorn and leans back, slinging his free arm behind me. “But there’s a great ice skating routine. Let’s watch the prince movie next.”
What? I twist to stare at him. “You like these movies?”
He shrugs. “Who doesn’t?”
“Most macho men wouldn’t be caught dead watching stuff like this.” I put my hand out, feeling for his crotch. My palm brushes a hard bulge in his jeans.
He raises a brow.
“Just checking to make sure you have a dick.”
He grabs my wrist and presses my hand against him more firmly. “Oh, I have one. Want me to prove it?”
I shake my head, turning back to the screen. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
To my surprise, he does. We finish the movie, and he puts on the one with the blond prince. The plot is more ridiculous than the first and very satisfying.
About halfway through, he finishes the popcorn and goes to wash his hands. When he returns, he slips a hand on my belly and strokes my skin. I frown at him, and he smiles back.
He keeps fondling me through the final scenes, and, yes, the ice skating scene is epic. I start to shift in my seat, squirming under his touch. It’s relentless and never moves below my waist.
Finally, the credits roll.
“Well?” I demand.
“Well, what?” He leans in to kiss me.
“You know what.”
“Mmmm.” He presses into me, shifting me until I’m on my back, and he’s over me. I kiss him back, but he pauses. “You were stressed before. Tell me why.”
Oh, now he wants to talk? I jerk my hips, trying to get his attention back on what we’re doing.
He doesn’t move but keeps watching me expectantly. Am I supposed to have a conversation with him on top of me?
“We shouldn’t be together,” I blurt. “We’re not compatible.”
He searches my eyes as if I’m holding back the real answer. “You’re wrong. You’re just afraid.” He shifts his body slightly, and I shudder under his delicious weight. “You know we fit.”
I push at him. I need space for this conversation. He rises as if I’ve muscled him off me, but I know I didn’t because I’m not capable of physically forcing him to do anything.
I struggle to sit upright, and he helps me, then perches on the coffee table so he’s close but not crowding me. He leans forward, the picture of a predator ready to pounce. His jeans are ripped, with white strands frayed across his knees. The light streaming from the penthouse windows catches his stubble and makes it gleam like gold.
He’s so hot he takes my breath away.
“I’m not afraid,” I snap, and he raises a brow. “I’m not. It’s just… we barely know each other.”
“I know enough. The hunt, the chase. You liked it.” His eyes glimmer with satisfaction. “You came hard enough on my cock.”
At the word “cock,” my eyes dart to the bulge in his jeans. Crap, he’s still hard. Heat suffuses my chest.
I drag my eyes back to his face, where he’s taking in my reactions. “Don’t lie to me, bunny. You enjoyed being my prey.”
Before I can think, I throw a pillow at him. Instantly, his blue gaze turns laser-focused. He launches himself onto the couch, pouncing.
I squeal and try to roll away, but he pins me easily. He presses his length into me, and my hips rise to meet his.
“I told you. You like this.” He kisses the tip of my ear, sending tingles down my back. “You like baiting me.” He kisses the side of my nose, where the most freckles are. He’s obsessed with my freckles. One day, I’ll cover them with makeup and see what he does.
“You like me.” He forestalls my argument with a deep kiss. Heat blooms through me. Instead of pushing him away, I’m digging my fingers into his soft T-shirt, pulling him close. His scent rolls over me, that manly musk that drives me wild.
“Fuck you,” I mutter against his mouth.
“Oh, I plan to.”
He pulls up my dress and sees I’m not wearing undies. He hums in approval and tips me to my side so he can smack my ass.
“Ouch,” I yelp, even though it didn’t really hurt.
He rubs the sting away, and I bite back a moan.
“Fuck, Jaeger.”
“Yes, bunny. Yes, I will fuck you.” His fingers find the neck of my dress, and he rips it open. I gasp, and my breasts spill out. Today was a no-bra day.
“Yes,” he breathes and dives in. His stubble rubs against my sensitive flesh, making me squirm. “You’re so soft.” He palms my stomach. He doesn’t care that it’s not toned and flat. He seems to love how the plush folds spill over his hands.
Every worshipful kiss rubs me raw. I make a pained noise, and he raises his head. “Did I hurt you?”
My stomach is red from the scratchy shadow of his beard. I cup his face. “Your stubble.”
He starts to rise. “I can shave?—”
“No.” I pull him back. My pussy is weeping onto the couch cushions. I can’t wait any longer.
“No?” His blue eyes hold mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He glances at my ankle. “You’re fragile.”
“It’s okay.” And it is because he’s been caring for me. Any other guy would be history, but Jaeger won’t leave. He won’t let me leave, either.
Right now, that’s what I need.
“I like it,” I whisper, and this time, when I pull him back down, he dives in again. He rubs his jaw along my inner thighs, kissing my stretch marks and running his tongue over the silvery scars. I’m rolling my hips, desperate for relief by the time he drags his lips to my pussy. He eats me with abandon, thrusting his fingers into my wet channel, finding my G-spot and rubbing it until I’m about to shatter.
He stops before I reach the apex. I growl at him, but he rises up, stripping off his shirt, and the sight of his muscles flexing distracts me. His tattoos are dark swirling chaos, snakes and oceans, a shipwreck, a white-eyed god. A prowling wolf beside a blooming lotus flower. A blindfolded goddess. The total effect is stunning. He’s a living, breathing work of art.
He pushes down his jeans just enough to free his hard, dripping cock. I lick my lips, my breath coming faster.
“You ready for me, bunny?” He jerks himself, his eyes on my weeping slit.
I slide down and spread my legs. He makes me weak. I need him to fill me and pound me into the couch until I’m mindless and all my worries are far away.
He sheathes himself inside me, and we both sigh. I wrap my left leg around his back, urging him to rest his weight on me. He’s taller than me, so I end up tucked into his chest. Completely covered by him. Warm and safe.
When he’s inside me, as close to me as a person can get, everything makes sense.
And when he moves, he drives every thought out of my noisy head. I brace myself against him. The ocean swirls before my eyes. The lotus flower wilts and blooms.
He slides a hand along my raised leg, hitching it higher. The angle catches my clit, and I go over, biting his nipple as I do. His pecs stiffen under my lips. With a roar, he finishes inside me.
But he’s not fully finished.
He wraps his hand around my neck, drawing my head up. His back bows so he can kiss me, his lips dominating mine hard enough to bruise.
In no time, he’s hard inside me.
“Again?”
“Again.”
By the time he’s done, the sun has set. The penthouse is dark but for some flickering cider-scented candles. We lie together, tangled on the couch. I’m on my side, surrounded by him. Somehow, he’s made sure my hurt ankle is propped on a pillow.
My thoughts drift back to me, one by one. I watch them float by and fade, the panic drained out of them.
You’re my woman. When did he decide this? Was it the night he chased me? The morning after?
“You okay?” Jaeger sifts his fingers through my hair. I realize I’ve been staring at him with a frown on my face.
“I’m trying to understand you.”
He grins. “I’m a simple man. I’m loyal to my brothers and protect my woman. What else is there to understand?”
“When did you know? That you wanted me. For, you know, this.” He gazes at me, and I fight the urge to squirm. His cum is leaking out of me, but I’m avoiding direct reference to the “my woman” comment. “When did you decide you wanted me longer than a night?”
“When did I decide you were my woman?”
“Um.” I do squirm a little. “Yes.”
Satisfied, he leans back. “You were running from me. I could taste your fear, and I was hungry for it. But then, you got angry. You stopped and faced me.”
I remember that moment. I’d thought it was all over. Come get me, I challenged him.
“I used to fight in the underground rings. I’ve faced many men. They all started out confident, but after a few blows, the pain would bleed their courage away until they were begging for the end.”
I’ve heard rumors about the Fraternitas fight club, that some fights are to the death. I don’t know if Jaeger participated in those fights, but right now, he’s far away.
I palm his cheek to bring him back.
“You were different,” he says. “You had no chance. But when your fear bled away, only you remained.”
“So you wanted me… because I yelled at you?”
“Yes,” he states. Like it’s a simple equation that makes perfect sense.
“You don’t even know me,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
But Jaeger hears. He has the sharpened senses of a predator. “I want to know you.”
I sigh.
“Let me know you,” he whispers, taking my chin between two fingers so I can’t escape his gaze.
Who is this man? He’s covered in tattoos and has a skull branded into his back. He kills without remorse. Yet he watches rom-coms and loves to cuddle, and he wants to know me.
“All right,” I say. I’ve decided on a test. “Take me somewhere tonight.”
He rolls to a sitting position, carrying me with him. “Anywhere.”
He says that now, but we’ll see how long it lasts.
A half-hour later, he pulls up to the location. I gave him the address with no explanation so he wouldn’t know where we were going until his Lykan purred up to the curb.
“A church?” he says, looking up at the cross affixed to the front of the modest brick building.
“What?” I taunt. “Are you worried you’re going to catch fire if you enter?”
He smirks and turns off the car. Once again, he’s illegally parked out front. It’s like he has no regard for any laws.
He comes around to open my door to lift me out. “I was raised by a man of the cloth, bunny. This place doesn’t scare me.”
“Wait, you were?” I’ve accused him of not knowing me, but I don’t know much about him, either. “Where did you grow up?”
“On the streets of New Rome,” he says so easily that I stiffen. “But not for Father Francis’s lack of trying.”
At my guidance, he carries me around the side of the building to the stairs leading to the basement where the Narcotics Anonymous meetings are held.
A trio of smokers stand off the path. They do double-takes at the sight of me and Jaeger, and I give them a wave. I’ve gotten so used to Jaeger carrying me that I barely notice the stares.
“Wait,” I ask as we enter the musty basement, passing more groups of chatting people to enter a long, low-ceilinged room filled with folding chairs. “Who is Father Francis?”
“A priest at St. Xavier’s downtown. He founded Hieronymus’ School for the Lost.”
I’ve heard of St. Xavier’s. It’s a medieval-looking church on the edge of midtown. Now that I think of it, I’ve heard of the school. It’s an orphanage.
“You and Kaiser went to St. Xavier’s?”
Jaeger finds us seats on the edge of the room. Most people have congregated by the entrance or the table in the back that holds boxes of day-old sugar donuts and a coffee urn that dispenses black tar.
He’s positioned me so he’s between me and the door. He’s also constantly sweeping the place. He keeps a hand on my thigh, and I feel lucky he didn’t make me sit on his lap.
“Yes and no. We attended mass only on the coldest days. Father Francis founded a soup kitchen, and we started to bring in street kids, the ones too young to fend for themselves. That’s when the Father founded the school and raised the money to build the dormitories.”
I stare at him. I’ve sensed his upbringing was rough, but I had no idea it was this bad. “How old were you?”
He shrugs. “Nine or ten.”
I suck in a breath. So young. “Did you stay at the school?”
“A night or two. Kaiser and I were too wild to stay put. But Hieronymus is where we met the Devil and St. James. They’re the ones who ended up founding Fraternitas.”
There are tons of rumors and speculation swirling around the brotherhood and the man called the Devil. Honey would be delighted that I could give her answers.
I don’t care about Fraternitas. I want to ask more questions about Jaeger and Kaiser, two school-age kids without a home.
But the meeting is about to start. More people flood the room.
“Hey, Elodie.” One of the meeting attendees shuffles closer, donut in hand. I recognize his blue hair and thin face.
“Hey, Tommy.”
“Hiya.” He raises a hand to greet Jaeger. Jaeger just looks at him.
“Tommy, this is Jaeger,” I say quickly. “A… friend.”
Jaeger cups my hand with both of his.
“More than a friend,” I amend.
Tommy’s eyes flash down to the ring on my hand and then Jaeger’s skull ring. “Uh, got it. See ya.” He backs away, beating it for a seat by the door.
I sigh. “Please don’t intimidate people here.” I met Tommy in my early NA days. He and I have exchanged numbers so we could support each other through the twelve steps.
“I won’t.” Jaeger dips his head so only I can hear. “Just any friends who are more than friends.”
“There isn’t anyone like that here.” I check to see if Tommy’s okay, and he’s chatting with someone else while eating his donut. I transfer my glare to Jaeger. “Besides you. You know this.”
He sits back, looking satisfied, but keeps my hand between both of his.
Today’s meeting has a speaker, so after we welcome newcomers and recite the Serenity Prayer, a woman with box braids stands and shares her story.
The church basement is both cold and drafty and clammy, with the heat of all the bodies crowded together, and it smells like sweat and stale smoke.
I let the speaker’s story wash over me, crying a little at the sad parts like I would at a movie. Her story has a happy ending, though, because she’s here and sharing. For a lot of people in this room, the story won’t end well, but that’s life. We all live a million stories, and whether the theme is horrific or heroic depends on which moments you choose to showcase.
Jaeger’s hands are warm on mine. In this crowd, he stands out, not just because he’s bigger than anyone else. He has a sort of glow, like a saint in a classical painting. Maybe it’s his handsome face or golden hair. Or his air of calm command. He looks more real than everyone else, spotlit so the rest of the room fades away.
At one point, he gets up and leaves my side. I miss his heat and am glad when he returns with a box of tissues for me. He takes one and wipes my tears away.
“Thank you,” I mouth to him. He cups my face a moment, gazing at me with such intensity that I look away. But I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he judging all of us addicts here? I’ve never brought a guy here. I haven’t dated anyone since getting clean. And I never would’ve imagined someone like Jaeger being at my side. Is he okay with being here?
Will he see me differently now that he knows I’m an addict?
The meeting ends. The mood is lighter, as if the speaker’s story was all our stories, and our collective confession allows us to leave some shadows behind.
Jaeger intuits that I don’t want to stick around or talk to anyone. He picks me up, ignoring the raised eyebrows. I wave to Tommy when we pass him, and he waves back. I’ll text him later and tell him it was good to see him.
Outside, a light rain greets us. The Lykan is still at the curb. A cop car is live, parked close by, but there’s no ticket on the hood.
We sit in the car for a moment, watching the drops of water slide down the windshield.
“You should know I haven’t used in three years,” I say. “I went through a hard time when I had to drop out of school.”
Jaeger squeezes my hand and doesn’t speak. His silence makes it easier to tell him the rest.
“My boyfriend at the time… liked to party. I went through… some stuff. In college. And I thought that partying would help.” I have few memories of those nights—nothing but flashing lights, dirty floors of clubs, and the sandy feeling in my eyes and mouth. Daylight was like knives in my skull, and I was tired all the time, bone-deep exhaustion I’d felt like I was too young to feel. “We broke up when I decided to stop using. Margot was pregnant and not doing well, and I knew I had to help. The pills were an escape I couldn’t afford.”
He turns in the seat, facing me. He cups my cheek and says nothing. I lean into his palm.
“Life is hard,” I say. “But other people have it worse.”
He strokes his thumb over my lips. “Was it hard working at Inferno?”
“Do you mean was there temptation? There’s always temptation. But I’ve learned…” I try to put my thoughts into words. “This… this moment is real. Even if it hurts, it’s worth the pain. The high was fake. And it didn’t last.”
He nods, and my heart beats faster with the feeling that he understands. “And there are other pleasures,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Like this.” He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. I crane my neck to get closer, wanting more.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So brave.”
The warmth in his voice is a deep pool I want to sink into. I want to hold him, to mold my body to his, to be so close to him that his warmth sinks into me and heals all my broken parts. I’ve spent so many years trying to hold myself together, and now here’s this man willing to wrap his strong arms around me and make a safe space for me so I can rest.
I would unbuckle my seatbelt and climb into his lap, but there’s a cop right there, so I say, “Take me home.”
He puts the Lykan in gear.
I stare at him the whole drive, memorizing the way the light and shadow slide over his features.
I don’t think twice about the fact that I called his penthouse ‘home.”
Jaeger
I lie in bed, Elodie drowsing in my arms. She’s naked, her short legs tangled with mine. I can’t stop running my hands over her soft skin. She has the sweetest freckles on her shoulders, and her plush thighs are dimpled and silky to the touch.
Her ankle is looking better. These past few days, she’s been able to rest and heal. I leave her as little as possible, but when duty calls, I know she’s safe and warm. I come home to her curled up on the couch under several layers of fluffy blankets, watching home renovation shows. A cozy bunny in her den.
She’s right where I want her. When she’s like this, comfortable and freshly fucked, she forgets to fight me, forgets herself, and relaxes into the moment. She’s content.
But I fear when she’s healed, she’ll decide it’s best for her to leave. I have to find new ways to trap her, to draw her down into my world.
There are several ways I could do this. I splay my hand over her plush belly. She’s gloriously round and soft now. What will she look like when I fill her with my baby? Atticus could easily sedate her and give her a fertility shot. I file that away as a later option. There might be an easier way.
In recent days, she’s opened up to me, telling me about her past. She thought she would scare me off. She doesn’t know me if she thinks I’ll scare easily. I would kill for her. Going to a meeting and supporting her recovery is the least I can do.
But she still fears my lifestyle. My brothers. Fraternitas. I must show her there’s a place for her. In my bed, as my woman. At my side, spoiled as my sweet pet. Kneeling at my feet, wearing my collar.
I will introduce her to my brothers and fight for them to accept her. And then I will teach her where she belongs.
Elodie
“I have an errand,” Jaeger tells me.
I’ve been sitting on the couch, scrolling social media on my phone with rom-coms playing in the background. I think about reaching out to friends from school, but it feels like my old life. When I read a few of their posts gushing over “Professor Roylin’s brilliant lecture,” my stomach got tight, and I deleted the app.
So when Jaeger insists I accompany him on this errand, I’m glad to get out of the penthouse.
He drives through the city, weaving through the high rises of midtown until the grand spires of a cathedral appear. St. Xavier’s. I recognize the shining, white stone and the grand church steps.
I expect Jaeger to illegally park right in front of it like he always does, but he turns into a small side parking lot with a wheelchair ramp entrance.
As Jaeger carries me in, the bells in the tower begin to toll. The place is hushed and smells clean, with a faint whiff of smoke and spices from the incense. He heads deep into the church, crossing a checkered marble floor and a line of white columns to enter the cavernous sanctuary.
My mouth falls open at the soaring high ceilings and gothic windows. I wasn’t raised Catholic, so I have no idea what scenes are depicted in the jewel-toned stained glass, but small golden plaques underneath announce the “Stations of the Cross.” In between the windows are a series of stone alcoves, each one with a different white marble statue. The place is opulent, far more than I realized. Maybe a lot of wealthy people attend church here, and the parish uses their donations to decorate, as well as run the school and orphanage.
There’s no one here now. I haven’t seen a hint of a single person. The quiet has a weight to it, and I clamp my lips shut, unwilling to disturb the sacred silence.
Jaeger strides confidently down the center aisle and sets me down in a polished pew. “Wait here.”
What? He walks past the altar and disappears into a small back door beyond the choir stands.
I sit uncomfortably, bathed in yellow and red light from one of the stained glass windows. In the quiet, I can hear the shrieks of children playing outside. It would make sense that the children’s home has a playground nearby.
What did Jaeger tell me? We attended mass only on the coldest days. I try to imagine him and his brother lurking in the back of this beautiful room, their skin chapped red from the cold. Father Francis founded the school. We brought street kids, the ones too young to fend for themselves. . .
“Can I help you?”
I jolt in my seat at the unexpected voice. A man stands in the aisle next to me. I didn’t hear him approach.
“Pardon me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He puts out a hand and hovers it near my shoulder in a reassuring gesture, although he doesn’t touch me. He’s white, with thick, light brown hair and a short beard. He’s in his mid to late forties, with a weathered face.
He’s in black robes with a white collar and a large wooden cross on a chain around his neck. A priest.
“Um… I’m okay. I’m here with a friend. He said he had an errand.” I wave toward the front of the church where Jaeger went. “If I’m not supposed to be here, I can leave…”
“No, not at all. The church is open at all hours to anyone who wishes to worship.” He relaxes back against one of the pews, studying me.
I tense further. “Oh, I’m not here to… do that. I’m not religious.”
“I know why you’re here, Elodie.”
A chill runs through me. How does he know my name?
He chuckles. “I suspect Jaeger brought you here so we could meet.” His blue eyes crinkle with laugh lines, but something about his gaze is unnerving. “I’m Father Francis.”