Chapter 7 #2
Father Roy took a step back, stumbling slightly and righting himself before swaying in the cool night air.
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m talking about you.” Hunter couldn’t help but smile at the befuddled priest. He adored the clumsy confusion. “Why are you out walking drunk in the middle of the night?”
“I’m not drunk!” Father Roy’s adamant tone almost immediately softened. “Mostly. But we’re in Purgatory. No one’s going to hurt me here.”
“I think both of us know that’s not true. Not after what you’ve seen tonight.”
The human’s sharp intake of breath cut through the midnight silence. Suspicion flashed across his face.
“What do you know about that?”
“I know enough. I know you caught a glimpse of something. That’s why you’re lucky.”
“Lucky?!” Father Roy’s expression went from shock to frustration at Hunter’s words. “How am I lucky? I don’t know what I saw, but whatever it was, I didn’t want any part of it.”
Hunter’s smile widened into a grin. If it came off as creepy, he didn’t mind.
“You’re lucky because I’m the best one to protect you from whatever shit you’ve accidentally waded into.”
“You.” Father Roy crossed his arms, and the hardness of his stare made Hunter wonder if he was sobering up. “How exactly would a small-time crook protect me? Throw poker chips at a zombie?”
“You wound me!” Hunter clutched his chest. “After I was willing to step into the line of fire for you.”
“Please. You’re just some thug running a gambling hall. Why would I trust you to be in the same room with me? Never mind being my bodyguard or whatever.”
“Because…” Hunter closed in, moving until his face was inches from the handsome priest’s. In the moonlight, Father Roy’s visage took on a boyish quality, his big eyes even more vulnerable than they’d been before.
“Because,” he continued in a whisper, “I’m the one who’s willing to do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”
The scent of the priest’s arousal reached Hunter’s nose, only compounding the overwhelming need to touch this man. That desire was like the roar of a freight train in his ears, drowning out every other thought.
Father Roy said nothing, staring at Hunter as though entranced. They stood there, locked in stasis as time stopped, fear and desire heavy in the air.
Until Hunter made a terrible decision. He hadn’t planned on it. It was an awful idea to mate with this human. Any act of affection would only end in sadness.
But he did it anyway. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Father Roy’s.
The priest stiffened for a second, then melted into the kiss, leaning into Hunter and wrapping his arms around Hunter’s waist as if by instinct.
Inside the hellhound, an abyss opened up, a chasm so deep nothing could fill it. A wound that nothing could heal.
Nothing except owning this human.
After an instant of tenderness, Hunter’s instincts kicked in, and he grabbed Father Roy’s neck with one hand, squeezing as he asserted his authority over his prey.
The priest did not pull away.
The pull of the nascent mate bond was like a taut rope stretching between their solar plexuses, holding them in close orbit as Hunter deepened the kiss. With a whimper, Father Roy opened his lips, allowing entrance to Hunter’s tongue.
The taste of pomegranate coated Hunter as he explored, ravaging the unspoiled earth of the priest’s mouth. Father Roy was collapsing into him as he submitted, and Hunter supported the man’s weight even as he continued his plunder.
It could have been a few seconds or a hundred years. Time had no meaning as they connected. Hunter imagined he was tethering the priest to him, wrapping him in ropes that would never be cut. He was operating on instinct now, his mind long abandoned for the needs of his feral beast.
Mate. Mine. Always.
It was the sound of a twig cracking that broke the reverie, some squirrel or other creature passing by. In the quiet of the moment, it echoed like the felling of a tree. Hunter winced, anticipating what would happen now.
Father Roy’s eyes snapped open and, putting a hand on Hunter’s chest, he pushed the hellhound away. A mixture of shame and rage warred on his face.
“How dare you?! I’m a priest!”
Father Roy was even sexier now somehow, off-balance and on the edge of toppling over into the chasm. Hunter released his neck, but kept his other hand locked to the human’s hip, not allowing him to disengage.
“You didn’t tell me to stop, priest. The opposite, in fact. I was giving you what you’ve wanted since the day I met you.”
Father Roy’s jaw dropped, seemingly unable to form words.
“You…” The priest grabbed Hunter by the wrist and removed the hellhound’s hand from his waist. Hunter let him, despite how easy it would have been to keep it there by force.
“You’re a monster,” Father Roy continued, stepping away from Hunter. “I never wanted that from you. I’m a Catholic priest. Leave me alone. Don’t follow me, or I’ll call the police.”
Father Roy stepped around him and rushed toward the rectory, but not so quickly that Hunter didn’t catch the flash of guilt as he did so.
Once his mate was gone, Hunter let out a deep sigh. What he’d just done was a terrible idea. He’d known better, but he couldn’t stop himself. The man’s lips had been right there, open and inviting.
“You’re right,” Hunter murmured, his words floating out into the empty dark. “I am a monster.”
With that, he shifted into his hellhound form and followed after his mate.