Briony
a trained assassin who routinely kills for a living and enjoys inflicting and receiving pain would have me sweating bullets, but that reality is far from the truth. As it stands, Aero brings more peace and protective comfort than I’ve ever known. The building I’m approaching, however, has me shaking in my plaid skirt.
Killers. Real killers reside here. People who use and abuse their authority to control the masses. Using the disguise of an institution of love and faith to commit their sick acts of selfish crime.
They sent men to Aero to find and murder him. It was unclear to me who called the hit, but by the incessant rumbling of curse words falling from his mouth as he dug those body-sized holes on his property, I’d imagine he wasn’t expecting it at all.
His attitude had changed. He wasn’t the man who held me against his bare chest this morning. He wasn’t the man who brought my fingertips to his abdomen for a calming caress. He was visibly frustrated, with nothing but hatred and cold-hearted betrayal pouring from his fiery eyes. Probably more mad at himself than anything.
I could almost read his thoughts as his tight jaw clenched while he kicked the second man into the dirt. He hated himself for becoming soft for me. For allowing these men to get the upper hand and catch him in a moment of weakness, something this trained assassin clearly wasn’t used to.
Which was why I pressed Aero to move forward with the plans we had set in motion.
Acting the part, I enter the building amongst the hushed voices and side-eyed stares. I knew word of my disappearance had traveled. The students were well aware the only female Magnus Princeps had gone missing in search of her parents in the bush after the release of the flagrant video of theirs truly seducing the beloved man in line to become the next bishop.
Words like slut, whore, and sinner were being murmured in the dark corners of the hallways. Girls suppressed their giggles and boys eyed me like never before as I passed door after door until coming upon our classroom. The one we were meant to use together on our mission to educate the youth. Keeping their faith in an institution of control and lies. My heart sinks when I think of Brady still being locked within the confines of this prison.
Saint’s head snaps up from the podium where he was looking over lesson plans before the students filed in. His eyes grow wide and worrisome as his shoulders sag with relief, and it appears the air is taken from his lungs entirely. He pushes off the wood, circling around until he stops directly before me. His hands curl into fists near his sides as if to prevent himself from touching me.
Worry floods me like an inescapable wave, threatening to have me backing down from the plans at hand.
I push past my fears and make the first move. Opening my arms, I wrap them around his tight core, pulling him against my front. He stalls for a moment, sucking in a breath before his muscular arms wrap around me, his palm holding my neck to his chest as his thumb slowly runs along my jaw. I breathe in his minty musk, reorienting myself.
There’s a strange comfort in his hold. Maybe one of a life I used to know, where things made sense behind blind eyes. My naivety, providing some sort of strange familiarity to a time where my priorities were simply to gain the respect of my elders while developing my relationship with God and strengthening my faith.
Now, as we hold each other, secrets and lies reside between both parties, death and deception providing the bricks to the wall that divides us.
I pull back from his embrace, looking up and into the eyes of a man I once thought I could trust.
“Briony,” he breathes, gripping my face with both of his hands, his caress gentle and warm.
I stare up into those piercing blue eyes before studying the cuts of his prominent cheekbones, the sharp edge of his strong jaw, and the full pink bottom lip that protrudes slightly further than the top, seeing such a resemblance to his older brother that it just can’t be unseen.
“I was worried sick about you,” he admits, scanning my face with his eyes. “I even went to the airport where they said you’d run, just to go with you. To help you find your parents and sort this out.”
I stare blankly at him, trying to understand.
“They said you ran because of me. Because of what happened.” He shakes his head, his eyes peering at my lips in remembrance, regretful shame in his slumped shoulders. “I felt awful. I couldn’t let you fall because of something we both did. It was so unfair how they’d pinned it all on you as if I wasn’t the one there, kissing you back.”
Kissing me back. My mouth goes dry at his statement.
“I never posted that video, Saint. You have to know…” My eyes well with tears, tears that are welcomed considering the topic at hand.
But my tears aren’t for him. They’re for the old me. The girl that always wanted to stand up for herself, to do what was right, but felt the weight of her commitments around her. The girl who’d never imagined a world where revenge was sweet and justified.
“Come here,” he says quietly, peering behind me as he grabs my hand in his large, protective grasp.
He guides me towards the utility closet in the classroom, pulling me inside before closing the door behind him.
Out of sight. Aero will be thrilled.
My hands tremble at my proximity to the man I need to pretend to trust with everything I am. My mind circles back to the blade strapped to the inside of my thigh, but my legs close tightly, yielding the need for it.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but this place is rumbling with chaos,” he declares, leaning against the wall, still holding my hand. “I overheard my father discussing the situation with Alastor Abbott.”
My ears perk up at the name.
“They say there’s a madman out on the hunt. An excommunicated member of the church who was put away for a gruesome crime many years ago. He’s escaped from prison, disgruntled over his own fallout with Christ, looking to terminate Christians and believers alike. He has everything to do with the state of chaos our community is in.”
The lies they’re feeding the public. Disgusting.
“Whoever he is, they also suspect he took Jacob,” he says with a hitch in his tone.
“How? How is this possible?”
“The deacon…” he begins with hesitation, shaking his head. “They say he killed himself, but I don’t believe it for a second.” His expression hardens. “The deacon was murdered.” He takes a quick breath. “My father said the bishop’s term is ending and they want me to step up. Especially now, when there’s no one to guide our flock amidst the crumbling of our institution.”
Hilarious how the scarlet letter stuck to me so well, even with a suspected killer on the loose. I was never to be considered for a position in our clergy, even though my academic grades and achievements outweigh those of Saint’s. Never was there hope for me to hold a legitimate title in this church at all. It was always going to be a man before me. In a world where male domination is a prerequisite for control, equality was never a forethought.
As Aero so eloquently said, I’d pushed and pushed until I pushed too far. Thank God he took me to his cabin when he did. They’d have erased the stain of condemnation by now without question had they known my whereabouts.
“But you’ll be a target, Saint,” I whisper, worry lacing my words. “Why do they want to expedite the process of making you bishop? Especially with everything happening? Why are they rushing this? You’re still so young.”
“I’m already a target,” he declares with a regretful sigh. “My Jeep, remember? Not only was it vandalized that day with you, but it’s now stolen, taken right here from the school parking lot. Seen leaving the church right before they found the deacon. He wanted to frame me if the suicide assumption didn’t stick.”
My chest practically caves and my palms gloss over with sweat at the memory of the Jeep. The memory of that day in the confessional. Luckily, the lack of cameras in this town couldn’t have tracked the Jeep far. Knowing Aero, any and all footage has already been wiped.
“I’m needed,” Saint continues. “It’s time I step up the way my father always hoped I would.”
Needed. In order to keep the Westwood name in the chain of command, using their influence to continue the sickening cycle of power and control over this town. I bite back the expression I’d love to use and wear my concern on my sleeve.
“I’m scared for you.” My eyes crinkle in the corners as I squeeze his hand in mine. “I’m scared for myself.”
“Shh, it’s okay now.” He pulls me back into him, wrapping those arms tightly around me again. “You’re safe, Briony. I’m just so happy you’re back. I was sick, wondering where you were. I-I missed you.”
A lesser woman would’ve believed his lies.
My hands clutch his tight core beneath his dress shirt, fingers gripping onto him in a way that screams need. I hear him swallow again, and his hand, resting at the base of my lower back, slowly trails up, holding me tightly to him.
“Oh, Saint,” I cry out, clutching his shirt in my white-knuckled fists. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. My house feels so big and bare and I’m terrified I’ll be targeted.”
“What about Baret?” He suggests my brother as if I actually have one. “Can he come—”
“He hasn’t been answering his phone,” I lie. I have no idea where he’s been or if he’s even tried to contact me. Lack of a phone doesn’t help. “I can’t get a hold of anyone. Not him. Not my parents. I’m all alone.” My bottom lip quivers in fear as my hands shake before him.
I bring them to the middle of Saint’s chest, where I touch the buttons of his crisp uniform while the front of his thighs connect with mine in the tight space of the utility closet.
“Please,” I whisper, cracking my tone to tortured perfection. “Even coming here today was a risk I had to take. I needed to see you. I needed…you.”
His Adam’s Apple bobs as his forehead brushes mine. I stare at his throat, breathing in his cologne, while his eyes glaze over my parted lips. The sexual tension is building, and while he doesn’t light up every atom within my being like his older brother does, there’s still an attraction to the physical beauty before me. He’s very much a handsome man, and I am very much an animal at my core.
“I’ll be there,” he whispers, his minty breath dusting my lips. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll come over right after class, okay?”
Our eyes connect for a moment, and I feel the longing and emotion in his gaze. The knowledge of us spending the night together in a house all alone is sending his mind into a cacophony of scenarios. Hopefully, none of them good.
He tips his chin, eyes focused on my lips again. The battle of right and wrong rages inside him as the sexual tension between us becomes almost unbearable. It’s all I need to know this plan will inevitably work.
Saint licks his lips, parting them as he leans forward, but just as they skim across mine, I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pulling his hips into mine. Our chests mesh together, showing the lack of restraint we hold for one another. Saint drops his head to the door behind me and I feel the evidence of his thick arousal begin to swell against my thigh.
I smirk devilishly within myself at the proof. He’s losing control.
“Slip out the back. Away from prying eyes,” he whispers in my ear, his lips grazing the shell as he continues. “I’ll be there soon, Bri.”
He leans back, our eyes connecting again, our lips inches apart as my hands remain planted on the mounds of muscle on his chest. I nod, purposefully trailing my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes fall to my mouth immediately and he stills before letting out a sigh, ushering me out of the classroom before the students file into the surrounding room.
As soon as I hit the hallway, I feel Aero’s eyes burning a hole through me. The lack of sight during those few minutes in the closet has him reeling in the unknown. Pleased with myself at the quick interaction, I sneak out the back of the building behind the dumpsters alone and wait until I hear the silent roar of the smooth engine.
I slide into the passenger seat of the familiar black Audi and turn to face him. Before I can even gauge his expression, my neck gets jolted as the back of my head hits the seat hard. Aero peels out of the parking lot, and aggressive hands grip the wheel while his silence secretly tears a hole through me.
My jealous, over-protective man.
He zips through town, finally arriving at the street behind my house. I slip out, walking through the wooded yard as he hides the car as planned. Seconds later, he enters the back door near the kitchen, stomping towards me in those black combat boots with his ski mask still in place.
Terror and lust simultaneously tremor through me as his hand encircles the front of my neck, pushing me back against the wall with a force that only this dominant man can assert.
“Where?” he growls, his hazel eyes set hard on mine as he leans over me.
My thighs clench together under my skirt. His toxic need to know the intimate details of what happened in that closet has me wanting to lie and push the envelope just to enrage and engage him further.
“My lips,” I rush, his hand around my throat tightening.
“He fucking kissed you?” he seethes in through gritted teeth, rolling the mask up his forehead with his free hand. His pulse rages, an angry vein protruding from his temple.
I suck in a breath at his devastatingly handsome features, studying the scars that pierce through them like badges of endless determination and power. His eyes darken, and once again, I’m overwhelmed by his raw, ethereal beauty.
“No.” I shake my head. “He tried to but I turn—”
A flat tongue rolls up and over my lips, interrupting my words. The warm, wet lick continues down my neck, where he takes the opportunity to clean me. The heat travels between my thighs and I feel myself contract with need. He grips my wrist, lifting my hand as his tongue trails over my palm while wild eyes connect with mine, removing Saint’s touch entirely, before gripping both wrists and pinning them above my head.
“Aero, he’s on his way…” I whisper, his nose tracing the line of my jaw before he breathes in the scent of my hair in the hypnotic way that he does.
I feel dizzy with lust as one of his rough hands fastens my arms in place, my wrists in a tight hold above my head, the other gripping the skin of my hip so hard it will surely bruise. His tongue finds my neck again, licking long trails up to my ear lobe where he bites down, pressing that long, thick erection along his thigh into my belly.
“Then we better hurry,” he whispers against my mouth before biting down on my bottom lip. Pulling it back with his teeth, I moan into his mouth as my lip snaps back from his unrelenting grasp. “Because I plan to have my cum dripping from your greedy cunt before it’s wrapped around him.”
He growls to himself at the thought before slamming my wrist back against the wall, causing me to cry out in pain.
“You watch me the entire time, and don’t you for a fucking second think you’re allowed to come. If I sense you’re deriving any pleasure out of this at all, I’ll kill you both myself and burn the whole fucking church down over your rotting corpses. You got that, sweetheart?”
I swallow what feels like a mound of sand, nervous at his calm yet intimidating demeanor, my body trembling in fear at his tone alone. Because I know for a fact, he’d do just that, if not worse. Mutilation would be in there somewhere.
“N-never,” I stutter, attempting to wet my dry mouth. “I’d never—”
His hand rises from my hip to grip my face roughly between his fingers. He squeezes tightly, forcing my mouth open, his direct stare scanning mine for any waiver of disloyalty. Leaning down over me, he spits into my mouth, his saliva coating my tongue, before he attacks my lips with the most primal force, claiming everything he wants with such tenacious ferocity.
I moan when he forces his way into my mouth, his tongue practically fucking me with an insatiable hunger, forcing me to succumb to his strength as the heat of his confined cock presses urgently against his jeans, seeking the relief he so desperately craves.
But it’s the way he communicates with his tongue that drives me wild. Aero says everything he needs in his anarchic display of affection.
His tongue lashes against mine, screaming notes of suffering and affliction amidst chaotic pleasure. Our song, written in torture, harmonized with human reckoning, and played by only the symphony of avenging truths.
I’m swirling in deviant lust. My stomach squirms with anticipation and endless nerves. Aero plans to mark me as his before his brother gets the chance. We’re committing to this plan, and he’s allowing his trust in me and my strength to outweigh his instincts.
The sick and twisted nature of what we are about to do should have me practically vomiting with anxiousness.
And yet, my insides ignite with the flames only the darkest of angels could possess.
