Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Oh!” I exclaim softly. “My apologies. Can you repeat it?”
He shoots me a patient smile and then repeats the prayer over again, pausing at the end of each sentence for me to say it back.
“What happens after?” I ask.
“You can pray for specific things,” he says, glancing up at the cross. “Or you can leave it as it is, as long as there is meaning in each word, as long as you are seeking to make this prayer a bridge between you and God. You don’t just recite the words and not think about what they mean. That’s pointless. Might as be elsewhere.”
“So this is how you pray?”
He gives me a curious look. “Me in particular? No. It’s just how most people pray.”
“But I want to know how you pray.”
His blue eyes study me carefully, and I know I have to rein it in. “Curious thing, aren’t you? Wanting to know so much about the human world you despise.”
“I never said I despised it!”
“I believe you said you killed men not because they were tasty but because they deserved it. In your words, one less man is doing this world a favor. Now, perhaps I’m reading into this, but that doesn’t sound like you care all that much for mankind.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re a man—of course you wouldn’t understand what I mean. I can think men are the most dangerous creatures of all and not want to condemn all of humanity for their crimes.”
“Fair enough,” he says, splaying his palms in a show of acceptance.
“So what do you ask for when you pray?” I ask.
His chin jerks inward. “You can’t ask me that.”
“Why not?”
His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words. “It’s personal.”
“Is it like a wish? If you tell someone, it doesn’t come true? We have that with the spinefish. Break off one of the spikes on their back and make a wish, but if you tell a soul, it will all be for naught.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “No, not like that. It’s just…it’s between you and God.”
“The very God you don’t believe in?”
“I didn’t say the man on the cross is listening to me,” he says, nodding at the giant silver cross on the wall. “But someone is. They might not act on it, but they listen, and that’s enough for me.”
I wait a moment, strategizing my best approach. I feel like I’m back in the water again, in the murky depths, approaching my prey.
“So this God, this being, only listens to your prayers…and yet you feel you must uphold all your vows? For what?”
He gives me a steady look, his brows pulling together. In the flickering candlelight of the church, his handsome features seem sharper, more dangerous. He reaches into his shirt, and I see him grasp the beaded necklace around his neck like it might save him.
A thrill runs through my body.
Am I actually about to do this? Make my escape?
Will I make it out of this alive?
Or the better question is…will he?
Chapter Thirteen
LARIMAR
“I’ve told you,” Priest says in a slow, measured voice, “my vows keep myself in line for me. For that humanity you pretend to care about.”
I give him my most innocent smile and turn around so I’m facing down the aisle, the top step pressing into my lower back. “And how does fucking me mean the downfall of humanity?” I ask, reaching down with my bound hands to pull the hem of my dress until it’s hiked at my waist. I spread my legs, making sure he has a good view of my bare cunt.
A rumble sounds from his chest, his brows lowered as he glowers at me.
“It’s about control,” he says thickly, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to look between my legs.
“But making me come on your hand isn’t about control? Or you coming between my breasts?”
“Christ, woman,” he swears.
I nearly laugh. “Who is blasphemous now?” Then, I put my hands on myself. I should be ashamed at how wet I’ve gotten just from teasing him like this. “Fine then. If you won’t give me what I want, I’ll have to give it to myself.”
His nostrils flare, the grip on his necklace making his knuckles white.
But he doesn’t tell me to stop.
I move my fingers lower, the sound of my wetness incredibly loud in the silence of the church. It’s hard to get purchase with the way my hands are bound together, but it’s all part of the show.
I arch my back, my hair flowing behind me like a sheet. I moan, my mouth open. I feel his eyes on me, on my face, my chest, my open legs. They burn like fire under his gaze, making my skin feel hot and tight and exposed.
“You could help me,” I whisper, staring up at the rafters. “You could help me in so many ways.”