Page 41 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
Shock kept Bishop from lashing out in retaliation—as did the grim line of King’s mouth. He understood before King said it.
“That’s for fucking around with my little brother,” King snarled in a low, dangerous voice, “when you were supposed to be protecting him.”
They’d been friends for too damned long for him to deny it. “How did you know?”
King shot him a glare full of “duh, dumbass.” “Because only one bed has been slept in, and there’s a basket of soiled sheets in the bathroom. It’s simple math, Bishop. How could you?”
“It wasn’t just me. We both made a choice.”
“He’s a fucking priest!”
The phrasing made Bishop’s lips twitch with inappropriate humor. The pilot’s voice on speaker told them to sit and buckle up, so Bishop didn’t get to reply for several minutes, not until the plane was rising smoothly into the sky. “Kensley hated being in the Order. He told me so more than once. He was miserable and stifled, and he…admitted to having feelings for me since he was a teenager.”
King glared. “So, you took advantage of a teenage crush?”
“Fuck no. He came onto me more than once, but I…you don’t know the man he is now, King. You only know an image of him.I got to know him, to see all the passion locked up inside of him, and before you punch me again, I don’t just mean sexual passion. I mean his joy and his desperation to express himself. To do more than church services two nights a week and four on Sunday, and eating bland meals over and over. You should have seen his face the first time I cooked him a real steak dinner.”
King’s anger seemed to shift into mild interest, but he was still clutching the arms of his seat, which was across the narrow aisle from Bishop’s. “It’s a mortal sin to defile a member of the Order.”
Bishop rolled his eyes. “You don’t believe that bullshit any more than I do, and even if it is a sin? I don’t care. I felt something real and all-consuming with Kensley. I truly believe we are a predestined charum pair. Kensley is my charus. My soulmate.”
King opened and closed his mouth several times, his face an epic contortion of confusion and awe. “That’s just a myth.”
“No, the church says it’s a myth, so they can force omegas and alphas into loyal service to them. To not question their authority, and to push aside their own sexual desires. It’s about control, King. And Kensley finally freed himself from it. I love him. It is killing me knowing he’s suffering right now.”
“I believe you. You’ve never lied to me, and I can’t imagine you lying about something this enormous.” He swallowed hard. “Does Kens feel the same way?”
“Yes. We’ve never said ‘I love you’ to each other, but we’ve shown it. We’ve felt it. I need him back.”
“Okay. I mean, I’m still pissed at you for fucking my little brother, period, but I understand. And I don’t regret asking you to protect him. You were always the exact right choice.”
“Thank you.” He warily eyeballed his best friend. “So, are you going to punch me again? Or are we square?”
“We’re square. Unless a thorough examination of the security tapes shows you slacking in any way tonight, we’re square.”
Bishop felt slightly queasy at the idea that there might be tape of all the other things he and Kensley had done inside that house. “Um, what about the other footage?”
“We’ll scrub it, I promise. I’ll make sure Ziggy scrubs it.”
“Thank you.” Not that Bishop thought King would want his brother’s intimate moments released as some salacious sex tape, but it helped to hear it. He rested his hand over his bandaged chest, beyond grateful that Kensley had bought that specific pendant, and that he’d made the chord that specific length. Without it, he’d be dead.
He’d cheated death for a second time in two years.
He looked out the window but couldn’t see the dark ocean below, not even with the light of what should have been a half moon. It was as if the clouds had enveloped the plane, like fury and fear had enveloped Bishop’s heart. But he wouldn’t give in to the fear; he couldn’t. Fury, he could work with. Fury would fuel him.
“So home?” Bishop said to the window.
“Home. We need to be ready to launch a rescue as soon as we find out where Kensley is.” King spoke with so much certainty that Bishop nearly believed it.
He certainly hoped, for all their sakes, but he didn’t quite believe it. Not yet.
There were too many powerful people acting behind the scenes, too many moving parts to see everything clearly. But Bishop knew one thing for damned sure, as he searched the horizon for any sign of the ocean he’d joyfully swam in with Kensley: he’d bring his charus back safely, or he’d die trying.
ELEVEN
Awareness stolethrough Kensley as so many things became clear: him on his back, head and shoulders slightly reclined on something not terribly soft; strong antiseptic smells that hurt his nose; something beeping at a steady rate; his dry mouth with a weird taste in it. Nothing like the beach house or even the abbey.
He tried to open his eyes, but they were tacky and dry, and when he attempted to raise his left hand, it was yanked back down by something clasped to his wrist. Alarm jolted Kensley harder toward consciousness, and he forced his eyelids apart. He didn’t recognize the ivory walls, lack of windows, or single closed door. It could have been a closet or a room in a submarine, for all he knew.
