Page 11 of West Bound
“I fear it’s going to take a little bit to get the chill off completely, but the shower and tea helped. Are you cold?” She’s bundled up with a wool blanket draped over her shoulders as she walks toward me with the tea. Thank fuck. The last thing I need is to see her in some sort of nightgown. I’m getting to the point I might find her bare ankle enough. Speaking of…
“Understandable. How’s the ankle?” I ask as I take a few small sips of the tea to test the temperature.
“Sore, but I don’t think it’s broken or anything. Maybe a little sprained.” She presses her lips together and looks at it doubtfully.
“Good. Those branches are dangerous. Biting when you least expect them.” I try my best awkward humor, attempting to play the role I’m assigned instead of slipping into the real version of myself. I’m tired, bone-deep exhausted really, and it’s hard to stay in character right now. I take another long sip of the tea, hoping it’s caffeinated, and it’ll help keep me awake a little while longer.
“As is the lake, apparently. I’m so sorry that happened. I’m so clumsy, and I just wasn’t thinking out there. I should have been more careful. You’re a hero for going in after me. I’ll be sure to tell everyone that tomorrow.” She gives me a soft smile, and my eyes are drawn to her lips again. They’re so beautiful. A perfect shade of rosy pink; the cupid’s bow like the arches of two stainedglass windows side by side, kissing each other just as they meet in the middle. Like we might have. The urge to kiss her returns. I have to close my eyes to shut it out. I take another swallow of the tea to buy myself time before I set it aside on the small nightstand.
“You don’t have to do that.” I try to reassure her. I’d rather not give the rest of the nuns fodder for gossip about us. It’ll hurt my mission. “I’m sure you’d rather not tell them details any—” A yawn breaks my explanation.
A wave of tiredness comes over me with the weight of a tsunami. I have to struggle to keep my eyes open, and I blink rapidly to try to clear it, yawning wide again and pressing my fist to my mouth to cover it.
“It was a long day.” She gives me a worried look. “Did you want some more tea?” She holds up the thermos in her hand.
“Yes. I can’t believe how tired I am. It's hitting me out of nowhere.” I’m annoyed with myself. Tonight is the perfect chance to have a heart-to-heart with her. We’re completely alone in a way we rarely ever are, and she’s vulnerable. Grateful too. I want to press some of the questions I’ve been meaning to ask about her past before the convent. I just need to be awake enough to ask them without making it feel like a sloppy interrogation.
“In case you want more.” She pours me another cupful and sets the thermos beside it.
I don’t notice the nervous tremble of her hand and the careful way she studies my face until I’ve already downed the second cup.
“You’re cleverer than I took you for,” I manage to mumble before everything goes black.
SEVEN
Zephyrine
Our position is awkward.He's lying on my bed, each arm sprawled out in the direction I tied it, and I'm straddling his lap as I look over the tattoo on his neck. I had a suspicion, one that wouldn’t stop haunting me in the shower, but I needed more evidence to confirm it. This was the only way.
My eyes follow the curve of the horseshoe down as it dips under his collar. I catch a peek of more just below it. I slip my fingers under the material to get a better look, lifting it until I see the hint of other tattoos down his chest. They might have more answers about who Father Levi is. Maybe he has entirely valid reasons for his tattoos, a life before he committed to his vows, but I need to know what story they tell. If he’s even a Father at all, or if the tingling nerves at the back of my neck that I can’t seem to shake are warning me about danger instead of attraction.
These little peeks of skin won’t do. I’ll have to strip him down, and the faster I work, the better. In an ideal world, I'd have him untied and tucked in with an alibi when he wakes up. Iplan to tell him he passed out from exhaustion. I’ll say I just let him sleep it off not wanting to disturb him after his heroic effort. A tinge of guilt slips over me for repaying him this way. But I need answers.
My fingers work over the buttons, still slower than usual but with none of the egregious trouble I had before. The further down the shirt I go, the easier it is, and the more of his privacy I feel like I’m invading. I’d been curious, even imagined what he might look like with his shirt off in the wee hours of the morning. But even my wildest dreams hadn’t been this creative.
He’s a work of art—even more beautiful in sleep where I can take it all in. The sharp curves of his cheek and jaw, the scruff shadowing the valleys of his face, his thick lashes covering his normally strikingly pale blue-green eyes, and his lush, full lips are pressed together in sleep-bound silence. His neck contracts as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, and it draws my eyes down over his throat and chest, back to the tattoos and the job I’m supposed to be doing.
Undressing a priest. I don’t know what I did to get myself in this position.
That’s not true. I know exactly what I did. I was born into the wrong family, and with it, I inherited the mess that is my family, for better or worse, with all the consequences of a politician for a father who will do anything to ensure he stays in power for as long as humanly possible. In my former life, I agreed to be whoever and whatever he needed me to be. There was a time when I was young that I even wanted to live up to that family name, make him and my mother proud of more than just my brothers. At least until the convent changed everything.
But as I sit here, I can’t help but feel like I’ve absolutely lost the plot at this moment in my life. The black-and-white truth of what I’m doing stares back at me. Me, months away from final vows as a nun if things go my way, with a priest wedged betweenher thighs, tied up on her bed while she undresses him after she poisoned him. A man who may very well be innocent.
But I don’t have time to question my morality or my ethics right now. I only have time to act. Because if I’m right, and he’s not a priest, I have a precious few minutes to find out who he is and do something about it. I get back to the work of undoing his shirt. I make easy work of revealing more skin with each slip of a button from its hole.
Until I push the fabric aside. My fingers stop. My heart skips. There’s a thick, raised scar, one that starts in the middle of his chest and spreads out in both directions.
It’s a brand. He’s beenbrandedlike he’s cattle. It’s well healed, and the ridges are a pale pink, just a few shades off his regular skin tone. The trauma was something he experienced years ago, but I can’t imagine the pain it must have caused. The weeks, maybe months of healing. I hold my breath as I touch it. My fingers trace the edge where the skin is glossier and smoother, following the soft borders of the healed wound.
“Who did this to you?” I ask out loud, looking up at him while he’s still unconscious but steadily breathing. The rise and fall of his chest brings the ridges up to the pads of my fingers and then drops them away again.
I study the brand, pulling back from my close-up view. There are distinct letters. ABand twoRsthat merge together to form what looks like an upside-down cattle skull. I spent summers in cattle country, but I grew up in the city. I have no idea what ranch it represents. But I know it does. If I can find that out, I can likely find out where Father Levi came from, and with it, more information about his past.
I pull my phone from under the mattresses. It’s a burner I keep for emergencies. Considering I lost my real phone in the lake and have a man tied up in my bed, I feel like this counts. Ibarely get to bring up the search for cattle brands before I stop dead in my tracks.
I hear a low groan that’s barely audible, followed by the sound of Father Levi licking his lips. There’s a deep sigh, and I look up just in time to watch his tongue dart out and run over his lush lower lip.
Lord, help me.
