Page 12 of West Bound
I’m distracted by it, and I can’t afford to be. The pull this man has on me, despite everything that should stand between us, it's like he knows me. Like he can see past the blushing innocent facade I try to keep up around here, to the parts of me that are still left over from my past life. A flash of how close we were before I fell to my near-watery grave. The dare in his eyes. I shake my head.
Maybe I couldn’t handle this investigation on my own. I might need to call for backup, see if someone can come here and help me deal with him. Assuming it is what I think it is, and he’s not some innocent priest. I want him to be. But too many puzzle pieces about him weren’t fitting right. And if I’m wrong about him, things could get complicated fast. Way more than I can handle as just one little old nun. But who would I even call to help me?
No. I can’t think like that. I made it this far.I can handle this.I’m a little rusty from life at the convent. It’s worn down my sharper edges, but I can absolutely put them back to rights. I was a Schaefer. This was supposed to be its one benefit. The ruthlessness. I can handle one man. I’m not about to let some cattle hand who’s escaped the pasture and wandered too far from home put all my hard work to waste.
I can’t, and I won’t.
His lashes flutter, and I ditch the phone, quickly tucking it back under the mattress and shoving the corner of the comforterback down. There’s another soft groan, and he starts to reach for his forehead before the rope stops his movement.
“Fuck…” He lets out a low curse.
Fuck is right. Definitely not a priest. How could I have been so dense not to see it?
His lashes flutter faster, and he tugs on the binds again. Then he rolls his hips until he’s restricted by my weight. He wiggles underneath me. But I don’t budge. He’s not at full strength yet, still too dazed to be formidable, and my thighs hold him in place.
“What the fuck?” He groans, and his lids slowly slide open, blinking and trying to focus on me before his eyes dart over to one of the restraints around his wrist. I hope the knots hold. I was in such a panicked hurry; I don’t know if I tied them tight enough.
There’s another roll of his hips, like he’s absently testing to see if he can buck the weight of whatever’s on him, and I press my hands to his chest to keep from being thrown to one side or the other. It unnerves him. The muscle in his jaw ticks in response. His focus drifts back to me, slower than it should, thanks to the drugs. He tries to make out my form through what I assume must be bleary vision, given the way his lashes flutter irregularly under his glasses.
“Fucking hell is this? What are you doing?” he grumbles.
He says it almost like he recognizes me and is perplexed by the fact that I’m straddling him. He shifts underneath me again, and this time he’s stronger. I lose my purchase on his chest, slipping back slightly and square onto…
Oh hell. He's enjoying this a little too much.
I can’t think about that right now.
“Who are you?” I ask sharply.
“Sister Mary?” he mumbles. His eyes go to where our bodies meet, and his brow slowly rises higher. “What are you doing?” The accusation lies thick in his tone.
“Tell me who you are. I know you’re not a priest,FatherLevi.”
That gets his attention. His body goes rigid for a moment, and then it’s like a switch flips. He’s trying hard to clear the fog now. Blinking and shifting. Tugging on the binds around his wrist. Trying to sit up while I press down on his chest, my nails biting into this skin.
“Did you tie me up?” He asks a question that has an obvious answer. “And take my clothes off?” An even more obvious answer as we both stare down at his bare chest.
“You seem to like it well enough,” I taunt him, blustering my way through this with more confidence than I have.
I need him to believe it though. He doesn’t know that I’m out of practice and a little too soft to deal with a problem like him on my own right now. I should have run the second I realized he wasn’t a priest. But now I’m committed.
His brows slam down, and his mouth twists. His hips shift upward, and if his hands weren’t occupied, I know he’d have them wrapped around my throat by now. A thought that sends a flutter of fear and awareness through my body.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“What are you fucking doing here?” I snap back.
The curse sends his brow skyward again before it slants back down, and a wry smile appears. His wits are back. He studies me for a long, silent moment.
“Mask off then?Good.It’s about time. Nice to finally fucking meet you,Zephyrine.”He says my name like it burns his tongue, and the fact that he knows it confirms just how much danger I’m in.
“What do you want?” I sound scared even to my ears.
“You’re doing all this, and you don’t know what I want?” He’s amused. He’s tied up and pinned down, and it’s amusing to him.He has zero interest in taking me seriously now, and it makes my mind run wild with panic.
“I can call the abbess. Report you for impersonation. You won’t like the consequences.” I try a threat in the absence of any real power in this situation.
“What will she do? Give me a stern talking-to? Tell me I’m not welcome back here to enjoy the stiff mattresses and the ice-cold showers?”
