Sancte Diaboli

Bishop stops outside the door. “So many fucking memories in here. I almost don’t want to open the door.”

“Bishop, I can sleep at home.”

He spins around. “You don’t get it.” He steps forward, touching my cheek. I lean into his grasp. “This should have been your home all along, but because of who you are, you were deprived of that, just like Madison was. I can’t allow it to happen again. How Hector runs shit, is not how I will be.”

I touch his hand with mine. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, releasing his grip on my cheek and leaning against the front door. “Hector has always only taken care of The Kings. The men. The legacies. He has always seen women as disposable. He had no problem dealing with death, no matter the age or gender.”

“Sounds like a great father.”

Bishop scoffs, leaning his head back against the glass. I won’t push for him to open it. He’s obviously delaying it. “The fucking best.” His tone drips with sarcasm.

“And you?” I ask, leaning against one of the pillars. “How will you run it?”

His eyes come to mine. “I will take care of everyone and their families.”

“And what about the others who aren’t tied to The Elite Kings?”

He pauses, and I watch as a dark cloud shifts over his eyes. Goosebumps break out over my spine. “They’re not my problem. My people will always come first. A civilian means less than shit to me.”

“So, Hector with civilians, and Bishop with The Kings?” I chuckle, but roll my lips between my teeth to stop from laughing too loudly.

He glares at me, before a sly smirk crawls onto his mouth. “Smartass.” He stands, his hand on the doorknob. “Get this fucking over with.” He pushes through and we make our way inside. It’s immaculate. With stairs that lead up to a second loft level, a modern kitchen and living space, and all the finest furnishings.

“It’s beautiful.”

Bishop laughs. “Not likely. Don’t eat off the tables. Cocaine and weed stain every inch of this joint.” He points upstairs. “I’m joking. Mom keeps it tidy. Bathroom and bedroom are upstairs. I’ll go grab your clothes.”

I head upstairs as instructed and scrub through the large shower, before finding my bags on the end of the bed and changing. My heart settles in my chest. I can feel Bishop all through this space. Madison, too.

Bishop enters, jumping onto the bed. “I take the gavel tomorrow.”

I dry my hair with the towel, before ru

He kicks off his shoes and flicks a silver Zippo between his fingers. “Yeah, fuck, I am. I think I’m ready.” His eyes come to mine, a deep sparkle inside of them.

“Well,” I say, pulling back the sheets and sliding beneath them. “I hate to say it, but I’d be worried if you weren’t, since it’s tomorrow.”

He laughs. “Your dress will be here when you wake up. Mom chose it. She has good taste.”

My mouth widens as I yawn. “Brantley told me he kills people.” Sleep weighs on my eyes as I struggle to keep them open. “Is that true?”

Bishop turns to face me. “That’s probably putting it lightly.” I wanted to find a lie in Brantley’s truth, but I should have known better.

“You’re all bad people.”

“The worst,” Bishop whispers, and it echoes through my mind, sticking to the fibers inside my brain.

“So how come I don’t see it?”

There’s a long stretch of silence. “Because you’re not a civilian.”

“You see, don’t you? You see it as clear as day, yet you ignore all of the signs…” The voice was a high-pitched scream, so forceful and urgent. Her face. Pale. Blood-red lips. Fire hydrant hair. Angry brown eyes. She smirked through the dark, while laughter cackled in the background. “Now you’re going to die. I’ll leave you with that.”

I shoot up from the bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Foreign bed, white wallpaper, mirror on the ceiling. Bishop’s room.

I’m alone, with nothing but the sound of the AC blasting through the room. It’s dark. So dark. Dark enough to have me urgently seeking out the light switch. I reach aimlessly for switches on the wall as I walk around the room. Hands are on my mouth, and I jolt in shock. My shoulders relax when I recognize his energy.

His mouth is on my neck. “I need you.” He scrapes his teeth across the curve of my shoulder. “But you might not survive it.”

I turn my head, the fire in my belly spreading between my thighs. “I don’t care.”

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of my pants, his fingers teasing the upper edge, over my pelvic bone. His other hand comes to the front of my throat as he tips my head backward and runs one finger down the chambers of my throat. “I need this open…”

I stretch my mouth wide for him. When he picks me up by my feet and throws me onto the bed, the covers melt around my body. I can’t see a thing, with the light completely cut off. He tugs off the cover and I lift, allowing him to toss it wherever he does. His hands are on my knees, stretching me wide, and I prop up onto my elbows, my chest rising and falling with anticipation. The warmth from his lips grazes my i

A small moan slips from between my lips when he sinks his teeth into me. “Shit.”

His tongue circles the wound before he trails across and over my middle, where I ache for him most. I’m tossing and turning when his tongue flicks over my clit. His hand that was holding down my thigh is now over my lower belly.

He presses down. “Keep still.”

I groan, fisting the sheets in my hand while arching my back off the mattress. “Can’t.”

He chuckles, and it vibrates through his lips and slaps me across my clit. “Try.” His mouth covers me completely, his tongue pressing against my most sensitive area. Slick, hard and wet, he licks me over and over until the fire that is in my belly explodes and spreads throughout my body, embers dancing at the backs of my eyes.

Finally he lets go, and I hear his belt and jeans fall to the floor before he’s hovering over my body. I reach up, but I can’t find him.

“Turn the light on,” I say through heavy breaths.

“You don’t want to see me right now.”

“Lies,” I whisper, finally finding the back of his neck. I pull him down on top of me, and instead of fighting it like I expected him to, his nose grazes mine. “I’ll take you however I can get you.”

His lips are on mine, his tongue swiping inside of my mouth and I raise my hips to his. The tip of his cock presses against my entrance, but he doesn’t stop kissing me. When his hips thrust forward and every inch of him is filling me to the hilt, he bites down on my lower lip and pulls back. “Fuck, Saint…”

I wrap my legs around his waist, not wanting him any farther away from me than he has been. I need to be completely occupied with him. Overwhelmed with the emotions that are ru

He snaps, his thrusts becoming urgent, fast. He drives into me until I feel him hit the tip of my cervix. I cry out, but he catches the words with his mouth, and his tongue is back inside mine.

Leaning up, he draws out of me, lifting me by my hips and flipping me onto my stomach. He wraps my hair in his fist and tugs on it roughly, until the skin on my throat flexes. “Up.”

I press my knees into the mattress as he runs his hand over the edge of my spine. “Fuck. I need to see this.” He grabs his phone and turns the flashlight on.