Their Will be Done: A Dark New Adult Reverse Harem Romance (The Sinners of Saint Amos Book 2)

by Logan Fox

  I push away from the window sill and stalk back to the fire. Trinity the Wimp is yelling at me to stop, but I shove her in a mental closet and lock the fucking door.

  Wine sloshes over the rim of the glass when I rip it off the side table. I tip my head back and swallow it all down in one go. Then I pour myself another from the decanter.

  I even stare at Gabriel’s pack of cigarettes for a moment, wondering if they’d help suppress the sudden swell of immutable fury roaring through me, but I dismiss the thought.

  Weed. That’s what I need.

  I drain my glass, and press my hand to the back of my mouth as I pause, waiting for everything to come right back up again. It’s red wine—what a fucking mess that will make of this pretty carpet.

  A bitter laugh bursts out of me instead. I consider drinking straight from the decanter but then I remember I’m not a fucking animal so I pour myself another glass.

  “That’s enough, child.”

  I gasp in shock, spilling wine over my hand and—yup!—ruining the pretty fucking carpet. Spinning around, I stare at Gabriel with a slack mouth as he comes closer.

  He takes the glass from my hand and urges me into the chair before perching on the arm. His head dips as he massages the back of his eyelids and lets out a long sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I blink up at him, my hand reaching for him before I can snatch it away again.

  That doesn’t go unnoticed. Gabriel’s eyes latch onto my hand where I keep it pressed into a fist in my lap. The shadows on his face seem to deepen.

  “I’ll have to reschedule tonight’s dinner.”

  For a second, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

  “Oh, this?” I nod, licking my lips. “Yes, of course.” My tongue feels like it’s growing thicker inside my mouth. Starting to regret the wine now, even if it did put out the fire raging inside me.

  You can soak shit in alcohol, but ultimately that just sets the stage for a world-class explosion.

  “I know I allowed it, child, but you shouldn’t drink in excess. Or at your age.”

  Irritation flickers inside me, threatening to ignite my earlier anger.

  Yeah, and a celibate priest shouldn’t have condoms in his fucking drawer, but here we are.

  I think I’m going to puke.

  I stand, making contact with Gabriel on my way up. In an effort to veer away from him, I stumble over my own feet. If he hadn’t caught onto me, I’d probably have fallen into the hearth.

  His hand is on my hip. Strong fingers dig into my flesh.

  Into the drive hidden behind my underwear. He frowns, and moves his thumb over the device. I twist away from him, blinking furiously as I try to sober the fuck up.

  “I have to go,” I state, holding up a finger. “But can—may?—I use your bathroom first?”

  He frowns hard, and reaches for my hip again as he gets to his feet. “What is that?” he asks.

  “Bathroom!” I yelp out, and then hurry away from him. I saw another door leading off his bedroom—it’s either a walk-in closet for the hundred-plus clerical robes he needs, or it’s the bathroom.

  It turns out to be a bathroom.

  I slam the door shut behind me, and because of that I don’t make it to the toilet. Instead, I puke into the basin.

  This is a new record for me. The most I ever puked was that time Mrs. Brady undercooked the hot dogs at the church fete for handicapped people back when I was sixteen.

  I half-expect Gabriel to come inside and hold back my hair like Reuben did.

  But he doesn’t.

  I spend a few minutes making sure there’s nothing left to come out, and then a minute more splashing cold water on my face.

  Unfortunately, the purge did nothing to sober me up. I stumble out of the bathroom and have to hold onto the wall as I study the back of Gabriel’s head.

  He’s at the window, staring into the darkness.

  He turns his head a little, but then straightens again. “Do you need me to help you back to your room?”

  My spine stiffens.

  We need your help.

  “No,” I say icily, crossing my arms over my chest despite how that makes me sway. “I’m p’fectly fine.”

  Besides the slurring, of course.

  “I like to think I’m blameless, child.”

  It takes me a second to focus on him. “Wha’?”

  He sighs, closes the window and turns to face me. There’s a cigarette in his hand, and he drags at it till the coal glows red as Satan’s horns.

  “You asked if your parents were good people. And they are, Trinity. Truly…they are.”

  He walks up to me, a sad smile on his face. “But they’re not blameless, and neither am I.”

  His hand is on my shoulder. I don’t like it there, but I don’t want him to stop talking. “What are you sayin’?”

  He takes another long drag at his cigarette. Although he ducks his head to blow out the smoke, it piles up between us and still hits my nose. “Why did you go through my things?”

  My eyes widen. “I didn’t. I promise.”

  He looks to the side, drawing my gaze with his.

  The bag I’d shoved under the bed is on top of the mattress, contents spilled out. The laptop is open. Even from here, I can see the email program is open.

  It didn’t shut down properly.

  He knows I read the email.

  But is that all he knows?

  “I’m so sorry.” I press my hands to my face, trying to hide behind my fingers.

  “Shh,” he murmurs.

  An arm slides around my shoulder and draws me close.

  I shudder against him, my hands still covering my face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. I left before I could answer your questions.”

  He strokes my head and for some reason that’s all it takes for me to surrender. That, and the half a bottle of wine I’d guzzled before he got back.

  For a ridiculously sweet moment, nothing has changed. I’m sixteen, and I’ve just admitted that I don’t believe in God. At least, not in the same way my parents do. And Gabriel’s holding me, just like this, letting me sob into his shoulder.

  But the moment is only that—a single moment. Fragile as a wine glass. And it shatters as soon as he speaks.

  “I would ask you not to judge me, but—” his lips quirk into a smile that’s warm, but so fucking sad. “You’re a better person than I am, so you would have every right.”

  I lean back from him, my fingers sliding down my face. He cups my face with one hand, the other at his side, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingers. His touch causes my legs to lose their strength. I throw my arms over Gabriel’s shoulders, holding onto him to keep myself upright.

  “I drank too much,” I tell him.

  “I know, but this can’t wait anymore. If you don’t remember in the morning, then I’ll tell you again. I’ll keep telling you, until you find it in your heart to make sense of it.”

  His words are starting to run together.

  Shit! He’s about to lay some heavy fucking shit on me, but what. If. I. Don’t. Remember?

  “Tell me.” I grab the front of his shirt, tugging at him. “Tell me what you did.”

  Tell me about Zachary. About Reuben. Apollo.

  Tell me what the fuck you did to Cass.

  Tell me everything, you sick, perverted—

  “Trinity. Child. Look at me.” He uses his hand to lift my head. Then he grips my chin and squeezes. The brief pressure brings me back from lolling off into a violent booze-induced daydream where he’s crucified at the stake like Jesus, and the Brotherhood are the ones piercing him with spears.

  “I had an affair with your father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trinity

  I’m on hands and knees. Technically, elbows and knees. I’d staggered out of Gabriel’s room what feels like centuries ago, despite him begging me to stay and talk. I might have told him I was too drunk,
too pissed off, too over his shit to stay.

  I dunno. I just hope I didn’t swear too much. Feels wrong, swearing at a priest.

  That’s not important. This is important. I hold up the drive and study it with narrowed eyes. Have to give this back.

  But it doesn’t fit under the door.

  My plan failed because this stupid thing is too big.

  I slit my eyes and concentrate on wedging the slim drive beneath the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  I look up and then sit back on my haunches in front of Reuben like a puppy begging for treats. How’d he know I’d be here? Coincidence…or had he been following me?

  I hold up the drive. “Givin’ this back.”

  Reuben watches me for a second and then reaches past me to unlock his door. Grabbing my elbow, he hauls me up and drags me inside his room. The door closes silently behind us.

  I open up my hand, the drive on my palm. “Here.”

  Reuben barely touches me when he picks it up, and then immediately walks away. “What, no thank you?” I call after him.

  I frown and glance around his apartment as he disappears into his bedroom with the drive.

  I start nosing around again, but there’s not much to see. The single drawer by the coffee station has instant coffee sachets and spoons in it. The microwave is empty. There’s a cell phone charging next to the kettle, but when I try and turn it on, it asks for a pin. I try a few random numbers before a massive hand reaches around me, removes the phone from my fingers, and then wraps over my hand.

  “You’ve been drinking,” Reuben says.

  “And?”

  I flex my fingers inside his fist, marveling at how big it is. He could crush my hand without putting any real effort into it.

  I hope he doesn’t. I like my hand.

  “Why would you get drunk around him? Or have you forgotten how dangerous he is?”

  I laugh and arch into Reuben. “Hold me,” I say, and then try to maneuver his other arm around my waist. But it’s too heavy and unwieldy, especially since he’s not helping.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We spoke. He left.” I hold up a finger and glance at Reuben over my shoulder. “That was you guys, right? You did something? He shot right the fuck out of there. I had more than enough time to copy everything.”

  I have no idea if that’s the truth, but I’m not sure how long Reuben will let me hang around if he thinks I’m a failure. He might even send me back to Gabriel.

  I flinch at the thought.

  Never. I will never go back there. Never speak to him again.

  He had an affair with my father.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “It’s cold,” I say, and try to make myself stop. Then I turn around, ending up facing him with his arm around my waist, still holding my hand. “But you can keep me warm.”

  His eyes drop to my mouth, then my throat, then my breasts. Every place they pause, the skin there begins to pulse.

  “You can’t be here,” he says, releasing me and stepping back.

  I should leave. I know that. But I don’t want to be alone right now. Being alone would mean I’d have to replay all the shit that just happened, and in my current state, I don’t know what to do with that information.

  Then again, would I really be better off here? I feel safe around Reuben, but what if Cass or Zachary stop by? I already know I can barely fend off one of them…if they were to gang up on me—

  “You’re right,” I blurt out, pushing my curls out of my face as a wave of cold tingles washes over me.

  This is the last place I should be.

  There’s no safe place in Saint Amos anymore.

  Maybe there never was.

  I have to get out.

  Reuben turns to watch me when I walk past him. “Do you want to know what’s on the drive?”

  I pause mid-step and peer at him over my shoulder. “You—?” I point to his bedroom. “You found something?”

  He shakes his head. “We’ll only know tomorrow. But do you want to know what we find, if we find something?”

  It feels like a loaded question, and something I’m definitely not equipped to answer right now. So I err on the side of caution.

  “Sure. I mean, of course.” I nod and head back to the door.

  I open it.

  A hand slams down beside my head, closing it again. My spine stiffens like someone rammed a pole through my body. “What…what are you doing?”

  Suddenly I don’t feel that drunk anymore. Maybe it’s the adrenaline surging through me.

  “I didn’t know you liked Cass,” Reuben says.

  “I…”

  I don’t.

  For some reason, I can’t say it.

  But I don’t!

  Still, you enjoy what he does to you. The way it makes you feel. You’ve always loved the idea of being a sinner, haven’t you?

  “I’m not upset,” he says in the same monotone as before.

  Always so calm, so centered. Makes me wonder what it’s like when he loses control.

  Like you did with Cass.

  Shut up!

  “I should go,” I say again. “Probably can’t have anyone see me here.”

  “Do you still like me?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck. Fuck!

  I shiver when Reuben touches the side of my neck, but it’s just to draw a curl away from my ear.

  “So you can like more than one guy at a time?”

  No.

  Yes.

  Maybe?

  Trick question! I only like Reuben.

  Don’t I?

  What about Zach?

  Fuck.

  Well? What about him?

  “Do I have to?” I murmur, trying to find an easy way out.

  “Yes.” Reuben’s fingers trail down and then caress the ridge of my collarbones. That light touch sends a shiver through me.

  “Why?”

  “We’re too close. Have been for so long.”

  “If you really thought that, then you wouldn’t have kissed me.”

  He turns me around and gently grasps my chin. “Kisses mean nothing.” There’s a strange hitch in his voice that belies the words. Because he does like me, or because someone told him that a long time ago and he still believes it? “I like kissing girls.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh,” I murmur, heat slowly crawling up my face.

  Can I be more embarrassed? I thought Reuben genuinely liked me. But if it’s just something he gets a kick from…?

  Fuck it—he does like me.

  I’ll prove it.

  “Then kiss me,” I say. “Kiss me and tell me it doesn’t mean anything.”

  He cocks his head a little to the side, as if intrigued by my suggestion. Then he ducks, scoops me into his arms, and presses me against the door. Just like last time, my legs wrap around him like I’ve done this a thousand times before.

  Blasphemous little slut.

  I’m suddenly too aware of how close my core is to his body. Pressed to his stomach just above his belt, I can only imagine what it would feel like if he was to lift my skirt so the rough fabric of his jeans could rub against me.

  Damn it, I am a slut. Is this because Cass got me so hot and bothered earlier? Or is it because when I feel like this, I can’t think about other things? Horrible, confusing things.

  Maybe a little of both.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “That I want you to kiss me?” I frown at him. “Yes.”

  “I mean, are you sure you want to test me?”

  My frown deepens.

  He shifts his grip, pressing me harder against the door. Even through my skirt, that friction is enough to send a host of urgent signals through my body.

  Now every part of me is paying attention—from my lips to my nipples, to my center, to my fucking toes.

  “You shouldn’t treat this like a game, Trinity.” Reuben’s black eyes harden with the same intense deter
mination he’d worn the day we met. He traces the outline of one of my buttons and then starts popping them open.

  “You’re supposed to be kissing me,” I whisper.

  “I am,” he agrees calmly. “But you never said where.”

  Good God, now I’m picturing him kissing my breasts, drawing my nipples into his mouth and teasing each tight bud with his teeth. I start trembling internally. When I grab onto his shoulders, he pauses in his methodical work, his fingers in line with my nipples.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly.

  He lets out a soft, “Hmm,” as if he’s not one-hundred percent satisfied with my answer.

  God, this is torture. I’m tempted to ask him to hurry the fuck up.

  The last button pops open. He slides a hand behind my bodice and parts the two halves of my dress.

  But not all the way. Just enough so that I can see the edge of my bra when I glance down.

  Then he shifts his grip and holds onto me with one arm—one arm?—while he hunts around in his pocket for something. What is he looking for, a condom?

  I know where to find some.

  Did Gabriel sleep with my Dad? Well, he’d have to, probably, to consider it an affair.

  Dear Lord, I can’t handle this shit.

  I lean forward, my eyes fluttering closed, fully intending to kiss Reuben just to put an end to the sour thoughts filling my head.

  But he moves his head aside so I end up kissing his fucking ear.

  I huff impatiently and press the back of my head against the door, glaring up at him as he carries on rifling through his pocket.

  I cross my arms over my chest, moving my mouth to the side. “What are you looking for?”

  “This.”

  He lifts a red rosary. My hands fly to my chest, but I touch bare skin. “How did you—?”

  “You left it here.”

  My mind scurries back to the shower I took earlier today. “No I didn’t.”

  He says nothing.

  “I must have put it back on.”

  Still nothing.

  “I put it on top of my clothes. It would have been the first thing I saw.”

  He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “It must have fallen off.” I keep brushing my skin and then hold out my hand, palm up. “Whatever. Give it back.”