Page 91 of Hotter 'N Hell

He looked angry. Why was he mad? I just wanted my effing martini.

“Yeah, Princess, here you go. Drink up,” he said, handing it to me.

“Thank you, Gathe,” I said, taking it, then pressing a kiss to his cheek.

When I sat up straight, the two guys were in a silent stare-off with each other. Were we playing a game? Why didn’t I get asked to play?

Than broke first, and his gaze swung to me.

“You lost!” I cried.

He frowned slightly. “So, the priest broke up with you?” he asked.

I laughed.Broke up with me. HA!

“You can’t break up with someone you aren’t dating. He is a priest. Can’t date. He can’t fuck either, but we sure did a lot of that. Not anymore. He shut me out. Decided he was done with me.” I shook my head. “And me”—I pointed my glass at myself—“my dumbass told him I loved him. Yep. He didn’t say it back. And I just kept on having sex with him. Seeing him. Doing our sneaking around. I am pathetic.” I took a drink, disgusted with myself.

“When did he end things?” Gathe asked.

I ate an olive.

“Friday. I mean, I didn’t know until Sunday. Because I am naive and desperate.” I glanced down at Gathe’s hand, which was in a tight fist on the table. “Hey, your knuckles are white. You okay?” I asked. “Oh no, I did it again. I’m being self-centered. All about me. Blab, blab, blab, and you’re upset about something. I’m a terrible friend. But I’m gonna be better. I swear it. What happened? Tell me. I’m here for you.”

Gathe’s eyes softened, but his jaw remained clenched. “I’m fine,” he replied.

I looked back at my drink, concentrating so I didn’t spill it.

Gathe grabbed my chin and turned my head back around to him. “Saylor, you are not self-centered. You have a big heart. You are fierce and loyal. There is nothing wrong with you. Stop saying there is. That’s what pisses me off.”

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears.

Gathe took the drink from my hand and put it on the table, then put his arm behind me before guiding my head to rest on his chest. His fingers played with my hair, and I closed my eyes. It felt nice.

“You’re special. No one gets to make you feel otherwise,” Gathe said.

“I’m damaged,” I muttered. I was. It had to be what was wrong. I reached to touch the necklace I couldn’t bring myself to takeoff.

“You are perfect,” Gathe said.

“Don’-say-that.” My words ran together as the weight of sleep started to pull at me. “S’-not-true.”

Thirty-Seven

Jude

The knock on my door had me shooting off the sofa and running to answer. It was after three in the morning, and sleep still was impossible. Unless someone was dead, there was only one person who would show up at this time of night. My heart raced in my chest as I unlocked the bolt, needing to touch her, bring her inside, talk to her.

When the door swung open, it wasn’t Saylor. I held the door, my hand tightening on the wood. Was she okay? If something had happened to her—no, no. Terror started to take root as I looked from one man to the other. Had they come to tell me something that would shatter me in a way that no collar or vow could save?

“Hello, Jude.” Gathe said my name as if it was a nasty taste in his mouth he’d need to spit out. “Seems you made a grave mistake.”

My gaze swung to the other guy. Than, the guy she’d once called a cousin who changed the locks. His cold, level stare held mine, and then he glanced at Gathe.

A sharp pain crashed through my head before the world went dark.

Throbbing in my head as I tried to open my eyes tore a groan from me.

“Ah, good. He’s coming around,” a deep voice said in the distance. Or maybe it was closer. I couldn’t be sure with the thumping against my skull that felt like something was trying to split it open.