The Pope: Cards of Love

by Lovell, LP

  “So you’re both?”

  “No. I told you before. God tests us. Think of me as a trial on the path of life.”

  “Or a demon trying to lead people into sin.”

  His lips twitch. “Or that.”

  “By your theory, I think I failed my test.” I brush my fingertips over his full lips, so perfect, so kissable. “I’m going to hell.”

  He leans in, kissing below my ear. “I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”

  “Now you’re just stealing lines from Lewis Carol.” I laugh. “Were you religious…before?”

  “I didn’t find Jesus in prison, Delilah. That’s so cliché.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I don’t know the etiquette for going to prison and coming out a priest. Pretty sure that’s not normal.”

  “No, but it got me five years off my sentence.” Another smile. “How can anyone dispute that a priest has repented and changed his ways?”

  “Oh my God, you’re the devil.”

  A laugh bubbles up his throat. “It wasn’t hard. I spent years going to church, listening to bible verses and sermons. Ma made us read the good book before bed every night.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yep.”

  “But you’re still a priest now…”

  “The last thing I need is police looking at me too closely. The Kingsley name isn’t exactly clean.”

  “Wait, they know about you?”

  He snorts. “My father and uncle have run this city since the eighties. Everyone knows what we do, but no one can prove it. Even though my charges were nothing to do with the family business, they were still unwanted attention.”

  I nod. “And your cousin?”

  He meets my gaze. “Is fine. No one knows what happened to her.”

  “No one?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes hardening. “Her, me, him, and now you.”

  I swallow heavily. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to pry, I…”

  “I told you because I wanted to, Delilah. When I was arrested, they all looked at me like I was an animal. The Kingsley who beat a twenty-year-old kid into paralysis. And I never gave a shit. Never thought I would. Until you looked at me like that.”

  I chew my bottom lip, not sure what to say. “I’m under no illusions as to who you are, Judas, but you’re not an animal. I wish…I wish there were someone in my life who would go to such lengths for me. Your cousin is very lucky.”

  He brings my hand to his lips. “I would go to those lengths for you, Delilah.” My heart misses a vital beat before tripping into a loping gait again.

  His eyes meet mine, holding my gaze. Everything sits right there on his face, though no words are spoken. Some things are beyond words.

  20

  Judas

  I stand at the sink, brushing my teeth and staring in the fogged-over mirror at the perfection of Delilah’s form. She tosses her head back, allowing the water to caress her body. She’s like art. It’s been a week since she broke for me. Two weeks since everything changed, and each day she descends just a little further into my arms, further into the darkness — because the two are mutually inclusive. That person she once was is a fleeting memory, ever shrinking, and in her acceptance, she’s found peace. The chaos in her eyes has dimmed, and the sadness that used to define her is but a whisper in her mind. I love to watch her twist and writhe as she transforms from an innocent caterpillar into a butterfly on shadowy wings.

  Spitting in the sink, I rinse and walk out of the room before I’m tempted to get in that shower with her. We have work to do today.

  The shower cuts off, and a few seconds later she steps into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her. She eyes the garments on the bed, wrinkling her nose.

  “You got me workout clothes?”

  I knew she’d complain. “Just put them on.”

  “Don’t you have to go to church today?”

  “Day off.”

  “You have days off?”

  “Yes.”

  She frowns. “But you’re always there.”

  “Only for you.”

  “What do you mean?” she breathes. Ah, she gravely underestimates my obsession.

  I move behind her and sweep the wet hair from her neck, grazing her soft, milky skin with my fingertips. “So I could hear your confession.”

  She tilts her head to the side, allowing me to kiss her throat. “But why?”

  “Because I needed it. Because you needed it. Because you’ve always been my lost little lamb, just waiting to be found.” She turns in my arms, her eyes meeting mine. I sweep my fingers over the heated skin of her cheek. “Does that scare you?”

  “No,” she breathes. She likes it. I can see it in her eyes. She loves my obsession because it counters her own. We’re the reflection of each other — both standing at the glass, pressing our palms to it, trying to crawl inside the other.

  “All your sins are mine.”

  “Everything is yours, Judas.” Pushing up on tiptoes, she brushes her lips over mine, so gentle, so sweet.

  “Good. Now get dressed.”

  She groans. “I don’t do physical activity.”

  I trail my fingers up her thighs and under the towel, slowly parting it. “Well, that’s not true.” Her skin flushes, and I force my eyes to remain on her face as I graze my fingers over her stomach. “You can be very physical.” Her breath hitches, her lips parting, and when I lean in, she sways towards me like she’s drunk. “Get. Dressed,” I murmur against her ear.

  “You’re a horrible person.”

  “I’m aware,” I call as I walk out of the room.

  I’m sitting at the breakfast bar clutching a mug of coffee when she walks in. And damn, those leggings look good on her. For a girl who doesn’t do physical activity, she is blessed.

  I thrust a to-go coffee mug in her hand and stand, heading for the door. She wordlessly follows me all the way down to the gym in the basement of the building. No one ever uses it aside from me, and it’s empty.

  She glances around, wrinkling her nose. “Do you think I’m fat or something?”

  “No, I think you’re scared.” The look of disgust turns to confusion.

  “What?”

  “You’re scared of Nathaniel.” She swallows heavily, her shoulders becoming tense. She tries to stay at mine almost every night if she can, and though I know she’s every bit as consumed with this as I am, it’s not that. She’s scared that he’ll find her. At first, I was simply going to kill him, but, this is her demon, and only she can slay it. “Why are you scared?”

  “Because you can’t always be there, Judas.”

  “My name alone should be enough to protect you, but Nathaniel…this is about more than business for him. So, I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself.”

  She shuffles awkwardly on her feet. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

  I smile. “I’ll go easy on you, little lamb. Basics: eyes, throat, crotch. Hit any of them, and then you run.”

  I show her, and her brows knit together in concentration as she copies everything I do. She’s a tiny little thing, but after an hour or so, she’s really quite good.

  I dive towards her, and she swerves, bringing her fist to my throat with more force than I was expecting. I cough, and her face goes pale.

  “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

  I laugh. “You don’t apologise for getting me, Delilah.”

  I step back, and to the left, she intuitively counters to the right, like an enchanted snake dancing to my tune. She gets me three more times before we stop.

  “Now I have something for you.”

  I slide my hand into the pocket of my tracksuit bottoms and take out the knife that I bought for her. Initially, it looks inconspicuous. Only the handle is visible, made of ornate wood and inlaid with silver. When I pull the blade out, her eyes widen.

  “You want me to carry a knife?”

  “It’ll make you feel better.”

  She
cautiously takes it from me, staring at the small blade in her hand. “Do you really think Nate will come after me?” she whispers.

  “I think you should always be prepared. Now—” I take her hand, folding the blade away. “I’m going to come at you. Instead of avoiding me, step into it, pull me close and thrust the knife toward my stomach.”

  We do it again, and again, and again until I see that little light in her eye, the lust for power; the willingness to draw blood.

  “Good.” I kiss her forehead, inhaling the scent of vanilla, mixed with her sweat.

  “Thank you,” she breathes, lifting her chin and glancing up at me through those endless lashes. Her mouth presses to mine, lingering long enough to make my fingers tighten on her waist and wrench her forward. My tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, and she moans like the little demon she is, enticing me beyond the realms of control.

  Ah, my sordid sinner. She’s intoxicating. I’ll willingly bury myself in her and call it salvation.

  * * *

  I stand outside the church with that fake smile plastered on my face, the same way I do every Sunday. The parishioners all file past me, shaking my hand and smiling as though God himself is touching them.

  “Judas.” I turn at the sound of the distinctive Irish accent barking my name. I instinctively cringe like I’m in trouble.

  My mother marches up to me, her pale pink dress and cream lace jacket making her look more like she’s attending a wedding than church.

  “Ma, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  She yanks me into a hug and kisses my cheek, no doubt leaving her pink lipstick on my cheek. Her grey-streaked red hair is a mass of curls that are always completely wild, no matter what she does. I can’t imagine my mother ever looking truly put together. It wouldn’t suit her. Dad always jokes that her hair was the Lord’s warning that she’s mental.

  “Well, you’d know if ya ever picked up ya phone,” she snaps. “Haven’t heard a dickie bird in weeks.”

  “I’ve been busy.” With Delilah.

  She narrows her eyes. “Aye, doing the devil’s work.” Here we go. “I don’t know how you can serve the Lord Almighty in one breath and feed the devil with the next.” She shakes her head in disappointment, and I want to bash my head against the nearest wall.

  “Ma, why don’t you go inside and take a seat? I didn’t reserve one though because I didn’t know you were coming.” She lifts her chin and strolls past me into the church. I know she’s about to kick some old lady off the front pew without an ounce of shame.

  Sure enough, when I get up on the pulpit, there’s my mother, pride of place, right in the front.

  “The Lord be with you,” I say.

  There’s the groaning of the hinges as the huge church door opens. I’m surprised to see Delilah slip through and take a seat in the back pew. She’s wearing a scarlet red dress, and I smile. I remember the first time she came to mass in her little yellow dress, looking like sunshine and innocence. She’s changed, morphed. Now she sits there like the little sinner she is in blood red, as though she were the Devil’s own personal representative. There’s an air around her, the shameful confidence of a sinner who does not seek forgiveness. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.

  I go through the motions of Mass, reading prayers and sermons. Finally, it’s time for communion. I opt to do the bread again because I don’t want Father Daniel’s fingers anywhere near Delilah’s mouth. My mother is the first one, of course, shouldering everyone else out of the way. She falls to her knees in front of me, bowing her head reverently.

  “The body of Christ.” I place the bread on her tongue, and she takes it, crossing herself.

  “Amen.”

  Then she’s up and heading for the wine. Her favourite part.

  The entire congregation passes by, and exactly the same as before, Delilah waits until the very end.

  “Get on your knee’s, little lamb,” I whisper. A wry smile pulls at her lips, and she falls to her knees easily, keeping her eyes fixed on my feet. “Look at me.” She looks up through her lashes, so pretty, so devious. “Open.” Her lips part and my cock twitches in response. I place the bread on her tongue, and she closes her lips around my fingers, her teeth scraping the pad of my thumb before her tongue swipes over it. My cock turns to stone, and I fight back a groan.

  “I think you’re supposed to say something,” she prompts with a smug smirk.

  “The body of Christ,” I grate out.

  “Amen.”

  She stands up, her head bowed, everything about her appearing suddenly demure. Fuck. It’s a good job these robes hide everything.

  I hurry through the rest of the service, my eyes continually straying to Delilah. By the time I’m finished, I’m ready to toss everyone out and lock the doors.

  People linger outside the church, and Father Daniels goes out to play friendly neighbourhood priest. He actually is though. I spot my mother talking to Mrs Jones, no doubt about their book club. Dad says all they do is drink wine and read porn. That’s got to be worth at least three Hail Marys.

  I should go out there, but Delilah is still sitting on that back pew, one leg crossed over the other as she reads one of the bibles. I move to the end of her pew and stop.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looks up. “Waiting for you.”

  Grabbing her hand, I tug her to her feet. I force myself to release her and place a hand on her back as I walk towards the rear of the church. Just in case anyone is looking. As soon as I get her in the office, she’s shoved up against the door.

  “You think it’s funny to give me a hard-on in church?”

  Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip, and she shoves her chest forward until it brushes against me. “I did what you told me. Got on my knees, looked at you, opened my mouth…”

  Grabbing her waist, I tug her away from the door and throw her down on the desk. Her dress rides up, showing the black lace of her underwear. She pushes up onto her hands, bringing her lips to mine.

  “I missed you,” she breathes against my mouth.

  “I fucking missed you.” I had to take a couple of days and meet with new distributors. I almost took her with me because even though it’s been weeks, I don’t trust that Nathaniel or his bosses won’t make a move. However, as much as I long to corrupt, Delilah, I don’t wish to make her known to anyone who may be seeking a weakness. She doesn’t need to be in my world.

  She kisses me, her lips soft and warm, compliant and willing. My fingers go to her hair as her palms cup my jaw. And then a throat clears behind me.

  Tearing away from Delilah, I turn around, standing in front of her and blocking her from view. My mother stands there with a raised eyebrow and her arms folded over her chest.

  “Fucking hell, Ma. You couldn’t have knocked?”

  “Judas Moses Kingsley, you wash that blasphemy out of your mouth.” There’s a snort of laughter behind me before it cuts off. “Why would I knock? Not like I expect the priest to be in here fornicating.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s me. Your expectations should be low.”

  She tries to peer around me to Delilah. “You shouldn’t be taking advantage of some poor lass.”

  I groan and toss my head back, praying for strength. Stepping aside, I reveal Delilah, hoping to God that her skirt is no longer up around her hips. “Ma, this is Delilah.”

  Delilah sits on the desk, one leg crossed over the other. Her cheeks stained a deep red as she smiles shyly at my mother. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ma offers her a smile, no, that smile; the ‘I’m a good Catholic, and I’ll save you from my heathen son smile. “You seem like a nice lass. Young. Pretty.” She flashes me a judgemental look like I just kidnapped a virgin for a satanic sacrifice. “I love my boy, but if I were you, I’d steer clear.”

  “Ma!”

  “He may be a man of God, and he’s a good boy, but he’s a helpless sinner.”

  Fuck me. Really? “She’s aware. Now, I’ll call yo
u.” I kiss her cheek and shuffle her towards the door.

  “No, come for dinner this evening!”

  “I’ll call you.” I slam the door and brace my back against it. Delilah erupts in laughter. “Yeah, laugh it up.”

  “I don’t know whether to be mortified or amused. She’s great.”

  Fucking hell, if there’s one thing that never needed to happen, it was for Delilah to meet my mother or any of my family.

  21

  Delilah

  Days seem to blend into weeks, and life takes on a new normal. I work at Fire. I go to uni. I see Judas, and he’s become more of a salvation than I could ever have predicted. He’s not a band-aid anymore, he’s become the very cells that knit together and seal all my wounds. He’s part of me, so ingrained that to lose him would be like tearing my heart from my body and willing it to still beat. He makes me embrace myself and let go of all the things I was clinging to, all the things that made feel like I wasn’t good enough. I’ve accepted that maybe I’m not good. It terrifies me every bit as much as it thrills me.

  I step out of the back room at Fire with a fresh bottle of vodka. As soon as I open the door into the main club, the music pounds through my body, vibrating my bones. The tiny leather shorts I’m wearing ride up my arse, and I’m conscious of the lingering stares aimed my way. Judas hates it. He’s tried to make me work in the office, or just cover up more, but there’s a reason the VIP girls earn so much money. He knows it as well, hence why he has them wear the outfits in the first place.

  The bouncers at the bottom of the stairs part, allowing me through to the VIP bar. I open the bottle and clip a sparkler to the top, lighting it. As soon as I walk over to the table, there’s a cheer of applause from the rowdy guys that I’ve been serving all night. They’re obnoxious, but they’ve already tipped several hundred tonight, and there’s still hours before close.