The Pope: Cards of Love
Page 20
“I know.”
“And now look at you. You’re drowning in sin, like an angel of death.” His lips brush over mine. “I simply handed you retribution. I had faith in you.” I reach up, scratching my nails over his neck. He’s right. “And now everything is perfect. We’re perfect.”
He kisses me, slow and deep, stirring my emotions back to life before he pulls away.
“Wait here.” I frown as I watch him climb from the bed and disappear. A few seconds later he comes back with something clutched in his hand. When he opens his palm, I simply stare at the small knife sitting there.
“Judas?”
“Take the sin, little lamb. Wear it.”
“I thought it was to mar your body so as not to mar your soul? What if I want my soul marred?”
“That’s Saint. I think of mine as an external representation of my soul. I don’t hide what I am. I embrace it.” I take the knife from his palm, and he perches on the edge of the bed, watching me intently. “Consider it a wedding present from you to me, little lamb.”
“What?”
“I love you, little lamb.” I suck in a sharp breath. “You’re my perfect other half. Mine in every way, and I will profess it before God himself. Marry me.”
And how could I say no? Why would I? I’m his: mind, body, heart and soul. He owns every fibre of me. He made me, created me — moulded me. I trust him with everything that I am.
I place the knife in his hand and grab his wrist, tugging it close to my chest. The point of the knife pricks against my skin.
“Yes. I’ll marry you, Judas. Now cut me.” And he does, dragging the knife over my skin, carving himself onto my body like a brand that I’ll never escape.
Epilogue
SAINT
Glancing at my watch, I let out a heavy breath and ascend the steps of St Mary’s church.
I have no idea why I’ve been summoned, and I wouldn’t be here if the request had come from anyone but Mother. Walking down the aisle, I see Mother, my father and Judas all huddled together in front of the Virgin.
“What is the meaning of this?” I ask.
They all look at me, but it’s Mother who rushes forward, pulling me into an embrace that I don’t return. Of all my family, she’s the only one I have a true fondness for. She is righteous, a devout Catholic, blessed in the eyes of God. My father and brother are sinners, and Judas is the worst of them all, mocking the church, shitting on all that it stands for. Preaching the word of God while sinning under his very roof.
“Judas has an announcement to make.” She’s smiling like she’s just won the lottery, and there’s only one thing I can think of that would make her happy like that — the possibility of grandchildren.
“I’m getting married,” Judas says, and Mother squeals, flapping her hands around and getting teary.
I hold Judas’s gaze, staring him down until I watch him squirm. “And who, pray tell is the unfortunate woman?” Though, of course, I don’t need to ask. I turn at the sound of footsteps over the stone floor of the church.
A woman steps through the door, the sunlight spilling around her like a holy apparition. As she moves further inside, I see a cream dress, not white, that stops just above her knees. Dark hair tumbles around her shoulders in soft waves, contrasting with pale skin. She’s pretty. Delilah Thomas. Of course, I know exactly who she is. I wouldn’t ask my brother to kill her, and then not look into every sordid inch of her pathetic life. She’s a nobody. Average in every way. Another blonde girl trails behind her, smiling at everyone and ducking into a pew on the other side of the aisle.
Delilah looks at my brother, and her eyes get that glaze to them. She’s like a crack whore just looking for a hit. I smile. Oh, he’s good. He’s got her tangled up so tightly she thinks he’s God himself. Yes, I can see the sins clinging to her like a cloak. She reeks of Judas’s blasphemy.
When I look at my brother, his gaze swings to me, a smug smile pulling at his lips. And I wonder. She’s his sin, my kill for him to make. But there are rules, exceptions, family being one. So he’s going to marry her to save her? How sweet. How pathetic. Not to mention pointless. Why?
She reaches him and takes his hand. Another priest steps out from somewhere, and I take a seat on the pew next to my mother. She hiccups, wiping at tears as they repeat vows to each other. I watch intently; the way Judas looks at her as he professes to love and cherish her. Oh, this is too good. He actually loves her. I wasn’t sure my brother was capable — after all, we are so very much alike. He’s weak for her.
And so like her namesake, Delilah who cut off Samson’s hair and stole his strength, she is his weakness. Interesting.
“Oh.” Mother clutches at her chest as they kiss. “I’m so happy for him. She’ll make an honest man out of him.”
“Do you even know the girl?”
“She seems very sweet, Saint. Now be nice.”
I don’t know why she wastes her breath, or why she thinks such requests will be heeded. She knows better by now. Standing up, Mother rushes forward as soon as Judas and Delilah pull apart. She pulls the girl into a hug and Father shakes Judas hand. Then my brother is strolling towards me, that smug grin still in place.
“She’s supposed to be dead,” I say.
“Yes, but now she’s family.”
I almost respect him for it. Almost. “Well played.” I step closer to him, dropping my voice. “But now you owe me two sins.”
“You can only have one…”
“I’m changing the rules.” He opens his mouth to speak, no doubt to tell me I can’t. “And I can. Tread carefully, brother. You have a weak spot now.” I nod towards Delilah who is lingering next to my mother still. Judas’s jaw tenses, and I smile. “Two sins, brother. Enjoy your honeymoon. I’ll be by soon to seal that second debt in blood.”
His eyes meet mine, a tentative truce passing between us. He has no idea. He owes me, and I intend to cash in.
THE END
THE SAINT
Saint is coming!! And he’s available for pre-order HERE. Keep reading for an excerpt…
I thought I knew exactly who I was. Until I fell for a man with no soul, and gave him mine…
EXCERPT
Epilogue
Saint
The heavy scent of wood polish, incense and dust wraps around me, bringing me a rare sense of peace and familiarity. “Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
There’s a heavy sigh from the other side of the lattice divider followed by a pause. “Son, you’ve been here every day for the last four days. There is only so much forgiveness you can be given. It’s not accumulative.”
But I need it to be. I need some divine intervention. “I didn’t tell you my sin.”
“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world—”
“I killed a man.” Silence. “I killed him because he hurt her.”
I count eight heavy heartbeats thrumming against my ribs before he answers. “And do you repent?” Father Maxwell asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He sees me, I know it. For the first time, he truly see’s the monster that I keep leashed. I’m no longer just the strange boy who has come to his church for the last thirty years, or even the mysterious and unsettling man he’s come to know. That niggling feeling of danger he gets when he’s near me, the one he’s always told himself is so irrational finally all makes sense. I’m a killer, a sinner, a predator living amongst his prey. I can almost hear it all clicking into place in his mind.
“No,” I answer truthfully. “I’m not sorry that I killed him.” I feel nothing, only the troubling disappointment that God will judge me and finally see the truth. That I am so very wrong, that without his guidance, I would have unleashed all my dark urges on his children a long time ago. I walk the fine line between despising people and fearing that I will go to hell for my very nature. Bad boys go to hell, my mothers voice whispers in my ear.
I hear the priest take a shaky breath. �
��Then you cannot be truly absolved of sin.”
“I’m destined for the fires of hell,” I murmur.
He takes a shaky breath, the sound like a gun shot in the silence of the confessional. “Unless you truly repent in your soul.”
Pushing to my feet, I grab the curtain, pausing for a moment. “I have no soul.”
And without a soul, what do heaven or hell really matter?
* * *
For news and reminders on new releases, sign up to my newsletter HERE.
27
Absolution
If you’re feeling brave and want some more taboo, religious, fucked up obsession, then Absolution is right up your street. Be warned, it is VERY dark.
Evie
All sins are equal in the eyes of God, but I'm not God. One sinner made me his sin, and I can't let men like him live. I want to kill them. Every. Last. One.
Ezra James is no different. I was going to kill him, but then I found myself obsessed and possessed in the most reverent of ways. I became his sinner, and he became my sin, but the wages of sin is death, so I must kill him.
Ezra
The son of a whore, raised by criminals, molded to fit into a world without morals. I've never given a shit about anything until the night I watched a man drop dead at the feet of my little killer. She called to my depravity, and everything in me demanded that I take her, possess her, own her. Some monsters hide behind the faces of angels.
Damned. Broken. Irredeemable.
Through blood, absolution shall be found.
* * *
HATE ME
If you liked The Pope, you may like Hate Me. Available in KU HERE. Keep reading for an excerpt.
I'm a criminal. A businessman. A cartel boss.
She’s a favor. Collateral. A pretty slave.
I have no interest in her beyond keeping her alive for the man who now owns her. And yet…I’m fascinated by the little Russian. There is no room for weakness in my world, but it appears the delicate rose has steel petals. I’m willing to bleed for a willing touch, a trusting glance…
A broken little bird. The big bad wolf. A longing that could heal or destroy.
Hate me or hold me?
EXCERPT
My office door slams open without warning, and I look up, glaring at whoever the fuck would come in here without knocking.
A very naked Anna limps in, her eyes feral as they land on me. She’s clawing at her already reddened arms, her entire body shaking.
“Anna?” I push to my feet, moving towards her.
“I need…”
I tilt my head to the side, watching her trembling form. What happened to the emotionless little robot? She’s a mess.
“What do you need?”
“Just one line,” she begs. And so she comes to me, her icy façade shattering to cold powder before my eyes. “Please, Rafael. I’ll do anything.” She drops to her knees in front of me, and then her hands are on my belt. “This is what you want isn’t it?” she snarls, yanking at the leather.
“Fuck, Anna.” I grab her wrists in one hand, stilling her. She looks up at me, wide blue eyes so fucking innocent, full lips that look like they were made for sucking dick. I can picture her staring up at me just like that as I fuck her mouth. Shit. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and swallow a groan as my cock rises to attention. God, this is screwed up, even by my standards. Disgust rises in my throat; at myself, at her, at the entire damn situation Nero has put me in.
I glance down at her and know that this is someone’s daughter, lover, sister. At some point, I know this was probably my sister, begging a faceless man to give her drugs in exchange for her last shred of dignity. I drop to a crouch in front of Anna, and she just breaks, buckling in my hold. I end up on the floor, my back pressed against the wall and sweet Anna clutched against my chest.
She keeps scratching over her already raw arms, and I grasp her wrists, pulling them tight over her body. “Please,” she begs.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“I need to forget.” She lightly thumps her forehead to my chest. “I can’t do this. One line,” she cries.
“No.” I take her chin and force her to look at me. Her eyes are distant and unfocused, filled with a kind of horror I will never know. “Look at me,” I order gently. She slowly focuses on my face. “Snap out of it. You have no choice but to do this.”
“I remember everything,” she whimpers, closing her eyes.
“Look at me,” I order again, trying to keep her here with me. Those bright blue eyes meet mine, and fuck, she slays me without ever even knowing it. “Choose whether you want to be a victim or a survivor.”
She shakes her head frantically, tears pooling in her eyes. I pull her closer, and she rests her cheek against my chest, spilling warm tears onto my shirt. I refuse to let her pull away for what feels like hours until I hear her breathing even out and she falls asleep against me. I glance down at her and catch sight of a tattoo on her hip and another on the inside of her wrist. Numbers. Slave numbers. She’s been through three different owners, which is rare for a girl as beautiful as her. The men who buy slaves like pretty possessions often do not like selling them to another because money is irrelevant, it’s the ownership. They’d rather kill them when they’re done than allow another to have them.
Cards of Love
The Pope is just one of the many stories in the Cards of Love Collection. Which card will you choose next?
https://www.cardsofloveromance.com/
Afterword
Thank you for reading!
Without you, all of this would be pointless. So thank you for one-clicking. Thank you for reading my work, and thank you for being awesome.
I hope you liked the book!
If you would be amazingly kind and leave a review, I would be so grateful. Leg humps would be owed.
Acknowledgments
Behind every book is a team of people who helped bring it to life. There are so many people to thank for helping me with The Pope.
First off, Kerry Fletcher. Girl, you put up with so much. You’re like, part PA, part mother and part super hero. I love you!
Autumn Gantz, you’re amazing. I’m so glad I found you.
And on that note, Kerry, Jen and Autumn, you are the best betas ever. Thank you!
Lori Jackson, thank you for designing this amazing cover.
Claire Allmendinger of Bare Naked Words, thank you for your vigilant editing.
Stevie...what can I say? I love you, whore. Here’s to many more years of our weird soul mate, marriage juju we got going.
There are so many blogs and individuals who have helped me along the way and you are all hugely appreciated. SO to anyone who ever reads, shares on social media or leaves review, thank you!
About the Author
Sign up to LP Lovell and Stevie J. Cole’s newsletter and stay up to date: Join the Mailing List
Lauren Lovell is a ginger from England. She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and
apologise for afterwards. She's a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be
suffering from slight peen envy.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lplovellauthor
Twitter: @Authorlplovell
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7850247.LP_L ovell
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/LP- Lovell/e/B00NDZ61P
Other books
She Who Dares series:
Besieged #1 Conquered #2 Surrendered #3 Ruined #4
Wrong Series:
Wrong #1 Wrath #2 Wire #3 War #4
Kiss of Death Series:
Make Me #0.5 Kill Me #1 Kiss Me #2
Collateral Series:
Hate Me #1 Hold Me #2 Have Me #3
War Series:
War Poppy
War Hope
Bad Series:
Bad #1 Dirty #2
Standalone:
Absolution
High
The Game
Tiger Shark