by K. Webster
It’s enough.
One tiny kernel of trust.
ONE TINY KERNEL of trust.
That’s all I have to give, but it’s enough. After all we’ve been through—all the lies she’s spouted—this one little spark of trust seems huge.
There’s more to Lovenia than what she’s ever given me. Until last night, I’d never seen this side of her. I’ll peel away these layers that hide the person I want to get to know.
An hour later almost on the dot, I’m waiting for her in the HEL lobby. The elevators open, and out steps the most beautiful vision. Today, she’s chosen a short, pale-pink sundress that makes her tan skin look like melted caramel. Her long, smooth legs stretch out as she walks toward me, her wedge-heeled sandals make a clacking noise. My eyes drag back up her curvy body and momentarily stop at her full breasts, which are barely housed in her tiny dress. Her neck is bare, and I have the urge to press kisses along it. Normally, she wears her sexy hair in long waves down her back, but today, she’s pulled it back into a sleek ponytail.
I know what she’s doing.
She’s trying to look innocent.
Too bad I’m onto her game and won’t be played anymore. But the priest? That’s another story.
“Ready?” she asks with a purr when she reaches me. The woman from earlier is gone, and the Lovenia I’m used to is protecting her in full force.
She adjusts the collar on my polo shirt. This. What she’s doing right now is all part of her game.
“There. All better,” she smiles.
Before I stepped out of my suite earlier, there was nothing wrong with my collar, so I don’t smile back. “Cut the crap, Love. Remember? Trust?”
Her eyes flicker, her false bravado wavering. It’s enough for me to pounce on. Snaking my arm around her waist, I haul her to me, smashing her tits against my chest. She yelps out, but when I dip my lips to her ear, the noise dies in her throat.
“Me and you, babe. Leave the liar at home when you’re with me. Got it?” I say, into her ear.
Her body shudders at my touch. She’s no longer in control over what goes on between us. I’m calling the shots now.
When I barely graze my bottom lip over the lobe of her ear, her breath rushes out. She smells so goddamned good right now that I’m close to tugging her into a dark corner of this lobby and doing nasty things to her.
Very nasty things.
“Are we clear, Love?”
She nods, but she seems to be at a loss for words at the moment. Even though my now-hard dick hates me for it, I gently push her away from me. With a flourish of my hand toward the door, I gesture for her to lead the way.
“Great. Now, by all means, gorgeous, take me to the man who can help,” I tell her.
She flutters her eyelashes a few times as if to clear her head and saunters off in front of me. The woman is putting on a damn good show—that ass swaying seductively. But I see the slight rigidness in her movements. I can sense her unsureness. Love has always behaved a certain way around me, and I’m beginning to learn what a farce it was before with her. Now that I’m onto her, we’ll start to unravel how much of that was the real her and how much wasn’t.
We hail a cab and ride a few miles to a bar. Despite being lunchtime, the place looks dead. She tosses some cash at the cab driver, and we get out to walk inside. Something about the seedy joint causes my hackles to rise, so I put a palm on the small of her back. If anything weird happens, I want her close.
After we make it inside the dark, dingy bar, my eyes scan the area to look for any threats. The place is empty aside from an older bartender with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches a game on a small television behind the bar.
“Be with you in a second,” he greets gruffly.
When Love starts walking toward a booth in the back, I realize we aren’t the only ones here. Clouds of smoke billow from the table. I can only see the back of the man’s shoulder, but I’m stunned once I figure out who it is.
Love reaches him before I do, and she bends down to hug him. I’m rewarded with a fucking fabulous view of her nice, round ass in the process. My cock thickens as it fondly remembers sliding between those plump cheeks while I banged her from behind.
She scoots into the booth across from him as I am left staring at the man.
Pallas.
My old boss.
“Omega, my son. So good to see you again.” He grins with his cigar wiggling in his mouth as he talks.
Nodding, I sit down beside Love and raise my brow at him in question. “Good to see you again too, I think.” I’m not sure what the fuck is going on right now, but I don’t like it. That much I do know.
“Bring another round, Zeb. And one for each of my friends as well,” he orders to the grumpy bartender, who grunts in response.
I keep my eyes trained on Pallas. He appears to be confident like usual. But my trust these days is zilch. When I was taken by Luc and Corson to be escorted to HEL Enterprises, I never even got to say so much as a goodbye to Pallas. Now, things just feel awkward—he knows I failed and I know he was disappointed.
“So, Omega. Love told me that you two have a new assignment. Together,” he declares.
My eyes flicker over to hers and find the woman from last night. No attempts to be a lying seductress. No walls. Just her. And with her hair pulled back and those brown eyes innocently peering back at me, I want to haul her to me and kiss the top of her head while never letting go of her. Instead, I raise an eyebrow in question.
“It’s okay. We can trust him,” she says.
I trust her—the other woman.
Nodding, I turn back to Pallas. “Yeah. Luc wants us to mess around with one of the good—one an SG protects.”
“Well, you can’t do that, Omega. You know that, right? That goes against the rules of what our companies do.”
I shrug my shoulders at him. “And if I don’t obey Luc, the man I work for…then what? I have no desires to bake in his fucking horror closet.”
“Language, son,” Pallas growls, reminding me of old times.
I ignore the familiar ache in my chest.
“Now, I didn’t say you had to disobey him, but maybe there are some alternatives,” he mutters as the bartender deposits our drinks before rushing back over to his game on television.
“Alternatives? Why should we help you?” I question.
Pallas’s gaze flickers over to Lovenia, who fidgets in her seat. Instinctively, I slide a hand over her bare thigh. She stills at my touch, and goose bumps scatter over her flesh.
“Because, despite what our companies do or what capacity you work for within them, one thing remains the same,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. “It all boils down to good versus evil. And regardless of your following rules or not, your soul is either pure, compassionate, and full of love or it is hateful, vengeful, and unredeemable.”
Something niggles within me—hope.
“Go on,” I grunt.
My shoulders are tense, but the moment Love’s hand covers mine, I relax. She’s putting cracks in my armored heart one chink at a time. And dammit if I’m not the one handing her the ax.
“My point is, son, that, no matter the company you work for, you are either good or bad. You, Omega, are good,” he says pointedly. “And so is Love.”
Disbelief rushes through me, but the idea of Love having some sort of true goodness within her floods my being with happiness. My gut tells me that there is more to her, more than she has ever let on, and I will die yanking it all out of that inner hidey-hole she keeps contained so well.
“I hate it there,” I groan and rub my free hand through my curls. I may have women galore, but I have never felt so lonely in my entire existence. Now that I’m finally speaking to Love again, something begins threading itself through my soul. The blackness is being chased into the darkness, and light fills me there instead.
“I know you do. And one day, perhaps, we can find a way to change the course of things. However, in
the meantime, you cannot lose yourself to his demands. He will ask you to do unforgiveable things, yet you must not heed his direction. Everyone over at HEA is working tirelessly on some inner corruption. And now, with Luc changing the rules and not giving a crap about his role at his company, we have to cover all angles,” he growls. “The lines are blurred between both sides. They clearly have people sneaking around at HEA, and we have our own ways that give us insight into HEL Enterprises. So now, more than ever, it is important to embrace not your job title, but your inner self.”
His words rattle around in my brain.
Could I have hope of one day leaving the hell I work in?
Does good still reside within me? Within Love?
“How do we not corrupt the priest?” I blurt, the exasperation causing my voice to raise a few octaves. “Luc wants full daily reports on our progress.”
Pallas narrows his eyes at me and puffs on his cigar. He exhales the smoke with his answer. “The Seraph Guardian that watches the priest is one of the men I trained. His name is Bosefus, and he’s a good friend of mine. You will find a way to work together, I am sure. In the meantime, I will continue to bleed information from the contacts I trust.”
This assignment sounds like a fucking nightmare, but I’d much rather help Pallas than let that goddamned monster, Luc, fuck shit up like he wants to.
“You have contacts in HEL?” I ask.
Lovenia chuckles beside me.
Pallas winks. “Son, I have two sitting right in front of me. Don’t you think I might have a few more?”
My old boss has always had a way with people—from both sides—so it doesn’t surprise me. He’s a good guy, and I miss the hell out of him.
“Point taken,” I agree with a smile, but then it falls. “What happens should we fail? What happens if Luc finds out we’re going against everything he’s ordered us to do?”
The thought terrifies me to death.
And worse yet, I hate to think what he could do to Love. I squeeze her thigh once more. The heat from between her legs warms my pinky, and I struggle to focus on Pallas when all I can think about is the fact that another half inch and I could be owning her pussy with one finger.
Pallas’s face turns white at my question, which shocks me, considering he’s always red-faced. Lovenia swallows loudly.
“Omega,” he growls, “he cannot find out and you cannot fail. Words can’t express what would happen should he find out. Let’s just say that it would be the worst possible thing you could ever imagine and multiply that by a billion. Please, son, do not fail.”
Considering I’ve failed him once, I shudder at his words.
Will I fail him again?
WILL I FAIL him again?
I peer into the mirror and gaze upon my reflection. She stares back at me—Lillian. The thought of failing Omega slices my heart in two. A ragged breath escapes me, and I blink tears away as I attempt to put my game face on. I may look like Lillian, but I cannot let her out of her safe place. Too much is at stake.
We’ve made it to the church and are ready to begin our task—a task that involves double-crossing the Devil and not getting caught. It’s important that I remain the feisty Lovenia in order to keep focused and on task. Having Omega here with me is going to cause more trouble than good, but the trade-off is that I draw strength from him. He is a double-edged sword I would gladly impale myself upon.
“Everything okay?” Omega questions with a rap on the bathroom door.
We’re supposed to meet with Father Owen in a short while. He’s the one from our files—the one we’re supposed to corrupt. And according to the files, he’s just short of being an absolute saint.
But I know better.
The ones with the best résumés and track records are the ones to watch out for. For some of the best men are harboring horrible secrets. I take a deep, cleansing breath to push away bad memories that are bubbling to the surface and fling the door open. On the other side, Omega is breathtaking in his new clothing.
His black collarino fits his muscular chest well, and the buttons appear as if they may pop off at any moment. The white collar sewn into the shirt indicates he is a man of clergy. But the way his black pants hug his solid thighs is utterly sinful.
Omega, with his inky curls situated all over his head and his glare that drips with sex, should be banned from a fifty-mile radius of this church. Heat floods my skin, but I’m quickly stolen right from the present and plopped into my horrific past.
“Father Paul,” I murmur as I peek into his office, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but one of the children is ill with a high fever. I think you should come check on him.”
One of the children is sitting in his lap and his arm is hooked around his middle. The boy’s eyes are darting around wildly, almost begging for me to help him, but I don’t understand why.
“What have I told you about bursting in unannounced, sister?” Father Paul questions with a bite in his voice.
Never once has he been anything but sweet to me since my arrival last month. I don’t understand his tone.
“Colton, I think our lesson is over for today. But if you continue to push Sister Agatha’s buttons, we’ll have another lesson. Understood?” he asks the little boy in a tone that chills me to my bones.
Relief washes over the boy’s features as he slides out of his lap and runs around the side of the desk. Before he reaches the door, he throws his arms around me and hugs me. This, right here, is why I stay and serve the church. The children are all angels, and I want to love them all.
“Close the door behind you,” Father Paul barks at the little boy.
The child scurries off, and the door clicks closed behind me with his exit. Suddenly, I fear I’m in trouble.
“I’m sorry for not knocking,” I say as he rises and makes his way over to me. “I was just worried about the…” My words die in my throat as he nears me.
The rage rippling from him is nearly suffocating. I don’t understand what’s come over him.
Inches from my face, he glowers at me. “Do you know what I do to those who disobey my instructions?”
Tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. “Give them a lesson?” I gasp, remembering his words from moments ago.
His laugh is harsh as he takes a step toward me, our chests nearly touching. Just a month ago, I would have wished for the handsome man to kiss me. Now, however, I’m terrified. Something isn’t right with him, and I can feel it.
When his hand seizes my throat, I gape at him, struggling to remove his hand.
“That is correct, Lillian. And you, dear sister, interrupted a lesson. So you shall have double the punishment.”
Punishment? “What are you going to do?” I choke out through my tears.
His green eyes glow with lust, and I clench my thighs together. I fear I’m not going to like this one bit. He releases his grip and smashes a brutal kiss on my lips. I’m stunned and immobile as he bruises my lips with his.
When he wrenches away, I cry out.
“Over there. Bend over the desk,” he spits out, his chest heaving. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth as if my taste disgusts him.
“Why?” I cower away from him but only find the wall behind me.
“Sister, bend over the desk now. If you keep delaying the inevitable, I will only increase the amount of whippings I dole out.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “You’re going to whip me?”
As he begins unbuckling his black belt, a shiver of fear runs down my spine. “Yes, and the longer you hesitate, the more lashes I will give.” His voice leaves no room for negotiation.
“But, I—”
“Now!”
I’m shocked but take wobbly steps toward the desk. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong, and I certainly don’t understand how whipping me is going to correct my mistake. When he yanks his belt from the loops of his pants, a swooshing noise fills the air. I’m dizzy with fear but continue stumbling over to
it.
I start to argue again and cast a glance his way, but he stalks over to me with a murderous glare that renders me speechless. He pushes me roughly over the desk, smashing my nose against the mahogany.
“Ah!” Blood begins to pour from my nose.
His hands find the fabric near the bottom of my habit and he shoves it over my bottom.
“No, please!” I beg, choking through my tears and the blood coming from my nose.
“Too late, sister. Time for your punishment.”
Cold air chills my exposed flesh. When he slides my panties down toward my knees, I scream. Then he yanks them the rest of the way off, and the next moment, he silences my shouts with them by shoving them into my mouth.
Was this the punishment he was going to make the young boy endure?
The thought infects my veins, and hate for the man palming my bottom surges through me. I fight to stand back up, but his strong hand holds me firm against the desk.
Please, God, help me!
I’m praying one moment, and the next, I hear the swoosh through the air. An agonizing instant later, pain slices across the cheek of my butt.
He hit me with the belt!
Squirming and kicking, I struggle to no avail. The man is stronger than I am, and I’m completely under his control. When another slash strikes me, I black out. I’m not sure for how long, but the moment the next hit comes, it drags me back out from under whatever unconsciousness I was attempting to hide in.
He hits and hits me until I lose all sense of reality.
It isn’t until he speaks that I am yanked back into the moment.
“Sister, that’s enough. Lie still while I tend to your bottom.” His words are soft, but I don’t respond.
I lie bent over the desk gasping for air.
Soon, the sting of a cream that smells like menthol spreads over my bottom.
“Your white flesh is angry and mottled—it will take some time for this to heal. Why did you cross me, Lillian?”
I sob but have no answers—not that I could speak anyway with my panties in my mouth.
“Don’t interrupt me again, sister, for next time will be much worse.” His threat sinks its way deep into my bones, and I ache from it.