Page 62 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“Bene.”

She backs up. Dominic glances at me to check on my safety, I presume. But he’s the one who’s bleeding from his nose. He turns his attention to Raven and flattens his lips, nostrils flared. Two steps and he’s at his hanging Versace jacket, pulling out a white handkerchief, then offering it to Raven.

She glares at him.

He gestures with the handkerchief at her nose, but she whacks it away. “Get that out of my face.”

“Raven,” I say. “You’re bleeding, babe.”

Dominic calmly raises his hand—slowly—and swipes his thumb over her upper lip. It comes away red.

He holds it before her. “Now we bleed together.”

“Fuck this shit.” Raven snatches his handkerchief and stalks to the door. “I’m out.”

“Tawny,” I say, dusting myself off. “Go see if she’s okay.”

She tosses a disgruntled look my way but follows Raven. I stare after them for a beat, but I don’t think they’ll keep fighting. Tawny is like me when she snaps … maybe worse if I’m honest. At least with my violence, you can see it coming. I’m normally a horny, dissatisfied monster irritating everyone around me in an obvious way, which is why I try to keep that beast fed. I’m not sure what placates Tawny’s beast.

Sighing, I turn back to the Saint and find him back on his chair, still only in his boxer shorts, looking at his hands, at Raven’s blood mixed with his.

“You really believe that?” I switch to Italian so he’s comfortable. “That we’re the same? Sinners and Saints?”

He nods. “Now, yes.”

“But not when you arrived?”

“No.” A small smile touches his lips. “Then I thought the same as the others.”

“You believe the prophecy? That you’re fated to one of us?”

His smile drops. He sighs and rests his head back against the wall, looking down at me through long lashes. “Yes.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that.” His jaw clenches, and his brows knit together. “Have you spoken with Cisco yet?”

Cisco. They don’t call him Father often. “Not yet.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?”

He levels a look at me. “You should trust him.”

I scoff. “Have you been talking to him?”

About me?

He grows serious in a way I don’t like to see on his face. It makes me nervous.

“What?” I prompt.

“Ask Cisco.”

I step toward the door, then stop. “Answer me this last question, and you’re free to go.”

“Okay.”