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Prologue
Deacon
It was almost midnight, and the House of Saints was quiet and still. No doubt some of the pledges were in their room quietly studying for one test or another, but no one was wandering the halls or getting a snack in the kitchen or watching the late show in the living room.
I glanced at Brook lying beside me in her bed. Beautiful with her tousled blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, she was the image of pure innocence.
After Bishop’s unexpected departure, we’d had an impromptu tutoring session that had ended up going on for hours. Hot, heavy, sexy, crude and at times downright vulgar... just the way she liked it.
“Where did you learn to fuck like such a god,” she’d said as her gaze danced across my chest. “You know just how to drive me crazy and make me want you more and more.”
Her words were enough to get me hard again, get me wanting her again. My body ached for her, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Even though I knew how wrong she was for me... I just had to have her again and again.
“With Rector and Bishop gone,” she’d said after one particularly raucous fuck. “Should I be worried about you deserting me, too?”
I’d smiled lovingly at her. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be leaving the House of Saints any time soon.”
Looking at her now, so peaceful and angelic as she lay there, I wondered just how far she would push this ruse. The innocent, sweet, and loving saint?
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my clothes and left her bedroom, heading out into the hall to get dressed.
With my shoes in my hand, I tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door. Only then did I put my shoes on.
The campus was completely deserted. The cool night air and moonless night didn’t invite many outdoors.
Walking briskly, I headed to my destination. I reached the door and listened. All was quiet inside and only a dim light in the entrance was on.
The building was large and appealing, with tall white columns reminiscent of another era. Potted plants lined the porch adding a certain hominess.
Not bothering to knock, I opened the door and headed inside. From the next room, the sound of liquid being poured into a glass reached my ears.
I followed the sound and stood in the doorway of a dark paneled room furnished with dark leather armchairs. The fragrant scent of good cigars assailed my nostrils.
“Deacon,” Dex said as he looked up at me. “Come in. Come in. I was beginning to wonder when you’d show up.”
“Come,” Oliver said, indicating the leather, throne-like seat in the corner of the candlelit room.
