Page 2 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
Why does it look like he'd rather fill me with something else?
Stop staring at me like that.
I look up at him through my lashes. He’s standing one step above me on the dais and it makes his imposing form that much taller, casting a long shadow behind me.
"A nun," he repeats, his low, easy voice making me shiver. "That's a drastic life choice for two in the morning, Miss ..."
"Petrova," I blurt out my real name, because there's no way a guy like this would know who I really am, all the shit I'm wrapped up in. “Natalia Petrova.” Oddly enough, his eyes seem to get a bit wider, his mouth tightening. But the only people who should recognize my name are the ones at the party I just left. Hell, I didn't just leave: I fled for my life. I can’t return to that world. Not now. Not ever.
"You're soaking wet," the man rumbles, letting out a long sigh.
At first, I think he's making a pass at me and my mouth falls open in shock, but fuck. I've been hanging around the wrong people for too long. Of course he's not. No, he's right. I really am soaked to the bone. I didn't even realize it was raining outside. That's how messed up I am right now.
But after what I just witnessed, could anyone really blame me?
The grizzly scenes of my father’s actions flash across my memory, and I shudder.
"Come with me and I'll get you a towel and a change of clothes, something warm to drink."
The man turns and leads the way behind the dais and to a small door. I hesitate for a moment before following after him. The life I've led thus far, it's proved to me that following strange men into back rooms is a bad fucking idea. A really goddamn bad idea. But there are other worshippers here, other priests. And it's a church, right?
"Okay," I whisper, feeling exhausted. Adrenaline and fear got me this far, but those emotions are fading fast, so I follow, ready to collapse. The priest leads me into a small foyer with a set of stairs and several other doors leading off of it.
"I'm Hawke, by the way," he rumbles, glancing over his shoulder as we continue on into a cozy little kitchen. "And this is Colt."
The man in question snaps his green gaze up to mine and takes me in ... appreciatively? I thought priests were supposed to take vows of celibacy.
"This is Natalia Petrova," he says with a certain level of emphasis that makes me raise my brows. "And she wants to become a nun."
"A nun? With that body?" Colt says, and I feel my lips part in shock.
"Excuse me?" I exclaim as Hawke spears him with this look that clearly says shut the fuck up, you moron.
What the hell have I stumbled into? These guys are not normal priests.
"Right. Uh, I mean with a body of sin," Colt continues, awkwardly backtracking and I feel myself take a small step back. This guy with the bright green eyes and the sandy hair looks even less like a priest than the first one. "All people have bodies full of sin until they enter the confessional," he continues, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. Doesn’t sound like he knows shit about his own religion, to be honest.
"My apologies," Hawke says as he puts a kettle on the stove and then moves over to the table to pull out a chair for me. "Colt is brand-new. You'll have to forgive his big mouth. Even with a vow of celibacy, we're still red-blooded men with needs." He smiles at me, and I swear, I feel it deep down in my bones. "It's resisting those needs that bring us closer to God, right Colt?" He claps the blond man on the shoulder in a gesture that seems more like a warning than anything else.
"Exactly," Colt grinds out, wincing then standing up from his chair. "If you'll excuse me a moment."
"Send Mace down with something for Natalia to wear, would you?" Hawke calls after the blond guy, and he pauses in the doorway. "She's drenched."
Colt turns slightly and raises an eyebrow at me standing there, shivering, and I cross my arms over my tight nipples which are starting to feel far too obvious in the presence of priests.
Suddenly I’m regretting my decision to go braless tonight.
"She looks it," Colt purrs with a wink, then disappears so quick that I don’t have a chance to be offended or … shocked, I guess? Regardless, I'm pretty sure Colt took drenched to mean more than just from the rain.
Damn if he isn't right, too. Since when were priests so sinfully sexy?
I groan and rub at my tired eyes, probably smearing mascara and eyeshadow halfway down my face, and not altogether caring. The last thing I need right now is for this fucking delicious man of God to think I’m coming onto him.
