I kept my gaze trained on her as I waited on the crosswalk signal to change back. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I had two guesses who it might be.
I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
“That didn’t take long,” I said when I answered.
“You need to apologize to Huntington for that outburst,” Dad said on the other end.
Bright numbers popped up on the crosswalk signal, counting down from ten. I didn’t have time for his bullshit.
“Does the lion apologize to the antelope?”
Eight.
Seven.
Something like ice clanking against the side of a glass sounded in the background.
Five.
“And which one is your precious Tatum?” he asked. “A lion? Or an antelope?” A sound close to a chuckle followed by the swirl of liquid echoed over the phone. He must have taken a drink. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He ended the call right as the counter hit zero.
I didn’t have a chance to answer. I didn’t need to. His question was rhetorical. It was meant to taunt me—probably some kind of veiled threat.
She disappeared inside a building.
I pushed through the crowd.
A church.
She’d run into a church—a massive, Gothic structure made of bronze and stone. I felt judged for what I was about to do before I ever pushed through the heavy bronze door.
Didn’t matter. I was going to hell anyway.
The cathedral was empty apart from Tatum and two other people. Apparently, most people chose to pray in the light of day. Or maybe the church was closing soon. I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t spend much time here. Maybe that needed to change. Maybe a lot of things needed to change.
The altar at the end of the center aisle stood majestic and proud amongst the white marble arches, and reflections from the stained-glass windows glittered on the wooden pews. Near the end of the aisle, off to one side of the altar, was an ornate, wooden structure with a door in the center of two arched openings. The openings were shrouded in heavy purple curtains.
Tatum stood next to this structure, staring at the carvings in the wood trim. I watched as she traced her finger along one of them. She looked like she belonged here, with the angels, even though we both knew she wasn’t one of them.
As I got closer, I noticed a tear trailing down her cheek. She looked so vulnerable when she cried.
And maybe I was fucked up because it made me wonder what she would look like on her knees, with my dick down her throat, fucking her mouth until her eyes watered. It made me want to desecrate her, right here, right now, in this sacred place.
How many Hail Marys were required for having an erection in church?
I closed the final inches between us, stopping to stand beside her, and whispered in her ear. “Are you looking for sanctuary?” I brushed the front of my finger over her tear-stained cheek. “Or perhaps for someone to save you?” I brought my finger to my mouth and tasted her tears. I wanted to take all of them until there was no more sadness left in her.
“I don’t need saving.” Her voice was quiet but firm.
Maybe not now, but you did.I kept my thoughts to myself.
“Good. Because there is no salvation when your soul belongs to the devil.”
She turned her head. “I don’t belong to anyone.” Her mouth was so close to mine that I could almost taste the champagne on her breath.
I arched a brow and ran my tongue over my bottom lip. “No?”
Her eyes fell to my mouth. “No.”