Crossed (Never After, #5)

by Emily McIntire

It will be a long night. I won’t be able to rest until I atone, both for the sinful act of taking the life and for my lack of remorse after doing it.

Most importantly, I learned not to trust anyone who says they love you, because in the end, they always love themselves the most.

Because even now, she’s already creeping back in. This stranger. Ma petite pécheresse. My little sinner.

“You’re much too beautiful to look so sad, Amaya.”

My chest squeezes tight. “You have to say things like that because you’re a priest.”

“Non,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t say that because I’m your priest.”

I want him to kiss me. I know it’s impossible and so, so wrong on a thousand different levels, but… I want him to kiss me.

He shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the same air as her, let alone touch her. And just because I can’t have her doesn’t mean anyone else can.

When I make my way back to Festivalé, I debate on heading straight to Amaya’s. To suffocate her the same way I did him. It isn’t fair that she gets to live while torturing me this way.

“Tell me, petite pécheresse, have you thought of your priest?”

I need to touch her. I need to feel her against me. I need to erase what any other man has made her feel, to ruin her for even God, until the only one she can pray to is me.

I swear I could die right now and burn in hell forever as long as I kept the memory of feeling her come undone beneath my hands.

“I have given my life to Him, and you come around, torturing me simply by existing. No.” I shake my head until my skull

rattles. “You’re a curse. One that will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

Honestly, I’m not sure how to rectify the two different halves of Cade Frédéric in my head. The God-loving priest and the filthy Frenchman who had me coming on his fingers. They seem the same, but that’s impossible.

Cade Frédéric isn’t safe. He’s the danger.

She will be my downfall, because I am just a man, and for her, I am weak.

Immediately, I slip my hands in my pockets, the way I always do around her. At first it was to keep from strangling her in front of others, but now it’s to keep from touching her. From claiming her as mine when she’s not mine to claim.

“In the moment? I lashed out to cause you pain, to keep you away. To try and make sense of whatever this is that you make me feel.” I swallow heavily, my mouth going dry. “Because this? This is impossible. We are impossible.”

“How can anyone blame me?” he rasps. “I am a man of God, mon trésor, but I am still just a man.”

“Gargoyles are spiritual protectors,” he says. “They ward off demons and evil spirits.

And maybe that’s why Cade affects me the way he does, because he’s the only person in the world who puts all his attention on me just because I’m me. He’s the only other place besides the pole where I feel like myself.

For so long, I hated her because I feared her. And now I fear her because I crave her.

Maybe I’m connecting dots where there’s nothing to connect because in some sick, twisted way, the thought of Cade being the one to murder the man who assaulted me and then killing another to clear my name…it’s exhilarating.

“You don’t belong to him, mon trésor.” Our eyes lock, and my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “Then who do I belong to?”

Besides, what I feel for Amaya is beyond love. It’s incomparable.

Because this is unfair. It’s unfair that I can’t have him. And it sure as hell is unfair that I’m engaged to someone else and Cade is who he is when nobody has ever, ever made me feel the way he does.

“No.” I jab him again. “This isn’t fair, Cade. I can’t have you, you know? We aren’t good for each other. And here you are, sitting in your office looking like…that”— I gesture up and down his body—

“I just want it to stop,” I beg, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer. “I want to be able to exist without you plaguing every single one of my thoughts. I feel sick, and— and obsessed. Please, Cade.”

“Si seulement tu savais quel est mon amour pour toi. You consume me, Amaya. Break apart my faith with the fire of a thousand suns and dominate every nightmare until all I dream is you.”

“You think you’re obsessed, petite pécheresse? You don’t know the meaning of the word.” And then he’s on me.

Amaya is made for me. And now that I’ve accepted what that means, I won’t have her any other way except by my side.

If she is a succubus, then seduce me. If she is my devil, then I will gladly burn.

“Do you want me to say yes, petite pécheresse?” He leans in, licking along the shell of my ear. “It wouldn’t be a lie. I’ve been everywhere you are. Watching you. Aching for you. Killing for you.”

Cade makes me feel free. Makes me feel seen. He makes me feel loved. And I don’t care about anything else.

“I’m going to love you. Because loving you hurts so much more.”

I tilt her head to the side and lean down, brushing my lips against her ear. “I would kill a thousand men if it made sure you were mine.”

“You said you’d never hurt me,” I murmur into his skin.

“Every time you hurt yourself, you hurt me too,” I whisper. “Please stop hurting me.”

“She may be your wife, but she is my soul,” I whisper against his ear. “And I will cut you up piece by piece and burn your empire until it’s soot, just so I can watch her be queen of the ashes.”

She scoffs. “He’s a priest, child. Please.”

“No.” I shake my head. “He’s mine.”

She is my Bible. My scripture. My religion. She is everything, and I am nothing without her.

But now…now there’s really nothing I crave more. I enjoy being his. Feeling like I’m his. Being reminded of it.