The Angel (The Original Sinners) (31 page)

Michael didn’t speak and Nora didn’t want to. But she took a
breath and carried on.

“It was just a few days before your priest was supposed to
return from Rome. I woke up in Kingsley’s bed sick as a damn dog. I barely made
it to the bathroom in time. Puked so hard I thought my ribs would splinter.”

Michael winced so dramatically Nora almost laughed.

“Yeah, pregnancy isn’t the glorious and beautiful thing the
movies make it out to be. It’s gross and painful and miserable. And no one in
their right mind would ever do it on purpose. So I did it for all of…well, about
one day.”

“What did you do?”

Nora would never forget rolling onto the floor and curling up
in the fetal position after throwing up for a solid ten minutes. The cool tiles
felt like heaven on her fevered clammy skin.

Slowly her eyes fluttered open and she found Kingsley staring
at her with his dark, knowing eyes.

“Chérie…”
he’d whispered, whipping
a swath of sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. “What have we done?”

“I think we know,” she’d whispered in reply, her voice hoarse
from the force of her retching. She didn’t need any tests, any doctor’s visits.
She simply knew. And so did Kingsley.

“I’ll call
le prêtre.
” Kingsley
started to rise off the floor.

Nora pulled her mind out of the past.

“I can’t begin to tell you how hard it was to pull myself off
that floor, Michael,” Nora said. “I was so sick and so tired…every muscle in my
body was shaking. But I did. I stood up and looked Kingsley in the eye and I
told him…”

Nora exhaled and the past reached out and took her in its arms
against her will.

“Don’t, King. Don’t call him.”

Kingsley lifted his proud chin. “I must and you know it,
Elle.”

“If you call him…if you tell him, then he’ll decide. Yes or no,
it’ll be on him. I can’t do that to him. I can’t make him make this
decision.”

She remembered the cold, hard certainty that she’d felt at that
moment, the certainty that letting Søren decide would be a mistake. If he told
her to keep it, it would ruin their life together. Twenty-seven years old…a job
in a bookstore that paid almost nothing, and she was the mistress of a Catholic
priest. Not ideal conditions for raising a child. But if he said to end it…a
Catholic priest…she couldn’t let him make that decision. She had to do it. She
had to do it alone. Not for her sake, but for his.

“You ever heard of the Fortunate Fall, Angel?” Nora asked,
coming to the present yet again.

Michael shook his head.

“It’s a theological concept that Adam and Eve in the Garden
were supposed to eat the fruit. That they were supposed to fall. That it was
God’s plan all along. Søren thinks it’s bullshit. I’m inclined to disagree. That
day when I had to make that decision without him… You have to understand, Angel,
your priest made all my decisions for me and had for almost ten years. He owned
me. He owned my body. I didn’t cut my hair without getting his permission.”

Michael whistled. “That’s intense.”

“Welcome to the world of being owned. You’ll like it. Until you
hate it,” she said and winked at him. “Søren…I loved him too much to force him
to make this decision for me. Either choice would break his heart. So for the
first time in years, I made my own decision. I didn’t want to lose Søren and
what we had. I couldn’t for one second imagine bringing up a child in the world
I lived in—threesomes with Søren and Kingsley, parties at S&M clubs, slave
auctions. Not a family-friendly atmosphere in our world. I went to the doctor,
got the magic pills and took them. And the second I took them, it was like the
Fortunate Fall. I had tasted the fruit of knowledge…but not of good and evil.
The knowledge of freedom, of making my own decisions. And it tasted so sweet it
scared me. I went to the rectory and waited for Søren. He came home and found me
on his bathroom floor in absolute agony. I spent a lot of time on bathroom
floors that week.”

“Did it hurt?”

Nora wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Yes, Angel, it hurt like fuck. And in the midst of a horrible
cramp, your priest found me. I told him everything immediately. It all came out
in one big rush. The antibiotics and the pregnancy and Kingsley and how I loved
him too much to make him decide. Oh, my God, I’ll never forget the look on his
face when I told him what I’d done, told him why I was in a ball of agony on his
bathroom floor.”

“What? Was he angry?”

Nora reached out and took Michael’s hand in hers.

“No…he looked at me and…” She stopped to take a breath. “He
said, ‘Little one, I’m so sorry…’ And he’d never looked at me before with such
love or such compassion. He wasn’t angry at all. The opposite really. Goddammit,
he’s a good priest, isn’t he?”

Michael bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. He really is. The
best.”

“He wrapped me up in those crazy-strong arms of his and held me
close to his chest. And then he gave me the one order he’s ever given me that I
couldn’t obey.”

“What?”

Nora smiled.

“He ordered me to marry him.”

Michael actually gasped and Nora laughed at his shock.

“Yes. Romantic, isn’t he? Well, we kinksters can never do
anything the normal way. I think he thought that’s what I needed—more
supervision, more time with him. He said he would leave the priesthood and we
would get married. Nothing like this would ever happen again. I would never have
to go through anything like this alone ever again.”

“And you said no?”

“I said no. And then he got angry. I wasn’t afraid of him. I’ve
never in my life been afraid of him. But I couldn’t stay, not a minute longer.
What he offered, I wanted it so much I could taste it. But I had that other
taste on my tongue, the taste of freedom. So I got up and walked out. And when I
couldn’t walk anymore, I crawled. And your priest didn’t see me again for over a
year.”

“A year?” Michael repeated in shock.

“A year. I found a place to hide out. A place he couldn’t
follow. And believe me, he tried. And after a year there I went back to the city
and back to Kingsley. And we buried Eleanor Schreiber in the past, and Nora
Sutherlin was born to take her place.”

Michael smiled. “But Eleanor didn’t die.”

“Shh…” Nora covered his mouth with her finger. “Don’t
tell.”

For a few moments they both sat in silence. The sun had set and
the lawn had come to life with a thousand yellow fireflies.

“Do your regret it?” Michael asked, his voice no louder than
the lightning bugs.

“What? Not having Junior Kingsley or not marrying Søren?”

“Both?”

Nora sighed heavily and shook her head. Leaning forward she
pressed her lips to Michael’s and gave him a deep, long, slow kiss. He moaned
into her mouth and Nora smiled as she pulled back.

“Neither,” she whispered.

Michael gave a rueful laugh.

“So you don’t even wonder?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, possibly for the first time ever out
loud. “Junior Kingsley would be about seven years old now.”

“That’s how old Owen is.”

Nora ran a hand through her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
Owen Perry—wavy black hair like hers, smart, weird—every time she saw him, she
remembered.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? But like I said, no regrets. Life’s too
short for regrets.”

“Do you regret anything?” Michael asked and Nora’s stomach
tightened.

Turning her head she saw Wesley standing before her, his big
brown eyes rimmed with unshed tears as she told him goodbye.

“Nothing,” she lied.

She stood up and patted Michael on top of his head. “But that’s
not what we were supposed to be talking about. Didn’t bring you up here to talk
about all the gruesome shit in my past.”

“Better than talking about all the gruesome shit in my future
when my father finds out about Griffin. Nora, if Father S doesn’t want me and
another guy together, then maybe—”

“Angel, Father S has no problem with you being with a guy. He’s
worried that Griffin won’t take care of you the way he thinks dominants should
take care of their subs. Griffin’s a well-trained partier, an ex-drug addict. He
put the play in playboy. And he and Søren hate each other for no reason either
of them will tell me....”

Michael looked at her with guilty eyes.

“Michael…you know, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Nora cupped his chin and forced him to look
at her.

“Angel, tell me. This is an order from your mistress.”

“It’s not fair that you can do that.”

Nora grinned at him. “I know.”

“Griffin…” Michael began and stopped. “He…and you…”

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” Nora groaned. Michael didn’t have to say
another word. So Griffin had actually been in love once upon a time. With her of
all people. Maybe one of these days she’d figure out why every man in her life
had such terrible taste in women. “Griffin went to Søren about me, didn’t he? I
should have known. Søren and Kingsley don’t believe any dominant should lay a
hand on a submissive until he or she has experienced pain. And apart from bar
fights, tattoos and hangovers, Griffin hasn’t. I guess that’s about to change
tonight.”

“Father S is going to hurt Griffin?”

“Don’t worry. He loves you. He can take it.”

“You think Griffin loves me?”

Nora cupped his face and caressed his bottom lip with her
thumb.

“I’m certain of it. After tomorrow, I think you will be
too.”

Michael blushed crimson. “Oh, God. Me and Griffin… We’re going
to be…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“He’s going to fuck you blind the second he gets a chance. Hope
you’re okay with that.” Nora grinned fiendishly.

Groaning, Michael collapsed down onto the window seat. Nora
could only laugh at him.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t dying for it,” Nora said. She picked
up her laptop bag and pulled a folder out of it, a folder that contained the
single most beautiful photograph she’d ever seen in her life. No matter where
she went, she always took the photo with her. She’d been given a copy with the
express orders to show it to no one ever. And she’d followed those orders to the
letter…until now.

“Nora…me and Griffin? Seriously? I want it…I do. I want it so
much it hurts. But I just can’t. Father S—”

Nora opened the folder that contained the photograph and held
it out in front of Michael’s face without a word. Silently Michael stared at the
image in front of him. Watching his eyes, Nora saw his expression change from
curiosity to understanding.

Michael finally wrenched his eyes from the photograph and
looked at Nora, who stood subtly smiling at him.

“Feel better now?” she asked.

Michael nodded wide-eyed at her.

“Much.”

23

The sound of falling water roused Michael from his
sleep. Rain pelted the roof above him and the window next to him. Usually he
loved the sound of rain, especially a morning rain in the summer. But now his
first thought upon waking was of Griffin on his motorcycle, wet roads and
screeching tires.

So this is love,
he decided. Love
was fucking terrifying.

Even awake Michael kept his eyes closed, not wanting to face
the morning yet. He’d spent all night asleep in the bay window seat curled up in
Nora’s lap like a kid. Last night he’d been certain he’d never fall asleep, but
Nora had started running her fingers through his hair and humming softly,
humming the quietest of lullabies. The song and her soothing touch had calmed
his racing mind and finally allowed him some rest.

He heard footsteps in the hall, familiar footsteps, and his
heart soared at the sound. But he kept his eyes closed, kept pretending to
sleep.

“Welcome home,” Nora whispered. “You survive the night?”

Michael felt a new hand on his back, larger than Nora’s.

“Barely,” came Griffin’s voice, also in a whisper. “Your
priest… I have no words.”

“Did he kick your ass? No, don’t tell me. I’ll be too jealous
if he did.”

“He didn’t,” Griffin said, and Michael heard the surprise in
his voice, the grudging respect. “We talked.”

“A talk with Søren? I think I’d rather take a beating.”

“It hurt worse than a beating. But I think I needed it.”

“So what’s the verdict with you and my Angel?”

“The verdict is…”

Michael felt Griffin’s hand slide from his lower back to his
neck. Griffin’s fingers dug gently into his skin.

“Enough faking, Mick. Let’s go.” The gentleness of Griffin’s
touch gave way to force, and Michael found himself being hauled to his feet.

“Griffin, it’s seven in the damn morning,” Nora said, yawning
luxuriously.

“Good. We’ll need all day to make up for lost time.” Griffin’s
fingers dug into Michael’s skin. “Excuse us.”

Michael’s heart raced, his hands went numb and every drop of
blood in his body made a beeline for his hips.

“Excused.” Nora waved them off as Griffin hauled Michael toward
the door.

“Oh, message from Søren, Nora,” Griffin said, pausing in the
doorway.

“Good Lord, what?” she asked.

“He said you’re in trouble for going to the party in the city.
Told you to stay upstate and out of trouble. So he’s punishing you.”

Nora rolled her eyes.

“Goddammit.” Nora sounded horrified at the prospect of
punishment. “Whatever. I’ll do it. What is it?”

“He said…” Griffin paused and Michael winced. Griffin seemed
genuinely afraid to tell her. Michael hoped the pause would last forever. He had
no idea what was about to happen between him and Griffin but something told him
whatever it was, his life would never be the same again after.

“What?” Nora demanded, her voice edged with anger.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

Michael suddenly feared Nora’s punishment more than whatever
Griffin had planned for him.

“Griffin…just tell me.” Nora gave him a cold, hard stare.

Griffin exhaled heavily.

“Søren said you have to visit your mother.”

Michael almost laughed out loud with sheer relief. But Nora’s
face fell and she raised her hand to her forehead.

“Goddamn motherfucking sadist.”

“Good luck,” Griffin said as he beat a swift retreat, dragging
Michael with him by the back of his T-shirt.

“What’s wrong with Nora’s mom?” Michael asked as they neared
Griffin’s bedroom.

“They don’t like each other.”

“But why do—”

Michael’s question died on his lips as Griffin grabbed Michael
by the shoulders and pushed him firmly but gently into his bedroom door. Digging
his hands in Michael’s hair, Griffin forced Michael to meet his eyes.

“Do not speak again until I give you permission.”

Michael opened his mouth in an automatic “Yes, sir” but
remembered himself and stayed silent.

“Good boy. Now go. In my bed. Right now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Michael threw open the doors to
Griffin’s bedroom, pulled the covers back and slid into the bed. He did nothing
else.

Griffin yanked off his leather motorcycle jacket, stripped down
to his boxer briefs and threw himself into bed next to Michael.

Rolling onto his back, Griffin grabbed Michael and pulled him
hard to his chest.

“Now go to sleep,” Griffin ordered. Michael raised his head and
stared at him. Griffin met his eyes and then burst into laughter.

“Seriously?” Michael asked, breaking the no-talking rule.

“I’m exhausted. Haven’t slept all night. I love you too much to
lay a hand on you like this. Now shut up, sub, and go to sleep.”

Michael nodded and laid his head down on the center of
Griffin’s chest. He’d only slept an hour or two himself last night. But
something Griffin said forced Michael’s head back up again.

“You love me?” he asked, his voice hardly more than a
whisper.

Griffin brought his mouth to Michael’s. For what felt like a
year but probably lasted no more than a minute, Michael was subjected to the
softest yet deepest, most intimate kiss of his life. With the most expert
touches of his tongue, Griffin managed to set every nerve in Michael’s body
firing with only his mouth on Michael’s mouth.

“Yes,” Griffin said, finally ending the kiss with the most
erotic smile Michael had ever seen in his life. “Now go to sleep.”

Michael pressed his entire body to Griffin’s and luxuriated in
the warmth of his chest through the soft fabric of his white T-shirt. Right
before falling asleep, Michael whispered the two words he’d been waiting to say
since the moment he’d met Griffin.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Nora stared at herself in the mirror and cursed at her
reflection. She hadn’t seen her mother in over six years and here she was trying
to decide if her mother would approve of her outfit. Last thing she wanted was
to provoke a fight by showing up in any clothes that even remotely hinted at the
woman Nora had become. She’d left her mother’s protection and returned to the
city, returned to the world her mother had prayed her daughter would one day
leave behind.

Jeans. Basic jeans. A white blouse buttoned up to a respectable
level. Boots with a low heel. Hair in a ponytail. Almost no makeup. Surely that
would be good enough, tame enough, vanilla enough for her mother.

Nora got into her BMW and headed out at near-breakneck speed.
She wanted to get this punishment over with as soon as possible. Being here in
Guilford so close to where her mother had moved had been a mistake. She should
have known at some point Søren would order her to visit her mother. They’d been
friends once—Søren and her mom. When Nora was merely a troubled teenager
everyone called Elle or Ellie, the sainted Father Stearns and her mother had
worked together a time to two trying to tame her wild side. Of course, Søren’s
methods had proven far more effective than her mother’s hectoring and disdain.
Nora knew her mother always thought her daughter had far too much of her
reprobate father in her. It had been a miracle her mother had taken her in at
all that day Nora had shown up at the front door still cramping from the drugs
she’d taken, shaking from the shock of running from the only man she’d ever
loved.

But her mother had taken her in, sheltered her, fought to keep
her there when the others questioned whether Nora belonged there or not.

“She left her lover,” her mother told the others who wanted her
out. “He won’t come for her here. He can’t. He abused her. Physically.”

Although it turned Nora’s stomach to hear her mother tell the
lie, she’d kept quiet, praying that the others would take pity on her and let
her stay. And finally they had. Nora had been given her own room, chores to do,
and orders to keep her head down and cause no trouble. She’d caused trouble, of
course. Couldn’t be helped. It was her nature. In her loneliness there at the
house, she started to write a story about a girl running away from a man. Nora
could see the girl in her mind’s eye, see her racing through trees, turning her
head back every few seconds to see who followed her. And Nora had whispered to
the girl in her mind, “Don’t run. He’s the only one you don’t have to be afraid
of....” And with that one sentence, that one idea, she’d written her first book,
The Runaway.

For that book alone, the book that changed her life, she’d be
forever grateful for her year of limbo in that house with her mother. Søren once
said that book had been her way of writing herself out of hell. But it hadn’t
been hell in the house. Hell was leaving Søren. Hell was staying away from him.
Behind the gates that Nora drove through…that was mere purgatory. And it was to
purgatory she now returned.

Hell punished sin. Purgatory burned it away. She’d like to keep
her sins, thank you very much. No matter how much they hurt.

Nora parked the car and headed for the main house. Finding the
bell at the wrought-iron gate, Nora rang it and waited.

“Yes, child?” came a weak voice from an ancient face behind the
gate.

“My name is Eleanor Schreiber.” Nora waited to see if the woman
remembered her.

The old woman smiled and nodded.

“I’ll find her for you.”

“Thank you,” Nora said, entirely without gratitude.

She heard the sound of cloth scraping the ground as the woman
shuffled down a hall. A few minutes later younger footsteps approached. A door
at the side of the gate opened and two women stepped through—one in her eighties
and one in her fifties.

“Sister Mary John, this is your visitor.”

The woman in her fifties heaved a deep sigh.

“Elle? What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mom.”

* * *

When Michael awoke, the morning rain had dissipated
completely and warm white sunlight filled Griffin’s bedroom. He guessed he’d
slept to about noon or later, slept deeper and better than he ever had in his
life. Griffin’s chest made the best pillow in the world.

Michael laid his hand on Griffin’s rib cage and felt his heart
beating steadily against his hand. How had this happened? What had he done to
deserve the right to be in Griffin Fiske’s bed with his hand over Griffin’s
heart? It seemed the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like a gift. Like a
grace. And entirely without meaning to, Michael leaned up and dropped the
smallest of kisses on Griffin’s lips.

The touch of their mouths caused Griffin to stir in his sleep.
His dark eyelashes fluttered and opened. Michael froze.

“Sorry, sir,” he said in a panic.

“Never be sorry for kissing me, Mick. That’s an order.”

Michael grinned.

“Your orders are really easy to follow, sir.”

“Take your clothes off,” Griffin said without blinking or
missing a beat.

Michael’s hands went numb.

“Okay, I take it back.”

Rolling up, Griffin cupped the side of Michael’s face. With his
thumb he caressed the arch of Michael’s cheekbone. With his fingertips Griffin
kneaded the soft skin underneath Michael’s ear.

“I’ll help.”

Reaching out, Griffin gathered the fabric of Michael’s T-shirt
in his hands and pulled it up. Michael hesitated before lifting his arms to help
the process along.

“I’m so fucking skinny and you’re so—”

Griffin clamped his hand over Michael’s mouth as he sent the
T-shirt flying across the room.

“I have the most beautiful sub in the world in my bed. If you
insult him, the punishment will be swift and severe.” Griffin gave Michael a
stern glare. “Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael nodded in penitence even as his heart
soared at Griffin’s words.

“I have wanted to do this for weeks.” Griffin ran his hands
through Michael’s hair, down his neck and back, over his arms and down his chest
and stomach. “Icing you up after your first night with Nora, I thought it would
kill me. I’d never needed to touch someone or kiss someone so much in my
life.”

“Really?” Michael’s mind boggled at the confession. He couldn’t
believe the entire time he’d been aching for Griffin, Griffin had been equally
pining for him.

“Really. Swear to God, Mick, it’s nearly killed me not to touch
you for so long. Like this…” Griffin pressed his thumb into the hollow of
Michael’s throat. “And this…” Griffin ran his hand down the center of Michael’s
back from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. “And this…” Griffin
pressed his hand between Michael’s legs and cupped his testicles. Michael
inhaled and closed his eyes.

“We don’t…” Griffin began and stopped. “It’s a big deal,
letting a guy inside you. We don’t have to do that yet. We can wait as long as
you need or want. I don’t mind. There’s a lot of other stuff we can do. And I’m
a little on the big side so I don’t want to hurt you. We can wait. We should
wait.”

Michael opened his eyes and looked at Griffin.

“I want you inside me,” he said simply. He reached out and dug
his fingers into Griffin’s biceps. “I will beg you for it if you order me to.
And I’ll beg you for it even if you don’t.”

Griffin looked at Michael with an expression on his face he’d
never seen before. No, he corrected. He had seen it. Often. On Father S’s face
during prayer. It was love mingled with reverence. Reverence…for him?

The reverence quickly morphed to unabashed, unadulterated lust
as Griffin gripped Michael’s shoulders and pushed him down hard onto his back.
Their mouths met, their tongues intermingled…Griffin’s hips pushed into
Michael’s. Michael trembled as he felt the full force of Griffin’s hunger for
him pressed against his stomach. But he wanted this, needed this. All summer
long he’d waited for this. He wouldn’t let fear stop him. He’d worry about what
his father thought tomorrow, what the world would say. Today all that mattered
was Griffin.