The Life and Death of Lauren Conway (Mercy 2)

Stupidly.

He’d allowed her into his inner circle.

For all the wrong reasons.

Mainly because of his ego.

And his dick. His damned dick.

Just like all those screw-ups in history who’d lost wars, given up thrones, changed the course of civilization: all for a woman.

She is Eve with the apple.

Delilah with her shears.

Jezebel with her idolatry and witchcraft!

Pushing aside an ice-laden branch, he felt the cadence of betrayal burn through his blood. If he could, he’d wring her perfect, long neck.

Pull yourself together.

You have work to do.

Yes, there is the woman to deal with.

And a very big mistake to fix.

Another one. And the school can’t afford any more scandal.

No time for recriminations. Just do what you have to do.

Urging his horse forward, he rode through the undergrowth to a rusted metal gate. He dismounted, unlocked the gate, then led his gelding deeper into the stands of old growth timber and thick scrub oak.

How had he been so stupid? So gullible?

He, the wise one, the leader with all the answers. The gloom surrounded him and the moonlight faded beneath the canopy of branches.

In his mind’s eye, he saw her face. Tanned skin, eyes as blue and seductive as a mountain lake, sculpted cheekbones and a small, pouty mouth that promised the most intimate of favors. Her hair was brown, but thick and dark, almost black, as it curled and feathered around her face.

Jezebel.

With that hot, supple body.

He’d trusted her.

She’d betrayed him.

And now she would pay.

It was just that simple.

Near the graveyard, he wrapped the reins of his horse’s bridle to a pine tree’s low-hanging branch then took off at a quick jog.

Sacrifice purges.

Sacrifice teaches.

Sacrifice is necessary.