A Worthy Opponent (Wicked Villains 3)

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“So suspicious.” I laugh again, mostly to enjoy the twitch by her right eye that comes in response. “You’ve worked in the Underworld for five years. Even if you avoided me, you were too good an employee for Hades not to notice what I like.” I know for a fact Hades has files on every single player in Carver City, including their kinks and whatever dirty secrets they let slip. Tink worked under Meg, which means she’d have access to those files, would be encouraged to keep her eyes open every time she’s on the playroom floor.

“You like to share.” She practically spits the words at me, and a flush spreads across her chest and up her neck. Fury or desire? Only time will tell.

I push slowly to my feet, giving her plenty of time to back up. She won’t, but it’s important to draw this line in the sand. “You will sleep in my bed. You’ll be my wife in truth. I won’t push the sex, but everything else holds.”

“How long?”

I drag my fingers slowly through her long hair, enjoying how silky it feels. She’s done something to the color to make the blond pop even more. I like it. “Until we decide we’re done.”

“That’s a horrible bargain.”

It’s only horrible if she truly hates me as much as she says. I don’t give a damn. The end result is the only thing that matters. I’ve bided my time. I’ve denied myself again and again, putting my shit on the back burner so I could keep the territory stabilized. It worked, but it won’t work much longer. If Peter takes me out, a shit ton of people will suffer in the aftermath. I can’t let that happen.

I won’t let that happen.

“Take it or leave it. The offer expires the second you walk out that door.”

She slaps my hand away, and I let her. Tink might know what I like, but I’ve been watching her, too. I’ve seen her get off more times than I can count, always by other’s hands, mouths, cocks. She enjoys putting on a show as much as I do. More, even. She won’t thank me for noticing, but all’s fair in love and war, and if we don’t win this fight, we won’t survive. Love doesn’t even enter into the equation.

Finally, she nods. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. Always.”

“Not for me. Not this time.” She presses her hand against my chest, and I allow her to push me back a step and then two. “How soon can you get a priest here?”

“An hour.”

“Do it.”

I don’t give her a chance to change her mind. If I were a better man, I’d check in with her or sit her down and reassure her that she’s making the right choice. I don’t do any of it. I leave her sitting on Nigel’s desk and send for a priest.

It doesn’t take him long to show up. He’s a short Black man who’s worked in the church down the street for longer than I’ve been alive. His receding hairline has left the top of his head completely bald, and his curls have long since gone to gray. For all that, I wouldn’t want to cross him. Father Elijah hasn’t lived this long because he lets people fuck with him. Even Peter knew to leave the church and its parishioners alone. At least right up until the end when Father Elijah challenged him one too many times over his treatment of Tink.

Peter attacking the priest is what finally caused Tink to flee the territory. I’m sure of it. And her leaving paved the way for me to challenge Peter directly. It feels strangely like closing a circle to have Father Elijah be the one to marry us.

He gives me a long look. “Marriage is meant to be a holy union.”

“Don’t go trying to convert me now.” I grin, my body language relaxed and open. Most people only see the charm and ignore the danger beneath. Father Elijah isn’t most people, but threatening him will backfire. I need him to do this, to make my marriage with Tink official. Legally, yes, but more importantly, I need it official in the eyes of the territory. I open the door for him. “You know I’m a heathen.”

“We’re all God’s children.” He snorts. “Even the assholes.”

“Especially the assholes. Pretty sure that was the sermon a few Sundays ago.”

“You’d know if you ever darkened our doorstep.” He walks into the office, and I can’t see his face, but his voice lights up. “Tatiana.”

Tink hops off the desk and pulls at the fabric of her dress to straighten it. “Father Elijah. I didn’t—I didn’t know you’d be here.” She looks a little lost for the first time since she showed up here, her gaze flitting over his face as if tracing the injuries Peter had left there. They might be healed, but look at her expression says that their memory lives on with Tink.